#profanity warning?

[nugothrhythms]

"All the Way," a 2022 single South Carolina-based dark alternative post-punk one-man-band Orcus Nullify

[nando161mando]

[themurphyzone]

Son of Darkwing AU: Just Like You Epilogue

As promised, here’s the epilogue. 

Warning for mentions of alcoholism, implied substance abuse, small amount of profanity. Rating of this fic has been bumped to a T. 

AO3 Link

Trash littered the floor of his old apartment, flies buzzing around moldy pizza crusts and slimy, rotten apple cores. The stench of rot reeked through the air. 

The pungent smell had long driven out all the other renters in the complex, except for that stubborn, ancient geezer of a mutt on the second floor who always watched that irritating Pelican’s Island farce of a show with the sound turned all the way up. He claimed to be hard of hearing. 

But that old fart just enjoyed tormenting him through the paper-thin walls.  

Perhaps he oughta visit tomorrow. Have a little friendly chat about being a good neighbor and pour him a cold one, just like old times. 

He’ll even slip a razor blade into the can. Why not? He was in a giving mood. The mutt deserved a special treat. 

A cockroach scuttled by his foot, and he crushed it with his heel. Its guts spilled out of its disgusting little body, its legs and antennae detaching as he wiped his heel along the stained carpet. 

His landlord would’ve put that infamous tightwad Scrooge McSuck to shame with his cheapness. Never bothered paying for pest control service. 

Now, how should he repay the landlord for renting such wonderful accommodations to the poor, down-on-their-luck beggars and hobos of society? 

He wasn’t going to repeat his plan for the mutt. That sort of revenge was boring. Devoid of any creativity whatsoever. 

No, the punishment should fit the crime. Hit ‘em right where it hurts most. 

The landlord couldn’t bear to part with his money, now could he? Kept it all locked away in a safe beside his desk and refused to entrust it to a bank. Even had the combination password written on a sticky note for convenience and never bothered to memorize it. 

Would be a crying shame if someone were to steal all that precious loot. 

Hell, he’d let the landlord watch too. Let him be the audience to his first crime after his grand comeback. 

And to convey his eternal gratitude, he’d give him the honor of being the first victim of his chainsaw. 

The hum of rusty metal slicing into every obstacle in its path was music to his ears. 

He obliterated the old, battered couch. Stuffing and fabric scattered everywhere as he thrust the deadly, whirring blade deep into the frame. The enormous cut was jagged and messy, just the way he liked it. 

Then he turned to the coffee table. He picked up the remote and hurled it into the TV. The glass splintered with a loud crack, a gorgeous spiderweb forming on the screen. 

He cleaved the coffee table in half, hacking away at the furniture until it was nothing more than useless scraps of firewood. 

His chainsaw wreaked destruction upon everything it touched. It didn’t matter what he tore through. Wood, paper, glass, the foundation of the apartment itself. 

Nothing mattered except for beautiful, destructive chaos.

To hell with the world. It didn’t give a damn about him, didn’t give him the adoration and accolades and admiration he deserved while he was in his prime. The shelf he’d reserved for his trophies was barren and filled with nothing but dust and cobwebs. 

Though the memories were hazy, he remembered owning several golden, shining trophies at some point in his life. 

They were gone now, most likely stolen by some thief looking to make a quick buck. 

He sold the trophies himself. Cashed them in at a sketchy pawn shop in one of the roughest neighborhoods of St. Canard. Probably got less than their actual worth, but alcohol was alcohol. 

He swung his chainsaw at the empty shelf, taking out the plaster and drywall behind it as well. Half of the shelf flew into a wilted, dying potted plant, knocking it down and spilling topsoil and leaves everywhere. 

Despite this, a single leaf remained green, clinging stubbornly to life.

A useless effort. 

The chainsaw sliced the leaf to an insignificant green pulp. 

He laughed at its demise. Why bother trying to live if the rest of the plant was rotting away? 

Why should he give a crap about anything when all the world had ever done was turn their back on him? He’d wasted so much of his life trying to entertain a fickle audience who would never give him what he wanted. 

He’d pushed his body to its limits by performing all his stunts, broke his bones and bruised himself a million times over to make it look authentic, and for what? 

To be forgotten as soon as the executives found a new cash cow show to mass produce toys for?  

To never land any other major role in a TV show or movie, not even as a typecast, because they thought he’d ruin the show before it ever took off? 

Then there was the greatest offense of all, to never be invited to reprise his role in what would’ve been the greatest comeback in the entire entertainment industry, snubbed by his fans who claimed to worship the ground he tread upon and that prissy wannabe director who had no respect for the franchise. 

And there was the worst of the lot…an ungrateful, selfish duck he’d raised from an egg and once called son. 

He’d grown into a mockery of Darkwing Duck’s legacy, a pale imitator of the original. A cunning thief who’d stolen his identity, his life, and his fans. 

He bellowed in rage, ripping the phone and answering machine from its wires and hurling them out the broken window. The phone broke through the fragile glass and tumbled three stories to the ground. But the answering machine laid in shambles, a shrill beep and distorted, mechanized voice emitting from its speakers. 

“You have ninety-one missed messages. If you’d like to hear these messages-”

He slammed his fist against the machine. But instead of shutting off, a voice, one so insultingly timid and meek, filtered through. 

“Hi, Dad. I know you probably don’t want to talk to me right now, and again, I’m really sorry I couldn’t convince Boorswan to at least give you a cameo appearance…but I was kinda hoping we could catch up? It’s been a while since we did something togeth-” 

His chainsaw cut through the machine, silencing it forever. The whirring blade lodged into the floor beneath the destroyed nuts and bolts. He yanked on the handle, but the chainsaw wouldn’t budge. 

Cursing, he shut the chainsaw off and kicked it in frustration. 

All that buzzing had given him a headache. 

He needed a damn drink. The brand didn’t matter. It just needed to be strong, bitter, and kill the migraine that pounded away at his skull. 

A sharp pain traveled up his spine as he stumbled to the kitchen. He was forced to rely on the wall to keep his balance, and he loathed it with every fiber of his being. 

Dirty dishes filled the sink and spilled onto the counter. He’d never gotten around to tying up the trash bags and taking them to the dumpster either. While the odor might’ve been off-putting to anyone else, it failed to compare to the Duckburg sewer he’d escaped through. 

He rummaged through the refrigerator until he found a can of beer that had gotten wedged in the back. His sleeve was covered in old food stains as he pulled his arm out, but he didn’t care. 

There was a voice somewhere in the back of his mind, some quack doctor straight out of med school warning him not to drink while on his painkiller prescription, listing out all the horrible side effects, and how that could affect him in the long run. 

That doc could kick rocks for all he cared. 

He popped a handful of painkillers into his mouth and guzzled down the beer. He’d survived things that would’ve killed other ducks a million times over. He wasn’t about to drop dead from this. 

If he wanted to go out, he’d do it in a blaze of glory. He refused to die as some nameless nobody. 

He crushed the empty can and tossed it aside. 

It was the last one he had. Nothing else except the painkillers had any value attached to them. He shoved the bottle into his pocket, figuring it was best to keep it for his personal use. 

The only other items he found that would be remotely useful were several kitchen knives, scattered haphazardly through several drawers. Small enough to conceal within his clothing, and lethal enough when he was ready to slash and stab and hack away at anybody who dared cross him. 

He slipped the smaller knives into the inside pockets of his jacket. Then he tested out the largest blade in his hands. 

It had a long, serrated edge, and its jagged shape would increase the risk of his enemies hurting themselves if they tried to knock it out of his hand. 

If he wanted to be flashy and draw everyone’s attention to himself, then his chainsaw was the perfect tool to induce terror and create mass chaos. 

But the daggers were more personal, a method to convey his hatred and deliver vengeance to everyone who wronged him. Yet a simple stab wound wouldn’t even make them feel a fraction of the pain they’d put him through. 

He’d have to build up a weapon collection, but for now, this would do. 

He dragged the knife along the table, the counter, the wall, and across any solid object in reach as he left the kitchen, leaving behind a horrid, shrill screech and thin white scars along every obstacle in his path. 

There was only one place left to visit before he burned down this dump for good. 

He had some cash stuffed somewhere in his bedroom. It wasn’t McSuck’s Money Bin, nor did he plan to pay for his fix at the next mom and pop convenience store he passed, but having a little greenery was better than nothing. 

He plunged his dagger into the underside of his mattress, lifting it into the air. There was a small collection of torn, crumpled bills and dull pennies. In this economy, the paltry amount wouldn’t cover the cost of a single stick of gum. 

But it would be a useful lure. Money was a powerful motivator for any poor, desperate sap. 

He snatched up the cash and shoved it into his pocket, letting the mattress slam against the frame. But the dagger remained wedged inside, forcing him to brace his foot against the side of the bed as he yanked the stubborn blade out. 

Finally, the knife yielded to his demands and came out of the mattress. He cursed and lost his balance, tumbling onto his back. His elbow smacked against the leg of his bedside table.  

The booze and painkillers hadn’t kicked in yet, so it still felt like some asshole set his arm ablaze. 

A picture frame that was perched precariously on the edge wobbled before falling onto his kneecap, as if he hadn’t dealt with enough insults to his injuries. He snatched up the frame with the intent of hurling it out the window, but a splash of color caught his eye before he could follow through. 

Within the cracked glass, there was an old drawing of-

The frame slipped out of his hands and fell to the ground. A wave of dizziness overtook him, one that he couldn’t quite chalk up to the alcohol in his system. 

He was hunched over the drawing, his hands and knees on the floor like a pathetic beggar, the heroic gaze of a duck clad in purple boring through him. 

A forgotten memory resurfaced from a decade long past. He’d been at the peak of his career then, the brightest star in the night sky, one that was impossible to miss. 

He saw a small, timid duckling with an awkward bill that was too large for his face. Who looked up to him with adoring, shining eyes, like he’d created the entire world from scratch. 

A voice, tiny yet filled with powerful determination, proclaiming his life’s dream.   

“When I’m bigger, I’m gonna be a hero just like you!”

The duckling became an adult. Young, bright-eyed, and hopelessly naive to the true nature of his chosen career path.  

“We’ve had our arguments. I…I know I said things I regret. But I just want you to know, you were my inspiration growing up, Dad. That’s why I’m playing Darkwing now. I’m gonna show this new generation who Darkwing Duck really is, a beacon of hope in the darkness! If a kid falls on hard times, they can look to Darkwing Duck to help them stand up and keep fighting! So come work on the movie with me! Let’s inspire everyone, together!”    

His son was nothing more than a filthy traitor, an awful impostor, a cunning thief who stole his entire life, identity, and legacy.  

If that backstabber wanted to become a superhero so badly, so be it. But he would have to lose those ridiculous ideals and morals about inspiring people and helping them stand on their own. 

Rage boiled in the pit of his stomach, his fingers tightening around the knife’s hilt. 

If his son wanted to be a bleeding heart and help people so badly, then why couldn’t he have started with his own father? 

His knife ripped through Darkwing Duck, destroying his image forever.

End AN: This AU is still a tragedy for the relationship between Jim Starling and Drake Mallard. But while Drake eventually becomes a hero and adds LP and Gosalyn to his family, Jim can’t see past the end of his own beak and still becomes Negaduck in the end. 

Drake had a fallout with Jim in his late high school/college years because Jim wasn’t taking care of himself and couldn’t let go of his glory years as Darkwing Duck. Jim started drinking to cope and shut out any attempts to help from Drake and his old coworkers. Jim also developed health issues later on, partially because of his unhealthy lifestyle and because of the injuries he accumulated during the original run of DWD. That said, Drake still loves his dad and wants to reconcile with him, but Jim keeps ignoring him. 

As much as I love The Duck Knight Returns, one nitpick I have with the episode is that the main characters don’t find out about the movie until the day the episode takes place, and Boorswan states that the production is almost finished. I can believe that Darkwing First Darkness most likely ran on extremely tight budget constraints and didn’t have a lot in the way of promotional materials and advertising due to Scrooge McDuck being the head executive. But with Launchpad being the DWD superfan, I believe that if there were any news at all of Darkwing getting its own reboot movie, he’d be following all updates on the movie religiously and talking everyone’s ears off about it. 

I can excuse Jim Starling for not finding out about the movie straight away. In this AU, Drake tried to tell him about being scouted and his plans to audition for DWD, but Starling wouldn’t listen and later accused Drake of hiding all this info from him. Throughout the movie’s production, Drake tried to contact Starling and update him about happenings on the set, advice on his stunts, and sometimes just wanting to know how he’s doing, but Starling never picked up the phone and didn’t speak to Drake until LP brought him to the studio to watch the filming of the climax. 

[sariels-world-ella]

Incorrect undertale quote:

Chara: at this point of my life, I don't care if you think I'm a girl or boy or enby,

Chara: or whatever fricking pronouns I TOBY DANG use,

Chara: I JUST WANT YOU TO GET YOUR STINKING BEHINDS OFF MY DARN YARD.

Chara: GET THE OFF MY YARD, YOU BASTARDS!!!

Chara: RACK OFF, YOU DANG BOZOS!!!!

Random parent: is that your child screaming at the sales people and a parent with a baby in a stroller over there?

Toriel: um... noo....? I-I, uhh... never seen that child in my life...

Random parent: are you sure that's not your eldest child, Chara, over there? they are the only human ghost that lives around here, and that's IS your house is it not? Toriel: um... that's... uh.. Asgore's child...?

*Papyrus in the distance after storming out the front door*: I AM SO DONE WITH YOUR MISBEHAVIOR TODAY, I AM NOT EVEN GOING TO BE "MR. NICE UNCLE PAPS" WITH THIS, CHARA DREEMURR, GET YOUR SORRY BITCH-ASS INSIDE RIGHT NOW, AND STOP BEING A TOTAL JACKASS BY SCREAMING AT PEOPLE,YOU ARE SO FUCKING GROUNDED,TOBY FUCKING DAMNIT!!!

Random Parent: and isn't that your brother-in-law? Toriel: uhh.... haha... maybe..?

[battle-subway-ghost]

WHAT DID HE DO BESIDES HE HOMOPHOIBIC

Okay so dude's old as fuck so he stopped being a senator a good while before he died, but he was BAD.

Lots of anti-environmental bills got drafted and passed by this guy, if you want some specifics that aren't "He hated queer people"

Also he was a huge supporter of the construction of Black City, and gave plenty of funding to the project-

Here's the Wikipedia article on him if you want all the details though I need to keep myself from writing whole essays tonight. I already won't be sleeping I can't do that to myself lmao.

Honestly someone shoulda taken this guy out ages ago

[iggyfing]

making up a character in my own head: oooh he's so wretched and tormented by the horrible fallout of a poor choice he once made

making up a character to play in a video game: i'm gonna make a woman that is so bastard

[tiredg0ds]

i hate living in america lol

[glimmerglanger]

Chapters: 7/7 Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi Characters: CC-2224 | Cody, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Original Female Character(s), Other PT Characters Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Control Chip Removal and Aftereffects, Emotional Dysregulation, Pining, non-con not between the main pairing, And Occurs Off-Screen (See Author's Note for More Information), Temporary Obitine, Brief Quinobi, Therapy, Recovery from trauma, Eventual Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Some Brief Instances of Self-Harm, Coping Mechanisms, Healing, Abuse of Prisoners, Torture, Healthy Communication, relationship navigation, Implied Future Cody/Obi-Wan/Satine Hinge Relationship Summary:

The very first piece of profanity Cody ever heard came from the mouth of one of his trainers. She’d been a quiet woman most of the time, especially during training, where she mostly communicated with her hands. But she’d tripped up, once, in the mess, and hissed out, “Kark,” under her breath after the clatter of sound from her armored foot striking a chair.

OR, the one where Cody sees some of the more horrific parts of the galaxy and takes the long and difficult road to recovery afterwards.

[askadultsweetiebelle]

/ Older Scootaloo: You're a loser, baby!

Older Sweetie: A loser, but just maybe if we...

Both: Eat shit together, things will end up differently!

[adhdlion]

If I could *just* we wouldn’t be having this conversation.

I did something bad at work and spent most of the week waiting to find out if I was going to lose my job over it. My girlfriend and another close friend, within the same hour no less, started a statement with “you just need to…”. I’m already past the end of my rope, and that just pissed me off. I have ADHD. If I could “just” we wouldn’t be having this fucking conversation.

To those of you with ADHD, this is probably a very familiar song. Sing along, if you’d like. For those you who don’t know it, give it a listen. This is the angry version of the song. I know there are other nicer versions you can go find if that’s more your style.

Flashback to first grade: “you *just* need to sit still!” Bitch, I have ADHD *and* RLS. I don’t get to choose when I sit still. You sure as fuck don’t and it’s not a moral failing when I can’t always do it on demand. If I could *just* we wouldn’t be having this conversation.

All through grade school: “you *just* need to sit down and do your homework.” I walk in the door at home and you’re lucky if I remember that I even have homework. If I could *just* we wouldn’t be having this conversation.

Eleventh grade English teacher: “you *just* need to apply yourself!” Yeah, I probably should. Using a magic word doesn’t make it happen, and it’s not like this is a lifestyle choice. If I could *just* we wouldn’t be having this conversation.

College: “why can’t you *just* sit down and do it?” Fuck if I know, you tell me. I try. I bribe myself. I berate myself. I sit there like a good little boy and the words don’t come. The book doesn’t open. The effort doesn’t come. If I could *just* we wouldn’t be having this conversation.

When I go through bouts of depression: “can’t you *just* get out of bed and take a shower?” Bitch, no, that’s what the fucking problem is. If I could *just* we wouldn’t be having this conversation.

For the last several years I have barely cooked at home. “Why can’t you *just* make something simple?” If I could *just* we wouldn’t be having this conversation.

Yes, I know my life and yours would be easier if I were *just* someone else. If I were *just* something else. If I were *just* different from how I am. That’s what everyone has been telling me for almost a half century, whether they realize it or not. Telling me that all I need is this one weird trick to being a normal human being absolutely does not fucking help. Tell the drowning man “you *just* need to swim”. It does the same good to him as it does to me. If I could *just* we wouldn’t be having this conversation.

So the next time you have a friend who is stuck on something that seems simple to you. Or the next time you see something from a stranger where they are stuck. I know you want to help. We all want to help people. But I urge you. It’s so simple. You *just* need to fuck off with “you *just* need to”.

[anondudeao3]

(Also, since I'm sharing random bits of creativity haha)

Please enjoy this prologue from a WIP

Disclaimer: this is simply because I cannot contain myself and I really love this and want desperately to share it haha. Do not be fooled into believing this is an indication the finished product may be coming soon. I truly have no idea. I have, like...over 50 WIPs for this account haha — I never know when any of them are going to be finished until it is upon me.

And...I beg of you. Stick with it, it's the end that I love so dearly, but the set up is necessary.

Jason is angry. 

Maybe it's more accurate to say Jason is anger. 

He's trying, he's really making an…effort to at least try to be more levelheaded and reasonable now that he's supposed to be a Bat again, but he's still always just filled with so much…rage. It flows under his skin, molten and burning and viscous like magma, just waiting to burst forth at the slightest opportunity, lurking there for the moment it can surge out and entomb the next unfortunate soul in his path in its inescapable, blistering clutches. 

He feels like a monster. 

He feels like his rage is an entire other being that forcibly wrestled the wheel out of his grasp, and yet he still feels he's entirely at fault for every action it takes in the driver's seat of his brain, because it's his. He wants those things, he wants to do those things, he feels those things, even if the smothered voice in the back of his head says it's wrong, that he'll regret it later (if he ever manages to take the wheel again. He wonders if that's even a possibility. It feels impossibly out of his grasp).

He's managed to achieve more of a balance lately, managed to unsmother that voice, and shove aside the rage sometimes even if he can't shove it back or down, but that means it's still always there, right there in the forefront of his mind, boiling his brain and frying all of his other emotions to ashes until only bitterness is left. 

He feels so elemental, like there's hardly anything left to make him up at all; only thin skin that barely contains a sea of magma roiling over an impenetrable wall of igneous rock around his heart, like he was almost made inside out. Isn't normal people's fire on the inside, instead of licking at the outside world through their very pores with every breath? Aren't their walls like a protective exoskeleton? Jason had failed at normal a long time ago, though, hadn't he.

There's a knock on Jason's safehouse door, and Jason fucking burns with hate at being interrupted. The little voice in his head tells him he's being unreasonable, that he's only been cleaning his weapons and allowing his thoughts to simmer through the shimmering heat-haze of his emotions that he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to get used to no matter how long he's been dealing with it. (He wonders if it's a useless endeavor to even think about trying to tune such a thing out some day. He wonders if it might even be dangerous. If his rage really is a separate entity by now, one that could maul him when he's no longer looking). 

It doesn't matter what the little voice says though, he feels it, he feels it.

It matters what the little voice says. He sets down the pistol, and goes to get the door.

Dick gives him a friendly smile and a bright, "Hey!" and Jason feels another surge of haterageresentment swell in him at the sight.

But he only says a curt, "Hi."

Dick steps forward, forcing Jason to either step back or blatantly block his entrance, inviting himself in as if it doesn't occur to him that he might not be naturally welcome in Jason's space. Like he might not just intrinsically belong here.

Jason sits with this swell of anger as well, as he shuts the door behind him while Dick makes himself quite at home on the ratty couch Jason had dragged in from an alleyway that had smelled like cigarette smoke and rotting leaves and old piss, as most Gotham alleyways are wont to, in Jason's experience. At least the sofa doesn't smell like that anymore. Mostly.

Dick still looks happy for some fucking reason, as Jason approaches him. Jason stops a good meter and a half away, still standing and now crossing his arms tightly over his chest, deciding it's probably better this way. Probably better to keep him out of striking range, out of the way of temptation, far enough that it might take more than a few seconds, at least, for any errant flows of lava to reach him.

"I'm really glad you're back, Jason," Dick says, looking unaccountably earnest, and Jason doesn't know quite what to do with that. His anger roils confusedly below the surface in choppy waves, trying to surge but continually falling back on itself as it has no idea what for. "I missed you. I'm so glad you're back with us, and I just— I feel like there's so much I did wrong before, and so much more I could have done, and I don't— I don't want to lose you again. I want— I understand if it's more…difficult and you can't jump in all at once, but I want to have the relationship we never got to have before; I want to be someone you trust this time, someone you can rely on. You're family, but that's just a word if you don't make anything of it. I want to. I want to be closer this time…if you'll let me."

Jason's insides have gone still. And he's still just as lost at sea.

"I…" Dick hesitantly adds. "I know I'm not alone either. Alfred would be absolutely over the moon to spend time with you." He pauses again. "Maybe we could…all have tea some time when Bruce isn't at the manor?"

Jason stares at him, because he doesn't know quite what else to do, and in that moment, Jason…feels something in him break. He feels like something soft and raw inside him is suddenly left exposed to the elements, and the utter vulnerability makes panic flicker through him, but Dick is still holding his gaze — eyes clear and open, and friendly smile lingering, like he means it. Like he means every bit of it. And everything about him whispers terrifying, with the way he's cracked Jason open; and everything about him whispers safe, like no matter what turns out to be underneath Jason's hard, igneous shell, he wouldn't flinch back, he would open his arms and shield him from the world himself.

"Okay," Jason manages, and Dick smiles like the sun, and Jason feels another flicker in his chest. Not fear this time though, and finally — finally — not anger or its bedmates bitterness and hatred either. Something…lighter. Softer. …Hopeful? Bright. Not the fires of rage, but a warm spring sun.

[simiansmoke]

More Than a Smasher - [🔨 dk playlist]

summary: The fate of most 90's kid stars.

Mama Look at Me Now (Culture Code Remix) - Galantis X Gon Give it To Ya (Maybe) - Carly Rae Jepsen vs DMX edamame - bbno$ & Rich Brian Guilty Pleasure - Bryce Vine That's On You - Kid Ink Roses (Imanbek Remix) - Latino Gang Memory (Said the Sky Remix) - Kane Brown, blackbear Beautiful People (feat Khalid) - Ed Sheeran Bartender - Quinn XCII Finest Hour (feat. Abi) - Cash Cash Malibu Nights - LANY Alaska - Little Hurt Young & Alive - Bazzi La La Land (feat. YG) - Bryce Vine Walls - Quinn XCII Go Easy - Matt Maeson A Letter to My Younger Self - Quinn XCII "Roses" (Said the Sky) - SAINt JHN

[neon-entity]

When you come to get an evil hacker job and leave with an evil little boyfriend

[thebeautifulfantastic]

apologies in advance if my posts and tags moving forward contain more swearing than before... i've been hanging out with the acting/film/music crowd and let me tell you, artists know how to swear

[ready-4-takeoff]

Fire Emblem : The Road to Healing Chapter 5

Characters used by asklucinalowell: Mercutio, Marseille, Mauris

Chapter 5 

Marseille was currently sleeping in her room and for the first 2 hours, it looked like she was going to have a good night’s rest like she has had during her time at Garreg Mach, but soon, she was beginning to toss and turn in her sleep. 

“Hngh... n-no, please, don’t make me...” She said as she was beginning to have a nightmare. 

In Marseille’s dream... 

The sun was currently setting on a plain of grass as she opened and saw another person right in front of her, and that person was Mercutio, or as she previously knew him as Robin, the person that she not only loved but the same person that had sacrificed his life to eradicate the fell dragon Grima permanently. 

She also saw that she was wearing the same uniform that she had worn while she was disguised as the hero king Marth and was also holding the sword Falchion... while pointing it at Robin. and immediately realized what this was all about. 

“My life is yours... it always has been.” Robin said with a small smile on his face 

“D-don’t look at me like that!” Marseille cried “I love you! ...Do you have any idea how hard this is for me?” 

“It’s alright...” Robin replied “I would give my life for Chrom. ...And for you.” 

“Robin...” was all Marseille could reply as tears began to emerge from her eyes 

“Just... promise me that you’ll find someone else who cares for you.” Robin said “Promise to me that you’ll won’t be alone. All that I've ever wanted to see in my life was for you to be happy Lucina.” 

“N-no... ah gods, no...” Marseille stammered 

“Trust me...” Robin said as he walked towards Marseille. “If you do this, All of Ylisse will be safe thanks to you. You'll not only be labeled as a hero, but you’ll also be able to have a peaceful life with the ones that you loved and vowed to protect.” 

“I can’t!” Marseille cried, “What will happen to you?!?” 

“Don’t worry about me” Robin reassured to Marseille, “I promise that one day, I will find a way to return to you and your family. And, if I don’t, then I can assure you that I was able to cherish every moment with you during the time that I was with you and the shepherds.” 

“P-promise?” Marseille stammered 

“I promise.” Robin replied, “Now, do what you must.” 

"I... I must...” Marseille again stammered as she lowered Falchion. 

The two just stood there for a moment before... 

“Robin...” Marseille said and dashed towards Robin shouting, “I LOVE YOU!!!” 

All Robin could do was close his eyes as he braced for Marseille to plunge Falchion into his chest, and ultimately into his Heart. 

As Marseille ran towards Robin, she closed her eyes and shouted “FORGIVE ME!” But before Falchion could pierce Robin’s chest... 

Back in reality. 

“NO!” Marseille shouted as she jolted up from her bed panting heavily as she began to regain her bearings. She decided to get out of her bed and look at herself in the mirror and saw that she was wearing her nightgown fortunate that she was able to wake up from the dream that she was having. 

“Haa... gods... it was only just a dream...” Marseille breathed in relief. 

But while Marseille was looking in the mirror, she began to shed tears from her eyes as she realized what that dream, or more specifically... that Nightmare was all about. 

“Oh Robin... I miss you so much. But why did you have to leave me?” She said as she began to cry. 

What hit her so hard emotionally was that she had lost the one person that had meant so much to her. and what made it worse was that she now had no one meaningful for her to lean on whenever she felt sad. Sure, the friends she had made during her time at Gerrag Mach gave her something to smile but these friends won’t replace the people that she had loved back in Ylisstol. 

In reality, those people weren't Her's to begin with as she went back in time to help end the fell dragon’s presence in ylisse, but with her mission done, she no longer had any reason to stay as those people back home weren't her real family, they belonged to that girl. 

As Marseille made her way back to her bed. She fell onto the mattress and cried her way back to sleep. Unfortunately for her she would not be able to go back to sleep for the rest of the night as her sleep would be plagued with nightmares of her tormented past. 

______________________________________________________________________________ 

Unfortunately for Marseille, that night where she had her first nightmare would be the beginning of a depressing length of time for her at the Monastery as the nightmares that she would have every night would seem to worsen. The duration of each nightmare that she would have would be longer and were more frequent with each one dragging her back to the real world as a screaming wreck. What made it worse was that these nightmares that Marseille had would not only affect her during the night, but also it affected her during the day as well, as she began see and hear things throughout her day which distracted her from her activities and studies despite her best efforts to stay focused. But these delusions also continued to bring her further into grief-fueled madness. Instead of escaping her tormented past, this pain which entrenched into her heart seemed to worsen each passing day and what made it worse, it began to make her delirious. On top of it she began to distance herself from students at the Monastery as she felt that the effects that she was facing from the nightmares she had were only going to make her a distraction to others around her.  

Fortunately, some of the students that saw her before she got too far from them, were able to notice her change in behavior and tried their best to help her. One of those instances was of course the leader of the Black Eagles, Edelgard Von Hresvelg as shortly after breakfast, she noticed Marseille sitting alone on a bench feeling down. 

“Um... Marseille?” Edelgard began. 

“Huh?” Marseille nodded up at Edelgard snapping out of her downcast mood. “Oh... hello Edelgard...” she replied. 

“It’s good to see you Marseille” Edelgard said, “You feeling alright?” 

“Hm? Oh, not really, I just am feeling mentally ill.” Marseille said telling the truth. 

“I see...” Edelgard said feeling sorry for her friend. “Well, Mercedes and I need help to finish a task with weeding and I was wondering, would you like to help us?” 

“Oh... sure that would be nice. I'll come and help...” Marseille replied with a fake smile. 

“Great!” Edelgard said happily, “I’ll see you there. Oh, and by the way, just take your time when you are ready to work with us ok?” she added as well. 

“Alright...” Marseille said back. 

1 hour later... 

By the time Marseille found the duo of Edelgard and Mercedes, one hour had already past which for Marseille, was unusual for her to be late to a part of her daily schedule by that length of time. 

“Marseille!” Mercedes said sounding surprised, “Where were you, all this time? We were worried about you!” 

“Oh...” Marseille said sounding sad, “I was just thinking about... well... nothing really. Let’s just get to work and get this over with alright?” 

“Um... ok...” Mercedes said sounding concerned as the trio began to work on weeding in the garden. 

30 minutes later... 

As the trio were working on their project, Edelgard noticed that Marseille was working at an Extremely slow and lackluster pace, which for was definitely an unexpected sight from Marseille. She could tell that Marseille looked troubled and decided to ask her what was wrong with her. 

“Um... Marseille?” Edelgard began, “Do you think you will be able to work in your present condition? Because I'm worried about you given how you slowly you have been working today...” 

“Huh?” Marseille replied “Oh of course I can work, but even so... there is no guarantee that I could be a potential roadblock from accomplishing the task that we were given today...” 

“Hm... indeed...” Edelgard said sounding worried “Let’s just get through with this as best as we can alright?” 

“Ok...” Marseille said “But that only leaves me feeling even worse because I can’t bear to be useless to either one of you... because the thought of that leaves me feeling week and helpless...” she added while beginning to shed tears from her eyes. 

Mercedes looked at Marseille and couldn’t help but feel sorry for her friend and asked, “Are you feeling alright Marseille? Because if not, maybe you should rest a bit and let me and Edelgard do the work for you...” 

Marseille then looked at Mercedes and proceeded to say, “I appreciate your thoughts, but it won't matter because all you could consider me is nothing but a burden... as I *sniff* merely only exist just so you could toil me at your command...” 

“Don’t say stuff like that!” Mercedes said sounding shocked, “throughout the time you have been here at the Monastery, you have always been working hard and what I've noticed is that you have been making more mishaps from all the hard work that you have been doing! This time it is my turn to pull us through.” She added with a smile. 

“Unfortunately, Mercedes, you are Incorrect...” Marseille responded, “As long as *sniff* as I am to be working with you, it will always be my turn.... and it will be my turn the next as well. All that you will be good for is to just wait until these tasks that we do are finished.” she ended while shedding more tears from her eyes. 

“Oh no, that just won’t do!” Mercedes replied “It will be much better if we work together.” 

“Fine...” Marseille groaned in disappointment. 

As the trio got back to work, Edelgard noticed up on the balcony, she saw Mercutio, the professor of the Golden deer walking by and then looked back at Marseille and thought “I wonder if he could the reason why Marseille is feeling so down recently? I’m going to have to get to the bottom of this.” 

“Edelgard?” Mercedes asked which snapped Edelgard out of her thoughts. 

“Oh right!” She replied as she got back to work with Mercedes and Marseille. 

______________________________________________________________________________ 

Another instance in which it troubled a student at the Monastery was of course Ashe, Marseille’s best friend, as he was doing a little better on his studies than Marseille given that she was still struggling to get control of her life. But every time he saw her, he could not help but feel sorry for her as he could see that Marseille was struggling but he could do little to help her. 

He was currently sitting on a bench feeling troubled for Marseille when he heard a familiar voice. 

“Ashe...”  

“Huh?” Ashe said as he looked for that voice and saw it belonged to Mauris. “Oh, it's you Mauris, how are you doing?” 

“I could say we are on the same boat if you are talking about what we are feeling at the moment, Troubled.” Mauris replied. 

“You too?” Ashe questioned. 

“Yes, and it all relates to one person...” Mauris answered. 

“Does it have to do with Marseille?” Ashe said. 

“Yes, she seems troubled. To a level that even I could not have predicted.” Mauris replied sounding concerned. 

“How so?” Ashe asked. 

“Well...” Mauris began while sitting next to Ashe, “I have seen other students trying to have a conversation with her, but all she does is just ignore them. Why she is doing this, I just can’t seem to have an answer for... but all I know is, she is refusing to let go of her past. Surprisingly, even I can’t seem to have a chat with her...” 

“Really?” Ashe said sounding surprised. 

“Yes...” Mauris replied while nodding and frowning at the same time. 

“Well...” Ashe said “What kind of breaks my heart whenever I see her, I try to talk with her to see what is wrong with her just like what you did... But what makes it worse unlike you is whenever she sees me... All she does is tell me to stay away from me.” 

“Why is that?” Mauris asked. 

“Well... she thinks that I closely resemble Mercutio, the person that broke her heart a few days ago.” Ashe replied. “And I have a feeling that my level for concern for her has taken a turn for the worse given what happened the last time I saw her...” 

“What do you mean?” Mauris said. 

“Well...” Ashe said. “Take a look at what she did to me...” He said as he showed Mauris patches of dirt on his uniform. 

“She did that to you?!?” Mauris replied with a shocked expression in his face. 

“Yes...” Ashe said “She shoved me to the ground...” 

“Oh, my goodness...” Mauris replied sounding extremely concerned. “This is turning out to be far worse than I expected...” 

“Yes indeed...” Ashe responded sounding just as concerned as Mauris. He then asked. “But what can we do? Given that there is so little that we can do to help her in this situation...” 

“Well...” Mauris replied, “The only thing that I could do is to erase her memories of her past, but I highly doubt that this would help her in any way as it could make the situation even worse as I would literally regret making this decision.” 

“Well, could we try and... maybe try and make her let go of her past, like not...” Ashe began but was promptly interrupted by Mauris. 

“Ashe... Like I said, trying to make her forget the past isn’t going to help in this situation.” Mauris replied “Given the fact that she has had so many friends and family in her past, making her forget about all of those memories is going to make her hole of sadness that much bigger probably to a point where it could never heal.” 

“Oh... right, completely forgot about that” Ashe said feeling dumbfound because of his idea. He then had to go to his next class and said, “It was nice talking to you, I hope we can find a solution to help out Marseille...” 

“I’m sure we will” Mauris replied. He then replied “But until, I'll see you soon.” 

“Same here” Ashe said. As he left toward his class, he looked up to the sky and said to himself in a concerned tone, “I just hope that she doesn't do something where the situation that she is already in gets even worse..."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Unfortunately for Ashe, Marseille’s situation would indeed worsen, even to the point where some of the students like Ashe would be harmed in some way. An example of this occurred a few days later with Sylvain and Ferdinand a few days later, who saw Marseille down like previous times and asked if she was alright. But unlike others who just backed off at the first warning that Marseille said to stay away, they continued to attempt to talk to her, and this led to her shoving the two onto the ground and then just running off, which completely caught the two-off guard. Surprisingly, the two did not get angry at her, instead they too were concerned for her, especially Sylvain given that he was in the same house at her. 

After that incident and the ones that followed where students continued to try and talk with Marseille which led to more students being pushed to the ground from Marseille, they began to stay away from Marseille and soon, she had no one left to talk to except for the friends that she met the first time she arrived, and at times, she even refused to talk to them. 

But none of the incidents could even come close as extreme to the altercation that would happen between Marseille and Mercutio, as on the day before the houses of Gerrag Mach were to go out on their mission to the holy Mausoleum, the two would meet again and unfortunately, things wern't going to be pretty between the two... 

It did start out fine enough though as Mercutio was currently sitting with Hilda having tea together. 

“I really like it when we have moments like these together when we are alone!” Hilda said happily. 

“I’m glad to hear that.” Mercutio said with a nod. “But your constant motives in following me all the time can be a bit of a concern to me as I can’t seem to get anything done.” 

“Oh!” Hilda gasped. “I’m so sorry if I'm becoming a distraction to you!” 

“It’s alright Hilda.” Mercutio replied “But I would appreciate it if you could limit the number of times that you follow me, Ok?” 

“Alright!” Hilda said in agreement “Now then, shall we talk about...” Hilda began but then saw Marseille walking. 

“Oh look! There’s Marseille” Hilda pointed at her. “Boy... she looks down...” she then had an idea, “I know! You should go talk to her!” she said happily. 

“Um Hilda...” Mercutio said concerned, “I’m not sure if that would be a good idea given that...” 

“Oh, come on silly!” Hilda reaffirmed Mercutio “I’m sure she would want to talk with you!” 

“Are you sure?” Mercutio questioned Hilda. 

“I’m sure!” Hilda replied. 

“Alright...” Mercutio said as he slowly made his way over to Marseille while trying his best to avoid being seen. When he got close enough, he began to greet her. “Um... Hello, Marseille, is it?” 

Marseille turned around, and when she saw Mercutio, she jolted backwards away from him. “N-no... s-stay away f-from me...” Was all she could stutter as she held her hands forward to keep distance from Mercutio. 

Mercutio was confused at what she meant but he decided to come closer to her. “What are you talking about? I just wanted to talk with you... see what is wrong with-” 

“Please s-stay away from me!” Marseille said as she began to panic. 

Mercutio then remembered about their talk back in his room and remembered that he was the one that told her that he was no longer the person she loved even though he resembled that person. He had to apologize quickly before it got out of hand. “Marseille, I just wanted to say that I am-” 

But Mercutio got too close to Marseille and that was a big mistake on his part because something inside Marseille's mind snapped and what happened next caught both Hilda and Mercutio by surprise. As quickly as Mercutio was to apologize, Marseille was even faster to land a right-handed punch on Mercutio’s face which sent him tumbling to the ground. What was even more shocking was what she said to him. 

“F**k you Mercutio!” She shouted in his face in a tone that was both angry and also heartbroken at the same time, “You were the one who made me into what I am, A Broken-Hearted student you F**king B***h!" Before Mercutio could react, Marseille shouted, "I don’t ever want to see you ever again because I F**KING HATE YOU A**HOLE!” She then stormed off in sadness and ran from both Mercutio and Hilda.

After witnessing what just happened Mercutio expected Hilda to get upset with Marseille for what she just did to her professor, but instead she was truly worried for her friend as this was just not what Marseille was used to doing, considering that she was not just of the hardest working students at the Monastery, but she was also kindest students as well. 

“Um... Mercutio?” Hilda said as she helped him up. “First off, are you okay? and second, what in the goddess did we just witness? 

All Mercutio could do was shake his head in sadness. He felt horrible not form what he just witnessed, but also for his actions to Marseille. “This is all my fault...” he said. 

“Why is that?” Hilda questioned. 

“I should have never been so harsh to her by just ignoring her while she was here...” Mercutio replied, “Then none of this would have ever happened, she could have succeeded as a brilliant student, and she would have been so happy even without me, but now... seeing her like this, it's just...” That was all he could say as he got up and started to walk away from Hilda. 

“Where are you going?” Hilda questioned. 

“I’m going to do something that I should have done a long time ago.” Mercutio said in a concerned tone. “Something that I should have done when she first got here...” 

Hilda didn’t realize at first what he meant at first, but it made sense now. “I don't know you are up to professor, but I hope it's something that can stop this...” Hilda said to herself as she watched him go inside the monastery. 

[iggyfing]

day saved this is funny