displaced warlord

karsci vaughan. forty-five. hungarian. former investigative journalist. renowned graphic novelist & owner of boxers & saints.

[gabemorrison-blog]

“And what condition is that?”

[karscivaughan-blog]

“You mean besides the scar from a bullet and the massive amounts of scar tissue? Nothing at all.”

[averyhq-blog]

“oh i know you don’t, and that’s exactly why i’m making you chose- because you should eat these more often.”

[karscivaughan-blog]

“Why? It’s certainly not because I’m too skinny.”

[harlxw-deactivated20180804]

“Well, I was hoping you’d say you liked it.” Elodie turned to her new artwork once more, nervousness suddenly hitting her as she tried to figure out if she should bother placing it in her show this weekend. It was different from her previous pieces, this one being more abstract than anything else she’d done before. Sighing, she twisted the ring that was around her thumb, something she did when she was stressed, before looking at her friend again. “Really though, does it look alright?”

[karscivaughan-blog]

The man stood before the painting, brow furrowed and arms crossed as he took a moment to observe every apparent brush stroke on the canvas. He had never been the best sort of art connoisseur, although other people had begun to think he was, for whatever reason. Tilting his head to the side, he shrugged and nodded.

“It looks good. Good choice of colors.”

[gabemorrison-blog]

“You sound boring.  You’re only an idiot if you fall and it’s not like it’s a difficult task to climb a ladder.”

[karscivaughan-blog]

“Actually, climbing a ladder is rather difficult considering the condition of my shoulder,” the man replied, narrowing his eyes at the other.

[mamimija-blog]

“It’s a simple question dude,” Mia huskily chuckled toward the man across the table from her in the library. “Have you ever stuck a popsicle in your significant other during sex? It’s in this angsty teenage romance novel I’m reading, and it just seems so unrealistic. Not to mention unsanitary, the poor girl must be left with a yeast infection by the end of this chapter,” Mia finished, placing more hot cheetos into her mouth.

[karscivaughan-blog]

The Hungarian looked up from the newspaper he had been reading, a look of malcontent splattered across his face as he came to process what the young woman was asking him to divulge.

“That sounds absolutely disgusting,” he grumbled, shaking his head as his upper lip curled. “No. Never.”

[averyhq-blog]

“come on, dude. it’s not even that difficult of a question… pizza or burgers, it’s not hard. trust your instincts, trust your heart.” she said jokingly.

[karscivaughan-blog]

A frown scrawled across his face, heaving a sigh as he shook his head.

“Fine, uh... hamburgers.” He shrugged. “I don’t know, I tend not to have either or those.”

[opheliaffs-deactivated20170203]

“Come on, just be honest. Does this dress look good on me or not? I promise I won’t get offended.”

[karscivaughan-blog]

“It looks fine,” the man replied, glancing at her only briefly before allowing blue eyes to flicker away.

[mcrrisey]

She’ll stand back from the masterpiece in front of her – poetic bullshit and crude drawings scribbled across the painted brick wall. “Art doesn’t need a response, man.” Taz doesn’t even bother looking in the stranger’s direction – she’s much too focused on sticking it to the man or whatever the hell the weed had convinced her to do.

[karscivaughan-blog]

“No, I guess you’re right,” he murmured, a look lacking amusement scribbled across worn features. He crossed his arms over his chest, raising a brow. “My question is, then, why have you done... this?”

[clairexlynette-blog]

Well, he wasn’t wrong. In fact, she was just passing by when she saw him sitting down with the sketchpad in hand and a quick little excuse to make conversation popped up in her head. But whatever. Details. “I don’t,” she declared straightforward, chin up and her chest almost puffed out. “I was given my body and it’s… nothing to be ashamed of. My body is who I am.”

A tiny giggle bubbled on her lips at his comment on her calling him young. “With the right amount of skeeball I think you could pass off for being a little kid-ish.” She scanned the location in front of them. “What have you been inspired by so far?”

[karscivaughan-blog]

Skee-ball. Was she having a laugh?

The man raised a brow, lips twitching at their corners as he attempted not to peel them into a frown. A part of him wanted to simply climb over the table and removed himself from the situation, while another told him to just stay put. Either way, he wasn’t having it.

“People inspire me,” he replied, saying little else on the topic as his pen sketched a few more lines here and there.

[wtafgrace]

“It’s a pretty straight forward question.” Matt argued. “Would you rather poo a melon or pee a plum.”

[karscivaughan-blog]

“... I absolutely refuse to respond to that load of nonsense.”

[magnusbanesbooks]

[passivites]

[mrbenwyatt]

[clairexlynette-blog]

Her face flushed red with further embarrassment when he refused her hand so she retrieved it, tucked both of hers in when she folded her arms across her chest. A barricade from anything else humiliating her. But then he introduced himself as well, making her believe that whatever wall he had put him was slowly crumbling down. It was the optimist in her. Wishful thinker, hopeless dreamer. “Maks,” she repeated softly, and even without a handshake for right now that was god enough for her.

Claire took a deep breath before preparing her answer. “I told you my problem before I sat on something sharp and I wanted to make sure that it was okay.” It was easy to use that excuse. “And it’s just my butt, it’s nothing personal, nothing to hide. And I’d be surprised if you haven’t seen it before. Tony Rostansa made sure of that. Sent a pic to basically the whole town. Just because I may have sort of told him he had a small penis.”

“So… Maks, why is a solemn, talented young man such as yourself sitting here to draw instead of a studio or a coffee shop in case someone like myself could come up here and bug you a little.”

[karscivaughan-blog]

“Right, well, I don’t think you actually sat on something,” the older man clarified, lips curling inwards as he shook his head once. She was certainly something else, that was for sure. It was no new situation, finding himself conversing with a woman much younger than himself, but she was... much too young, and he doubted she was even of legal age. It worried him in slight, that if anyone saw them that they would get the wrong idea, and so he was keen on keeping his hands to himself, not only because of the newspapers, but because even touching her would have felt incredibly wrong. At her next comment, he made a face. “I thought Americans saw the body as something personal, something to hide.”

He paused for a moment, shrugging in slight.

“Oh, grand that you’re different.” And yet it even worried him.

“‘Young’? What, are you trying to flatter me? I’m hardly the definition of youth anymore,” he mumbled. “And I’m here to draw on inspiration. I sketch people, all types of people, and different places have different people.”

[clairexlynette-blog]

She’s gotten jabs at her intelligence plenty of times before. People at school, teachers, her mother’s several lovers. Even her own mother. Another one from a stranger didn’t hurt her. It couldn’t. Claire’s smile didn’t falter, but her emerald eyes spoke a different story. But she was sure he wouldn’t be able to tell. The man didn’t care much for her.

“Or what you’ll spank me? Will that be my punishment? Something tells me that even you wouln’t mind that.” The man labeled her a stranger so she sat back, held her hand out for a shake. “Well, then, I’m Claire. I’m not a stranger to you anymore, am I?”

[karscivaughan-blog]

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” the Hungarian mused, cocking a brow as he smirked smugly. Somehow she was becoming progressively more annoying, and a part of him wanted to get up and leave right then and there... and yet something held him back, kept him in that squished sitting area, mind void of any novel ideas.

At first he ignored her hand, not even looking it as if to say, “Really?”, yet after a moment he acknowledged it, but only with his gaze.

“... Maks,” the man replied, shifting back to his sketchpad. “So... Claire, why is a young woman such as yourself running around showing her arse to... people such as myself?”

[clairexlynette-blog]

“Do the math? What, you want me to calculate what year you were born or whatever. Hate to break it to you, but school ended like… two hours ago.” She knew what he’d meant. Twenty eight years. Twenty seven if she took account for her eighteen birthday in just a little over a week. Still, if her father were still alive he’d be just a couple years younger than who this man was.

Claire gave him a dubious look, narrowing her eyes but lips still parted in a soft smile. She circled her finger in his face, then booping the tip of his nose. “Please, there’s everything to tell. Everyone’s done things and learned things, but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing there.”

[karscivaughan-blog]

“What, does your brain turn off after that?” the man asked, a lack of amusement on his face. There was little to discuss, at least that was how he saw it, and a part of him detested even continuing to speak with her. She chewed at his nerves, causing his mind to toil more than necessary. It would be the touch on his nose that would send a look of malcontent across worn features, small, bright eyes flickering to meet hers.

“Don’t touch me, first of all,” he began flatly, clearly not looking for any sort of disagreeing reply. “Second, there’s nothing I’m looking to tell, especially not a stranger such as yourself.”

[just-pam]

       “You don’t have to buy into anything,” she said indignantly, “it’s a gift.” And Evie did not withdraw her gift. She noticed that subtle shift in his demeanour. The tightening of the jaw, the arms crossed over his chest. Contrary to what many people believe, she was not stupid. 

“Besides, it’s not a very nice thing to call a gift rubbish after the effort someone went through to grow the flower, care for it, press it and gift it. And anywho, how do you know it’s rubbish if you haven’t even tried it?” 

[karscivaughan-blog]

“And I won’t. And I also won’t buy into the idea that I need to accept everything given to me, because some things are, in face, rubbish,” the man retorted, doing his best to keep his voice from growing overly protective. Allowing his jaw to loosen, he took a deep breath, watching the woman out from under a furrowed brow. He wasn’t sure what to think of her, of why she had decided he was some poor soul that needed her unsolicited help. He snorted, shaking his head as his gaze wandered elsewhere. “Look, you can just... keep it for someone who will appreciate it more than I probably will.”