Stiles Stilinski (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
threeisapattern) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenace2019-03-02 09:28 pm
threeisapattern) wrote in maskormenace2019-03-02 09:28 pm
video;
[Zoom in on one teenage boy, sitting on a park bench. He looks kind of shitty—pale, a piece of gauze taped to his left cheek, and a barely-healed split lip. He’s hunched over, watching something out-of-frame.]
So there’s like—a community of kidnapped people with their own social network, huh. That’s pretty fucked up. [He leans down, wincing slightly, and picks up a dirty tennis ball from the ground before throwing it.] And everyone gets super powers, which would be the coolest thing I’ve ever experienced in my life if I wasn’t also half-convinced this is all some weird coma dream.
[There he goes after the tennis ball again. Before he can pick it up, there’s the sound of excited yipping and then a stray that looks like it might have an ancestor somewhere in the Bijon Frise family jumps into his lap, presses its little paws against his chest, and does its damnedest to lick his face.]
Okay, I appreciate the thought, buddy, but dog slobber is not a proven cure for what ails you. Let’s go back to the ball, okay? We were doing good with the ball.
[The dog whines and gives him a final lick before jumping back out of the frame, and Stiles throws the ball again.]
Also, like, my superpower is talking to dogs. And getting them to understand me, not just—my superpower is not just being a crazy guy who talks to dogs. If you have a dog and you need someone to explain to them that shoes are not acceptable chew toys, I will give it a shot in exchange for Ibuprofen. Or money to buy Ibuprofen with, that's probably smarter.
So there’s like—a community of kidnapped people with their own social network, huh. That’s pretty fucked up. [He leans down, wincing slightly, and picks up a dirty tennis ball from the ground before throwing it.] And everyone gets super powers, which would be the coolest thing I’ve ever experienced in my life if I wasn’t also half-convinced this is all some weird coma dream.
[There he goes after the tennis ball again. Before he can pick it up, there’s the sound of excited yipping and then a stray that looks like it might have an ancestor somewhere in the Bijon Frise family jumps into his lap, presses its little paws against his chest, and does its damnedest to lick his face.]
Okay, I appreciate the thought, buddy, but dog slobber is not a proven cure for what ails you. Let’s go back to the ball, okay? We were doing good with the ball.
[The dog whines and gives him a final lick before jumping back out of the frame, and Stiles throws the ball again.]
Also, like, my superpower is talking to dogs. And getting them to understand me, not just—my superpower is not just being a crazy guy who talks to dogs. If you have a dog and you need someone to explain to them that shoes are not acceptable chew toys, I will give it a shot in exchange for Ibuprofen. Or money to buy Ibuprofen with, that's probably smarter.
makes sense!
[He goes digging through his stuff for the house key, has a brief moment of panic that it won't work, and then successfully opens the door. A quick little exploration later and he finds a bedroom that seems pretty much unoccupied.]
So, uh. I guess this is it.