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silversatori-blog · 8 years ago

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Feel for you [One Shot]

Blink, blink, blink. Beep.

4.02am

Marcy stared at the digital clock. If this thing kept beeping she’d either smash it or burst her own eardrums. One of them hurt enough for that already. She looked over at the man driving the car. His head twitched a millimeter to her side and she hastily looked out the window again. She could taste blood, and her hands trembling, and the tightness in her chest telling her she could not escape, never could, that her nightmares had only been announcing what had to happen eventually. Silly, silly Marceline, thinking she could just walk away.

Six years weren’t a short time, certainly not. But she had always known this would happen. And she had ignored it. She had stopped being careful.

It had all happened so fast. The convention was far from over, and Nigel was still there, presumably enjoying himself in the umpteenth round of laser tag. If you didn’t know him you’d think he never got tired. Marceline certainly did, so she decided to leave.

“I’ll walk,” Marceline had said. “It’s not far.” “Are you sure?”, he had asked. “Let me at least walk with you so you’re safe.”

“That’s sweet of you but I’m a grown woman. I’ll be fine.” He didn’t look comfortable, but he knew he wouldn’t budge her decision now. So Nigel let her go and Marceline walked alone. She was alone when her past finally decided to come after her.

She hadn’t even recognized him. After the break-up she had tried everything to avoid him. Her brother had helped her, and he had gotten in fights more often than he should have because of her. Her stupid, protective, precious brother. Tuomas was the reason she was still here, among other things. But he was not here now. She was alone.

“Is there a decent joint in this bumblefuck?” He sounded different, too. Less sophisticated. Rougher. Maybe the philosophy major hadn’t worked out after all.

A twinge of pain bloomed on her leg and Marceline winced. “I’m talking to you,” he growled.

“S-Sure,” she muttered. That earned her another slap on the thigh, less painful this time. “Speak up, you know I hate it when you mumble.”

“Yes,” Marceline repeated, a little clearer. She looked around. In the dark, places were less recognizable, but she knew where she was. “W-Well, there’s-”

“Never mind,” Chad cut her off. “Over there’s a place. Sheesh, you have gotten even slower. Did your new guy bang your brains out or what? Or do you keep him at arm’s length like you always do? He sure didn’t make an effort to get your English fixed.”

Marceline fell quiet again. Despite the warm summer air, she was freezing. She was never cold, thanks to her Finnish ancestry as she always joked, but now she seemed like everything had turned to ice, even the sweat on he body. She shook with a violent burst of energy, in a rhythmic pattern that she had absolutely no control over. Marcy wrapped her arms around her body as inconspicuously as possible. She didn’t want to draw any more attention.

She had walked this street hundreds of times. The district was close-knitted, she knew most people that lived here at least by sight. But of course, at four in the morning, everything was deserted. The car had rolled past her, slowly, and come to a stop ahead. She had only classified it as a vague threat because that was what she had been taught. And then there had been an arm around her waist and a sharp edge against her throat. She had taken self-defense classes. But with that icy metal against her neck suddenly everything she had learned went up into smoke. The man had walked her to the car, growling into her ear, and she hadn’t fought. She hadn’t even screamed, like she had been taught, she had not given any sound. The man had pushed her onto the passenger seat and ordered her to put on the seat belt. Marceline had obliged, without a word. She would like to think she did it out of rationale, because she knew she couldn’t fight with a knife at her throat and in close quarters, but the truth was simple: She had been too frightened to do anything useful, she could barely form two coherent thoughts. Everything had dissolved into the paralyzing fear that she had thought she had left behind. But of course she had not. Things like this were not unlike dangerous beasts. They could be put to sleep, but they never left, and you had to pay attention, or they would tear you apart when you least expected it.

The moment she was set, he had pulled the phone she had completely forgotten about from her hand and slammed the door shut. Her phone. She could have called help any time. She had a bunch of numbers in her quick dial for that sole reason. And she hadn’t. Because she had forgotten. The thought came with the familiar wave of hopelessness and self-loathing. Good job, you stupid bitch.

The locks had closed with a final, sad clack. The man had slipped on the driver’s seat next to her, and only then Marceline recognized him. Chad had aged more than she had, more than any of her friends. He didn’t look shaggy, or neglected in any way, although she could tell he might have not taken the best care of himself in the past. He had gained weight, for one thing, and his gentleman facade, the sophistication he had always tried to convey, was gone. It was the man who haunted her in her nightmares to this day, finally showing his true self to the world. “Been a while, sweetie,” Chad had said, and there was the honey in his voice again. Marceline could feel herself grow cold at the sound, her hands beginning to shake without her permission. Back then, she had fallen for it. He was a gentleman, a charmer, who could sugarcoat about everything. And even when this voice only promised her more pain, she had clung to the past, to the illusion that he had etched into her mind.

“Y-yes.” She couldn’t come up with anything clever. She wasn’t sure she wanted to. He had never appreciated her talking back at him.

Chad had leaned over and tried to kiss her. Marceline pushed him away with a grimace of disgust out of pure reflex. Before she could even register the movement, white lightning flashed in front of her eyes. The pain followed a moment later, heating up her cheek from icy to burning without warning. Chad’s hand had closed around her throat and he pressed his lips unto hers, forcing his tongue into her mouth. It had only lasted a moment, luckily, before Chad drew back and pushed her away. Marcy had hit her elbow on the door, but that was only a brief sting. She was fighting the urge to throw up.

It was silly, probably, but she had never felt more violated. Nigel always asked before he did anything, although not always with words, and Marcy did the same. They had always joked about it, but it was a matter of respect for boundaries and a sign of companionship. You really never knew what you had until it was gone.

Chad hadn’t tried to touch her since then. No, that wasn’t true. He had put his hand into her lap, but she purposefully ignored his clumsy motions until he gave up with an annoyed grunt.

They’d leave town, go to a place up in the Rockies, he had explained. They could work well together from the start, or they could work together after he refreshed her lessons. She could text her friends later, that she wouldn’t be coming back for a while. She got sick of them or something.

The longer they drove, the more Marceline’s raging emotions calmed. The panic turned into a weary hopelessness. She had literally nothing on her, no money, not even an ID, and he had taken her phone. Sure, she could run away if he got distracted, but she was almost sure he was faster than her, she was wearing high heels after all, and where was she supposed to go? Why did she have to be such an arrogant bitch and insist on going alone? Served her right for being so careless. This didn’t seem like a spontaneous action either. He had planned to do this and observed her for at least a few weeks.

“Do you… still love me?”, she asked. The question sounded even more ridiculous out loud, but she asked anyway. He had always told her that, even when he covered her body in bruises and she tasted blood every time she spoke.

As the joint Chad was aiming for came closer, he looked over to her for a second. The street lights let the shadows dance over his face in a disturbing pattern. Then he burst out laughing. It made the car swerve dangerously.

“Love you?”, he wheezed. “Have you gone completely nuts?”

Marceline winced when he squeezed her leg. His fingers dug into her thigh until it got painful and held on. “Did you actually think I ever loved you? God, you’re pathetic. You were an accessory. You had to look pretty and shut your dumb mouth, but not even that you could do. Do you realize,” His fingers squeezed so hard Marcy had to suppress a sound of pain. “Do you realize how much you humiliated me? How long I had to listen to my friends mock me because you had to shag away with a fucking middle schooler?! You ruined my reputation, you bitch, and then you just went on as if nothing happened with your fuckboy and oh-so-fabulous brother as bodyguards.” The snarl dropped from his voice as fast as it had come. He let go of her thigh and gave it a little pat. “Don’t think I’ve spent the past years brooding over you like some idiot. You’re not that special. I was ready to let it go, you know, be the bigger person. But then I saw you at the race last month, and well, I know when fate winks at me. I’m not gonna kill you, don’t worry, I won’t even hurt you if you behave. I really thought I taught you well, but I guess…” He let out another chuckle that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Chad pulled the car into the empty parking lot and shut off the engine. He stared at the lights of the joint – or diner, as the sign said – for a few seconds before turning to Marceline.

“Don’t make a fuss. You don’t want to get anyone else into this mess, right?”

Marcy didn’t speak, she only gave him a tight-lipped nod. No telling what might come out should she open her mouth now. She nodded, and kept quiet. Chad smiled and patted her cheek, which only made the pounding there worse. “Good girl. And don’t try to run away either, that never works. Just imagine we’re on our way into the holidays. Having a cozy little vacation, the two of us.”

Marcy was fairly sure she’d throw up the moment she tried to speak, so she didn’t. Chad got out of the car, locked the driver’s side, and opened her door. He kept an arm around her while they walked towards the diner, pressing her so close to his side that it was difficult to walk. She wanted to scream in disgust when he wiped away her tears right before they entered.

The owner of the place looked up when the bell chimed for them. He was young, closer to 25 than 30, with blondish hair and a sweet smile. The smile fell when he saw them. Marceline looked him into the eyes and suddenly things made sense.

Jeremy. This was Jeremy’s place. Jeremy the guy who knew more about her history than some of her close friends. Who was only open at this godforsaken time because Marcy and her boyfriend had come here too often when they couldn’t sleep anymore, when they couldn’t settle down, when they tried to chase away the ghosts with an early breakfast. Jeremy who had worked in a mental hospital before inheriting this place. Jeremy who was the closest to professional help they had ever allowed.

Marcy prayed she didn’t give an indication she even knew him. Chad couldn’t know. Jeremy could never stick up to him, not physically. But he could call help. She didn’t have high hopes, but it was all she had.

“I… I tripped,” she explained quietly. “I’m just so clumsy…” Her laugh sounded as fake as it was. “Can… I’m sorry, where is the bathroom?”

“Over there, Miss.” Jeremy pointed at a door next to the counter. “Ladies’ is on the right.”

“Kiitos,” she muttered. Chad pinched her in the side hard enough to make her gasp. “Thank you,” she corrected herself hastily. Chad walked her over to the bathrooms and peered in. Probably to make sure there were no windows she could escape through. When he found there were none, he gave a satisfied grunt and let her be.

Every motion seemed like she was moving through a thick curtain, but eventually Marcy was in a cabin, the door locked. The next second she was sitting on the floor, and tears were streaming over her face. Marceline tried to breathe evenly, consciously fighting against her body’s desire to to vocalize her desperation. She couldn’t be heard, or Chad would get suspicious. She could only hope Jeremy knew not to get close to her now.

Footsteps clacked on the tiles. The sound made Marceline freeze. If she held her breath maybe he wouldn’t hear her. But the voice wasn’t Chad’s, or Jeremy’s for that matter. It was a female voice, soft and full of worry. “Are you okay?”, the woman asked quietly.

Marceline wasn’t prepared for the next cramp running through her. She pressed her hands over her mouth to at least dampen the sound. She knew her high notes were always really loud, if she wanted to or not. It was good for singing, but bad if she didn’t want people to know she was crying.

“No,” she whispered. “No, I’m not okay. I’m scared.”

“Who is the guy out there?”

The next words decided to come out with another sharp inhale and it made her cough. She tasted salt and copper with it. “Ex-boyfriend,” she rasped. “Jumped me on my way home. Please help.” The last words ended in a whimper.

They both stopped at a sound from the door. There was the short thump of someone being pushed, and Chad’s angry voice came at them from down the corridor. “Who are you to tell me what to do? I gotta look after my girl, so step off.”

“Bad luck, mate, it’s not called ladies’ bathroom for nothin’. You step off.” Another series of noise, as if the two people were physically fighting for access to the door. It only lasted for a few seconds until Chad cursed and stomped off. During the many, many early mornings Marceline had been here, there had been maybe two times when they weren’t the only customers. She couldn’t possibly that lucky. The voice outside had not been Jeremy’s, sure, but what did that mean? There had to be a catch.

The door to the bathroom creaked open. Jeremy’s voice was a little tight, but otherwise calm. “I called the Sheriff. Nigel didn’t answer his phone, but David is going to fetch him, okay? Are you in the clear for now?”

“Thank you.” Marceline could barely hear her own words, but Jeremy seemed to have heard her. The door squealed when he closed it.

“What’s your name?”, the woman asked. “I’m Brooke.”

“Marceline.” The sounds were thick and dampened by the lump in her throat.

“Should I get a look at your injuries?”, the woman asked. “I’m not a doctor yet, but your cheek is gonna swell if you don’t cool it now. There’s a med kit here.”

Injuries? Oh right. In between feeling dizzy, and cornered, and her muscles hurting from shaking so much, her pounding face had dimmed down for a few blissful moments. It was more than happy to report back after being called upon now. Despite the pain it caused, Marceline gently touched the spots that loudly declared themselves Not Okay, examining the damage. Her cheek was heated up and felt already swollen under the drying tears and touching her lip made it protest with a sharp sting. Marceline withdrew her hand, already feeling the next burst of helplessness coming. If she gave in, she would curl up whimpering, just praying someone would be there soon.

There was blood on her hand. Not just a few drops either. Her fingers, where she had touched her split lip were completely covered in red, and it had smeared all over he palm, mixed with tears and snot, all the way to the now inactive brace.

Marceline stared at her hands for several seconds, even the sobs suddenly stuck in her chest while her thoughts clicked into a working pattern.

She had her braces. Braces to protect her hands and wrists when she fell. Alpha state technology, sure, but it had held up well so far. A prototype she only had access to because Nigel volunteered as a test subject for Aperture’s new freerunning gear. “I just thought you might like it,” he had told her when she said she didn’t need it. Unlike him, she wasn’t up to do life-threatening mechanical parcours just for the thrill of it. And frankly, she didn’t trust the company. “You’re not even in the files. It’s just for fun.”

Marceline ran her fingers over the brace. Right now, it was still sitting around her wrist, only a smooth white bracelet about two inches wide. Her fingers found the button that would make it go “swoosh” and somehow envelop her hand and lower arm, granting protection from blunt or shearing forces without constricting her movement. She had no idea how it worked, only that it looked ridiculously sci-fi, and if she was being honest it scared her a bit. But there were things that scared her more, so she just had to set priorities.

She felt her face twist into something that might be a snarl, or a sneer, or even a smile, and she kept it, even if it hurt. “Olen ollut sen kanssasi, te rotta,” she hissed.

”Uh, are you okay?”, Brooke asked.

”Fine,” Marcy growled. ”I’m fine.” She struggled to her feet, her back pressed up against the side of the stall. It seemed to sway with her weight and gave a thin, fragile sound. What had she expected in here? Shelter? This ancient thing couldn’t stop Chad if he really wanted to get her. Well, it didn’t matter anymore. Now she would get him.

Marceline wiped her face with toilet paper, leaving black and red smears on the tissue. Without paying further attention to it, she opened the stall and stepped out. Her legs were still shaky, but she didn’t feel paralyzed anymore. She was done being pushed around. As she turned, Marcy caught a short glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her already pale skin had taken on a sickly greenish tone, interlaced with red spots that stuck out almost as stark as the bloodshot eyes. Her cheek had already begun to turn purple, there was half-dried blood on her lip and she had mascara spots under her eyes. Simply put, she looked like crap.

”Are you feeling better?”

Brooke looked completely different than what Marceline had expected. She was a Latina a little shorter than Marcy, counting the high heels. She was more on the chubby side and had bright, intelligent eyes, half hidden under a fringe dyed ocean blue. The rest of her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she wore an irrationally happy polkadot dress. Her smile was tense, but had the calming quality of someone used to stress. Marcy snapped out of her revenge plans long enough to realize she knew the woman. She had seen her somewhere before. If Marceline had cared to watch, she could have seen recognition bloom in Brooke’s face at the same time. Marcy didn’t watch. She spun on her heel and marched to the door. She had something to finish.

”Uh, you probably shouldn’t go out there,” Brooke protested. Marceline didn’t listen and the woman didn’t dare to touch her. The fiercer she walked, the less she trembled. As long as the anger fueled her she was strong, but she wasn’t sure how long it would last. She almost kicked the door open before striding back into the diner.

Chad was perched up on a stool at the bar, bent over her phone with a scowl on his face and an untouched cup of coffee next to him. From the way he swiped the screen he hadn’t figured out how to unlock it yet.

In another booth, not posing an immediate threat, but close enough to reach him easily sat another man. He was roughly her age, but had a rough look to him, like an adventurer. He was tall and muscular, with his brown hair cropped short at the back and a few longer strands falling into his face in a pointedly messy fashion. He might have gone for an Indiana Jones look with the hat and leather jacket, but she should really not assume. The man’s bright green eyes focused on her and a streak of worry appeared in his features. He was half on his feet already, but hesitated when he saw the snarl on her face.

Chad didn’t have similar thoughts. He threw down the phone the moment he heard the door and stormed towards her. “All done, my dear?” He laid a hand on her arm in the mockery of a loving gesture. Marceline slapped his hand away.

“I’m not your dear, and if you’re smart-” He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her closer.

“What am I?”, he asked in a dangerously low voice. “If you start misbehaving already it seems my lessons didn’t stick with you properly.”

“Let me go,” Marceline hissed. He had her in a good grip right now, but she refused to give in to the sixteen year old girl in her head, screaming that she was just making things worse and worse, and if she backed down now it wouldn’t hurt as much. This part of her life was over.

They both turned when the bell overt he door jingled and two officers walked in, a red-haired woman with an uncanny resemblance to Amy Pond, and a dark-haired man. Marcy didn’t know them by name, but she had seen them before. Sometimes they hung out with the teenagers of the district, more making sure they were safe than controlling them. Chad’s grip on her shoulders eased a bit and he half turned around and smiled.

“We were called for an assault case?” The woman’s eyes immediately fixed on her, a wordless inquiry.

“Yes,” Marceline said. “You’ll have to arrest me I’m afraid. But please don’t interfere.”

Not only the officers blinked at her for that. Chad was the first to react.

“Excuse me,” he said to the police, before he dragged Marceline away. Before she was done trying not to fall, she was already with her back to the wall, one hand locked around her chin and the other digging into her arm. His fingers pressed on her bones, and she knew he was strong enough to break them, providing the right angle. She could feel his breath on her face, and her face scrunched up in disgust without her intent. The screaming girl in her head got louder, pleading ever more desperately to not make it worse.

“Listen up, bitch,” Chad hissed. “I don’t know what your fuckboy told you, but you’re not in charge here. I am. We’re leaving now and if you say another word you won’t like what happens next, get it?”

”Haista paska,” Marceline said flatly and punched him in the face. The white surface looked like plastic at first glance, and maybe it was, but it was plastic designed to withstand the force of a body hitting an immovable object and protect the bones within on top of it. It wasn’t as refined as Nigel’s beloved Long Fall Boots, but a face was by far not steady enough to compare to a concrete wall. Marceline felt the impact all the way to her shoulder, but the brace caught the force of the impact and swallowed it instead of leading it into her hand.

Chad didn’t have any of that protection. His nose broke with an audible crack. Chad folded like a wet rag and crashed to the floor shrieking, covering his face. Marceline looked down at her hand. The white was splattered with red at the knuckles, but now that the vibration of the punch had worn off, she didn’t feel anything. Funny, when he had grabbed her shoulder he must have forgotten she was left-handed. She pressed the button and the brace dissolved into blue light, drawing back into the ring.

Marcy swayed as a dizzy spell hit her. She might have fallen if not for a hand steadying her. When she snapped out of it, it was the Indiana Jones-looking man.

“You okay?”, he asked. Marceline nodded carefully and slipped out under his hand. She could go without that for now.

The two officers were still standing in the same spot, looking back and forth between Marceline and the whimpering Chad. Marcy made a few steps towards them and extended her arms.

“I’m ready.” The woman stared at her bruised face and then her arms, cleared her throat, looked at her partner, looked at Chad still on the floor, looked at Marceline, and then finally at Jeremy and the other two customers. They looked about as confident as a child on it’s first day of school.

“That was totally self defense,” the Indiana Jones-looking guy said. “Look at the poor gal, she must be terrified.”

“Right,” Jeremy chimed in. “Marcy, you probably wanna go home, but let me get you something to drink first. …And an ice pack.”

The red-haired woman nudged her partner and they went over to Chad. He was still lying on his side with his face covered, cussing into his hands in a shrill, whiny voice. The officers had the mercy to pull him to his feet before shackling him, lest his face touch the floor. Chad’s nose was very obviously broken, spilling blood over his face and on his shirt. Because of the wall Marcy hadn’t had much room to gather momentum, so the punch had hit him from an awkward sideways angle. He probably couldn’t even see her with his eyes watery like that, but the moment he was upright, he started cursing at her and throwing threats that probably wouldn’t help his case.

“I swear to God, I’ll make you pay for that,” he spat, quite literally. Marceline stepped back before she could be hit. “When I see you again, you’re gonna regret the day you met me, you fucking whore, I’ll slice you up I-”

“I already regret that day,” Marceline said quietly. She was feeling a headache coming, everything hurt already and she was dead tired. The anger was gone, as was the fear, at least for now. Chad was not the indestructible monster that had terrorized her for so long. He was a human, and now he looked like the pathetic narcissist he always had been.

“We’ll have to ask you to come for questioning tomorrow,” the dark-haired officer said. “Do you want to press charges?”

Marceline seriously considered saying No for a moment. She had made her point. Chad was a coward, but perhaps it was better to make sure he didn’t try anything. She wouldn’t get a better opportunity. “Yes, I’ll do that.”

“I swear to fucking Thor or whoever you believe in, if you sue me I’ll-” He was cut off by the door slamming open and a somewhat odd-looking parade storming in. For life-long friends, Nigel and David couldn’t be more different, one being spry, easily excited and the embodiment of “comment on my height and I’ll kill you”, and the other a friendly giant with lots of patience in the face of stupidity. Right behind them followed an agitated gray ball of fur that let out a warning bark at nobody in particular.

Nigel was in front of Marcy before she could even completely turn around.

“Are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt? I thought you went home, what-” He broke off. His eyes slowly scanned over her face, and then jumped to Chad, who had fallen silent and stared back. The two men looked at each other in silence, while the seconds ticked by. Chad was the first to look away, unable to hide how uncomfortable he suddenly was.

Nigel swayed his weight backwards a little bit, his face eerily calm all of a sudden, and Marceline’s only thought was Oh, shit. She looked at David, who had been quietly observing the situation. They made eye contact for a moment before his gaze wandered to his friend, and David’s eyes widened in the visual equivalent of Oh, shit.

He could barely get a hold of Nigel before the much smaller man could rip Chad to shreds.

“You motherfucker, how dare you touch her, I’ll fucking kill you, I’ll-” At this point, the other customer ran to help David, but even the two big men who weighed probably three times as much as Nigel could barely restrain him. He writhed like a serpent trying to break free and continued spitting venom at the somewhat dazed-looking Chad.

“Come on man, you’re not doing yourself a favor,” David tried to calm him down and was promptly rewarded with a kick on the shin.

“I’ll rip him to fucking pieces and feed him to the dogs!”

The police officers thought it best to ignore anything they heard and escorted Chad outside. Marceline watched the whole scene with a numb kind of calm. She was safe now, she knew that, and the adrenaline had abruptly worn off. She should probably be worried. If anything ever happened to Chad from now on, Nigel would be the prime suspect regardless of what he did. But somehow the display of rage, without any second thought, without even thinking about it, calmed her. Nigel didn’t get mad very easily, and she had never seen him like this. He was more the brooding type who translated his feelings into lyrics that made you worry about his sanity. Or his hobbies.

The door bell jingled a little more after the officers had left. They could see them put Chad in the car and the lights fading away as the patrol car disappeared down the street.

Nigel was facedown on the floor, but he had done the smart thing and stopped fighting. He was back on his feet the moment David and the other man let go, but decided to pace up and down rubbing his no doubt hurting arms instead of directing his anger at them. He was still in workout clothes, sweatpants and a sleeveless shirt, and their hands had left angry red marks on his skin. He would be badly bruised tomorrow.

David let out a sigh and rubbed his face. “Good job, dude. That sure left an impression.”

Nigel scowled at him but didn’t comment. He stopped pacing, as if he was only now remembering Marceline was still standing in the same spot, and immediately rushed over to wrap her into a hug.

“Just so you know, you’re not going anywhere alone again, get it?”, he muttered. The unnatural rage was gone, his voice was back to his somewhat teenage-sounding pitch he hated so much but Marcy thought was quite charming. Marcy nodded and pressed her face into his hair. Then she breathed and felt her nose crinkle up.

“You need a shower.”

“You don’t exactly smell like flowers either, honey,” he shot back.

Nigel eased the hug a bit but didn’t let go when he looked up at her. “Go home?”, he asked.

Marcy smiled. It would be okay. It really would. “Yeah. Let’s go home.”

** Finnish expressions ** Kiitos - Thanks Olen ollut sen kanssasi, te rotta - I’ve had it with you, you rat (I used Google translate for that, at the slim chance a Finn is reading this, I’m so sorry if I violated your language, please correct me.) Haista paska - Fuck you (or something along those lines) This reminds me that my original concept of Marceline was very pretty and cultured and swore like a reindeer herder

Yeah I posted that already, but under my pale pencil doodle I realize nobody bothered to look. I don’t know if anyone wants to read it now either. If you’re actually reading this, thanks a lot.

#satoriart #writing #tw: swearing #tw: abuse #why do I always write dark shit #short story #this doesn't even count as fan fiction anymore does it?

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