SCREW THAT !

Continued from here. 

@noblecide​

A  long  pause,  the  anti-pope  still  as  a  statue…AND  THEN  A  BURST  OF  ENERGY!  “Yes!  That  is  what  I’m  talking  about.  Both  is  good!  I  know  a  man  with  good  music  taste  when  I  see  one.”  

                              He  also  knows  a  dead  man  when  he  sees  one,  but  he’ll  save  that  line  of  questioning  for  later.  It’s  a  bit  rude  to  mention  sometimes,  no?  

“I—just  so  happen  to  MAKE  heavy  fucking  shit…  Not  the  drugs  but  eh—  .”  

The grin that overtakes Kai’s expression quickly DIMINISHES as Tate visibly grows more and more upset. Instead of saying a snarky comment back to the other, he finds himself falling into silence. As expected, the tears begin to form in Tate’s eyes. His younger brother has always been more of a sensitive boy in that regard, they both were but showed it differently. Kai wouldn’t ever be caught crying in front of anyone other than his siblings if he could help it, even then it was a RARE sight. 

“ Kiddo    “ Kai starts to speak a bit more gently, interrupted by his brother admitting to having a problem. It takes the cult leader aback for a moment, wondering briefly what exactly he meant by that. The puzzle pieces were falling into place the more he thought about it however. Drugs. Tate’s had a drug problem this entire time and Kai was only now realizing it. It made sense as to why he was wanting the money so badly, as to why his moods have been ERRATICALLY shifting. Despite Kai currently going through similar issues, he had never noticed. 

The older Anderson sibling bites the inside of his cheek, glancing down at the floor and then back up at his brother. “ What are you hooked on? “ He questions, tone less authoritative than it was and more laced with genuine concern.

tate sniffled and wiped roughly at his eyes with the sleeves of his sweater, but it was all for not. more tears welled up, and began to drip down his cheeks as he dropped his hands onto his thighs.  “You’re going to be really mad at me...”  winter was already highly suspicious of him. she had already accused him of being on something; she was much more attentive these days. tate could remember the days when kai could pick up when he had an extra terrible day at school just by the tone of his voice. he’d meet him up in his room with snacks for them to share, and talk about it- but now. now kai didn’t seem to realize that he was barely coherent half the time.

     Dark brows raise alongside the teen’s voice — First in anger, the crease between James’ brows deep && quirked with agitation … and then features fall, the rigor mortis of shock settling back into pale skin for the first time since 1932. Nothing quite surprised James anymore, he had seen it all !  He had seen every kind of outburst, violent or otherwise ; But this, oh, this was different. This was an outburst laced with a familiarity that could only come from the very recesses of the ghosts mind ; this was staring into a mirror and for the first time seeing a reflection in chrome-coated glass.  For James, once, had been a boy rebelling against the condescending tones of a man who had turned his ignorance to authority — A boy who craved quiet amongst the chaos of his own mind && the world around him. He supposes he deserves it, the shouting, the … insults ?  Who is the Pringles Can Man ?

     Eyes avert, perhaps in shame.   ❝ 𝐈 — ❞   A singular word slips past lips before the SNAP !  Is heard && black eyes flick back upwards, but by the point that March’s mind registers the action about to befall him, it is too late. The DING ! of cogs && bits sounds out as the telephone makes contact with James’ head, a loud thud  —or was that a crack ?—  in unison with the almost musical noise of assault.  James makes a yelp of a sound, balance lost. A hand flies to the deep ache in his temple, a sharp pain flowering from the point of impact, settling behind his eyes && into the base of his skull. Stumbling across the room for a moment, a long groan fills the air — && then finally, as eyes previously squeezed tight open to look upon the face of teenaged rage, words are formed.

                ❝ 𝓖𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝓖𝒐𝒅, 𝒃𝒐𝒚, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐰 ! ❞   A smile curves lips, a pained chuckle.   ❝ 𝑨𝒂𝒂𝒓𝒈𝒉 — 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐬 … 𝑰𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒚 !  𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭, 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐈 ? ❞

the all encompassing anger was interrupted by just how comical the scene looked. the way the phone bouncing off the older man’s head, the noise it made, the way it clattered to the ground as the knock sent him stumbling. tate’s expression relaxed except for his mouth. that pursed in an attempt to hold back a laugh but a chuckle escaped despite his efforts to remain mad.  “Yeah- yeah, you did!”  tate agreed, and laughed a little more.  “You deserved that!”  and harder so. the teen was cracking up now, his head lolled back a bit in amusement; maybe he was losing it. going from sad to mad to laughing all within the same five minutes- dead! he was fucking dead. he had been gunned down by dozens of bullets in the middle of the hotel cortez. and the worst part was, apparently tate was wrong about the absence of an afterlife.

dropped down on the edge of the bed he was just preoccupying, the laughter eventually tapered off. tate wiped at the accumulated tears of hilarity in either eye.  “I, uh...”  i had a bad day, tate wanted to say, as if that hadn’t been evidently clear. he wasn’t going to apologize but the moment had passed, and the teen didn’t feel the impulse to throw anything else at the man. although that lamp looked good and heavy.  “... My ma wasn’t much of a parent neither,”  he said, as if what had said before hadn’t been one-sided. as if it had been a very casual conversation that wasn’t interrupted by assault.  “I mean, I guess I can argue she’s the one who stuck around, but that’s the only thing she ever really did for us. She drank a lot, brought home a lot of random men for validation that she wasn’t getting old. Never worked.”

           ❝ los  angeleeees , huh  ? “    austin  drawls,  tossing  the  gun  ( limp  by  his  side )  onto  the  basket - weave  chair  perched  atop  his  grandiose  balcony.    the  grey - clouded  winter  wasn't  exactly  optimal  for  lazing  about  in  nature  &   the  open  air ,  wrapped  in  5000 $  gucci  pyjamas  (  with  matching  slippers  ,  of  course  ) —-  but pale  people  don’t  particularly  thrive  in  the  sun ,  &  it’s  a  seat  comfortable  enough  to  fit  a  man  of  austin’s  impossible  standards ,  so  it  isn’t  a  total  waste  of  wood.    ❝ hollywood  kid  exploring  the  forest  alone  !  hey  —-  i’ll  give  you  points  for  not  being  a  scaredy  cat  ,  but  the  fact  that  you’re  on  my  land  kiiinda  cancels  that  out  ,  ❞

          ❝   which  ,  by  the  way  ,  you  can  own  the  woods,  if  you  own  property  on  it.  i  got  about  an  acre  & a  half  of  land  coming  off  every  side of  this  baby ,   ❞     three  rhythmic  pats  to  the  wall  on  his  right.    ❝   so ,  ye  miniature  adventurer  ,  traveler  of  unexplored  laaaand  ~  ! ♫    take  a  second  to  find  out  which  direction  your  parents  are  in  —-  see  the  door  down  there  ?    under  the  balcony  ?   there’s  a  compass  by  it ,  use  it  —- &  once  you  do  .  .  .  scram ! ❞     a  wave  of  the  hand  ,  more-or-less  excusing  the  unknown  blonde.   ❝  i’ll  catch  you  later  to  get  my  compass  back.  welcome  to  provincetown !   ❞

shoulders rose and fell in an dismissive manner.  “Nothing in the woods to be afraid of.”  the only thing to be afraid of was other people. moss and red squirrels and deer were the least of tate’s concern. even the occasional coyote that surely lurked along the land wasn’t anything to worry about as, realistically speaking, they were much more afraid of him than vice versa. he stepped further out of the brush, into the clearing that made up a yard around the stranger’s house. tate didn’t look at it with a sense of impressed, his face was slightly scrunched up with disgust, actually. he was never a big fan of giant, showy mansions. they were so gaudy. they reminded him too much of his mom’s obsessed with the rosenheim manor they use to live in, just for bragging rights.

“Hey, you don’t have to be a dick about it, you know,”  tate called back. although he did start in the direction that the homeowner pointed.  “Gonna buy up and build on all of this land and use it for what? To kill the animals that were here before you?”  asshole. asshole! he shouldn’t have been surprised that provincetown had some of the rich and entited in it just like los angeles  (they were everywhere!)  but he hadn’t expected to meet them so soon.  “I don’t need your shitty compass. Get fucked.”  and tate flipped him the bird. adjusting the strap of his rucksack over his shoulder, he started off around the side of the home. he really was just going to walk away, at first. find the street and follow it back into town, maybe buy a coffee with the dollars he snagged from larry’s wallet.

(IM HERE ive just been fucking around on another blog, how is everyone :3)

                 ❝ 𝓐𝐡, 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐲 !  𝓐𝐧𝐝 𝒂𝒅𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒚, 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞. 𝓣𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡, 𝐈 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬. 𝓕𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐛𝐲 𝐚 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡, 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥, ❞   Somewhat uncomfortably, weight is shifted between the tips of his toes && the heels of his shoes, hands clasped behind a suit-clad form.  He doesn’t fully believe what’s just left his mouth, for a child raised by a mother fit for the task likely wouldn’t have gotten himself decorated with lead, a-la a moth eaten trousers.   ❝ 𝓞𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬. 𝓝𝐞𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥. 𝓦𝒉𝒚, 𝐈’𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 !  𝓜𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞— 𝓦𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝. ❞ 

     The clearing of March’s throat, a redirect.   ❝ 𝐈 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐞. 𝓨𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒅𝒖𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏. ❞

the comment, whether it be pure ignorance or not, was enough to breathe the life back into tate that had seeped out along with blood from his bullet wounds. he whipped around in the bed, his face scrunched up in annoyance and confusion.  “And you’re in need of a fucking clue!”  he shouted back.  “Jesus Christ, am I not allowed any peace and quiet after I fucking died?!”