xistentia | 2 truths and a lie; daemon: moonshined (cw-word)

i can amke u a corpse of him wit a real big dick
is that what we talkin about now
i know u live up vexs asshoel but im not holding it against u
it can be a mark corpse dick matroyshka & it will reach him thru u
:)

i don't live up vex's ass
he's my best friend and i respect his decisions
even when i think they're bad ones.

you on the other hand are acting like a brat
a child who didn't get his way
and if you think of dreaming up
a corpse of mark, i'll animate him
and send him after you

thats really great
im so glad u respect ihs decsions, even his bad ones
thats wat friendship is all about
with or without rectal encampments
i will let u know when its time 2 murder me wit a magic panther corpse

you are so fucking annoying.

[ and with that, nico shadow travels to wherever kavinsky is, and makes a grab for him, intending on pushing him up against the nearest wall. if he's successful, he'll press himself close and all but snarl at him. ]

Edited 2017-08-16 17:28 (UTC)

[kavinsky was in his room, tequila on the nightstand, shitty bulgarian rap blaring from a chunky stereo. despite the odd cobbled-together quality of life in xistentia, kavinsky's room is luxuriously appointed. smutty poster art, pinball machine, plasma tv.

now kavinsky is pushed up against a wall. his face white and empty from rage... for five seconds until his eyes start uncharacteristically to water. he aims a harmless shove at the demigod's chest and scrabbling knee at his nuts. life was less embarrassing before eudio taught him to feeeeeel]

[ nico's fast, fast enough to dodge the strike towards his crotch while still keeping a hold on kavinsky. he's also calculating and able to catch small details, like the way his eyes begin to water and kavinsky seems to tear up. in nico's mind, this clearly shows that kavinsky is hurting a lot more than he's letting on. as if he can't quite reveal his emotions properly so has to act with bravado and forced edginess. nico gets it. it was not so long ago that he was similar in the way he let his feelings show.

but he's not going to sympathize with kavinsky. not when he knows it's kavinsky's choice to behave the way he has been. but he'll throw the other boy a bone. hauling him up, he leans close, dark eyes gleaming as frowns. ]

You're an idiot, you know that?

[ it's the only warning kavinsky gets before nico kisses him. ]

[there's a mess of tension in kavinsky's body, which nico can feel through his hands. they're both willowy boys and pushed up against the wall, the difference between mortal strength and that of a demigod is unmistakable. kavinsky is probably about to say some more dumb bravado things when nico kisses him, but then nico kisses him and

there's a strange instant of stillness. the dream thief's fists bunched and his warm cigarette breath stuttering out against nico's mouth. and then, perhaps predictably by now, kavinsky begins to cry. there are a lot more feelings involved when you don't have a thick layer of cocaine between you and them, or an out like suicide.

it's a little gross. nico's cheek gets wet; kavinsky kisses him back for a split-second, clumsily, perhaps even confused, before he starts to squirm away, slimy as a hagfish.]

[ as soon as he feels those tears on his cheeks, tastes that saltiness on his lips, he pulls away a fraction. nico is not the type to make someone suffer unless they truly deserve it and he doesn't see kavinsky that way. he sees the other boy as lost like he'd once been. but where he'd reacted with anger and snark, kavinsky seems to act out with bravado and false arrogance. it makes nico wonder how much the boy has buried underneath that edgy facade. carefully, he brushes his lips against those tears, swiping them away before giving kavinsky room to squirm as he likes. he's certainly not about to force him into something he doesn't want. ]

You really love him, don't you? Gods, you know you don't have to act like an ass, okay? I get it. I've been there. And loving someone who doesn't love you back fucking sucks. But you don't have to go through it alone.

[in the middle of these eloquent and kindly intended sentences, kavinsky is busy rubbing his arm across his face. angry about his own eye slime. angry about feeling anything at all. how many times must he go through this? crawling in his skin, these wounds.

they'll never heal. this has seemed truer and truer ever since the world ended. kavinsky tends to pay little mind to the fact that he's also been off his meds, drinking again, and thinking now and again of cocaine. these seem like negligible matters, when he's thinking about vex every fucking hour of the day.]

Fuck.

[he spits to make himself feel better. it goes-- with remarkable accurcy— through the quarter-open window.] The fuck are you pretending to care for? [is what he asks after. he almost looks at nico, but his eyes are sore; he knows they're red.] I know you're just gonna go crawling up his little fairy asshole again. Like those fish in National Geographic. We both know whose anus your fucking loyalties lie within, dipshit. You made that real fucking clear.

[translation: you chose him and i'm butthurt about it in addition to five thousand two hundred and eighty nine other things,

]

[ it's all a charade. bravado at its worst and the (un)funny thing about is that nico knows this behavior intimately. of course, he was never so crass, but he was still angry and bitter and any time he was around percy, made it seem like he hated him. all anger and hate and rage and he never made it easy for anyone to get close. if he hadn't been a demigod, hadn't dropped into tartarus on a foolish mission, if he'd been pulled out of the lotus hotel without direction and bianca had still died, he might be a little more like kavinsky. broken and hurting and because of that, sososo angry at everything at the world.

and it's probably only because he's been there that he's not storming out right now. he sees himself in kavinsky, beyond the booze and the lack of meds, he knows there's a boy there that just needs to be loved. it's just, like him, kavinsky looks in the wrong places.

what if percy had made it, he wonders. what if he could've had percy like kavinsky had vex, only to ruin it ( as people like him and kavinsky normally do )? would he really be so different?

all but tugging his shirt off, he hands it to the other boy, offering it to dry the tears. he doesn't blame kavinsky for believing he'd choose vex. vex is his best friend because he understands darkness and pain like he does. but what he has with vex is nothing like what kavinsky does. if only he can make the other boy see that. ]

Because, you idiot- [ short, clipped, but he's trying to keep his anger in check. patience, that's what this needs, and nico can be patient with the moment calls for it. ] Because despite how annoying you are and how much of a pain in the ass you can be, you're my friend too. Don't doubt for a moment that I wouldn't stand by your side if you needed someone. And you need someone now.

[ lifting a hand, he swipes his thumb under one of kavinsky's eyes. ]

Gods, you're obnoxious, but I never would've slept with you or even talked to you if I didn't care.

[there's something wrong with my eyes, kavinsky wants to say. but he doesn't. partly because he doesn't trust his voice, which he thinks, will sound scratchy and weak and stupid. and partly because nico's doing an okay job with whatever the fuck this is. kavinsky accepts the shirt that's given to him. he always liked the way that the death god smells, anyway. it's not too deathy. no rot or any shit like that.

he rubs his face with it. and then, ever the paragon of super maturity and gratitude and wholesome friendship, he pinches it shut around his nose and blows, hard as he can. juicing half a lungful of snot out of his gullet and into the borrowed garment.

mucus isn't his preferred brand of gross, but he'll settle for whatever small stupid power play he can get. nico understands. (it's actually alarmingly clear, how well nico actually understands.)] What I can't tell right now, [he says,] if this shit right here is some consolation prize-- hey I'm only second best, take two, but I'm supposed to think that's okay— or if you're gonna like. [he sniffs loudly, his nose twisting in the middle of his face. turning toward the bed to sit on it.] Have beer with him and fuck him later, talk about what a piece of shit I am.

Like I'm a animal sacrifice to make your gay love stronger. They did that in oldschool Greece, right? Animal sacrifices. You get it. [the bed creaks when he sits.]

[ it's with a sigh that he follows kavinsky to the bed and sits down next to him. he doesn't make a move to retrieve his shirt ( ugh, gross, dude ), but instead throws an arm around kavinsky's shoulder. if kavinsky will let him, he'll draw the idiot closer and gently bump their heads together. ]

Frankly, I'm offended you think I'd do that. I've never been that kind of person. For one thing, I don't even like beer. And for another, my dad prefers McNuggets to mortal souls. [ a weak attempt at humor, but still. ]

You're not a piece of shit. Yeah, I was mad because Vex and I are close and I worried about him, but I've been worried about you too. You've been different since Eudio and I can't figure out why.

[ given he doesn't know kavinsky was on meds in eudio. ]

But you don't have to pull this kind of bullshit with me, got it? You don't have to pull it with anyone. I mean, Styx, people here care about you. You're not some consolation prize for anyone.

Edited (typoooos) 2017-08-28 03:22 (UTC)

[kavinsky is as stiff as a board in the half-circle of the other boy's arm. porcupine prickly. but he doesn't shove the boy off, or flail about, cuss anymore. for a moment, movement and noise desert him. it's a rather strange moment; uncharacteristic for him. makes him easier for nico to be with, maybe. in that moment, he's more like the ordinary dead than the aggravating little bastard that nico befriended once upon cuddletown.]

Well, the world fucking ended. That fucking sucked.

[it's a pretty level answer, as reasons go. it's also not the entire truth, but kavinsky doesn't know himself all that well.] This place fucking sucks. Pandemonium's gone. Raf doesn't have his bar. The air smells too Goddamn clean and Eudio already hurt my lungs with its peace, love, and friendship gas. [he twists nico's shirt in his tattooed hands, restless and aimless.] You worry about Vex's candyass more than you worry about me. Them's the fucking facts. Don't piss around about it, man. Vex is easy to like. I'm not gonna sit here and pretend he ain't.

Yeah, it did. There were people there that we loved.

[ he doesn't move away as kavinsky stiffens. he has the feeling this is something that kavinsky needs right now, that it's something the boy might even crave even if he might pretend otherwise. nico knows that it's something he does when he's hurting. but for too long, he'd pushed away any kind of contact, refusing to allow others in. he'd been like a shadow, dark and cold, but kavinsky is like knives, sharp and dangerous. still, nico knows how to navigate something like this. has done it before.

he lets kavinsky have his say and then shifts again. this time, he kneels on the floor in front of kavinsky and takes the shirt out of those tattooed hands. it's tossed aside so he can take kavinsky's hands in his ( this is what will would do; this is what will does for him even now ) and leans in close. he can smell the liquor on kavinsky's mouth like this, but pays it no heed. ]

Do you honestly think I'd be here if I wasn't worried about you. If you were so right, I'd be over fucking Vex right now. But no, I'm here with you. Doesn't that mean something?

[kavinsky doesn't move his head as the death god moves around onto the floor, but he does watch, following him with eyes that turn blankly in their sockets. he manages to keep his face empty as the other boy pulls the shirt away, as the other boy talks. to anyone who knows what nico is truly capable of, this image isn't too convincing; raiser of zombies, power over death itself. nico is no supplicant, not at anybody's feet.

but kavinsky has a bit of an ego problem, so it works a bit. more than a little. he looks down on nico, and maybe something about the physicality of that stops him from looking down at nico so much, defensive and prickly, full of pain, willing to transmute it into simple jealousy because that would be easier than sitting with the empty chill of not being loved enough.

he stares at nico for what feels like a long time.]

Something, [he allows, finally. two years of therapy produces results, as does nico's peucliar finesse in dealing with extraordinarily difficult young men.] You want me to pretend it's enough?

[ it's not often nico gets on his knees for anyone, at least not in the way kavinsky is thinking. he's the type to stride forward on the battlefield, push others out of the way and let his fear aura talk for him. he's faced down the lord of time without flinching, faced the curses of the arai, walked the flesh of tartarus itself. he may have been broken then, especially when he met the goddess of misery, but he never once bowed before them.

the reason he kneels before kavinsky now is for a different reason. maybe it's because he knows misery, has seen her face, that he knows misery in others. like now, even as kavinsky keeps his face a mask of impassiveness. he can tell kavinsky is working through this, and even if he gets a snarky remark, it'll be worth it to see that kavinsky is trying.

but he doesn't get snark, he doesn't get sass. he gets a small admission and that prompts the corners of his lips to quirk a little. he slides a hand up to cup kavinsky's cheek, well aware that this kind of touch might either set him off or be exactly what he needs. ]

I don't want you to pretend. Pretending just makes it worse. I speak from experience. It'll just continue to fester inside. Instead, tell me what you need.

Travel back in time, [is kavinsky's answer, prompt, but not as derisive as it could be.] Tell me he'll be worse than Lynch. A shittier liar than Caleb. Give me a heads up, man. I could find somebody else to fuck. [some other terrifyingly powerful, dark-haired man, no doubt. you can't say that kavinsky doesn't have a type.]

You're a demigod. You can pull that shit off, can't you?

[it's easier to talk about power. it's easier to make fun. certainly both matters of life that kavinsky has experience and skill with. sincerity and vulnerability are considerably more difficult.] I'm not gonna put out tonight, di Angelo. It's the shit when this happens. [this happens, like it's happened before. it has.] I need like half a pound of cocaine to wanna do anything. I'm always festering, sweetheart. I'm a fucking leper where it counts.

[he realizes too late that where nico's kneeling, he can tell his eyes are kind of red and jacked up. he twists his head, glancing away for a moment. stupid. but he's still not trying all that hard to get away.]

I can think of one thing, but you ain't gonna like it.

I wish I could. There's a lot of things I would change. But my powers don't work that way.

[ it's times like these that nico wishes so desperately that he could go back in time. that he could change things for himself and others. maybe if he went back, he could stop himself from falling in love with percy jackson, from falling back in love with the son of the sea. maybe he could find a way through tartarus without being caught. maybe he could even prevent bianca from dying.

and it wouldn't just be for him either. he'd do it for loki, for vex, and even for kavinsky. but he can't. all his powers generate are death and destruction. he has no power over time.

so he sighs and shakes his head, hand slipping from kavinsky's cheek. it pains him that the other boy apparently feels he needs drugs to function, but he doesn't care about fucking right now. not when kavinsky's like this. ]

You don't have to do anything you don't want to. I'm willing to help if I can.

[kavinsky's eyes cut across the death godling's face again. retreat for a moment, before returning. it's a cowardly little dance, but the rest of him doesn't move. sitting stable on the edge of his bed. thinking, then not thinking much at all. thinking of vex, then only about nico, then only about the shape of his own hands on his lap.

there's no one he wants to change death for tonight. not even-- and this is a shitty thing, but not surprising— not even mark. maybe in a month or five, but until then there's no spare room for compassion in kavinsky's heart.]

Let me cut your hair.

[it's a sudden proposal with a lopsided smile that actually reaches kavinsky's eyes. hard to read, otherwise. if it's cruelty, it's not the loud and kidnapping kind that kavinsky's thrown about in the past. an old joke from their old homeworld, long ago.]

[ for a few moments, all nico can do is stare. he'd been expecting something more deep, something a little more desperate. but this... it's such a reminder of their banter from "home" that he can't help the smile that quirks at his lips.

it's such a simple request too, for all the times they argued about it back in eudio. still, he can't help but want to give kavinsky this, so he huffs out a breath ( one that flutters his long bangs ) and jerks his head. ]

Where are your scissors?

[the mirth that darts across nico's face makes kavinsky smile in answer. just a small one. grudgingly. mostly, the concession is that he gives a fuck if nico wants to make him feel better. it does little to quiet the howling pain in his skinny chest, but it gives him something else to listen to for a little while.] Got some in the kitchen.

And this trimmer thing I use on my pubes, but I can wash it first. Boiling water and all. [a tattooed hand goes up, knocks gently into nico's cheek. at least there's no tangible stickiness of snot or anything of the like that nico can feel. kavinsky starts to scoot off the bed, moving a little slowly, but at least-- moving. and not with the frenetic crazed cokehead mess the way he was before, either. this time, with purpose.]

You gonna wash your hair in the fucking shower, or I gotta work with that mess?

[ it's the smile that clinches it for nico. the smile that makes him decide he might as well go through with this, even if he makes a face at the idea of clippers from anywhere near kavinsky's crotch being used on his head.

he's still making the face as kavinsky asks about showering. he doesn't see why he needs to, but if that'll continue to keep kavinsky out of the funk he was in, his hands go to his belt. ]

Fine, fine. [ with the air of exasperation. ] Go clean your trimmer 'cause I don't want it near me until then. I'll head to your shower.

[ and he just drops trow like no big deal. after all, kavinsky's seen everything anyway. so he gestures like "where the fuck is the shower anyway?" and waits for kavinsky to respond. ]

[kavinsky points through the doorway. the bathroom is right through, the door off to the right. it's a good-looking bathroom, shiny and chrome, but already in something of a need for cleaning. kavinsky has a rather stereotypical privileged white boy's concept of cleaning. smears of dust gathering in the edges here or there, toothpaste streaking the mirror, although it smells bright and sweet with chemical agents. he actually follows the death god into there, tossing a new towel over the top of the toilet tank.

in the meantime, kavinsky's fetching the trimmer from the drawer. turning some hot water on in the faucet, some soap for sterilization.]

You got anything in mind or you want me to use some creative freedom? [he calls. he does sound-- less sad. for better or worse.]

[ making quick work of his shower ( he doesn't really want to give kavinsky a show or anything ), he's soon done and reaching for the towel. since he left his clothes in kavinsky's room, he heads back there. he's glad that the other boy sounds less sad ( it's progress ), and apparently giving haircuts is something kavinsky enjoys, so he prepares himself inwardly to accept whatever style the other boy has in mind. ]

I don't care. Just don't make it look like crap.

[ he has a reputation as the shaggy son of hades, after all.

grabbing his clothes, he soon has himself dressed again save for his shirt. figuring he'll be losing a good amount of hair, he figures keeping his shirt off would be best considering he doesn't want hair all over it. ]

I don't really know what's considered in style, so I'll leave it up to you.

[ which means he's putting a great deal of trust in kavinsky. he hopes the dreamthief realizes that. ]

[trusting kavinsky is often a mistake. ensuring he knows it's the mistake you're making is probably a whole other mistake. but there are worse mistakes to be made with kavinsky than that, these days. at least they aren't in love.

by the time nico emerges, there's an amateur barber's station set up in the bedroom, in front of the mirror posted at the foot of his bed. chair, scrap paper. a questionable but not unexpected beer sitting by the shears and a large pair of kitchen scissors. kavinsky pulls the other boy into sitting down on the seat, his jittery, tattooed fingers tugging on nico's arm. there's some shitty bulgarian rap blasting from kavinsky's laptop nearby.]

Hey.

[he scrunches his fingers through nico's hair. with his other hand, he picks up the shears.] Hey. How come I never met your boyfriend.

2 truths and a lie; daemon: moonshined (cw-word)

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feel free to have him miss

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cw drugs some more

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hayley this tag was so beautiful!

not as beautiful as yours!

never

lies

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tw suicide

cw: suicidal idealation

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