C'EST LA VIE.

0 3 .   0 3 .   0 3 .

[irestruck]

wtf y’all living ???

[irestruck]

moved here.

[irestruck]

moved here.

[irestruck]

moved here.

[irestruck]

moved here.

[hexesandcrowns-deactivated20180]

jean moreau for @wesninskids

he won’t be back in black

[irestruck]

WESNINSKI:

                        there are a couple of things that nathaniel wants:  for jean to be gone,  for riko to drop dead,  for kevin to grow a spine, for a chance to escape this hell.  this isn’t about what he wants and what jean might be able to do to give him what he wants.  this is about what they need to survive;  and what they need is to get their act together and function as a T E A M.  his head is tilted,  auburn hair hanging across his forehead as blue eyes relentlessly stare at jean’s features,  taking in his impatience and making him wait with nothing more than a bored and annoyed look on his own features.

         “ what will it take for you to trust me ? ”  it’s not the answer to the question,  but it is the most jean was going to get out of nathaniel anytime soon.  he believed and trusted jean to use his brain for once rather than his too-big-mouth.  there is no point in discussing what it would take for nathaniel to trust jean,  for there was NOTHING jean could do or say to convince nathaniel of his loyalty.  he was a ticking time-bomb ready to explode.  “ the others FUCK to get through the hostility and rivality.  —  is that what you need ? ”

SILENCE REIGNS.  creeps,  the subtle crawl of a clock’s second hand.  jean doesn’t attempt to fill it,  chooses to return the dead - eyed stare with one of his own.  expectation fills that look he receives,  expectation for something he isn’t willing to give.   (  isn’t able,  perhaps,  to give.  obedience is surrender  /  adaptation is defeat.  )   jean wears the glazed serenity of one courting death,  of a man kissing the reaper’s hand and deeming it merciful.  the thrumming resoluteness of a martyr  /  the high of self - destruction  /  the blissful disregard           craving,  even           for collateral damage.   (  nathaniel is no different from the rest.  any sympathy  /  compassion  /  humanity long lost,  scraped and hollowed out by jet - black claws.  another monster,  another  wearing the skin of a man.  )

and crash                 a breakthrough of raw emotion,  of surprise.  the flinch is automatic,  disgust coiling tight in his gut.     ‘          no.  ’     a gasp  /  an outburst of a response.  brows knit together  ;  he chokes the thought down,  tries not to let the rage boil over.  revulsion,  disbelief,  betrayal          perhaps he’d hoped   (  some naive,  smothered part of him  )   for honesty.  for defiance,  for anything outside of the ugly black mass of conformity.     ‘  fuck off.  i do not wish to speak to you.  ’

[irestruck]

yea .

[irestruck]

*sharpens knife*  i will never forgive riko moriyama for fucking jean up beyond repair.

[irestruck]

WESNINSKI :

@irestruck

                  He had never asked for this;  never wanted to be a half of a team or have a PARTNER;  -  have Jean Moreau stuck by his side, forced to watch Riko punish him first before turning against Nathaniel.    — They still weren’t a good enough team.  Individually,  they were good, but Nathaniel was so used to relying on himself and nobody else,  that he struggled with trusting Jean.  They collided into each other more often than they did with the strikers.

      He wraps the bandage tight around Jean’s abdomen, not even bothering to ask if the boy was comfortable with it or not,  stood up and went to his own bed.  They needed to rest as much as they could until they’d have to leave for court.  Their new injuries would only make practice harder and if they didn’t pull themselves together,  the master would personally take care of them.  Not even a Wesninski would want to evoke the master’s wrath.

              “ We can’t do this if we don’t trust each other, ” he begun,  slowly shaking his head and glaring down at his own hands.  “ I don’t trust YOU. ” Finally he looked up again,  the grim look still furrowing his brows as he pursed his lips.  “ And you don’t trust me. ”

IT HAD TAKEN WEEKS TO EVEN GET TO THIS POINT.  a toxic brew of stubbornness and rage eating away at thin ice,  they only keep from each other’s throats long enough for the wounds to scab.  jean knows he’s dead weight on the court,  prickly at all edges and recklessly rebellious              the captain’s blows strike down on them both,  but even identical wounds have yet to equalize the two.  pride,  perhaps,  is the ultimate culprit  ;  they cling to it,  remnants of weak humanity in the lion’s den.

gauze digs into bruise - blackened skin,  draws little more than a gritting of teeth.  the suffocating feeling of invasive presence leaves,  abated by the few strides from one bed to another.   (  privacy in the nest is an illusion,  but jean is willing to take whatever he can get.  )   silence reigns,  until nathaniel takes the initiative.  jean’s eyes lift,  but don’t further acknowledge the breach until nathaniel finishes.

‘  are we stating the obvious now ?  ’     he shifts,  something wry and sharp growing across chapped lips.  a brief flash of fangs,  before a dismissive gesture indicates his impatience.     ‘  get to the point.  what do you want ?  ’

[onceuponamusing]

                                                       I EXIST.                           WITH                      ( OR )                       WITHOUT                                             YOUR PERMISSION

                                                  — I EXIST.

[irestruck]

: - )

[irestruck]

WESNINSKI:

                    “ I’ve got better things to do than threatening you. ”  The anger and frustration oozing out of every single pore of Jean’s body and drenching his words in a bitter tone leave Nathaniel untouched.  He wonders if this is what Kevin feels like whenever Nathaniel decides to pick a fight with Riko he won’t ever be able to win.  The thought is soon discarded ,  Nathaniel’s gaze focused on the boy desperately clinging to his PRIDE rather than his life ;  wondering how stupid someone would have to be to not see what this was about.

     “You’ve been sold to Riko. — Your life belongs to him.  You ARE lucky that he’s willing to give you a chance on court and even luckier if you prove yourself worthy.  Simple  as  that.  No one cares about petting your head or going on a long walk with you.  You are property, NOT his dog.”

        If Riko were to ever own pets, they’d certainly be better off than Nathaniel Wesninski.

HE KNOWS HIS SITUATION.  perhaps not the details,  the answers to questions plaguing him since the first strike to his shoulders.    (  how much for your only son,  father ?  )   no,   he knew enough.     ‘  luck has nothing to do with this.  ’     born a moreau,  jean is all - too - familiar with the art of the deal                 a worthless player could not have paid a debt.  he knows he’s good  ;  he’s lived on the thrill of the court,  found comfort in the weight of a racquet.  and now,  glossed wood floors are blackened with taint,  a haven turned ugly.

‘  but ah,  how very             généreuse.  should i thank him,  perhaps ?  kiss his hand and weep at his feet ?  ’     tone poisoned with mock pleasantness,  a cruel twist of lips            one of disgust.  jean brands his new roommate as one of them,  black - feathered and ink - souled.

[irestruck]

WESNINSKI:

                           He doesn’t expect Jean to understand it.  Despite knowing better than judge a book by its cover,  Stefan hadn’t seen the Moreaus display too much violence towards their own kind yet. Jean’s mother had no bruises on her face or arms.  She didn’t look the way Mary had whenever social service came,  and Jean? ——  Jean wasn’t anything like Nathaniel Wesninski had been. Nevertheless,  Stefan wasn’t one to judge, it simply wasn’t his place to do so,  just like it wasn’t Jean’s to talk about Stefan’s mother like this.

Jean couldn’t know what Stefan (or Nathaniel) did or didn’t deserve.  He couldn’t have known about the past,  his mistakes,  and the fact that they’d been forced to run because Nathaniel had been stupid enough to be curious,  letting Riko pull him and Kevin along to where the Butcher killed someone right in front of him.  And he certainly couldn’t and didn’t know about the ways Mary loved him.

                    Just because her ways to show it were different to Jean’s mother,                                       didn’t mean she loved her son any less.

He doesn’t argue. Knows better than to take sides in moments like this.  But he doesn’t give in,  either.  Body tense,  still expecting a blow,  expecting Jean to change his mind and see that Stefan did,  after all,  deserve to be punished for his reckless stupidity.

                          This isn’t what a mother acts,  he says,  and Stefan is left wondering if this was a language barrier they seemed unable to cross or if Jean honestly believed that there was a certain way a mother had to act.

                      “ I need to get my books from the locker to do my homework for tomorrow. ”  A swift change of topics to avoid inflaming an anger he believed to be resting within the taller boy’s bones.  “ I’ll go get it and we can go home. ”

THE SPELL IS BROKEN,  but the feeling remains.  a sour ache beneath ribs,  limbs frozen for an infinite second after stefan turns away.  the rejection stings,  but he can only blame himself.  stefan’s worldview is of black and white              with father bathed in inky black and mother pedestaled to a saint   (  despite the toxicity oozing from both.  )   here,  jean is an outsider,  a mere witness and helping hand among many.  a seed of doubt blooms in his mind,  a second - guessed afterthought :  how much does he truly know of the wesninskis ?

‘  i’ll come with you.  ’     without a single beat lost,  but the follow - up action comes belatedly.  two long strides brings him alongside the boy,  vision fixed stubbornly forward as if he doesn’t dare look anywhere else.  it’s only when silence engulfs them again and worry nags that he steals a glance down.  

reaching for the door,  he fishes blindly for something to say.  yet,  once words come,  he wishes he hadn’t spoken.     ‘  your paper  ;  do you still want  ..  ’     do you still want me to look over it ?              a tradition started by a frustrated jean,  unsatisfied with the half - effort stefan dedicates to schoolwork.  glaringly mundane,  the reversal of subject painfully obvious.  tact,  it seems,  is still not one of his strong points.

[andhungry]

richard siken sentence starters.

quotes are all taken from various poems out of richard siken’s poetry book crush.  feel free to change pronouns/etc if needed.

❝  tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us.  ❞

❝  tell me we’ll never get used to it.  ❞

❝  there are so many things i’m not allowed to tell you.  ❞

❝  i swallow your heart and it crawls right out of my mouth.  ❞

❝  i want it back now, baby. i want it back.  ❞

❝  i’m sorry. we know how it works. the world is no longer mysterious.  ❞

❝  that’s a nice touch.  ❞

❝  i like him and i want to be like him.  ❞

❝  i’m sure you remember, i was on the phone with you, sweetheart.  ❞

❝  history repeats itself.  ❞

❝  there are many names in history, but none of them are ours.  ❞

❝  you could drown in those eyes.  ❞

❝  but damn if there isn’t anything sexier than a slender boy with a handgun, a fast car, a bottle of pills.  ❞

❝  sorry about the blood in your mouth. i wish it was mine.  ❞

❝  i couldn’t get the boy to kill me, but i wore his jacket for the longest time.  ❞

❝  you wanted happiness, i can’t blame you for that, and maybe a mouth sounds idiotic when it blathers on about joy but tell me you love this, tell me you’re not miserable.  ❞

❝  there is no way to make this story interesting.  ❞

❝  i want to tell you this story without having to confess anything, without having to say that i ran out into the street to prove something.  ❞

❝  tell me we’re dead and i’ll love you even more.  ❞

❝  you will be alone always and then you will die.  ❞

❝  i’m sorry i came to your party and seduced you and left you bruised and ruined, you poor sad thing.  ❞

❝  who am i? i’m just a writer. i write things down.  ❞

❝  i take it back.  ❞

❝  here is the repeated image of the lover destroyed.  ❞

❝  you still get to be the hero.  ❞

❝  what more do you want?  ❞

❝  love, for you, is larger than the usual romantic love. it’s like a religion. it’s terrifying.  ❞

❝  no one will ever want to sleep with you.  ❞

❝  you know that recently we have had our difficulties and there are many things i want to ask you.  ❞

❝  you had not expected this.  ❞

❝  walk a mile in my shoes.  ❞

❝  a man takes his sadness down to the river and throws it in the river but then he’s still left with the river.  ❞

❝  you are weak and hollow and it doesn’t matter anymore.  ❞

❝  hush, my sweet. these tornadoes are for you.  ❞

❝  that sounds overly valorous.  ❞

❝  do you love yourself?  ❞

❝  i don’t have to answer that.  ❞

❝  you wanted more.  ❞

❝  i had a dream about you.  ❞

❝  there’s nowhere to go. there’s nowhere to go.  ❞

❝  in these dreams it’s always you: the boy in the sweatshirt, the boy on the bridge, the boy who always keeps me from jumping off the bridge.  ❞

❝  will you love me even more when i’m dead?  ❞

❝  you didn’t show up. i kept waiting.  ❞

❝  i swallowed crushed ice pretending it was glass and you’re dead.  ❞

❝  i don’t really blame you for being dead but you can’t have your sweater back.  ❞

❝  you can sleep now, you said. you can sleep now. you said that. i had a dream where you said that. thanks for saying that. you weren’t supposed to.  ❞

❝  hello darling, welcome home.  ❞

❝  please keep him safe.  ❞

❝  i just don’t want to die anymore.  ❞

❝  you want to die for love, you always have.  ❞

❝  you didn’t think you’d feel this way.  ❞

❝  you saved my life. i owe you, i owe you everything.  ❞

❝  please, just for one night, will you lie down next to me, we can leave our clothes on, we can stay all buttoned up.  ❞

❝  you’re all i ever wanted and worth dying for, too.  ❞

❝  drive into that tree, drive off the embankment. ______, make something happen.  ❞

❝  we are not dirty.  ❞

❝  you keep singing along to that song i hate. stop singing.  ❞

❝  here is the sink to wash away the blood.  ❞

❝  this is not harmless. you are not breathing.  ❞

❝  i will come back from the dead for you.  ❞

[irestruck]

WALKER:

❛   abby  likes  having  someone  to  take  care  of .   ❜     her  fondness  is  evident ;     she  looks  around  the  room  sparsely  decorated  with  things  that  remind  her  other  bodies  have  lived  in  this  room ,     the  likes  of  andrew  and  his  family .     renee  can  sympathise  with  jean’s  unease ,     can  even  more  so  understand  his  reluctance  to  be  assured .     she  herself  has  stopped  trying  to  meet  his  eyes .     much  like  a  wounded  animal ,     he’ll  come  to  her  when  he’s  ready .     ❛   ━━━━   the  rest  of  us  are  so  independent .     would  you  like  the  curtains  open ?     it’s  a  lovely  day .   ❜

ABBY LIKES HAVING SOMEONE TO TAKE CARE OF.  she’s made it clear enough.  hardly surprising  ;  a frustrating job,  being the official mother hen of the foxes.   jean shifts.     ‘  and you ?  ’     eyes,  instinctively wary,  follow renee’s movement as she drifts to the window.  a hesitation,  the sunlight peeking from behind the curtain seeming deceptively innocent.  he fixes,  unconsciously,  upon the muted brightness.  natural light at the castle came in rare glimpses                 even the presence of a window feels like a dangerous luxury,  a test.  the chirping of birdsong makes him stiffen,  paranoia prickling at the back of his neck.  jean averts his gaze and manages a barely perceptible shake of the head.     ‘  i’m fine.  ’

[sheknived-blog]

              she   wasn’t   smiling   anymore .     neil   studied   her   calm   expression   &   knew   she   meant   it .     she’d   put   her    F A I T H    in   mankind    &   her   christian   piety   on   hold   ━━━━   &   show   him   how   to   cut   a   man   open    T H R O A T    T O    G R O I N    if   he   asked   her   to .                                           N A T A L I E    R E N E E   W A L K E R  .     by  vee .