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no, it's cool
tell me how u like it

[Is it cool? Doesn't feel cool. Doesn't feel great at all but what's Tate to say to that? Rejection is the one thing he despises more than anything else and this is halfway there. But only in a way that he can't really take it so fully blunt to the face. Marcus placates him by saying he wants to read, but then he drops a line about someone else and Tate bristles unfairly.]

who's the special someone?

of course i will.

[ Anyway, Marcus was lying through his teeth about having prior plans. He just taps out something quick in the hope he can divert the conversation and talk about something else. ]

just a friend. nobody special. no story to tell.
even here, i'm actually pretty boring for a homeless, fugitive, presidential-assassin-to-be undergoing training under the tutelage of an ancient secret society.
you would think i would know cooler people.
not just shitheads like you.

suck my dick, i'm the coolest fucker you'll ever have the pleasure of knowing here

[Well played, Tate's not digging.]

how exactly is training going anyway
if ur still gunned up to murder reagan
you gonna practice on any political figures here?
hypothetically.

wow, alright. agree to disagree.

no.
i mean, i don't know. there's an undeniable appeal to the thought. heroically fighting back against the sex-starved tyrants overseeing our stay here. overpowering the system, rewriting laws. showing our corrupt leaders the guillotine. i can't pretend i haven't thought about it.
but.

[ ... ]

between the constant humiliation, the repeated violations of boundaries and consent, and a million other things i've seen since i've arrived - it's not like i believe LIES deserves to coast through life unburdened by punishment.
but you need real, raw motivation to enact that kind of change. to pull the trigger on someone with more weight and power than a swiftly dumpstered addict.
and it's not like i'm afraid to put my life on the line if need be, but i just don't have that kind of motivation here. that fire. that hate. not like i do back home.
i just don't care enough.
i'd rather keep my head down.

fair enough

[Tate can kind of relate - after being through Fort Harm, seeing all the shit up front and suffering through it, he fucking despises the city. He'd love to see some chaos rain down on the fuckers in charge, giving them a taste of their own medicine but he too lacks a certain push to do it. He's no longer a submissive, so that fire's a little more quelled. He has creature comforts and nowhere he'd really rather be - no fuel to go home, not when he's built himself something here. Something tangible. Not perfect but better than the alternative.

Plus, well, shit sounds tedious. It'd take a gargantuan effort by more than just two teen boys - and nobody seems to want to put that into the pot. If they did, he imagines they would've had a lot more progress by now. The city's really got them on lock.]

so what are ur goals here
motivations. wants, needs
asking out of curiosity
not bc i know my own myself

i don't have any.
just gotta do what i can to stop myself from trying to throw myself off a building.
get a girlfriend, get laid, listen to music. do my homework. practice fighting. study.
all that's important right now is keeping busy.

before she died my mom told me that life is meant to be rushed. ran through like a yellow light.
i guess until i find something concrete, that's what i'll be doing.
finding things to run through.

[ he doesn't have a reason to live anymore - barely had one at home, having only stumbled into king's because of a fake rep in the first place - so, yeah, it's back to drowning out the bad thoughts, hoping he'll be sent home and doing what he can not to disappoint his dead parents. he's probably already fucked up that last bit. ]

anyway, you said you don't know what you want here, but that can't be entirely true.
you're selling drugs. that's something. entrepreneurial experience must lend itself to longterm goals easily enough.

Edited 2021-03-21 18:05 (UTC)

i'm just dealing to make cash
it's not exactly the job i'd take if i had alternatives
but what's the point in trying for those here? you can't get far writing, creating art, or even working manual fucking labor
it's just sex here. sex and debauchery.

i had no goals back home. or i did, but i gave up on them
gave up on existing too, you could say. the world can spin on without me.

here though? i just want to take care of the people i'm close to
and to find some worth in that, i guess.

creating art shouldn't be about making money, anyway. baring your soul by tearing it from your chest and cutting it open on a piece of paper is as far from the capitalist machine as something can be.
but i get what you mean.

[ marcus reads over those last few lines, going back and forth on whether or not he wants to say something supportive about tate's mindset. taking care of the people he's close to sounds like a noble goal, but - well, he might say something needy or cynical or mean if he thinks about it too hard, so he figures it's best to just skip past it. probably kind of obvious that he's pointedly not replying to that part, but whatever. ]

what do you like to write?

yeah, i know. you make art to make it
not to get rich, though sometimes that's a nice side effect
but here i'm not even sure there's an audience that'd appreciate it
should that matter? idk

[Hm.]

poems, short stories
i journal a lot which isn't much but life writing's a thing, i guess

validation is as much of a side effect to self expression as getting rich is.

i'd read whatever you wrote.
you should show me what you've done sometime.

yeah? i'd do it for a 1:1 trade
you read my shit, i read your shit

consider it a creative challenge

no deal.
what even gives you the impression that i have anything to share?

[ other than the fact that marcus is rarely seen without his journal in his hands. ]

so u cant write for shit?
thats ok to admit

if that's how you want to take it, sure.
but i don't write things with the intent to share them. it's all personal.
if that's a dealbreaker for you, then so be it.
if you change your mind and want to show me what you've done, let me know.

so it's ok to ask for someone else's journal but not offer your own
i get it. we'll see if i come around to the idea of letting u in my head, then

when did u start ur journal anyway?

i didn't ask to read your journal. i asked to see your art.
big difference.

i've had it for as long as i can remember. started in the boy's home. just wanted to keep a log of all the important stuff i was forgetting.
when did you start yours?

long time ago.
i've kept three

one from before, one from after
i don't have the first one anymore
but i arrived with the second one
so i've been adding to it too.

gonna need another real soon

have you written about me?

yeah

have u written about me?

that's private.

[ hypocrite. ]

what do you mean by "one from after"?

bitch.

that's private.

how is it private?
you brought it up.

it's private bc i say so

[And you were a little bitch just now, so.]

you want an answer, gimme something in return
barter with me, info style
otherwise, tough luck ever finding out

friendship isn't supposed to be transactional, you know.

yeah but i feel like im offering up a lot and not getting much back

two way street.
but fine, after is after death
im a dead kid from the 90s
i haunt shit and make kids cry

happy?

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