Ronan is about to retaliate with something nasty about how Kavinsky is a communist but then the other boy is throwing up all beside his car. Ronan’s brow furrows, half in concern and half in disgust. (Though, half would mean that those feelings were fifty-fifty, Ronan won’t ever speak it aloud but he’s more concerned than anything else)
“Shit, man.” Ronan mimics. “You can’t survive off of dog food and pills, you damn Russian.“ Ronan chastises through his teeth as if he’s being completely inconvenienced by his feelings for the other boy as he walks over. He squats down beside Kavinsky and rubs a hand over the small of his back as his other hand goes to support his waist so Kavinsky doesn’t fall face first into his own vomit. “You done? It’s alright if you’re not, I’ve got ya.”
he SPITS, body tensing as he dry - heaves, eyes watering as he coughs violently. he SHAKES, sobbing for a moment before he steels that broken, shattered part of himself away. he groans, arm quivering as he struggles to hold his own dead - weight up, hand slipping on dew - covered grass, sending himself down, down, DOWN, ground rushing up to meet him before he’s caught, fingers slotting into place in the spaces between his ribs. his stomach TWISTS again, pain shooting through him.
❛ i can TRY ❜he argues miserably, letting out an inebriated giggle as a hand runs over the small of his back. his face is BURNING but he ignores it, passing it off as the result of being sick & the force it’s taking to keep himself from breaking apart right here. it takes a moment to register but he nods at the question, a soft mmm-hm vibrating through him before he goes still, shaking his head after a minute, bile rushing up his esophagus, spilling onto the ground below him.
Ronan doesn’t necessarily hate class so much as he never feels like it has anything to offer him when he knows he can go home and dream something far bigger than any of this. He can dream bigger than a high tech projector and an expensive white board and some man droning on and on about a war that Ronan doesn’t care that they fought. His eyes wander out the window, he’d pick this chair today for that express purpose. It was in the back, close to the window, where he could stare out and imagine he was anywhere but here for the half hour class.
Ronan startles when someone bumps his desk. He tilts his chin up, looking at the boy responsible, an upper classman, “I’m sorry?” He says in response to whatever the other boy had said to him because his mind at least had been somewhere far from here.
kavinsky never liked his third block history class– a secondary history course, based on notable wars of the past few centuries. it wasn’t anything he hasn’t heard before. but– despite what people may think– he actually does make an effort to at least try &SHOW UP for a few minutes to each class. except he notices someone occupying his usual seat as he walks past dr. fletcher ( who glares ) & the first few rows of desks ( most heads turning to stare ). he specifically sits back here to not be BOTHERED– he’s tired of the questions & he’s sick of the rumors, despite them being true.
❛ you’re in my fucking seat❜ his voice is harsh & vaguely threatening, but the boy continues to stare out the window. he bites out a growl and shoves his hip against the desk, moving it an inch, leveling the other boy with a look so cold it could freeze hell, arms crossing over his chest.❛ i said, you’re in my– ❜he stops, really LOOKING at the kid occupying his seat. ❛ you’re in my seat. but it’s FINE– ❜he slumps into the desk next to the other, dirty grin stretching across his face. ❛ there’s only FIVE MINUTES left, it’d be a waste. ❜
joseph kavinsky has never carved a pumpkin– he grew up in a bougie, new - money household. the closest he had ever come to a ‘real halloween’ experience was running around in an outrageously EXPENSIVE pirate outfit while his mothers’ actress friends & his fathers’ towering partners - in - crime drank champagne & spoke about subjects not suitable for a six year old boy.
he’d never carved a pumpkin & he certainly hadn’t expected his first time to be with lynch
get the FUCK out of my house, guy–
shut up & take a fucking pumpkin, asshole.
it was.. he didn’t like the word WEIRD– he was as weird as they came, THIS wasn’t weird– & ‘odd’ wasn’t right. unexpected. it was all very unexpected. he didn’t want to at first but now he’s leaning on the counter, staring at ronan– the boy looking up at him with a glare was all he needed to know that that’s indeed what he’d been doing– as he carves into the tough skin. kavinsky grins, all teeth & challenging eyes before he’s going back to slowly & meticulously shaving away layer upon layer of orange flesh, carving out the curve of ronan’s jaw, the hollow of his eyes, the bridge of his nose, the downward tilt of his lips.
getting the hair right was a bitch– it took a good minute for him to discover he had to settle with texturizing instead of carving away. he turns the hulking thing to the side a bit, carving out a speech bubble, filling it with the words: I ♡ DICK. he puts a last few finishing touches, casually glancing to ronan’s face & back down until he’s done. he turns it around & stands from the stool he’d been perched on, motioning to the pumpkin
❛ oh, FUCK YOU !!❜the cigarette - rasp of his voice is harsh, a growl rumbling through his chest. his evo is destroyed, up in flames a few yards from them, fire dancing in his eyes as he glares at ronan the best he can with one eye already swelling. he bares his teeth, SNAPPING them at the other dreamer.❛ that was a CHEAP fuckin’ shot & you KNOW it ❜
As if Ronan could dare to forget that Kavinsky exists. That’s the kind of world that he wishes he could dream up. Kavinsky was always there, nagging at the back of his mind in one way or another. Ronan tries to do his best impression of ignoring him now, but dreamer’s eyes still wander over to Kavinsky despite Ronan’s attempt at self control.
“That it, then? I’ve seen you. You still fuckin’ exist. You going on your way now?” Ronan says, letting his eyes wander along the body of Kavinsky’s car. He’d love to be behind the wheel of that thing.
he sees the way ronan’s eyes catch on the evo, smirking to himself as he slides his own eyes over the body, humming a snippet of some obnoxious bubblegum - pop song prokopenko had been listening to earlier. white flashes on his thumb and he lifts his hand to swipe his tongue over it, cocaine sparking against his tongue as it dissolves & soaks into his system. his eyes are darker than they’ve been in a while– the shit he’s been dreaming up lately has been just that; SHIT– & he rolls them dramatically when ronan asks if he’s LEAVING.
❛ WHAT ?? are you late for a date with DICK or somethin’ ??❜he adjusts his stance against the car & stumbles a little, head dropping as he presses a hand to the windshield, the other going to the mirror, slurring out bitter bulgarian. keys jingle, the skull - crusher he keeps hooked to his lanyard slams against the untouched car, leaving a small dent in it’s wake– his legs give out at the sound & he collapses, stomach jerking before he’s spilling half - dissolved pills & chili cheese fries & bile onto the dead grass beside him & it HURTS.❛ s h i t, man❜
This is a HIGHLY selective and mutually exclusive, independent RP account for JOSEPH KAVINSKY, the main antagonist from Maggie Stiefvater's second book in the raven cycle. This blog is CANON to the books up until the point of his death.
Cross fandoms are welcome, I love au’s. I love rping in general honestly, I’ve been doing it for ~seven years now– it’s been a long time, okay ?? I track the tag ‘jerseytrcsh’ so if you want to leave something for me, I’ll find it there!
For more about Kavinsky, please feel free to have a flick through the headcanons tag, or if you want any aspect of his characterization explained, feel free to drop me an ask.
I've no affiliation with Maggie Stiefvater ( & like i don't really want to tbh ) or Ash Stymest ( who I use as Kavinsky's main fc ).
ii. following / unfollowing
All of you are very welcome here and if you feel like following Kavinsky, that would be wonderful! A heads up though, I do not automatically follow back, I usually tend to follow back after i’ve read a few of your threads and through all of your pages, just to get a grasp for your character and see how likely it would be for K to interact with them.
I will unfollow for certain reasons, the main one’s summed up are: god modding, forcing ships, or if you haven’t been active for more than two weeks ( unless we’ve talked or I know you’re hiatus’d ).
I will aslo not follow if you are a personal blog, self - insert, or play a child - of character, this is nothing against you, it's just a personal preference guy.
iii. asks / threads
I’m not very picky with who sends in asks ( i do ask you to be a mutual if it’s a meme that will be turned into a thread ) and i’m relatively patient waiting for replies, i won’t push or pester you for replies, and i ask the same in return. Like i said, i am slow and like to take my time to give you good, quality replies, and sometimes that takes a while.
If a thread goes without a reply from you for more than a month, it will be put on the back burner until you reply, and if another month or so passes without reply, i will drop it. the only real exceptions to this are if i’ve talked to you and know you’re unavailable/lack muse/on hiatus or if it’s waiting on my reply.
Any asks that go against my rules will go unanswered and will be deleted, if i am uncomfortable with answering something, that will also be unanswered and deleted. if you continuously send things in that go against my rules you will first get a friendly warning to please stop and if it happens again after that, you will be blocked.
If you ever see me replying to things and not you, it’s either because I’m getting to it, simply don’t have muse for that thread at the moment, or have missed a post. So please, please, feel free to give me a poke at any time– but do not poke excessively.
iv. nsfw content / triggers
NSFW content will appear on this blog a lot. Kavinsky is very active sexually, as well as being a sociopath, drug addict, gang leader, and a racing fiend. His past is full of loss and abuse ( physical & psychological ) and he's just very fucked up to put it simply, so like it's very safe to say this blog is 18+. i tag most triggers as content warnings– example: #daddy kink cw, #abuse cw
Mun and muse 18+. I will not rp anything nsfw or anything that could be classed as NC-17 with anyone under 18 — and, honestly, I’d really rather not rp with anyone under the age of 18, even in a non-nsfw thread, because lately I’ve been seeing more underage roleplayers say ‘under 18 but okay with smut’ and ‘Mun is under 18, smut at your own risk’, and both are absolutely unacceptable. If you can’t respect my safety by lying about your age or saying ‘it’s okay’, then you don’t get my respect in any form— that’s harsh, but it’s true
I am stating, quite clearly, that— Subject matter that can/will be posted here may not suitable to be viewed by people who are under the age of 18.
v. roleplaying
I prefer plotting before writing together, but I know that some people favour spontaneity, so either is fine by me. My ask box, IM and starter calls are always open to mutuals. I'm also very OC and crossover friendly, so never be afraid to approach me with heavily canon divergent and wildly AU ideas. Let's create a new verse together. The chances are, I will LOVE you for it.
I roleplay any length, ranging from novella to simple conversations with few sentences. As cliché as it's going to sound, I look for quality, not quantity. However, I find it kinda rude when I write someone a great ( and long ) starter and only receive half the length, or less, as a reply. I will always try to match your length, more or less, and I would appreciate if you did the same.
vi. relationships
This is a multi-ship blog. I play Kavinsky as omnisexual and demiromantic ( leaning more towards aromanitc t b h )– but this doesn’t mean that he’s hunting for the d or v. while he certainly takes advantage of an opportunity when it presents itself, he doesn’t just go out looking for sex ( unless necessary to get what he wants ). but, if a ship ( especially romantic ) is to come out of this blog, there has to be CHEMISTRY. a lot of chemistry.
vii. exclusivity / selectivity
I very, very RARELY have exclusives and I really doubt that I ever will be a solely exclusive blog. I love writing and roleplaying in general, and I really enjoy reading various interpretations of the same character ( because all of you are unique butterflies and I love you ). I have no problem with the idea of exclusivity and if other people choose to practise it, then coolio. But I am open to roleplaying with dozens of different versions of the same character if I happen to like their writing.
This blog is also private and selective, which means that I will only write with mutuals. All the starter calls, plotting calls, open starters and other manner of interactions are reserved for my mutuals as well, unless stated otherwise. However, non-mutuals can always send me MEMES and out of character questions.
viii. ooc
I will be tagging all my ooc conversations / posts with shut up Rachel, and I'm ALWAYS willing to get to know my fellow roleplayers and have ooc conversations with them, privately or otherwise.
Last but not the least, I'm Rachel, I'm 23 years young ( so all of you who rightly have the rule of not roleplaying graphic themes with minors may rest easy ), and I'm a slow, slow, word-vomit-y, angst loving cis female. My Skype is always accesible to MUTUALS, all you need to do is ask.
he was ALIVE. he pulled that dragon out so he would finally be at peace. but he was alive. he was alive with ronan lynch standing over him & he was TERRIFIED& he was amazed. the dragon coughed & spit fire before letting out a great screech— a sound like metal scraping across metal— & crashing to the ground. his fourth was ruined, his kingdom in shambles. he disappeared into the throngs of inebriated kids & sent lynch five little words:
he was not expecting THIS. he wanted peace, that's all, & yet, he's ended up here; cold & hollow & faded. his blood soaked into the grass, his soul was absorbed into the ley line, another greywarren pulled into the emptiness of limbo. he wasn't joseph kavinsky anymore. he wasn't anything anymore, just scoorched lungs & empty bones.
joey kavinsky was going to be KING of gotham city— his father was already making his way up to being the most notorious gangster the city had seen in a long time. he was going to follow in those bloody footsteps, but stefan kavinsky wasn't going to live with his son surpassing him. the boy should have died, but he ended up on top of his father, blood dripping from his hands as he stabbed him, over & over &over. he was fourteen, young enough to stay out of prison but not the dark children's ward nestled in the bowels of arkham asylum.
Phasellus consectetur vitae sapien sed maximus. Phasellus vel nulla non purus ultricies euismod. Phasellus non orci tincidunt, commodo ligula id, elementum augue. Quisque at elit at justo mattis tristique eget non turpis. Duis euismod, mi ut sollicitudin sollicitudin, sapien lorem dapibus orci, id scelerisque ipsum dui non augue. Donec tortor mauris, venenatis nec finibus in, eleifend ac justo. Morbi a vulputate turpis. Proin hendrerit, urna sed iaculis euismod, est nisi vehicula nisi, vel convallis nibh tellus ac nibh. Vestibulum volutpat pellentesque sapien, nec pretium nulla aliquam nec. Cras ultrices nisl sit amet nulla consequat efficitur.
Nulla tincidunt felis non venenatis euismod. Fusce odio tellus, consectetur vitae erat non, feugiat tincidunt metus. Mauris suscipit ex sit amet arcu fermentum, eu fringilla diam consequat. Nullam imperdiet suscipit turpis, ac semper enim fringilla sit amet. Nullam ac magna pharetra, elementum sapien quis, pharetra elit. Suspendisse faucibus neque ligula, sit amet tempor est venenatis a. Praesent eleifend fringilla enim, vel varius libero laoreet eget. Aliquam erat volutpat. Phasellus tempor mi vitae enim consequat tempor. Cras condimentum quis tellus vel mattis. Cras sit amet est at neque luctus congue.
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❛joseph kavinsky. he was UNMISTAKABLE: the sort of raven boy who was clearly an import from elsewhere. everything about his facial structure— the long nose; the hollowed - out, heavy - lidded eyes; the dark arch of his eyebrows— was comletely unlike the valley faces she'd grown up with. ❜
BASIC INFORMATION
FULL NAME: joseph stefanov kavinsky
NICKNAME: kavinsky, k, formerly joey
AGE: 17-19 ( main verse )
BIRTH DATE: december 25
ETHNICITY: french - bulgarian
SEX: male
GENDER: cis male
ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: demiromantic ( 100% leans more towards aromantic tbh )
CURRENT LIVING CONDITIONS: this bougie - ass bitch lives in the family ( read: his mother's ) mansion & nine times out of ten, is usually the only one occupying the terribly vast space.
OCCUPATION: #thuglife tbh
RELATIONS
PARENTS: stefan kavinsky ( deceased ) & simone kavinsky, née le roy
TATTOOS + PIERCINGS: tongue & both ears are pierced, belly button was pierced until being ripped out in a fight.
SCARS: cigarette burns & track marks in the crooks of his arms, keeps fuck - up fresh carved on his hip, has a cut running from one side of his lower abdomen to the other from when his father tried to kill him
NOTABLE PHYSICAL TRAITS: literal trash king ( u can smell it on him trust me ), the almost always heavy - lidded, dark eyes
PHOBIAS / DISORDERS
PHOBIAS: achluophobia ( yes he is low - key very terrified of the dark )
MENTAL DISORDERS: bipolar, sociopath
WHEN WAS THIS DIAGNOSED?: battled ( & still is ) with severe depression as a child due to abuse from his father. this was later on discovered to be early stages of bipolar disorder. was taking risperdal for a while ( which helped with the psychotic tendencies ) & then stopped taking it after the death of his father. hasn't been classified as a sociopath 'officially' but like... he's a sociopath, guy
PHYSICAL DISORDERS: celiac disease
WHEN WAS THIS DIAGNOSED: he was itty bitty when this came to light & has been on a mostly - healthy diet since his childhood. his diet is probably the healthiest thing about him honestly & despite being both an addict & an alcoholic, he's pretty good at avoiding things that will fuck up his stomach.
PERSONALITY
INTELLIGENCE: above average, despite acting like a complete idiot & waste of space at aglionby
LIKES: cars, drugs, sex, horror movies, old cartoons, pretty things he can use as arm candy & then dispose of
DISLIKES:being rejected, fun ruiners ( i.e. dick gansey iii ), cheap shit, country music
DISPOSITION: all you need to know is that every single part of joseph kavinsky screams TROUBLE& he'll pull you in & eat you alive & feel no remorse if you aren't careful
EXTRAS: has an extreme difficulty when it comes to expressing feelings, probably killed his father, definitely crazy
BIOGRAPHY
joseph kavinsky is the first & only child of stefan kavinsky, one of the most powerful gang leaders in south & central new jersey & parts of philadelphia, pennsylvania. young joey was viable heir to his father's empire, he would have been king if stefan didn't hate him so much.
the sun - dappled, peaceful hallways of the kavinsky home in princeton, new jersey were lavish & chic & usually smelled of mrs. kavinsky's favorite perfumes. wide - eyed joseph would roam the halls after slipping his nannies, leaving his fingerprints on the stainless steel appliances of the kitchen & scuff marks on the marble floors. he made it his own kingdom, a place he could rule in peace & he learned to stay away from where his father ruled early on, having had one too many angry slurs or heavy fists slung in his direction.
his mother— simone le roy, as she insists now— was a french - american broadway actress, aspiring for the big screen but always seeming to fall into the bottom of a bottle at the end of the day. she had a thing for bad boys & older men. stefan kavinsky fit both descriptions to a t. joseph was kind of a mistake, at least.. he wasn't planned. that didn't mean she didn't love him, he was like her, she knew it the moment he was handed to her. his father felt.. DIFFERENTLY. joey was not what he wanted in a son— the boy spent too much time with his mother, too much time playing with that damn prokopenko kid. he was not what stefan kavinsky had wanted at all.
stefan kavinsky was not the father joseph kavinsky— poor, tormented prince of new jersey— had wanted, either. the discord was palpable in the kavinsky home, but only if you were there as often as someone like constantin prokopenko was. he was joey's safety blanket, his shield, the stupid kid who'd always stand on joseph's side despite him being the cause of trouble most occasions. they were inseparable.
he went to private school on private school, his attitude & moods getting worse & worse the more he had to suffer his father in silence. he began losing interest, started acting out— it was the CARS that got him, beautiful & fierce & just BEGGING to be taken out for a spin. they called to him, they haunted his dreams& they always would.
then it happened. he was maybe 12, could have been 13. he was probably younger. he can't exactly remember what year, but he knows it was his christmas eve— the day before his birthday. he finally took one of the old model charger's out & he TOTALLED it, walked away with barely a scratch. he had felt so fucking ALIVE, so damn happy for once. he wanted to do it again & again & again. he hitched it home, shaking through the door from the adrenaline alone, & came face - to - face with his father, all six - foot - three & angry & intimidating.
he couldn't stop it.
the pain was unbearable. it was like nothing he had ever felt before, the blade caught the soft part of his stomach & plunged, ripped a jagged tear right through him. he was definitely supposed to die that night & for some UNGODLY reason, he didn't. instead, he spent three weeks in the hospital. his father paid everyone off. sometimes his mother visited. most of the time it was just prokopenko who was curled up on the hospital bed next to him.
he spent his time dreaming.
joey went to joseph went to just kavinsky. he wasn't the same. stealing his daddy's cars became a habit he couldn't kick, along with chain - smoking & getting into fist fights. he was nothing but bloody knuckles & shaking limbs, refusing to leave bed for days, not even for proko. he spent his time sleeping, his dreams became a safe - haven.
his ability reared it's head the following november. it was small, the first time. he'd fed off the rush of it though, the mystery of it all. how unusual he had become. how odd. he thought of how powerful he could be— how he could be so much better than his father had ever been. he thought of how CRUEL he could become. his nightmares became opportunities in which he could practice living without a heart. he became this twisted thing, made of thorns & gasoline, fire dripping from his tongue.
it can be neither confirmed or denied concerning the matter of stefan kavinsky's death being an act of pay - back or not. the heir to his throne had been conveniently off with close friends, constantin prokopenko confirmed. simone had been in new york city. he had been stabbed & then moved to one of his prized cars— an all black, 1966 chevelle ss that was in perfect working order— before being set on fire. he had an abundance of enemies, including joseph, it could have been anyone.
simone wanted a change of scenery after that— in all actuality, she'd lost it on stage & was ruined in the broadway circle. but joseph's current version of prokopenko was an unfortunately weak boy who was close to breaking. kavinsky lost the last shred of his humanity the second he knocked the other boy down & pressed his arm to the fragile neck of his only friend in the WOLRD& pushed until he couldn't anymore. there was no trace of him, joseph dreamt a way to get rid of him, & constantin prokopenko became another face on a milk carton.
you'll like virginia, baby, you've been through a lot. the fresh air will help.
it did not help. they moved in february. it was cold & barren. there were no city lights, no honking horns, no familiar traffic. there was no one. he was lonely & he needed someone. so he dove into his dreams & pulled prokopenko back out with him. despite how close they'd been— how many times he'd seen the line of proko's jaw, the curve of his face, the set of his eyes— he still had trouble getting him perfect. he ruined & tore apart each copy until he got him right— a perfect, obedient, exact copy of the only person he could trust. he put hid the rest of his soul in this new prokopenko & let the darkness in him swallow him whole.
he met ronan lynch at the end of their sophomore year at aglionby & wanted him instantly— he was everything joseph wasn't. he wanted the fire in his veins, wanted those angry eyes looking at him all the time. kavinsky hated him but he was all he could ever think about & those angry looks & tortured laugh began haunting his dream place— lurking behind abandoned cars, hiding behind rows of familiar brick buildings, running down empty city streets.
