#kevinbluffs

[askmommyslittlemonsters-blog]

What is Crowley afraid of? :)

Werewolves. He's mortified of them.

(ft. Scott, who belongs to miss pen)

[sideburnsandvoice]

Your skin looks really lovely!

"Well... thank you, Kevin."

Run away run away run away run away run away.

[cecildearlisteners]

There are no words, only scratches and screams shaped into softer meaning. (Closed / Kevin)

His apartment was so empty. Yes, there was furniture, but it seemed, somehow, so cold, so impersonal. He had thought he would need to spend some time there, recovering, after his long, similarly empty journey on the subway, but found upon his arrival that almost nothing could be less desirable. His thoughts did not make good companions. From the hall closet, he dug out a coat--his coat, he remembered vaguely, which Carlos had bought for him, or at least bought with him--and put it on. It felt strange and heavy. He wasn't sure why it would be strange--it was winter, wasn't it? and this was what you did in winter--but it was.

The more he thought about himself, the more he realized how piecemeal his memories really were. Where had he been before this city? What had he done in this city? There was the radio station (a blur, mainly--he did not remember what his own shows were like), and there was his apartment, and there was Carlos, but there was not very much else. Two of these things had proven uncomfortable and strange. Before he was willing to give up and accept misery, he wanted to at least become reacquainted with the third.

The radio station was not particularly far from his apartment, and now that he was wearing a coat, it would not be difficult to walk there. The walk, however, was silent, and lonely, and also slightly uncomfortable. The radio station, he found as he entered through the front door, was not. Most of its employees were gone--perhaps they didn't even remember working there--but not all. He waved a silent "hello", moving by instinct to the break room to make himself some coffee.

Simple enough, for now.

[mastersnowdrift]

╰☆╮

1st Person gets: A gentle hug

"Kevin, the New Year was yesterday…" Snowdrift still wraps the man up gently in his huge arms. "Still…let’s hope this is a good one."

[mastersnowdrift]

ᴅᴏ yᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴠᴀʟᴇɴᴛɪɴᴇ yᴇᴛ!?!

"No, Kevin, I don’t." Snowdrift pauses. "I’m not sure I understand the custom, though…maybe you could tell me a bit more about it?"

[mastersnowdrift]

Congratulations! You've received one sticky smileyface button! Wear it with any of your casual outfits.

"Kevin, this is hardly…" Snowdrift sighed. "Expected. Thank you." He places the button on his right shoulder, and it adheres to the red undershirt.

[mastersnowdrift]

6!

((uwu not sure which meme this is a response to…))

Send me a number and my character will tell you what your’s does that:

6 ═ Attracts them

"I have to admit…you certainly do possess incredible resiliency. Nothing truly keeps you down for long. That in itself deserves respect."

[mastersnowdrift]

Dawn of the Sixth Day (CA Closed Event: Kevin Free)

Having endured the previous night's storm in the relative comfort of District Epsilon. which had become overrun with refugees, Snowdrift now prepared to head out for the new day. These were civilians, all of whom had been stunned when Snowdrift dragged in a dead polar bear (which had taken the huge Pandaren a solid hour to kill). He had then proceeded to create a campfire, cook the beast, and cut it up for them. He just hoped he hadn't given them any...ideas if desperation struck. Some of the individuals here were more gaunt than Snowdrift was comfortable with, and it was these that Snowdrift had encouraged to eat their fill.

He's not encountered anyone in this group that he had met before. None of these faces were familiar to him; they were, truly faces in the crowds. Except the crowd couldn't survive on the surface. They'd been forced here by the sheer cold. It was desperation that had also led Snowdrift here. He couldn't survive the surface conditions at night. The one time he had attempted to last through the night with a small fire at his side, an absolute zero warning had shocked him awake and he had just barely escaped into District Four. His life had almost come to a freezing end.

He hadn't waited to see what these civilians would do when they woke up. As soon as the sun began to rise and the clouds swept away fro a moment to reveal dazzling pink, Snowdrift was gone. Into the cold he went, his shoulder healed and his upper arms wrapped in thick scarves that he'd taken from a band of thugs two days previous. "Robbing the robbers...it has a certain irony." The big Pandaren muttered to himself as he strode down the street.

There were people about now. The temperature was slightly warmer (meaning that the more bold individuals could chance things), but the clouds would soon seal away the sunlight. Snow had already begun to fall in the distance. Grunting as he had to climb over a car that was not quite buried in the snow, Snowdrift used his keen eyes to survey the scene. There were tracks leading to a sidestreet...

Tracks of a human, running and pursued by a furred footprint...one of the gigantic sabertooth tigers, perhaps? Snowdrift at once followed the trails to their logical conclusion and made it to that street as quickly as he could. He then saw both the hunter...and the prey. The hunter in this case was a fully-grown tiger, about ten feet in length from tailtip to nose with prominent canines jutting down. It snarled as it regarded its prey, a male human of average build, neither muscular nor heavyset. And the man quite obviously did not want to end up the tiger's lunch, as he hefted a heavy knife of some sort.

Snowdrift at once sprinted into action, gathering his chi and stabilizing it. The tiger regarded the big Pandaren almost impassively...and then snapped at the man, who ducked away. The long teeth just missed him by inches. Snowdrift's katana was raised and he plunged it deep into the tiger's shoulder. With a baleful howl of rage, the sabertooth tiger swatted with its good paw, but Snowdrift was too canny and the blow missed as he whipped free the katana.

Snowdrift's finishing blow did not miss. The katana, guided upwards in a short thrusting motion, severed the tiger's throat and it dropped dead, flopping onto all fours in a most...undignified manner. Snowdrift now regarded the man whose life he had just saved. He seemed somehow familiar. Something about the eyes...something about days in this place long since gone. The big Pandaren held a hand to his jaw as he tried to place the man. "Your name is...Kevin, yes?" He finally asked.