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Jul. 23rd, 2016 01:43 am
neverdied: (Default)
[personal profile] neverdied


"Yeah?"

(All forms of ic contact accepted here.)

Date: 2017-03-04 08:30 am (UTC)
pillz: (hay)
From: [personal profile] pillz
Kavinsky rubs his eye with his fingertips, skewing the lid around funnily on his face. He doesn't seem all that groggy, despite everything, but then-- Jack has technically seen him take a pill before. Sure, he'd done it under a bed while a raptor on a choke chain had rampaged around a hotel bedroom. Jack just hadn't seen the process itself, which doesn't tend to be all that interesting until Kavinsky reenters the world with a new tranquilizer dart or a human heart.

As one does.

"Me, fuckwad," he says, as if that's the most obvious thing in the world. He wiggles his toes, then gestures generously at the organ on the table. Folds his arms behind his head. His dick is still just hanging out there. "Can you hurry the fuck up?" he requests romantically.

Date: 2017-03-12 08:16 am (UTC)
pillz: (peek)
From: [personal profile] pillz
Sometimes, Kavinsky thinks about maybe he should fuck less totally weird, jacked up people. But then he remembers that he does do that. Like all the fucking time. And it's boring. Life in general is boring, because he's a mentally ill child who just wants to die, crawing in my skin, these wounds.

Which is how he ends up in situations like these. Marooned in a luxury penthouse apartment amid a multi-city blackout, probably a terrorist threat, having everything he could possibly want except for human companionship. And in lieu of 'human' companionship, he's watching a grizzled old man chow down on a dream heart while snapping at him that he doesn't owe him shit. The one good thing that's come from being forced to stay alive since Henrietta, is that he learned to suck it up when perceived debts aren't paid. After all, his usual Plan B isn't a permanent fix here.

Kavinsky folds his tattooed hands over his tummy and listens to the pop and squelch of bloody meat. Unsurprisingly, he's pretty sure he could still get hard if he wanted to.

Moral growth and spiritual learning.

"All you gotta do is sit there and think of England. I'm a cheap date."

Date: 2017-03-19 05:14 am (UTC)
pillz: (another icon with tongue stuff in it)
From: [personal profile] pillz
[It occurs to Kavinsky finally to be scared. Not all the way scared-- after all, it would take more than superstrength and cannibalistic characteristics and terrible intentions to be able to actually forcibly separate him from his junk. Invincibility, you know.

But it hurts. And pain is kinda scary.

And like a kid bracing for a shot at the doctor's office, Kavinsky ends up holding his breath. His dark eyes big on Jack's face, looking between the smeary gory mess of his teeth and the unreadable shadows under his eyebrows. It would take more than Jack has to forcibly separate Kavinsky from his penis, but he finds himself thinking about it anyway. Unsurprisingly, it doesn't stop said penis from jumping slightly, a pulse of blood and utterly misaligned ideas going through big arteries. well, 'big' unless you're some six thousand-year-old jackass making fun.

he doesn't lick his lips or bite down on them or touch himself anywhere else or anything that obvious, though. just stays there on the couch, sweat gathering in the small of his back where he's weighted down on the shiny leather, looking up at the cannibal. distantly hoping that jack doesn't end up dripping heart juice on him by accident, but honestly, not all that bothered either way.]
pillz: (loiter (club evil))
From: [personal profile] pillz
[the shitty child stares back, jaw slightly jutted, something creepiy considering, measuring about the expression on his gaunt face. he's scared, but he should be more scared, probably. virtue of being an import with imported powers.

no virtue at all.]


Bedroom, [he says.] Big box with the freezer bags in it. [it's a small apartment; it won't be hard to find. sitting on the floor, beside the bed with the black sheets and very gay pinups nailed to the walls, nondescript men, their faces hidden abbreviated by the edges of the artwork or otherwise turned away, hidden from view. it's a nice room. the bed doesn't look slept in recently, if it ever was.]

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Jack

October 2016

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