( a little weird wait, where parisa battles her self preservation and the awkward instinct to tell eddie something about herself. inconvenient. but — parisa doesn’t make a habit of second guessing herself. )
i hope you can control it because my head’s a mess ( there is no silence, constant noise and anxiety and spiraling even without the fun presence lurking there in the back )
( a number of salacious tidbits of gossip come to mind, each more cruel and inherently evil than the last. but ultimately, none of it means anything. everyone is a monster, parisa knows that — she knows that better than anyone. the brutal truth, )
Government secrets. Mafia crimes. The real first impression everyone has of you. Imagine the most unforgivable thing anyone has ever said to you. And now imagine everything they didn’t say, but thought about saying.
( imagine being the prettiest girl in the world, with a brother who decided you became a woman when you were twelve. )
people didn’t really filter themselves around me but that’s true… even if they were shitty out loud, they probably thought worse
i’m sorry you have to hear it
it’s probably… actually awful. when people are are horny and you have to hear it ( he wrinkles his nose, wonders how often she has to deal with being objectified. she beautiful, gorgeous and he’s enraptured but Eddie’s sure his fellow men wouldn’t always think the most flattering of words. )
You shouldn’t pity me, Eddie. You should fear me.
( the endless pursuit: parisa has no idea how evil she’d have to be in order to be seen as anything more than beautiful. libby could probably tell her, but she could probably be defined as a psychopath by someone who didn’t know her. )
who said i pity you? i think people are awful, that's different. you could probably ruin them, couldn't you? ruin me if you wanted to
tell me what i'm thinking( something aches at the base of his skull, a throb like the start of a headache. he winces, frowns and shakes it off and hopes it's not what he thinks that is about to get unpleasant at someone poking too deep. )
Nobody walks headfirst into ruination. You should at least have the decency to make me hate you first.
( eugh. she’s practically smitten. )
If you were less kind, you’d be thinking how stuck up I am, to look how I look and have the audacity to complain. But you’re not, so I imagine you’re thinking about every thought you’ve had in my presence, and how much of an ass you’ve made of yourself, and whether or not I know how much you want me. If it helps, you haven’t thought anything awful that I’ve seen. And I don’t need telepathy to know the rest.
i know you like when i'm a good boy, but given you want to be feared... i'm guessing it's not just that. something about me makes you want to be soft. you don't seem like a woman who's gotten a lot of opportunity to be soft
It’s much better than being dull, you have to admit.
( a brief, one two pause. parisa, taken aback that anyone might think softness of her — she is, by far, largely seen as some kind of ice queen, and she appreciates that role because it means people see her as impenetrable. what tender spot eddie has apparently seen in her, is not something she herself was aware of. worthy of further inspection, at the very least. )
I wouldn’t say it’s a lack of opportunity. ( she is, after all, married. if she wanted, she could be barefoot and pregnant. she could probably grow to love her husband one day. ) I’d rather be something powerful, than something gentle. When your looks are what you are, you aren’t much of anything at all, really.
i think i get that. i mean, people judge me for my looks and my last name all the time. i just play into it as a fuck you to them, so they don't get to see the real me deep down
i think you can be both with the right people. powerful, gentle. they don't have to be two seperate things
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You’re enjoying your stay here, then?
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it’s better than the meat place
better than home too
r u?
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Well ( meat place ???? ) I suppose it’s nice not being hunted. And the free clothes aren’t bad.
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you were hunted before?
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Not very friendly.
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that doesn't surprise me about america
i'm like... public enemy of suburbia
hail satan, apparently
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and have the last name munson
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( a little weird wait, where parisa battles her self preservation and the awkward instinct to tell eddie something about herself. inconvenient. but — parisa doesn’t make a habit of second guessing herself. )
Want to keep a secret for me?
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only if you want to share it
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Freaked out?
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i hope you can control it because my head’s a mess ( there is no silence, constant noise and anxiety and spiraling even without the fun presence lurking there in the back )
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( she immediately can't believe she said that, now thoroughly annoyed with herself. )
I've seen worse than messy.
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like what?
cw: implied csa
( a number of salacious tidbits of gossip come to mind, each more cruel and inherently evil than the last. but ultimately, none of it means anything. everyone is a monster, parisa knows that — she knows that better than anyone. the brutal truth, )
Government secrets. Mafia crimes. The real first impression everyone has of you.
Imagine the most unforgivable thing anyone has ever said to you. And now imagine everything they didn’t say, but thought about saying.
( imagine being the prettiest girl in the world, with a brother who decided you became a woman when you were twelve. )
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i’m sorry you have to hear it
it’s probably… actually awful. when people are are horny and you have to hear it ( he wrinkles his nose, wonders how often she has to deal with being objectified. she beautiful, gorgeous and he’s enraptured but Eddie’s sure his fellow men wouldn’t always think the most flattering of words. )
can you do it over distance?
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( the endless pursuit: parisa has no idea how evil she’d have to be in order to be seen as anything more than beautiful. libby could probably tell her, but she could probably be defined as a psychopath by someone who didn’t know her. )
Do you want to know what you’re thinking?
( neither a yes or a no. )
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tell me what i'm thinking ( something aches at the base of his skull, a throb like the start of a headache. he winces, frowns and shakes it off and hopes it's not what he thinks that is about to get unpleasant at someone poking too deep. )
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( eugh. she’s practically smitten. )
If you were less kind, you’d be thinking how stuck up I am, to look how I look and have the audacity to complain. But you’re not, so I imagine you’re thinking about every thought you’ve had in my presence, and how much of an ass you’ve made of yourself, and whether or not I know how much you want me.
If it helps, you haven’t thought anything awful that I’ve seen. And I don’t need telepathy to know the rest.
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that's probably too kind a read of it. i do wonder though. if you know? what you want?
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What do you think I want, if you had to guess?
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i know you like when i'm a good boy, but given you want to be feared... i'm guessing it's not just that. something about me makes you want to be soft. you don't seem like a woman who's gotten a lot of opportunity to be soft
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( a brief, one two pause. parisa, taken aback that anyone might think softness of her — she is, by far, largely seen as some kind of ice queen, and she appreciates that role because it means people see her as impenetrable. what tender spot eddie has apparently seen in her, is not something she herself was aware of. worthy of further inspection, at the very least. )
I wouldn’t say it’s a lack of opportunity. ( she is, after all, married. if she wanted, she could be barefoot and pregnant. she could probably grow to love her husband one day. ) I’d rather be something powerful, than something gentle. When your looks are what you are, you aren’t much of anything at all, really.
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i think i get that. i mean, people judge me for my looks and my last name all the time. i just play into it as a fuck you to them, so they don't get to see the real me deep down
i think you can be both with the right people. powerful, gentle. they don't have to be two seperate things
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( not remotely true, but it's the right Mean Girl™ thing to say )
Are you less of a rockstar deep down?
Well. You're very cute, Munson. I'll give you that.
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