I had the strangest freaking dream that the sun was being eroded (? ? ? that's not how it works ? ? ? ? I know this ? ? ? i love space i know that it doesn't work that way ? ? ? ?) and there was kinda this almost-eclipse to which I started screaming for my grandpa to come (? ? he's dead ? ? ? ? ?) and see and the world was flashing between light and darkness and then the sun was just swallowed whole and everything was pitch black but then suddenly everything was inverted color-wise and I woke up before I could figure out what the holy fuck was happening

Weird dream, am I right? I swear I'm not on any drugs. I did fall asleep listening to P!ATD, so maybe that was it.

So here we are, chapter 14! This one is a little unusual, but whatevs. I decided we need a little unusual positivity for once. Also, it's pretty short, so, I'm sorry, please forgive me, etc.

Disclaimer: No. I'm so done with this. I DO NOT OWN ADVENTURE TIME.

Marshall Lee's POV

I didn't feel truly there for hours after Marceline spoke with me about what had happened to her. She too could tell that I was out of it. I could see it in her face. That bittersweet pity all over her face. But there was confusion there, too, and I couldn't blame her. As far as she knew, I had no reason to be an emotional bitch when she explained herself. As far as she knew, the Vampire Knights and I paid little to no attention to her up until recently.

How could I explain that to her? How could I explain that we threw our entire reputation out the window for her, to protect her? We had to protect her, because no one else would, and because without her, the school would fall apart. We gave up so much for her . . . Only we were protecting her from the wrong people, it seemed.

I mentally smacked myself in the head for the umpteenth time that day. Stupid, stupid, stupid! How could I have been so blind? There was so much more we could have done for her if we had just focused our attention on the Perfects! Why didn't I think of them? Why didn't I factor them into my equation? I should have realized ages ago that they were a huge threat to Marceline's health–physically and mentally! Maybe even a bigger threat than Ash! Stupid! Why was I so freaking stupid?!

The rational part of my brain told me that it wasn't my fault. There was no way I could have possibly been able to fend off Ash and Ashley. But the other part of me told me that all of it was my responsibility and I should have seen everything coming. I should have realized that the Perfects were so damn evil–the subtle kind–whereas Ash put up his front of being an asshole like it was de rigueur. I fell right into the Perfects' trap. I was distracted by Ash.

Just knowing that for years I was wrong . . .

I was somewhat pulled back into reality by Marceline shoving a plate of spaghetti into my lap. She sat down next to me, pulled out some silverware, and took a bite, resting the fork back onto the plate. What? Did she make this?

I stared down at it. "What's this?"

Her mouth was full as she rolled her eyes. When she swallowed, she said. "Food."

"I'm not–"

"You have to eat, Marshall."

I thought about that. Yeah, I hadn't really eaten since those strawberries. And I hadn't moved since I sat down at the beach. My stomach growled lowly, so I took that as confirmation that I was hungry. Which was strange since I hand't felt any hunger pangs.

Begrudgingly, I picked up the fork and lifted the food to my mouth. Spaghetti. My mom used to make spaghetti all the time. When we had our little ritual of watching The Breakfast Club, she'd promise to make spaghetti that night. It was the best. I wondered what she'd say to me if she saw me eating with a girl on a beach. Or what she would have said. I started to get angry at the idea, so I started eating again. I wolfed down the food faster than I thought I would, not a word coming out of Marceline or I, which I was grateful for. After our emotionally draining conversation, I didn't want to have another one. Her presence was all I needed. She soothed me. For example, the fact that she just kept glancing in my direction and giggling made me temporarily feel enlightened.

She suddenly handed me some strawberry flavored lip balm. "Here."

"What?" I asked, taking it from her hands.

"Your lips are chapped. You need to moisturize . . . Or whatever."

I looked over at her. "Marceline, my lips aren't a Doctor Who meme."

"Whatever! Just put it on!"

"Very well, my dear. Your command is my wish . . . Wait, no, that's not how it goes . . ."

She pushed me and laughed and it was just too contagious. See, Marceline just had this effect on people that always gave them a positive hope. It was like breathing; you rarely even acknowledge it's happening because it's so natural.

Once I had successfully applied her chapstick, I puckered my lips. "How do I look?"

She rolled her eyes again. "Fabulous," she droned.

I grinned at her, my mood having done a complete 180 degree turn. Her eyes turned wary, like she didn't trust my impish look. I leaned forward. "Hmm, Marcy. Looks like your lips are a little dry . . ."

"Oh hell no, Marsh–"

"I think you might need some chapstick . . ." I suggested.

She held up a finger. "If you try to put that on me, I will sucker punch you so hard."

"That is a risk I am willing to take."

And with that, I lurched forward, lip balm in hand and tried to smear it across her face as much as possible. She squealed and leaned backwards.

"Marshall!" she yelled, interrupted by her own giggle.

"You look so pretty!" I teased.

I managed to get most of her face covered in lip balm, and probably would have done more, if it weren't for my uncontrollable laughter. I collapsed next to her, laughing harder when I saw her face, all shiny and playfully upset.

"Marshall Lee, you are so dead!"

That was the only warning I got before she climbed on top of me and started hitting me. I still couldn't stop laughing at her.

"Hey!" I said, "This is an abusive relationship!"

She smirked. "This is war!"

She raised her hand to punch my arm when I held up my hands. "Whoa, hey, hold up now." It was hard to keep a straight face when I looked at her. "Truce?"

Pretending to be hindered and disappointed, she sighed. "I suppose." One last time, she slapped me lightly. "Truce."

I grinned at her as she rolled off me to lay down next to me.

"But to be fair," she said. "If this were a real war, I would have crushed you."

I shook my head. "Sure you would, Queen."

She shrugged. "It's in the title, isn't it?"

I turned to look over at her. She was trying to wipe all of the chapstick off her face with the sleeve of Lady's jacket, pouting when she saw how little came off. I smiled. Even with all this stuff on her face, she still somehow looked everlastingly beautiful. And how the hell did she manage to pull me out of my vortex of self pity while she dealt with her own demons? Marceline Raelene Abadeer, the Vampire Queen . . . she must have been a miracle worker. A blessing, really. I mean, come on. How could a guy like me ever deserve to even know someone as virtuous, wholesome, good as her?

Looking at her, I realized that of all the memories that I wanted to bury under a pile of daydreams, this was one I was going to place on a pedestal.

When the sun began to set, Marceline told our friends to get out of the water and dry themselves off. She had whispered something to Lady, who nodded enthusiastically and in turn told Fionna something else. Then Marceline pulled me away from the group of us and tugged me down the length of the beach, not letting go of me until we nearly reached some place around a rock formation near the end. I hadn't seen any students down near this area. It wasn't necessarily secluded from the rest of the beach, but it was separated enough to not really be noticed. And inside this little cove was . . . a fire pit?

Yep. There was a wide makeshift fire pit that seemed to have not been used in a while. The old logs of wood in the center were damp, meaning that they had to have suffered through a few rainy seasons untouched. But the scorch marks on the interior of the pit and the ash that sat in the middle and even in the sand told me that this fire pit had been used many, many times before. There were already seats around the pit, five in total, all in different colors (rainbow, mint green, various shades of blue, red and black, and pink). Though the last one, the pink one, looked like it was the most used previously, it was folded and laid on the ground. In a corner of the cove, protected from weather by another rock formation, was a pretty big pile of firewood, newspaper, cardboard, and gasoline.

There was also something different about this cove. The sand felt more fine and smooth, the waves less intense and crashing. Maybe it was the way all of the chairs were positioned to face the sunset, or maybe the way that the area was surprisingly free of trash (kinda strange, given that it seemed like a party zone). I wasn't sure, but something made me feel like I was stepping across the definition of serendipity, if that even made sense.

Yet, at the same time, there was this aura . . . like I was in a place that had a recently beaten-down NO TRESPASSING sign.

Marceline sighed, pulling Cake's ribbons out of her hair and letting it loose. She treaded over to the red and black chair, but didn't sit down. Instead, she looked back at me and smiled softly. She patted the seat.

"Sit."

I ducked my head and made my way over. Something about it was humbling.

When I sat down, I inhaled and exhaled slowly. This chair was Marceline's; that was pretty obvious. So where I was sitting, this specific spot, is where she and her friends must have sat for years. I was seeing things exactly from her point of view, as she saw it for ages. What was that book quote? From Atticus Finch? "You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view... Until you climb into his skin and walk around in it." Well, here I was, in the spot she had been in so many times before.

If I looked to my left, the pink chair was neatly placed on the ground. That would have been Bonnie. If I looked to my right, the blue, green, and rainbow chairs were tilted in the slightest to the chair I was in. They would have been Fionna, Cake, and Lady, wouldn't they? Looking to Marceline, because she's almost like their leader. If I looked forward, the brilliant sunset would light up the world. This is precisely what Marceline saw . . . and it was surreal.

She stood behind me and draped her arms over my chest, resting her chin on my head.

"There's so much more to everything, Marsh . . ."

I tried to soak in her words, but it was astonishingly difficult for my brain to function at the moment.

Before I could even get everything through my head, the soft thuds of feet against the sand stopped me. I instantly knew that our six other friends would round the corner of the rocky wall any second now. Lordo made it to us first, without breaking a sweat, it seemed. His lips parted when he saw us, and even stopped Lady from coming further for a moment. Then Fionna yelled at them for holding everyone up and he moved forward, the others following behind him. It was almost funny. The started in a single file line, then spread out as fast as possible, like a highly contagious disease infecting the biosphere.

On second thought, it may not be the best idea to compare my friends to a disease.

Each of them aside from Jake held skewers in their hands. Jake, however, had several bags of marshmallows. I chuckled to myself. Of course Jake would have the marshmallows.

He stepped forward and held up the bags. "You guys ready to have some actual fun?"

The seating arrangements confused me, but I wasn't really one to judge.

In short, all of the girls had let us guys take their seats. Finn seemed especially confused and insisted Fionna take her seat, but she kept declining. It was like watching a battle of "Who is the most polite"? The girls instead handled themselves and got comfortable wherever they desired. Fionna sat in the sand by Finn's feet, Lady sat on the pile of rocks around the fire pit (I was seriously worried that her hair was going to catch on fire), and Cake just sat down on Lordo's lap like it was totally normal. Which could be. Marceline stayed standing behind me until she grew tired and sat on the arm of her (my?) chair. No one touched the pink chair.

When I was little, my mom used to roast marshmallows with me all the time in our backyard. She told me she even met my dad at a bonfire and would tell me stories about that night. When I got to the age in which we start asking questions like "where's Dad" or "why don't I ever see Dad," she stopped telling stories and started telling tall tales. "He's just taking a break from life, is all, sweetie," or, "He is just a very busy man." Then the tales stopped shortly after. The bonfires stopped, too.

Doing this with my friends felt like a fresh start. A better start.

Finn held his skewer with a half-burnt marshmallow up to my face. "Marshmallowy."

"What?" I asked as I laughed.

Cake nodded. "No, yeah, I get it."

"Wait, what?" I asked again, more serious.

"Yeah, marshmallowy," Jake agreed.

"What the fuck is going on?" I asked. Marshmallowy?

Everyone went on and on about "Marshmallowy," agreeing and laughing to one another.

Marceline let out a half-surpressed chuckle. She poked me. "You, Marsh. Marshall Lee, Marshmallowy . . . get it?"

"It even looks like him!" Lady exclaimed.

I stared incredulously at the marshmallow. How the hell did they . . ?

"Pale, black hair, gooey on the inside . . . Yeah, that sounds like Marshall to me," Lordo said.

"Totally Marshall Lee right there. Marshmallowy," said Fionna, grinning.

Oh, Glob . . . my friends are the best, most imaginative idiots in Aaa, aren't they?

Marceline took Finn's skewer with the marshmallow that apparently looked like me (and had a name similar to mine now) and raised it. "Long live Marshmallowy!"

They all cheered after her, raising their skewers and repeating her words over and over. Marceline laughed sweetly and looked at me, winking and smirking before going back to cheering.

Yeah, my friends are idiots. But, Glob, do I love them.

Death of A Bachelor (the album) is sooooooo good I just wanna bathe in the lyrics (even though I still think Ryan was the better lyricist) Brendon outdid himself, like damn, Beebo, where the hell did this come from

I got that Marshmallowy bit from "The Genius and the Delinquents" by kyla123 so go read that right now she was the inspiration for this fic even though I read that when I was like 15 and barely remember it go rEAD IT

Hey, quick question. I am a member of many fandoms, and I was just wondering iF ANYONE ELSE'S FANDOMS LOST THEIR CHILL IN 2015 AND ARE CONTINUING TO LOSE THEIR CHILL BY LOSING THEIR SHIT LIKE DAMN WTF IS HAPPENING TO ALL OF MY FANDOMS WHY ARE THEY BLOWING UP ALL AT ONCE? ? ? ? ? ! ? ! ? ! ! ? ? ! ? ! ! ! ! ? ? ! ?

please. i want to know i'm not alone.

hijackforever- Hey, I'm always a fan of awesome usernames! Good on you

NovaCora- I love your name, too. Ugh. So many good names. Honey, I have that urge all of the time. Like, really, all of the time I want to hit them in a head with a brick. Don't worry, we can hit them together.

HAPPY THOUGHT:

after a lifetime of shouldering other people's problems
know that that is a good thing
but self-care is a good thing too
and there is a peace in balance