[it's a hell of a crash. it's a hundred smaller crashes wrecking together, building up, cumulative, into one cacophony that blasts into the woods. metal shearing apart, snapping, bouncing into reduced pieces. the cars disconnecting, rolling, tumbling away. glass shattering where the base of the wheel crushes a popcorn stand, exploding it, albeit with no actual popcorn casualties.
kavinsky laughs like a nightmare. he doesn't have many of his own anymore, funnily enough. it's what happens when you take as many pills to stop your dreams as pills to dream only what you want. there's no creativity, no life, no joie de vivre to anything in kavinsky's mind when he closes his eyes at night. the occasional revenant from the remembered past, no imagination as to what the future could change.
his preferred revenants are on fire.]
Put the fucking brake on.
[he kisses the peachfuzzy side of ronan's head, an impulse as coarse as a wolf pack slamming shoulder into shoulder as they run down prey. for some animals, collision is part of moving in cohesion. he's picking up the bag the next moment, eager to burn the ferris wheel. the fucking world.]
no subject
kavinsky laughs like a nightmare. he doesn't have many of his own anymore, funnily enough. it's what happens when you take as many pills to stop your dreams as pills to dream only what you want. there's no creativity, no life, no joie de vivre to anything in kavinsky's mind when he closes his eyes at night. the occasional revenant from the remembered past, no imagination as to what the future could change.
his preferred revenants are on fire.]
Put the fucking brake on.
[he kisses the peachfuzzy side of ronan's head, an impulse as coarse as a wolf pack slamming shoulder into shoulder as they run down prey. for some animals, collision is part of moving in cohesion. he's picking up the bag the next moment, eager to burn the ferris wheel. the fucking world.]