[ self-deprecation is kind of billy's thing, which is the one thing marcus, hypocritically, would change about him. it's not like he's any different - he can't deliver the same cutting observations about himself with the smile and the ease billy does, but marcus is no less insecure and unhappy with himself. even if he keeps most of that shit to his journal, it's not like it isn't there. that doesn't mean he thinks billy should feel the way he does. billy's far more worthwhile, as a human being, as a partner, and as a friend, than marcus is. kid shouldn't be wasting his life feeling less than when he's perfectly fine the way he is.
thoughts of stiles start clouding marcus's head again, so he does his best to shut down and stop thinking. he redirects his anxiety, turns it into anger, starts speaking just for the sake of speaking. talking like this, getting on a roll like this, writing in his head like this - that's always been his major form of therapy. ]
I hate the culture here. It's everything I hated from home, only amped up to eleven. Sexual commodification is explicit, rather than implicit. Individuality is sanded down, self-worth is stripped back - every person in power tries to rewire you, tries to fit you into someone else's established idea of what a society should be, and they don't even try to hide it down here. No entertainment industry to prey off of, no politicians to cloud everyone's heads with bullshit. Just - open, frank acknowledgment that we're all here to be the backbone of a society we didn't ask to be a part of. And the idea that it's all just some fucking backdrop that Lin set up? It's....
[ he trails off, staggering over lin's name like it's the final piece of punctuation on a very long sentence. marcus sighs hard, shoulders deflating, as his point turns in on itself and becomes something else. ]
I just hate the idea of doing what this place asks of me. I hate the idea of fucking someone just to meet some pre-established quota. That's not what sex should be.
[ a pause. there's another shift, both in how marcus is positioning himself and in the tone of his voice. he drops back down onto his side like he never really left, but he doesn't drape his arm over billy's chest, this time. he just tucks one hand under his ear to cushion himself from the grate and leaves the other between the two of them, resting pointlessly, feeling heavy. ]
I want it to mean something. If I have to do this, then - I want it to be with someone who cares about me. Clawing for affection and meaning in this place feels like the only way I'll be able to survive it.
[ a shrug. he always just shrugs. always fails to bring his point home. he's always been like this. ]
Blowjobs from hippies aren't really my thing, I guess.
no subject
[ self-deprecation is kind of billy's thing, which is the one thing marcus, hypocritically, would change about him. it's not like he's any different - he can't deliver the same cutting observations about himself with the smile and the ease billy does, but marcus is no less insecure and unhappy with himself. even if he keeps most of that shit to his journal, it's not like it isn't there. that doesn't mean he thinks billy should feel the way he does. billy's far more worthwhile, as a human being, as a partner, and as a friend, than marcus is. kid shouldn't be wasting his life feeling less than when he's perfectly fine the way he is.
thoughts of stiles start clouding marcus's head again, so he does his best to shut down and stop thinking. he redirects his anxiety, turns it into anger, starts speaking just for the sake of speaking. talking like this, getting on a roll like this, writing in his head like this - that's always been his major form of therapy. ]
I hate the culture here. It's everything I hated from home, only amped up to eleven. Sexual commodification is explicit, rather than implicit. Individuality is sanded down, self-worth is stripped back - every person in power tries to rewire you, tries to fit you into someone else's established idea of what a society should be, and they don't even try to hide it down here. No entertainment industry to prey off of, no politicians to cloud everyone's heads with bullshit. Just - open, frank acknowledgment that we're all here to be the backbone of a society we didn't ask to be a part of. And the idea that it's all just some fucking backdrop that Lin set up? It's....
[ he trails off, staggering over lin's name like it's the final piece of punctuation on a very long sentence. marcus sighs hard, shoulders deflating, as his point turns in on itself and becomes something else. ]
I just hate the idea of doing what this place asks of me. I hate the idea of fucking someone just to meet some pre-established quota. That's not what sex should be.
[ a pause. there's another shift, both in how marcus is positioning himself and in the tone of his voice. he drops back down onto his side like he never really left, but he doesn't drape his arm over billy's chest, this time. he just tucks one hand under his ear to cushion himself from the grate and leaves the other between the two of them, resting pointlessly, feeling heavy. ]
I want it to mean something. If I have to do this, then - I want it to be with someone who cares about me. Clawing for affection and meaning in this place feels like the only way I'll be able to survive it.
[ a shrug. he always just shrugs. always fails to bring his point home. he's always been like this. ]
Blowjobs from hippies aren't really my thing, I guess.