ｊｏｓｅｐｈ ｋａｖｉｎｓｋｙ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pillz) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenace2016-02-14 09:32 pm
pillz) wrote in maskormenace2016-02-14 09:32 pm
Entry tags:
- adam parrish | n/a,
- erik lehnsherr | magneto,
- joseph kavinsky | n/a,
- † blue sargent | n/a,
- † dorian gray | n/a,
- † hunter zolomon | zoom,
- † kaito kuroba | kaitou kid,
- † kitty jones | n/a,
- † newton geiszler | n/a,
- † reggie mantle | n/a,
- † richard gansey | raven king,
- † robert callaghan | yokai,
- † satya wallace | n/a
O1 👶 video;
cw implied harm to (fantastical) animal, implied drug use, probably offensive language within ??
[the picture shakes, obviously handheld. when the picture focuses, there's a dragon rampaging down the street, wings flapping, eyes blazing orange, its body built of churning smoke and fire. it has teeth, in terrifying, serrated rows, but that seems somehow less important than the impossible cycling of gas and combustion that form its flesh. the whole situation is very cloverfield. in the background, the sound of human screams rises tinny, shallow.
lower definition than the communicator video.
but there's a reason for that. a discerning eye might notice immediately: the street the monster is running down is empty of people, and there's something wrong with the buildings. not enough detail in the brick, the windows, the pavement, and beyond it, the sky a fuzzy, paint-white blank. when the camera pulls out, reality becomes clear. the city is merely a cardboard model, stylized in a way that will be familiar to some, but this time a rendering of de chima's downtown area rather than sleepy henrietta. the monster, no matter how miraculous, could fit in the size of an ordinary man's palm.
or inside of a drinking glass, as it turns out. the next moment, one such cup plunks down over the creature, trapping it like a spider in the glass. the tiny dragon immediately begins to screech in rage-- or pain; it's hard to tell, but you only need a little imagination and familiarity with fire to consider the consequences.
and then kavinsky squares the camera lens on his face. skinny white boy— young, hollow-eyed and pale, his black hair clotted with too much gel. one earring, wifebeater, probably (definitely) trying too hard, probably (undoubtedly) overly impressed by himself. there is something oddly jittery about his hands, shoulders, the swollen bloat of his dilated pupils. he sprawled inside of a bedroom, generic, unlived-in. past his shoulder, there's a television playing stadium footage of a european football game, hence the poorly dubbed soundtrack. the dragon's outrage grows fainter.
he smiles.]
Made you look.
[he winks, and cuts the feed.]
[the picture shakes, obviously handheld. when the picture focuses, there's a dragon rampaging down the street, wings flapping, eyes blazing orange, its body built of churning smoke and fire. it has teeth, in terrifying, serrated rows, but that seems somehow less important than the impossible cycling of gas and combustion that form its flesh. the whole situation is very cloverfield. in the background, the sound of human screams rises tinny, shallow.
lower definition than the communicator video.
but there's a reason for that. a discerning eye might notice immediately: the street the monster is running down is empty of people, and there's something wrong with the buildings. not enough detail in the brick, the windows, the pavement, and beyond it, the sky a fuzzy, paint-white blank. when the camera pulls out, reality becomes clear. the city is merely a cardboard model, stylized in a way that will be familiar to some, but this time a rendering of de chima's downtown area rather than sleepy henrietta. the monster, no matter how miraculous, could fit in the size of an ordinary man's palm.
or inside of a drinking glass, as it turns out. the next moment, one such cup plunks down over the creature, trapping it like a spider in the glass. the tiny dragon immediately begins to screech in rage-- or pain; it's hard to tell, but you only need a little imagination and familiarity with fire to consider the consequences.
and then kavinsky squares the camera lens on his face. skinny white boy— young, hollow-eyed and pale, his black hair clotted with too much gel. one earring, wifebeater, probably (definitely) trying too hard, probably (undoubtedly) overly impressed by himself. there is something oddly jittery about his hands, shoulders, the swollen bloat of his dilated pupils. he sprawled inside of a bedroom, generic, unlived-in. past his shoulder, there's a television playing stadium footage of a european football game, hence the poorly dubbed soundtrack. the dragon's outrage grows fainter.
he smiles.]
Made you look.
[he winks, and cuts the feed.]
no subject
[this is going well.]
Maybe you ought to try some reverse psychology with me. If you tell me to cozy up, I might grow bored and leave you all alone instead.
God knows that whatever Parrish is trying to do isn't working. Insults and empty threats. Really. You might as well scold him in public, you know. Rolled up newspaper, isn't that how you and I usually deal with miscreant dogs? Pip pip.
no subject
Is it? That’s not what I saw happen to yours. Adam, unfortunately, has the displeasure of knowing you, and that makes him disinclined towards friendliness. I think he’s showing due respect, honestly.
[ Please don’t poke Kavinsky, Adam. That will end badly for all of us. ]
Do you want the truth? It doesn’t matter what I say to you. You went too far, crossed one line too many. You can’t undo it now.
[ Ronan's threats won't be empty. That's what Gansey's worried about. ]
no subject
if there's anybody he's going to pursue, and aggravate deliberately, they both know who that is.]
Good Lord, Rick. You thought we were talking about redemption?
Did your balls die the last time they crawled up Ronan's ass? You'll be happy to know that mine are intact. I remember perfectly what I did. If I felt like crawling after you, that would have been a very different video.
That isn't why I'm here, darling.
no subject
This won’t lead to anything but disappointment. I’m afraid you’ll need to find a new fixation. Preferably one that’s far away from me, if it’s not too much trouble.
[ Like that’s going to happen. If actually dying hadn’t made Kavinsky leave Ronan alone, nothing will. ]
no subject
Not forgiveness, prince shitstain.
Opposite. :)
[new fixation— unlikely. but one never knows; this world has a lot of distractions that the old one never offered.]
no subject
[ Honestly, Kavinsky hadn't even needed to burn his bridges with Gansey. They'd never been on the same side, and never would be. ]
Was that everything? As I'm sure you know, I have literally anything else to be getting along with.
no subject
I'm sure our paths will cross again. I have this terrible habit of escalating up your priorities, haven't I, pip pip.
And cheerio.
no subject
no subject
Bury your head in the sand and put your ass in the air. :)
no subject
He types out several possible replies, and deletes every one of them. He is officially rising above this mess.
And then he's going to find Ronan, as quickly as he can. But he's definitely rising above it and not letting Kavinsky get to him, for sure. ]