I did what I could with the time and the tools at my disposal. If you truly trust me so little as to believe that I would willfully hurt you, then so be it.
if it ain't willful, then you didn't think about me for a goddamn second in my book? that's worse
( vanya taught her the worst cruelty isn't always a sharp backhand — sometimes, it's just this. carelessness, the step you take without looking down to see what you're trampling on. vanya didn't mean to make her the victim of their marriage, either — she was just the inconvenience that could be scrubbed off of a shoe. a life too small in the vast, wide scale of his world to deserve an apology. not even the consideration of one. so negligible he probably never even realized he'd stomped out her guts at all. same now as she was then.
excuses don't fix shit. i never meant to doesn't breathe new life into the girl you flattened — that ant you squished — when you were rushing to get ahead. crushed is crushed. an insect never forgets the force of every boot that's pressed down on it, or the impressions it left — neither does ani. made to be reminded by another man: this is your place, ani. this is where i think you belong. in the fucking dirt with the rest of the worms, the bottom-feeders, everything the world buries. small, again. hurt, again.
she just didn't think silco would be the boot this time. didn't think he'd use the second one to kick jinx down there with her. after a beat, the kind of fury that's become more like a resigned, familiar ache (what were you expecting, anora?): )
whatever, dude go have fun fucking around and finding out with nurse fucking ratched
[ Unusually truthful, unusually vulnerable, because of course he'd thought it through — of course he'd thought of her. He's never been a careless man, not even before Vander turned on him, and— he's always been like this. Aware of the little hurts stomached in order to achieve a larger goal. Strange calls it a miscalculation — it wasn't, on Silco's part.
There's more to say — that he considers their actions mirrored, when his ask for her to protect Jinx had met with consideration but no guarantee, a choice he'd understood when she doesn't have any role that he can tell and a witch waits in the wings — but he's dealt with this kind of anger before. She won't listen to him, just as Jinx won't, despite being the one to tell him to play the game his way in the first place. And he knows — has known since they'd first met — that she goes looking for disappointment.
The parallel hurt is this: that all of the trust he's put in her — all of the time that he's spent being honest with her when there's no one else besides Jinx he'd let even look at him for too long — is apparently worth so little. But it's worth next to nothing even to Jinx, he supposes, when each day they spend hand in hand is balanced by another in which she rages over words he hasn't and would never say. It's his own fault for expecting any different, here. ]
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If you truly trust me so little as to believe that I would willfully hurt you, then so be it.
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in my book? that's worse
( vanya taught her the worst cruelty isn't always a sharp backhand — sometimes, it's just this. carelessness, the step you take without looking down to see what you're trampling on. vanya didn't mean to make her the victim of their marriage, either — she was just the inconvenience that could be scrubbed off of a shoe. a life too small in the vast, wide scale of his world to deserve an apology. not even the consideration of one. so negligible he probably never even realized he'd stomped out her guts at all. same now as she was then.
excuses don't fix shit. i never meant to doesn't breathe new life into the girl you flattened — that ant you squished — when you were rushing to get ahead. crushed is crushed. an insect never forgets the force of every boot that's pressed down on it, or the impressions it left — neither does ani. made to be reminded by another man: this is your place, ani. this is where i think you belong. in the fucking dirt with the rest of the worms, the bottom-feeders, everything the world buries. small, again. hurt, again.
she just didn't think silco would be the boot this time. didn't think he'd use the second one to kick jinx down there with her. after a beat, the kind of fury that's become more like a resigned, familiar ache (what were you expecting, anora?): )
whatever, dude
go have fun fucking around and finding out with nurse fucking ratched
🔒 perma private.
[ Unusually truthful, unusually vulnerable, because of course he'd thought it through — of course he'd thought of her. He's never been a careless man, not even before Vander turned on him, and— he's always been like this. Aware of the little hurts stomached in order to achieve a larger goal. Strange calls it a miscalculation — it wasn't, on Silco's part.
There's more to say — that he considers their actions mirrored, when his ask for her to protect Jinx had met with consideration but no guarantee, a choice he'd understood when she doesn't have any role that he can tell and a witch waits in the wings — but he's dealt with this kind of anger before. She won't listen to him, just as Jinx won't, despite being the one to tell him to play the game his way in the first place. And he knows — has known since they'd first met — that she goes looking for disappointment.
The parallel hurt is this: that all of the trust he's put in her — all of the time that he's spent being honest with her when there's no one else besides Jinx he'd let even look at him for too long — is apparently worth so little. But it's worth next to nothing even to Jinx, he supposes, when each day they spend hand in hand is balanced by another in which she rages over words he hasn't and would never say. It's his own fault for expecting any different, here. ]