“for the LOW LOW price of $0, i will fuck you--” up. / @adoredher
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“for the LOW LOW price of $0, i will fuck you--” up. / @adoredher
‘ --- shut the FUCK up. ’
for @adoredher
“There have been many of you over the years, and we have always… Almost always found a way to make it work. So, I will ask you nicely, please… don’t get in my way.“ He doesn't take kindly to the idea of a 'guide' - he knows what it means, and resents Raphael for it. "You're to follow and keep your mouth shut, boy."
“You’ll have a hard time getting there then, if I’m to follow rather than lead,” Raphael murmurs, in soft English. There’s no heat in it; he has a strange knack for making even the most insolent of comments sound yielding. Perhaps it’s the quiet he carries with him. Or perhaps it’s that he’s accustomed to navigating conversations with Martel.
Still. He looks steadily back at the man, waiting. Part of him almost hopes he’ll strike out, if only so that Raphael has an excuse to strike him back- but then again, he knows what Martel will do if one of his business partners are harmed under Raphael’s watch.
His eyes flicker over the other’s shoulder, to the road ahead. He nods towards it: a silent lead the way, I’ll keep you right.
❝ Are we clear? ❞ (pre series, post beating)
(tw: violence / physical beating)
it hurts. this part is clearest of all in the moment and will remain that way for as long as he lives: it h u r t s, and the fear that it will continue is a wild, animal thing that overpowers all other feeling.
silver-who-is-not-silver is on the ground. curled in the dirt like an animal, his hair wild, face bloodied despite his attempts to shield it with his arms. he knows better than to beg, has not pleaded at all; in the spaces between blows he has bargained, and offered, but he never pleads.
once someone has decided to hurt you the only thing that will change their mind is a better offer.
at some point, he’d realised that there was no better offer to be made. that the only thing he could do was agree: i’ll go, you’ll never see me again. and then it was a matter of waiting, of hoping beyond all hope for it to stop already. hoping that he’d still be able to move by the time it was over.
but the blows do stop. and when jane’s uncle stands over him, silver flinches. when he finally starts to tentatively uncurl himself his entire body screams.
“yes,” he chokes out. blood drips from his mouth. “yes. i’ll be gone by-” he hesitates, calculating. “-by morning.”
that part is a lie, because he cannot promise he’ll be able to get anywhere, in this state. but regardless, neither david nor jane will ever see silver again, so it doesn’t much matter.
‘ i wanted to be wanted. ’
he does this every so often. sometimes, he’ll look at her with something dark in his eyes and then he’ll have an emotional episode like this. jane used to think that it was guilt, but now she knows better. he only cries out of self-pity. uncle david doesn’t deserve her comfort, but jane knows that she has no choice in the matter.
she doesn’t move when her uncle sits on the couch beside her, and she doesn’t move when he lays his head across her lap. all she can do is tense up and wait for him to decide he’s ready to move away.
“i wanted to be wanted,” he says, and all she can think is well, you should have tried harder.
she swallows the sour lump of utter disgust that’s lodged in her throat, and she begins to try. her hand dips into his hair and she strokes it, just once, so softly that she barely actually touches him. he responds by burying his face deeper into her lap, hand creeping under her skirt on the outside of her thigh. the bile rises again.
“i wanted to be wanted,” he repeats. she knows exactly which answer he’s angling for.
her voice is flat, eyes dull. “you’re wanted. i want you.”
“Am I a good person?”
bojack horseman meme // ACCEPTING!
Why? Why does he always have to ask her things like this on the spot? Jane might be a good girl, but everybody has their limits – and her limit is when it comes to stroking the ego of the guy who makes her want to die.
Define good, she wants to ask. In fact, more than that. Define person.
She supposes that objectively, she has to say yes. He’s a police officer. He keeps other people safe. He took her in when she no longer had a home to go to. All these years, he’s fed her, clothed her, gone to church with her, and never once complained about a single part of it. But is that all it takes to make a guy good? Of course it fucking isn’t. Good guys don’t do half of the stuff he does. If he were a good guy, she wouldn’t have needed to fight the urge to pee herself in fear throughout this entire conversation.
Absent-minded, she picks at a scab on her shin, only to fold her hands neatly in her lap when she catches him giving her a look about it. “Well, sir, I...” she begins, uncertain where she’s even heading with her answer. “I-- I just don’t get why you’d ask. D’you think you’re a bad person, then?” Are you finally becoming self-aware?
❛ seriously? ❜
A DRAWN OUT SIGH, A SLENDER HAND KNOCKS A BEER CAN OFF THE TABLE, blue eyes flick up to him for a reaction. her lips curl, this place is small and disgusting. she misses jameson, she wishes he hadn’t lost her temper. this place is the worst, he’s the worst.
❛ you’re definitely older than my father. ❜
( @adoredher┊verse. the third ordinance┊liked for cecelia )
@adoredher.
James doesn’t want to speak to him but regardless he’s standing there, in the doorway, empty trash bag in hand. With his momma working triples doubles and his dad being his goddamn dad, he’s doing the housework so a tired and sore Jane won’t have to. It’s weird, it’s new, but it’s whatever. “What happened to the rest of these?” There’s a hole in the one he’s holding; annoyed from the events of the past month ( and the fact he’s cleaning ), the boy’s tone carries a little more attitude than he’d intended. “--Hey. Old man.”