01 🍆 [catch-all] with a graveyard tan carrying a cross;

[pillz]

Characters: Joseph Kavinsky & whoever wants in! Currently just a beleaugered grandmother!
Summary: Trolls gonna troll, even after the apocalypse— especially after the apocalypse. Will write starters in comments, the entry is empty. Feel free to PP or PM me if you want something particular.
Date(s): Catch-all for the foreseeable future
Warnings/Notes: Character carries a general warning for offensive language (racist, homophobic, sexist language, rude remarks about consent), as well as mental illness and drug use.



D: like i said

Comments

[pillz]

Grandmas are on Facebook, [kavinsky tells the husky, who rotates her ears and eyes him doubtfully.] Pass it on. Filter your posts. Don't post NSFW unless you want old lady fap. [teasing, but that's nothing new. he motions at axel anyway, skinny tattooed hand winking rapid and white in the gloom. yes please to give me your sweater. i will tolerate looking like a grandmother if it means protecting myself from summarily exploding into porcupine levels of gooseflesh.

and then assuming he actually acquires it, he puts it on, flattening the fabric down his little arms and waist, muttering that at least it doesn't smell like lavender. kavinsky does often push a given joke too far. but fortunately, he has a rather poor attention span. and the moment his head pops out of the collar, he's running off toward said timeline machine.]

Your bird sounds like a homosexual, [is what he ends with, helpfully and attractively. at this stage it is probably hard for axel to tell whether or not the family values have passed down the generations properly, but kavinsky does stop before he gets too far. looks back, like a child, checking to make sure he's being followed.]

[pillz]

[kavinsky hunts across the screen with his eyes. despite how dark his irises are, there is something bright, almost manic about his stare as he looks, greedy for information. for answers. hot off the fucking apocalypse, death and chaos the last thing he remembers of that world and its quiet cobblestones and fat pigeons. the first and only place where he'd ever had any real sense of security, and saw it fucking shattered.

he stares at the black stone. the lines of light and letters weaving through the air above it, projected out to illustrate. a tranquil shade of green in the cool dark.

and all of a sudden, he feels

angry. heat swamping up under his shirt, flooding his fucking skull like lava dumped itself into his veins.] FUCK! [by now, axel expects his grandson to be real extra, but this is probably more extra than before. a different kind of extra. it is, frankly, a ronan sort of extra. kavinsky abruptly kicks the stone down below, hard enough it has to hurt. punches the screen the next instant-- hard enough that the copper scent of blood hits the air. split knuckles.] Stupid fuck cunting piece of shit tech--

cw c-word

[pillz]

Stupid cunting piece of— [kavinsky fights like a cat. he actually has fingernails now that he quit cocaine and maybe it stings a bit, the narrow rims slicing at the skin thin of axel's wrists, the backs of his hands. he kicks-- but not at the vampire. just the interface, which turns out to be as harmless as the banging of his fists had been. more harmless, even. no injury this time-- the rubber of his soles thumping uselessly off black stone.] --Goddamnit—

[but he's out of range in a second. out of range to damage himself, mostly. axel's concerns are reasonable based on every technology he's ever seen outside of this place, but a quick glance is enough to reassure that the timeline machine suffered no harm. the hologram still wafts gently in the air, sending a soft glow against the walls. kavinsky strains pointlessly against axel's grip for two more seconds

and then promptly deflates. like if someone would've soaked the cat.]

And now you're the cunt, [he says, acidly. twisting his head back to level a stare at Axel that doesn't burn quite as hot as one might expect, but kavinsky's rage was never a sanguine thing.]

[pillz]

[kavinsky walks his feet to a stop under an archway. his narrow chest is still going up and down, chagrined breaths through gritted teeth. huge pupils and sweat a sheen on his forehead. remember back when you had biological functions and sweated sometimes, axel? it wasn't

actually that great a time. the scent of kavinsky's blood warms the air. sharp, tinny. the injury is too minor to even consider a hospital facility, but it hurts— and it hurts well, burning hotly in his hand, making kavinsky think about cutting the fucking thing off at the wrist, for mere escalation's sake. not that you have places to escalate once the apocalypse itself has happened.

he pulls his arms free of the vampire. yanks his shirt straight. hackling at nothing. at his heel, moonshine is craning her head up at them anxiously.]

Fuck it, grandma. If I did kill my motherfucking timeline, probably some fucking neon green portal would open up, swallow me, and shit me out in fucking Disney World. [he leans and spits at the corner of the floor.] Curiouser and fucking curiouser. Live without your sunlight, love without your heartbeat. Shit, grams. What's the point?

[pillz]

[the boy cuts an irritable stare at his """grandmother""" at that.] The alternative is fucking inevitable, [he says, but it isn't an actual argument, just pointing out distractor facts, the way that spaceships on tv sometimes tactically evacuate garbage to distract pursuers. he shakes his head, walking past his dog-- almost walking on her— to get over to another big slab of technology nearby.

at least he only sits on this one, instead of trying something yet more unimaginable and pointless. breaking his feet on it with infantile kicks, maybe. he crosses his arms, his bloodied knuckles tucking up under his arms in a way that's neither particularly hygienic nor especially dangerous to his health. his eyes cut across axel's face, studying the vampire's for a long moment. for even the faintest hint of insincerity. (or the dilated pupils of predatory interest, either way.)

his hands are pulsing like a drum.]

Are you? [he asks suddenly.] That what your terrified face looks like, Johnson?

[last names. that's how you know kavinsky is in edgelord mode. he is definitely not the subtlest young man that axel has ever met.]

[pillz]

[the silence is heavy and cold for a long, long moment. kavinsky is uncharacteristically still in the midst of it, standing there, eyes glowering and skinny shoulders hunched.]

Dead is inevitable, g-maw, [kavinsky says. but it's without heat this time or any kind of flailing aggression misdirected at inanimate objects. it's a factual sentence, or near enough. but simply saying it, putting it up on the wall next to what axel had just stated about here-and-now-- maybe that makes it a less sensational, a little less concrete as a risk and terror. death was always inevitable. remembering that it exists doesn't make it more likely to happen and

as axel says, it isn't particularly likely to happen here. kavinsky stares at nothing for a moment. then it occurs to him again that his knuckles hurt. he scowls suddenly (and closely attuned, his dog raises her ears, though she wasn't looking at him; she had been studying axel's knees with detached interest).]

I thought you were all about the rolling in pointless shit over low-probability scenarios. What gives? And, [he shakes his hands out, twisting them up to look at his bloodied knuckles.] You know how to run those hospital machines?