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darkspine10 · 8 months ago

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GF Fanfic - Ego-Death

Tangled Roots (27,062 words) by darkspine10

Chapters: 5/7

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Rating: Mature

Note: The music which inspired this chapter was a sitar piece composed by Jim Sullivan for the Space 1999 episode, The Troubled Spirit (aired 1976). I found it quite memorable, and recommend checking it out to add to the mood.

“And through here… tada!”

Pacifica entered into a cramped room with octagonal wood-panelled walls. “Oh wow. A tiny cupboard.” It was cramped enough with the two of them, let alone if Zera had been present. She had bowed out for the night, probably impatient for Pacifica to leave so she and her wife could get back to their private evening.

After drying off from her second soak of the evening Pacifica had re-dressed, making sure that the old fur hat hadn’t suffered any permanent water damage. She continued to clutch Wendy’s hat in one hand, strangely unwilling to leave it lying around to get lost in Mabel’s home. Her jacket was still soaked through, despite its promised waterproof material. In any case the right sleeve was little more than ragged shreds. She’d been very grateful to get out of the bikini top, and since she didn’t care about appearances around Mabel, hadn’t bothered to put her bra back on.

The t-shirt above was now pleasantly dry. It was white with green around the neck and sleeves. Several varieties of trees were illustrated on the front, with their scientific nomenclature listed out beside them. It was the only good purchase from the souvenir shop of a tourist trap she’d visited with Mason as part of a circuit around all of the local attractions of Oregon beyond the Falls. The trip had been described by Mason semi-seriously as ‘checking out the competition’. He’d bought the shirt for her as a gift. ‘So he’d always be close to her heart’, he’d added with a wink. Amidst the old growth redwoods, oaks, and maples on the shirt was, obviously, Pinus Ponderosa.

For her part, Mabel hadn’t bothered to change out of her bikini, other than wrapping her towel around her shoulders as a makeshift cape. She shook her head, sending water droplets flying into Pacifica’s face. With her best attempt at a performer’s voice, Mabel wagged her finger and said, “Ah ah ah, surely by now, Paz, you realise that appearances can be deceiving. Voila!”

Tugging on on a velvet rope, Mabel caused a set of curtains arranged in a triptych to slide open. Pacifica stared aghast at a trio of tapestries depicting a familiar yellow triangle floating above scenes of unending deprivation and horror. “So you decided when decorating your new house that a critical feature, before painting the bathroom walls even, would be to erect a shrine to Bill Cipher? Have you gone completely round the bend?”

“It’s not a shrine worshipping Bill, dummy. These tapestries are just sick as hell.” Arranged on shelves beneath each of the three tapestries were an array of arcane objects. Mabel cradled a pyramidal prism in her hand but there were also scrolls and spell books, quill pens, and even a brass orrery. Mason would probably have concocted a study like this, if Pacifica had been willing to let him remodel their house, though she doubted he would have endorsed this subject matter. Mabel being the architect behind its design seemed to stretch credulity.

Pacifica knelt down to examine one of the tapestries, noticing a discolouration around the base. Some of the patterned fabric was obscured by black splotches. “Was this burned?”

Mabel guiltily returned the prism to its place in the tableau. “I kinda pulled it out of a fire. A lot of this stuff comes from Grunkle Ford’s old relic collection. Back from when he was being tricked by Bill into building the portal. After Weirdmageddon we made a big bonfire to get rid of all that nasty junk.”

“But you had your eyes on a fetching demon tapestry? Nothing you do is normal, is it?”

“That’s the way I like it.”

The other two tapestries featured illustrations that less obviously matched the dream demon, rendered in more abstract tones of red and black. One on the far right caught Pacifica’s eye. There was no top hat or arms attached to this grey triangle, and the serpent-like slitted eye was blood crimson. Beneath the ominous symbol were prostrated figures, cowering under the branches of a burnt tree and surrounded by piles of bones. “I swear I’ve seen some of these designs before.”

“That’s cause you probably have,” Mabel said, a light crimson colour rising in her cheeks. “I cribbed these two tapestries off of McGucket.”

Pacifica snapped her fingers. “Of course, they used to hang in the Northwest mansion. The southwest corridor to the drawing room if I’m not mistaken.”

“You have a good memory, probably.” Mabel shrugged. “All I know is your parents used to own them.”

Pacifica failed to stifle an involuntary shudder. The thought that her parents would willingly collaborate with such an evil presence briefly passed through her mind, before she dismissed it equally swiftly. “I wouldn’t put too much stock in it. You know what this town is like with triangles.” Over all the centuries of his involvement in mortal affairs Bill’s presence had seeped into the wider culture. Even as a kid she’d seen yellow triangles graffitied on bridges or etched into countertops. It was endemic. “I reckon this is old Modoc Indian weave-work. I’ve seen some similar patterns before. If my dad ever had anything to do with Cipher he renounced it all after what that monster did to him. I still get nightmares about that gruesome face.”

“Well that’s why we’re here. To get rid of all those pesky nightmares, anxieties, and postpartum depressive episodes!” Mabel put a hand on her friend’s shoulder, then leant in to whisper in her ear. “Between us sisters, he still freaks me out too. The worst nightmares are the ones he appears in, because-“

“You can’t tell if it's the real him or not!” Pacifica excitedly finished in shared sympathy.

Mabel looked left and right as if afraid of being eavesdropped. “Do you think the thing you’re hunting tonight is anything as bad as Mr Top Hat and Bowtie?”

Pacifica listed with her fingers. “Terrifying? Yes. Nightmare-inducing, you’d better believe it. Traumatising for life? Jury’s still out.”

“Well, it’ll be a real adventure finding out!” Pacifica couldn’t tell if Mabel was being genuinely optimistic or simply teasing. “Mind out the way.” Mabel crouched down and rolled up a woollen rug that covered almost all the floor. Pacifica only had a second to glimpse swirling calligraphy patterns. “Got this rug from Grand Bazaar in Istanbul one time I was visiting,” Mabel explained, shrugging. “What can I say, a gal likes her souvenirs.”

That much was true. Pacifica had seen the boxes Mabel filled with sentimental old junk lying around the house. Her previously transient lifestyle meant she’d made use of a lot of long term storage lockers, or otherwise hauling heaps of her stuff everywhere. At least now she had a permanent residence she’d have somewhere to leave it all while out campaigning.

Pacifica tapped a finger on the sharp point of one of the glass prisms, watching the miniature rainbow it cast. “So what’s all this in aid of? A private little side room for when you’re feeling particularly occultish on a Friday night?” She suppressed a small chuckle. “Were you on drugs when you made this?”

Mabel rolled her eyes. “Oh ha ha, go for the cheap jokes. I did something called ‘using my imagination’.”

The way her friend had snapped back at her made Pacifica wince. “Sorry, that was rude of me.”

Mabel made an easy smile and placed a palm on the menagerie of trees above Pacifica’s heart. “All is forgiven.”

Pacifica didn’t feel like she deserved to be let off the hook so easily. She’d have to work better on not being so insensitive. “I meant it Mabel. I apologise for being so crass with you and Zera tonight. I lashed out and you didn’t deserve that. I’ve just been so tensed up today. No, not just today. All month. This might be the kind of room you’d find in a serial killer cultist mansion, but there’s a consistent aesthetic to design. It has atmosphere.”

“Not bad for a college dropout,” Mabel said, winking up at her. “I am a master craftsman at anything I put my mind to.”

Pacifica smirked. “Like that ‘super secret craft project’ you’ve been working on but haven’t told anyone yet?”

Mabel whirled around in shock, her smugness immediately punctured. “Wait what, how’d you know about that?”

“All those furtive phone calls and texts over Christmas? It was hard to miss when we were all under your parents’ roof. Plus you were hardly being subtle. So what’s this one about? Art piece? Your own line of hot tubs?”

Mabel bent down beneath the triptych where sets of drawers were inset in the wall and mumbled to herself. “Great, another secret I failed to keep. You’ll find out when I’m good and ready this time, Paz.” Pacifica graciously accepted this crushing loss and watched Mabel as her outstretched finger hovered over the drawers “Let’s see, left side we got smokables, right side is the painkillers, centre bottom is… aha! The acid drawer!”

“So when I mentioned drugs I wasn’t far off?” Pacifica offered.

Mabel, oblivious, scrambled around on all fours, using a stick of chalk to draw five straight lines directly onto the wooden floorboards. The lines formed a pentagon about 25 inches across. Mabel pointed at the blank space within the lines. “Now, sit.”

“Do I have to?”

“It’s part of the ritual. You don’t just take a hit of the drug, you’ve gotta get your brain in the right state. That’s what the whole room is for, the eight sides reflect and refract mental energy. I can get you a cushion if it’s easier?”

“No, I’ll accept your cruel and unusual method of helping me.” Pacifica sat cross-legged in the pentagon, internally reflecting on Mabel’s particular spiritual leanings. When it came to religions Mabel treated them like a buffet, picking and choosing traditions and beliefs from all over the place. She thought back to Mason’s earlier words about gullibility, wondering if he’d been too harsh. When the world they lived in already contained such multitudes, what was the harm in embracing a little madness?

Mabel hurried about to pore over one of the shelves, making a great clattering when she tripped over some keepsake or another. Pacifica grinned to herself. She studied her friend’s movements. Mabel had all the grace and elegance of a controlled demolition. Somehow she’d learnt how to counteract her innate clumsiness by predicting every stumble and fall milliseconds before the fact and shifting the balance so she stayed perfectly upright. She would dance about gently on tiptoes, seeming always one instant away from collapsing to the floor but never tipping over that critical threshold. It was quite an impressive achievement, though Pacifica would baulk at describing it as balletic.

Mabel rummaged around in one of the drawers, tossing items out of the way, before producing a plastic bag full of colourful sweets. “Have some gummy koalas. You’re gonna need the energy.”

Pacifica took a handful and swallowed them down gratefully. Today had taken a lot out of her. It wasn’t just the exertion; her mind was worn out and frenzied. She hoped the rest of the night would lend her clarity, if nothing else.

Awkwardly shoving mementoes aside to make room, Mabel slapped down a round CD player of a type Pacifica hadn’t seen in nearly 25 years. Clasping a disc in one hand, her friend clumsily dropped it into the player and pressed a button with a loud click. The sound of smooth saxophone and lounge piano quietly filled the chamber. Mabel snapped her fingers at Pacifica. “Close your eyes.” Pacifica begrudgingly did as instructed. “That’s it, good. Calm your breathing, open your mind, and appreciate the contours of the chamber. I’ll be your guide for your journey on the cosmic express!”

Pacifica cracked an eye open, unable to resist a minor snort of laughter. Her sliver of view showed Mabel retrieving a hefty leather bound tome, covered in strange symbols. She craned her neck, trying to get a better look. “Is that one of the journals?”

Mabel blew on the book, sending dust swirling around in the tight confines of the room and causing Pacifica to sneeze. “No peeking. This is the Bardo Thodol: The Tibetan Book of the Dead,” Mabel said matter-of-factly. “Found it in a flea market.” It was official: Mabel Pines was the world’s biggest hoarder. “It’s the 1975 translation.”

“Wow, I can’t believe I’m putting my life into the hands of someone who can’t even read Tibetan. Lame.” She only half covered up her trepidation with a grin. “Why exactly is this book relevant?”

“It’s one of the major arcana when it comes to recreational tripping. It features Buddhist teachings on how to reach intermediate dream states, like the brink of death, sensations of rebirth, that kind of thing. Once the hippies got their hands on it they opened all new avenues of consciousness. With my help you’ll be able to ascend into a drug induced mania, where you’ll hopefully find the ape ghoul thingy.”

Pacifica took a moment to digest Mabel’s words, then gave a long breath out. “Not to cast shade, but that doesn’t sound like it will work. Getting high to catch a demon? Really, Mabel?”

Ignoring her friend’s pessimism, Mabel continued her frenzied dance around the tight space. At each of the five corners of the pentagon she set down a candle and lit each one. Pacifica felt confined, unwilling to move a muscle out of position lest she knock one of them over.

“Ritual can be a tricky thing,” Mabel said as she waved a match to put out the flame, “but believe me, it works. I’ve experienced it. If you think Gravity Falls is strange normally then you ain’t seen nothing. There’s a whole other side to this town.” She picked up the chalk and started linking the corners of the pentagon with straight, criss-crossing lines. Pretty soon Pacifica was enclosed in an even smaller floor space at the centre of a pentagram. “I’m not talking about the sub-realms like the Unicorn glade or the Crawlspace. This perception of the Falls can only be accessed by guided meditation, aided by a little boost from my good friend Lucy.”

“Who’s-”

Mabel triumphantly set a small vial down on the floor by Pacifica’s feet, inviting her to take a look. The vial was filled with a clear liquid that congealed slightly when Pacifica shook the glass container. “Trust you to have a supply handy,” she muttered.

“That’s some genuine lysergic acid diethylamide, LSD for short. Perfect for inducing otherworldly vision states and dissolution of the self. I bet that skull you’re wearing is probably infused with a trace element of something similar. Maybe something like magic mushrooms, though in a quantity that’s barely detectable. So, you ready to take your first trip?”

Pacifica swilled the chemical around experimentally. “What if I have a bad reaction? God knows my body is still flooded with hormones.”

Mabel screwed up her face. “After six months? Nah. I’ll be here in hand if you have any bad reactions, and I’ll keep the dosage nice and low for your first time, don’t worry. A couple of micrograms should do it.” Inserting a pipette she extracted a handful of drops. “It’s easy really, mixing and diluting to create my own brews.”

“Alright, calm down Walter White. Mabel Juice and Smile Dip addled your brain and you need ever stronger doses to hit the same high, huh?”

Mabel shrugged and flashed a wicked smile. She swung the pipette towards Pacifica. “Now, open wide. A drop or two on the tongue should do it.” Pacifica recoiled, keeping her mouth clammed up like when Leah refused to eat her baby food.

“I’m… not sure about this. Maybe in the morning we can search for the Unshriven again, with clearer heads.”

Mabel frowned. “It might not still be lurking around by tomorrow. You’ve gotta face it down on its home turf. The astral plane.” She made an arc with her hand. Pacifica found it silly how childish her friend could make this sound. The Unshriven was a matter of life and death. “The mindscape can be accessed by certain spells, but a raw approach can be more rewarding. It’s kinda like knitting a sweater. The warp and weft of time and space can be tamed with a little expansion of consciousness. You won’t even need to leave this room.”

“Are you sure you're not just hallucinating during these ‘spirit journeys’? That would be the more obvious explanation. You’re really trying to tell me you’ve stumbled onto a mystical sub-realm all on your own? Mason’s never mentioned anything like this. Nor your uncle Ford in all his journals.”

“They don’t know everything.” Mabel winked.

Her irreverent dismissal rankled. Corduroy had expressed similar sentiments. Pacifica could accept the locals might have some innate cultural knowledge the journals were lacking, but this was on a grander scale. An entirely new way of seeing the Falls, just a few drops of a chemical away. When she put it like that there was a certain tantalising allure to the prospect.

The journals had always been a means of cataloguing the oddities of the Falls, making sense of the insanity, boxing the phenomena into neat categories. Here was Mabel casually coming along and blowing up the entire paradigm. Pacifica refused to believe it had been an entirely futile effort. Whatever happened tonight she would venture forth and bring back a report to add to her journal, and colonise some small corner of the extremities of the strange.

“Alright. I’ll do it.” Pacifica didn’t second-judge the statement. It would be her last, definitive word. What came next would be her own choice to confront.

“Great!” Mabel said, beaming with joy, before taking on a more serious conviction. “Oh, and by the way, before we start I wanted to say sorry for another reminder about you know who.” Mabel gestured at the purloined Northwest tapestries. “If it's not too much to ask, when was the last time you spoke to them?”

Pacifica folded her arms and leant back as far as she dared without bumping into the candles. “We email from time to time. Strictly on the short end, mainly life updates. They tell me about some successful trade deal, I share baby photos of Leah. That’s about it. I haven’t spoken to them face to face since the wedding.”

Mabel blew air out from her cheeks. “Wow, eight years. Impressive streak. Puts into perspective the five years we went without seeing each other.”

“I hope I’ve been able to make up for lost time in the last three.” Making a quick judgement, Pacifica reached up and put a hand on Mabel’s arm. “Hey, before I do this… thanks for helping out tonight. I’ve been in a rough place and you didn’t hesitate to try and make it better. You know I’m being serious when I say this because I hate the word, but: we’re besties. Spouses not included.”

“Aw, Paz, that’s so sweet of you!” She leant in for a hug. Though she was still dripping wet and her skin was clammy, Pacifica accepted the warm embrace from the brunette. Setting her hands on each of Pacifica’s shoulders, Mabel guided her back into the seating position within the pentagram. “Ok, last chance to back out. I know I’ve made it my lifestyle, but I don’t want to sugarcoat it too much. This process isn’t always pleasant. It has to break you down before it can build you back up. Remember, you don’t have to do this.”

“I don’t have to do anything. There are no monsters rampaging around a city, no rare cryptids to protect. The only stakes are whether I can mend some turmoil between two families… and maybe find some peace of mind.”

Mabel softly grinned. “Those sound like big enough stakes to me, honey.”

Steeling herself, Pacifica put on the fur hat as a totem of good luck. “Look after my journal for me,” she said. “When I get it back I don’t want to see any illicit crayon scribbles.”

While Mabel avoided eye contact and checked her concoction one last time, Pacifica snuck a glance at her phone. She was mildly surprised to see it was only 2am - she felt like it should be much later. Her home screen, the background of which was a photo of Merrise holding Leah as they jointly rested on the couch at home, displayed a single notification. It was a message from Mason from an hour ago telling her was heading to bed. Pacifica once again felt the bond of trust, that Mason didn’t stay up on her account, having faith she’d overcome any challenge she set herself. She also guessed that he was probably a little anxious about where she was, even if he wasn’t admitting it. She fired across a short text saying she was alright and would be back in the morning. The instant after getting confirmation that it had been sent she received a thumbs up in return. He was watching out for her. Pacifica put the phone away, safe in the knowledge that Mason would sleep well knowing she was in no danger. No immediate danger at least.

Mabel cleared her throat and spread her arms out above her head, beginning a proclamation. “It’s time. The osprey skull will be your anchoring thread, tying you to the Unshriven so you can combat him on the astral plane. You’re all ready to go, prepared to take the plunge, embrace the strange, taste of the forbidden fruit.”

Pacifica shooed her fussy friend away. “Relax, it’s not my first cosmic dream vision.” She stuck out her tongue and waited patiently. Mabel squeezed out two tiny drops of acid. Pacifica detected a bitter taste, but otherwise couldn’t sense any stronger flavour.

“It should take a few minutes to kick in.” Mabel moved subtly over to the shrines and the CD player. She turned the volume on the muzak down. “Oh, and if you see any geometric forms don’t buy what they’re selling.”

“I won’t,” Pacifica said with a sly smile. Mabel sounded less like an anarchist and more like a kids show host.

“Now, close your eyes, relax, and expand your horizons.”

With a click, Mabel moved onto the next music track and turned the volume to max. This was nothing like the passive ambiance of the jazz. A solo sitar chord echoed off the octagonal wood panelling. Already Pacifica was unsettled. The sitar reverberated off the walls and through her bones. It wasn’t a pleasant sound, the rhythms discordant and overlapping with one another. The sitar had an artificial twang, electronically synthesised. A low hiss, the artefact of the old player, only heightened the sense of eeriness.

Very soon Pacifica was no longer aware of Mabel’s presence, fussing about around her, nor of the surrounding room. As the sitar increased in tempo she felt adrift from the normality of the simple room in the simple house. She tried in vain to focus on the feeling of the wood panels beneath her rear, but this too dissipated away like a half-remembered dream.

Now what was she supposed to do? “Mabel?” Nothing. No sound. Only the barest hint of flickering candles. Even the haunting sitar echoed as if distant. Maybe more time was needed to let the effects of the drug become noticeable. She kept her eyes resolutely sealed shut and tried to picture in her mind an image of the Unshriven. The bared tusks glinted a dull eggshell white over black fur, as dark as driving on the interstate out of the valley at night. The image quickly faded. A memory, that was all. She couldn’t actually find her target by wishing hard enough.

A blur danced at the edge of her vision, in the black space behind her eyelids. Her blood ran cold. The Unshriven was there, lingering like a bad penny in the corner of her eye. But that was ridiculous. It couldn’t be as simple as this. It was all psychedelic hokum. A drawing on the floor, some candles and low lighting, a few words of guidance. Surely she wasn’t that suggestible?

She peeked her eyelids open and gasped in rapidly surmounting horror. The walls of the room were melting away like paint dribbling off a canvas, like wax on a candle. Of Mabel there was no sign. Pressure built behind her eyes and she was unable to prevent herself falling backwards into the newly formed expanse of emptiness.

In a free fall, air rushed past her. Fragments of Mabel’s shrine went flying by, shattered glass fragments, torn threads, and broken planks of wood spinning into the abyss. Pacifica flailed out for any kind of support. She only succeeded in sending herself spinning.

Abruptly she came to a halt, suspended horizontally. She blinked and tried to understand what she was seeing. No matter how disorientated she told herself it was her own brain that was the cause, random synapses firing under the delirious effects of a potent chemical. Unless she’d already entered the so-called ‘other side’ of Gravity Falls.

Gradually the darkness resolved beneath her. She began to glide downwards, no longer in deleterious descent. Stretched out in front of her eyes was a round, grey basin. The scale put her off at first. Everything was rendered in miniature, as if viewed through a microscope. Recognition sparked in her mind when she saw a pair of dramatically split rocky outcroppings. The view was in fact her home - the valley of Gravity Falls, lit in a harsh contrasting monochrome.

She strained to make out details. The mountains around the town and the dome-shaped hill of Crash Site Omega were visible, as vast defining parts of the landscape, but the rest was a bleached blur that made her eyes water. It was like peering through the static fuzz of a television, trying to comprehend the image of a low resolution black & white video. No, not quite monochrome, she realised. The landscape below was lit up in contrast to the endless galaxy-filled sky above. She was seeing through a form of night vision.

Propelled downwards at high speed, her body swept over the treetops. She moved in graceful arcs, her motion that of a bird of prey. She stared down at the osprey amulet but saw only a pair of feathery wings on either side of her body. Part of herself accepted the transformation. If becoming an osprey was a requirement to traverse the spirit realm then who was she to argue?

Swooping past the outskirts where Mabel and Zera’s abode was found, she traced an invisible ley line through the woods. In this perception there were no modern structures, merely half-formed echoes. The town high-street was an assemblage of foundations etched in swirling purple contours. Singular eye-bats drifted in flocks, observing all that transpired.

Pacifica landed on an outcrop of bare granite, her body seamlessly returning to her basic human form, flaws and all. She tried to take a closer look around but her vision was swamped with distracting shimmers. A spotlight trained on her face would be less blinding. Stumbling forwards she left the site of the town behind almost too swiftly. Space was compressed as she was shuttled along a conveyor belt across the divots and hillocks of the valley bottom.

Dizzy, she fell against the trunk of a tree. The wood snapped and collapsed. The pallid grey bark made Pacifica throw up her palms. It was diseased, near dead. The bark oozed sickly globs of congealed fluid. Pacifica watched in stunned bewilderment as the putrescent sap drifted up into the air. The texture was akin to blood, but paler, a mix of scarlet and pink. The globules vanished up into the spiral of stars suspended in the firmament.

Pacifica’s urge to flee became overwhelming again. That was when she really became frightened. The Unshriven was right in front of her, breath hot in her face. It was even more pungent than when she’d come close to the ape in the flesh. The odour was that of repression, of paper and leather left so long that it rotted into mulch, of sticky sweat clinging to skin during every vulnerable moment, and everything that signalled death. The creature reared up on its stubby legs and roared. The skin below its neck started melting away, rolling off the torso like cooking meat, exposing bone and sinew. It had found a way to become even more abhorrent.

Pacifica’s grasp on the situation deteriorated to the point she felt faint. Her legs gave out from beneath her and she tumbled to the cold and sterile earth. Her back impacted on a soft bed of grass. She blinked twice. Bemused and pleasantly surprised to see no sign of the Unshriven, she rose unsteadily. A meadow of gently swaying tall grass, lit golden by a half-set sun, surrounded her. In one direction were vast cliffs towering over an ocean of raging tides. In the other, a castle delicately perched atop a conical mountain peak. Pacifica was at peace here in the warm breeze. She screwed her eyes shut and remembered.

This was Dimension 52. A realm so distant from her own that it hardly felt real at all, even when she’d visited in-person. That trip hadn’t been long after her body had been irrevocably altered, purged of all scars and skin marks. It was where she’d had her first realisation that life would never go back to the way it had been before. This was the world on which Leah had been conceived.

For the first time a frenzied panic overcame Pacifica. Leah was conceived in another dimension. The simple fact now terrified her. She’d never even thought about it, about what it meant for a child to develop inside her across multiple universes, where the laws of physics were malleable. There was every chance that she’d suffered acute radiation poisoning from all their hops between dimensions. What could that do to a growing embryo? For all she knew it had caused irreversible birth defects for her child.

That didn’t make sense. Leah was perfect. Her new reproductive system was freshly minted after all, and six months had shown her no indications of illness or disorder from her baby. Unless it was a fragile window of normality before the horrors came crashing down.

The light of Dimension 52’s sun winked out. Gusts of wind blew against Pacifica’s exposed arms and grass tickled her ankles, though these sensations soon disappeared as well. She shielded her eyes when a single harsh light burst into existence above her. The intensity made her stumble. She knew this place too. Not here. Anywhere but here.

Crumpling against asphalt, a great weight held her down. Spitting rain and tears obscured her sight but she couldn’t mistake the light pouring from the open window. The house she’d shared with Mason in Jersey had never been inviting. Now she dreaded the very sight of it. This was her lowest moment, when she’d convinced herself that even the ones she loved most didn’t want to be around her. When her infertility had finally become impossible to ignore and utter despair felt like the only path available.

“No, please,” she whimpered, her throat ragged. Through the haze in her mind she tried to focus on her happiest memories. Surely that would work to keep herself anchored. She pictured squid whales dancing through an ocean in the sky. Her first kiss, music thudding through her entire body, her heart beating even stronger. The gift of a yellow sweater, specially re-knitted just for her. She tried hardest to imagine her daughters wrapped in her arms. Her two baby girls were like smoke, intangible and gone from her embrace.

Her stomach gurgled uncontrollably. A yawning dread opened up before Pacifca. She knew it was about to get worse. Contractions wracked her lower body, sending spasms through her legs. Her hand gripped against her shirt and failed to stem the awful churning inside. She could feel movement below the skin of her belly as it flexed and gurgled. Fleshy lumps pressed out from within. Pacifica laid back, screaming through the unimaginable pain.

A gaping hole tore asunder between her legs. Muscles painfully forced a living creature out of her womb. It slopped on the ground, coated in internal fluids and blood, tied to her by a pale umbilical cord. Pacifica’s daughter stared up at her with bloodshot, unblinking eyes. Her daughter had no skin. Pacifica decided that screaming again was besides the point. She curled up in the foetal position, as helpless as her child.

She was paralysed in the rain, pathetic and helpless. The light in the house was switched off. Not even Mason would come from her this time. She was an infertile wreck, unfit for motherhood, let alone heroics. Everything her parents had said about her was right.

A light pierced the edge of her vision. Above her Corduroy��s judging face leered. Which Corduroy it was, the father she’d pledged to help or the daughter she’d failed to save, didn’t matter. The gaze penetrated her useless body all the same.

“Get up.” Pacifica raised her head at the voice, barely daring to believe it. “Get. Up. Pacifica.” She groped in the air for a supportive hand, dropping it down again as she was overcome with fatigue.

“I can’t… why do you think I can do this?”

“Because, whether Northwest, or Pines, or something else, you are a warrior. You struck out from your parents, your wealth, your legacy. The only person who can define who you are is staring at you in the mirror.” Corduroy offered a helping hand. “So. Get up.”

Surging with a burst of energy, Pacifica accepted the outstretched hand and climbed out of the puddle of despair. She shuddered, finding herself alone again. No helping hand, no nightmarish homunculus of her daughter. Her surroundings had been replaced by the lifeless woods once more.

She wasn’t infertile. Quite the opposite. Pacifica wasn’t sure which alternative made her more uncomfortable at the moment. She didn’t want to be reduced to this, to sinew and bone and organic processes deep inside. But then, what was this drug trip if not another physical process?

Striving for something inside herself she didn’t fully understand, Pacifica took the first step forwards, stumbling towards salvation.

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfic #pacifica northwest #mabel pines #tw drugs

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dailyanarchistposts · 1 month ago

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Once in the Jurassic, about 150 million years ago, the Great Sun Buddha in this corner of the Infinite Void gave a great Discourse to all the assembled elements and energies: to the standing beings, the walking beings, the flying beings, and the sitting beings—even grasses, to the number of thirteen billion, each one born from a seed, were assembled there: a Discourse concerning Enlightenment on the planet Earth.

“In some future time, there will be a continent called America. It will have great centers of power called such as Pyramid Lake, Walden Pond, Mt. Rainier, Big Sur, Everglades, and so forth; and powerful nerves and channels such as Columbia River, Mississippi River, and Grand Canyon. The human race in that era will get into troubles all over its head, and practically wreck everything in spite of its own strong intelligent Buddha-nature.”

“The twisting strata of the great mountains and the pulsings of great volcanoes are my love burning deep in the earth. My obstinate compassion is schist and basalt and granite, to be mountains, to bring down the rain. In that future American Era I shall enter a new form: to cure the world of loveless knowledge that seeks with blind hunger; and mindless rage eating food that will not fill it.”

And he showed himself in his true form of SMOKEY THE BEAR. A handsome smokey-colored brown bear standing on his hind legs, showing that he is aroused and watchful. Bearing in his right paw the Shovel that digs to the truth beneath appearances; cuts the roots of useless attachments, and flings damp sand on the fires of greed and war; His left paw in the Mudra of Comradely Display—indicating that all creatures have the full right to live to their limits and that deer, rabbits, chipmunks, snakes, dandelions, and lizards all grow in the realm of the Dharma; Wearing the blue work overalls symbolic of slaves and laborers, the countless men oppressed by a civilization that claims to save but only destroys; Wearing the broad-brimmed hat of the West, symbolic of the forces that guard the Wilderness, which is the Natural State of the Dharrna and the True Path of man on earth: all true paths lead through mountains— With a halo of smoke and flame behind, the forest fires of the Mali-yoga, fires caused by the stupidity of those who think things can be gained and lost whereas in truth all is contained vast and free in the Blue Sky and Green Earth of One Mind; Round-bellied to show his kind nature and that the great earth has food enough for everyone who loves her and trusts her; Trampling underfoot wasteful freeways and needless suburbs; smashing the worms of capitalism and totalitarianism; Indicating the Task: his followers, becoming free of cars, houses, canned food, universities, and shoes, master the Three Mysteries of their own Body, Speech, and Mind; and fearlessly chop down the rotten trees and prune out the sick limbs of this country America and then burn the leftover trash. Wrathful but Calm, Austere but Comic, Smokey the Bear will Illuminate those who would help him; but for those who would hinder or slander him, HE WILL PUT THEM OUT. Thus his great Mantra: Namah samanta vajranam chanda maharoshana Sphataya hum traka ham mam “I DEDICATE MYSELF TO THE UNIVERSAL DIAMOND BE THIS RAGING FURY DESTROYED” And he will protect those who love woods and rivers, Gods and animals, hobos and madmen, prisoners and sick people, musicians, playful women, and hopeful children; And if anyone is threatened by advertising, air pollution, or the police, they should chant SMOKEY THE BEAR’S WAR SPELL DROWN THEIR BUTTS CRUSH THEIR BUTTS DROWN THEIR BUTTS CRUSH THEIR BUTTS And SMOKEY THE BEAR will surely appear to put the enemy out with his vajra-shovel, Now those who recite this Sutra and then try to put it in practice will accumulate merit as countless as the sands of Arizona and Nevada, Will help save the planet Earth from total oil slick, Will enter the age of harmony of man and nature, Will win the tender love and caresses of men, women, and beasts Will always have ripe blackberries to eat and a sunny spot under a pine to sit at, AND IN THE END WILL WIN HIGHEST PERFECT ENLIGHTENMENT. thus have we heard.

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afrozenspookyhauntednightmare · 11 months ago

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All The Characters In AFSHN!!

The Contestants:

Modern Gothic Kimble

Heating Pad

Ice Pack

Level

Bobby Pin

Newspaper

Plum Cake

Kurt Adler Red Beads

PriPara

Cat Bed

Magnetic Sealer Mini

Bandai Punitapi-chan Peach Milk Tea

Salange YG300

Lollipop Gun Children's Candy

Yeot Taffy

Heart-Shaped Rice Cooker

Voo Doo Doll

Nickelodeon Time Blaster

24k Rose Galaxy

Cat Beanie W/ Dangly Side Stars

Satin Lace Gloves (Two Girls) - Satin Lace Glove & Satin Lace Glovey

Promise Bracelet

Hwajeon

Pink Jam Slice Tray Bake

Pizzelle

So-tteok-so-tteok

Champagne Sugar Ball

Water Bead Ball

5 Hole Pencil Sharpener (Conjoined Fivequplets) - Pencil Parer/Plastic Sharpener, Wood Sharpener, Metal Sharpener, Bright Coloured Sharpener & Junior Sharpener/Sharpener Junior

Tooth Soap

Shop Stop Sign

Colour Changing LED Mood Bubble Tower Lamp Fish

Glowing Bracelet

Flying Ball Spinner

Lipstick Balm

Cordinate Cord, 6-Outlet

Balarina Shoes (Two Twin-Girls)

Vodka Gun

Perfume Pyramid

Mushroom Jar (DIY)

Phlebotomy Keychain With Unicorn

Carmex

Rainbow Biscuit

Lock Commercial Key Cabinet

Laundry Basket

Oyster

Gravy

Potato Chip

Chocolate Covered Strawberry

Quiche

Marinara Sauce

Apple Sauce

Sweet Potato

Olive Garden/Breadstick/Breadsticky

Bento Box

Soup

Bagel

Reese Cup

Grapefruit Tangerine

Damson

Toothpick

Rolling Pin

Novel

Blood Orb

Hosts:

Sky Diving Parachute

Black Pebble

Diploma

Green Beer

Red Handmade Soap/Red Soap

#horror #afrozenspookyhauntednightmare #objectshow #objectcharacters #scary #hauntedhouse #11+#my writing #my characters

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uhhhhmanda · 1 year ago

Text

Smokey the Bear Sutra

by Gary Snyder

Once in the Jurassic about 150 million years ago, the Great Sun Buddha in this corner of the Infinite Void gave a Discourse to all the assembled elements and energies: to the standing beings, the walking beings, the flying beings, and the sitting beings—even grasses, to the number of thirteen billion, each one born from a seed, assembled there: a Discourse concerning Enlightenment on the planet Earth.

“In some future time, there will be a continent called America. It will have great centers of power called such as Pyramid Lake, Walden Pond, Mt. Rainier, Big Sur, Everglades, and so forth; and powerful nerves and channels such as Columbia River, Mississippi River, and Grand Canyon The human race in that era will get into troubles all over its head, and practically wreck everything in spite of its own strong intelligent Buddha-nature.”

“The twisting strata of the great mountains and the pulsings of volcanoes are my love burning deep in the earth. My obstinate compassion is schist and basalt and granite, to be mountains, to bring down the rain. In that future American Era I shall enter a new form; to cure the world of loveless knowledge that seeks with blind hunger: and mindless rage eating food that will not fill it.”

And he showed himself in his true form of

SMOKEY THE BEAR

A handsome smokey-colored brown bear standing on his hind legs, showing that he is aroused and watchful.

Bearing in his right paw the Shovel that digs to the truth beneath appearances; cuts the roots of useless attachments, and flings damp sand on the fires of greed and war;

His left paw in the Mudra of Comradely Display—indicating that all creatures have the full right to live to their limits and that deer, rabbits, chipmunks, snakes, dandelions, and lizards all grow in the realm of the Dharma;

Wearing the blue work overalls symbolic of slaves and laborers, the countless men oppressed by a civilization that claims to save but often destroys;

Wearing the broad-brimmed hat of the West, symbolic of the forces that guard the Wilderness, which is the Natural State of the Dharma and the True Path of man on earth: all true paths lead through mountains—

With a halo of smoke and flame behind, the forest fires of the kali-yuga, fires caused by the stupidity of those who think things can be gained and lost whereas in truth all is contained vast and free in the Blue Sky and Green Earth of One Mind;

Round-bellied to show his kind nature and that the great earth has food enough for everyone who loves her and trusts her;

Trampling underfoot wasteful freeways and needless suburbs; smashing the worms of capitalism and totalitarianism;

Indicating the Task: his followers, becoming free of cars, houses, canned foods, universities, and shoes; master the Three Mysteries of their own Body, Speech, and Mind; and fearlessly chop down the rotten trees and prune out the sick limbs of this country America and then burn the leftover trash.

Wrathful but Calm. Austere but Comic. Smokey the Bear will Illuminate those who would help him; but for those who would hinder or slander him,

HE WILL PUT THEM OUT.

Thus his great Mantra:

Namah samanta vajranam chanda maharoshana Sphataya hum traka ham nam

“I DEDICATE MYSELF TO THE UNIVERSAL DIAMOND BE THIS RAGING FURY DESTROYED”

And he will protect those who love woods and rivers, Gods and animals, hobos and madmen, prisoners and sick people, musicians, playful women, and hopeful children:

And if anyone is threatened by advertising, air pollution, television, or the police, they should chant SMOKEY THE BEAR’S WAR SPELL:

DROWN THEIR BUTTS CRUSH THEIR BUTTS DROWN THEIR BUTTS CRUSH THEIR BUTTS

And SMOKEY THE BEAR will surely appear to put the enemy out with his vajra-shovel.

Now those who recite this Sutra and then try to put it in practice will accumulate merit as countless as the sands of Arizona and Nevada.

Will help save the planet Earth from total oil slick.

Will enter the age of harmony of man and nature.

Will win the tender love and caresses of men, women, and beasts.

Will always have ripe blackberries to eat and a sunny spot under a pine tree to sit at.

AND IN THE END WILL WIN HIGHEST PERFECT ENLIGHTENMENT.

thus have we heard.

#poem #poetry #only YOU can prevent forest fires #i love this poem so much #it's in the public domain because when it was first published there was a note stating that may be reproduced free forever

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blueboxphenomenon · 1 year ago

Text

“Welsh Roswell”

Pentyrch, Wales in the UK was the site of a battle between UNIT, MoD, and alien invaders on the 26th February, 2016. Witnesses were threatened with fatal car accidents if they spoke out, but that won’t silence brave security officer Caz Clarke.

She witnessed a pyramid of red lights in the sky, which ejected a green probe and a further car-sized red object shaped like a barrel. She felt the object scan her, and 24 hours later found her hair had turned white. She also reports seeing waves of military vehicles - jets, Chinooks, Hercules - and a fantastic firefight in the air over Smilog Woods. The whole affair ended with an explosion that “shook people out of their beds.”

When she contacted the MoD, she was told the events of that night were “Section 26 – not in the public interest“. When she posted about the events on social media, she was interrogated and asked “what [she] wanted,” and was threatened with “accidents.”

Caz and her neighbour were unable to take photographs of the events as they found their phones inoperable. The next day, however, she found a trail of broken trees through the nearby Smilog Woods snapped in half at the trunk. In the middle of the woods was a clearing where the trees had been burned not black but white. There was a pungent smell in the air. One Emlyn Williams would later scan the electromagnetic field of the area, and find anomalous results at the supposed crash site.

youtube

Half a mile away from the supposed impact site is the Royal Glamorgan Hospital. An ex staff member reports hearing an explosion and smelling a strong sulphurous smell. Car alarms were set off in the streets and patients were shaken awake in their beds.

This event was written off by the media as a mere military drill.

Towards March, tents started appearing in fields around the area with participants claiming to be doing basic survey work. Whenever Caz walked by, the surveyors would stop their work and watch until she was out of sight before continuing. She claims they were seen working with a large “laptop-like device”.

Journalist Gari Jones approached the RAF and MoD and found his attempts to obtain information “frustrating.” He claims they changed their cover story “half a dozen times at least.” He make inquiries as to the green object seen in the area, and to witness reports of gunfire. He asked if there was such a sighting and if the military shot something down, and if it crashed into Smilog Woods. The MoD responded that they have the information, but that some of it falls under Section 26 of the Freedom of Information Act. In other words, they simply refused to answer. If this was a mere drill, what do they have to hide? Some may suggest these lights were the results of natural phenomenon - however weather records show there was no seismic activity and only mild weather during this time.

Witness reports and RADAR records show that military craft were circling the area for days leading up to the events of the 26th of February. Did they know this UFO was coming? Furthermore, in years since, the US Navy have confirmed genuine military footage of pyramid shaped UFOs like the one witnessed in Wales, flying in their airspace. The following footage was taken aboard the USS Russel and was confirmed by the Pentagon to be genuine, released to the public by Jeremy Corbel.

youtube

Caz Clarke’s claims are supported by visual evidence of trees snapped in half, clean-up operations, and electromagnetic measurements taken on scientific instruments. Something happened here, and it is being hidden from you.

#unit archive #bbp-blog #the UFOs

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bloggingfromyokaiworld · 2 years ago

Text

“Welsh Roswell”

youtube

This event was written off by the media as a mere military drill.

youtube

#ufo

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walaw717 · 2 years ago

Text

Smokey the Bear Sutra

Once in the Jurassic about 150 million years ago,

the Great Sun Buddha in this corner of the Infinite

Void gave a Discourse to all the assembled elements

and energies: to the standing beings, the walking beings,

the flying beings, and the sitting beings—even grasses,

to the number of thirteen billion, each one born from a

seed, assembled there: a Discourse concerning

Enlightenment on the planet Earth.

“In some future time, there will be a continent called

America. It will have great centers of power called

such as Pyramid Lake, Walden Pond, Mt. Rainier, Big Sur,

Everglades, and so forth; and powerful nerves and channels

such as Columbia River, Mississippi River, and Grand Canyon

The human race in that era will get into troubles all over

its head, and practically wreck everything in spite of

its own strong intelligent Buddha-nature.”

“The twisting strata of the great mountains and the pulsings

of volcanoes are my love burning deep in the earth.

My obstinate compassion is schist and basalt and

granite, to be mountains, to bring down the rain. In that

future American Era I shall enter a new form; to cure

the world of loveless knowledge that seeks with blind hunger:

and mindless rage eating food that will not fill it.”

And he showed himself in his true form of

SMOKEY THE BEAR

A handsome smokey-colored brown bear standing on his hind legs, showing that he is aroused and

watchful.

Bearing in his right paw the Shovel that digs to the truth beneath appearances; cuts the roots of useless

attachments, and flings damp sand on the fires of greed and war;

Wearing the blue work overalls symbolic of slaves and laborers, the countless men oppressed by a

civilization that claims to save but often destroys;

With a halo of smoke and flame behind, the forest fires of the kali-yuga, fires caused by the stupidity of

those who think things can be gained and lost whereas in truth all is contained vast and free in the Blue Sky and Green Earth of One Mind;

Round-bellied to show his kind nature and that the great earth has food enough for everyone who loves her and trusts her;

Trampling underfoot wasteful freeways and needless suburbs; smashing the worms of capitalism and

totalitarianism;

Indicating the Task: his followers, becoming free of cars, houses, canned foods, universities, and shoes;

master the Three Mysteries of their own Body, Speech, and Mind; and fearlessly chop down the rotten

trees and prune out the sick limbs of this country America and then burn the leftover trash.

Wrathful but Calm. Austere but Comic. Smokey the Bear will

Illuminate those who would help him; but for those who would hinder or

slander him,

HE WILL PUT THEM OUT.

Thus his great Mantra:

Namah samanta vajranam chanda maharoshana

Sphataya hum traka ham nam

“I DEDICATE MYSELF TO THE UNIVERSAL DIAMOND

BE THIS RAGING FURY DESTROYED”

And he will protect those who love woods and rivers,

Gods and animals, hobos and madmen, prisoners and sick

people, musicians, playful women, and hopeful children:

And if anyone is threatened by advertising, air pollution, television,

or the police, they should chant SMOKEY THE BEAR’S WAR SPELL:

DROWN THEIR BUTTS

CRUSH THEIR BUTTS

DROWN THEIR BUTTS

CRUSH THEIR BUTTS

And SMOKEY THE BEAR will surely appear to put the enemy out

with his vajra-shovel.

Now those who recite this Sutra and then try to put it in practice will accumulate merit as countless as the sands of Arizona and Nevada.

Will help save the planet Earth from total oil slick.

Will enter the age of harmony of man and nature.

Will win the tender love and caresses of men, women, and beasts.

Will always have ripe blackberries to eat and a sunny spot under a pine tree to sit at.

AND IN THE END WILL WIN HIGHEST PERFECT ENLIGHTENMENT.

thus have we heard.

Gary Snyder

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dansnaturepictures · 2 years ago

Photo

03/07/2022-Alresford Pond, the River Alre, Magdalen Hill and home

We came to Alresford Pond today to look for the Wood and Green Sandpipers that have been around here, both birds we needed to see this year and ones we often do over the summer as welcome year ticks in past years over a time of year that is typically quieter for birdwatching. And in the telescope we did manage to see both species still, wading and flying at the edge of the lake by the reeds. The Green Sandpipers smartly marked and the Wood Sandpiper with sweet colours. Both species are my first of the year and two key birds to see this year, taking my bird year list to 185 a special figure for me to reach in a year as I remember when my life list was on this number as like I said before it lingered there for a bit. It’s also such a notable round figure to reach for me showing how good any year has been to reach it. Not only am I still miles ahead of what my other year lists were on at this stage in a year but the number of birds I have seen this year is now competing well with the number some of my past year lists ended on.

There were some other fantastic birds seen at Alresford Pond this afternoon, two Marsh Harriers soaring over the pond near constantly whilst we were there cracking looking birds and a smashing and distinctive looking Great White Egret stood out, two species I’d not seen at this spot before which were great to watch. Both favourites of mine, I also enjoyed seeing another of my favourite birds the Shelduck and Mallard, Coot on nest as the third picture in this photoset shows, lots of Mute Swans I’d not seen any for a little bit which was great, Cormorant, Grey Heron, Lesser Black-backed Gull, Swift and Swallow skimming over the water, Woodpigeon, Carrion Crow and Robin.

After this we had a little look along a bit of the River Alre nearby where there was a wealth of water bird life in an area near the road and a footpath, headlined by the first cygnets I’ve seen whilst outside this year a glorious group of these elegant grey birds which we enjoyed some precious moments with I took the fifth picture in this photoset of some with a Mallard and the adult Mute Swan in shot too. It was nice to see them with one leg tucked into their back in the quite shallow water. There was also a large group of Mallards some with some adorable ducklings, and it was great to enjoy the males with their heads going into eclipse today I took the sixth picture in this photoset of one and I was also happy to see a Tufted Duck not a usual sight for a river I find and Moorhen and Magpie here with a fish flapping out of the water for a moment.

Flowers/plants I enjoyed seeing at both Alresford stops today was a rose, herb-Robert, cleavers, hollyhock I seem to recall, ivy-leaved toadflax, I seem to recall wood avens and possible great willowherb.

We then had a walk at Magdalen Hill this afternoon where we saw a wealth of wildflowers; my first sainfoin, marjoram, cuckoo pint and harebell of the year four I do really like I took the eighth picture in this photoset of some sainfoin, knapweed, lots of rosebay willowherb painting the place purple nicely in places, lots of hogweed, bindweed, yarrow, lots of pretty lady’s bedstraw, possibly another type of bedstraw maybe hedge bedstraw, chickweed type flower, mignonette or possible weld, herb-Robert, wood avens, some white mallow some of the harebells were white too, broad-leaved clover, speedwell, mouse-ear chickweed I believe, lots of scabious including painting the landscape well too, a fair few pyramidal orchid, meadow crane’s-bill, possibly another type of crane’s-bill, agrimony, bird’s-fot trefoil, roses, cow parsley I believe and lovely little forget-me-not.

There were many butterflies here today too especially as the sun came out with a handkerchief smooth and clean Marbled White and warm coloured Meadow Brown starring two quintessential species of long grass in summer we saw so many of them especially in the meadows when they had a close competition in another warm up 15 minutes Big Butterfly Count I did which felt great. I saw 27 Meadow Brown, 29 Marbled White and a Green-veined White, Ringlet, Comma and Small Tortoiseshell whilst counting. All great sights and I also enjoyed seeing Small Skipper and possibly another Gatekeeper after yesterday at this precious butterfly reserve. Common Red Soldier beetle including mating, Swollen-thighed beetle and bees as well as a moth were other nice insects seen here today. We also saw a large Emperor dragonfly well here which was great I’ve had a good year for them and another dragonfly possibly a darter.

Skylarks singing their melodious tone dominated the soundscape as we walked along the path, an intense and beautiful chorus and it was so good to see them hovering on the wind too. I also enjoyed seeing a Wren here this afternoon and Woodpigeon. There was also a brilliant moment as we got a precious glimpse of a cute Wood Mouse in the grass, lovely to see. My first of the year to ensure all of my year lists have grown this weekend which is pleasing. And we saw a couple of slippery Slow Worms really well here this afternoon too.

It was nice to take in stunning views at all three places today; the pretty and well vegetated around Alresford Pond I took the first two pictures in this photoset of this, the typical Hampshire river the Alre I took the fourth picture in this photoset here and rolling panoramic and meadow views of Magdalen Hill seeing into Winchester and across to St. Catherine’s Hill looking great as the sun came through I took the seventh and ninth pictures in this photoset of views here and views out the back at home today was a nice variety.

Goldfinch, young Starling and House Sparrows especially looking nice in the buddleia and pecking at it too, the buddleia itself, geranium, new flowers in the garden possibly fiddleneck and fuchsia made great sights at home today. I took the tenth picture in this photoset of one of the lovely trees out the front in sweet evening sunshine which I very much enjoyed this evening during a relaxing end to the weekend blowing in the wind. There were nice sky scenes this evening up until sunset and it was great to see the crescent moon again. Another brilliant packed, productive and relaxing weekend, have a good new week all.

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general-mahamatra · 4 years ago

Text

Visus Cæcus

Focus: Eret

Genre: Spooky Season

TW: Blood and injuries

Pairing: Platonic Fundy and Eret

Wordcount: 6283

Read it on AO3 here

Note: This is part of a trade with the glorious @strawberry10 !! They have my whole heart and this piece has been a work in progress for maybe a month now. It’s only fitting I post it so close to Halloween :)

The crunch of decaying leaves and broken twigs mixes with the soft chirping of birds. Sunlight peeks through the leaves, sending shadows across the path and illuminating the forest and accentuating the vibrant green of the foliage. On such a perfect afternoon, the forest is lovely. Tranquil and perfect--almost too good to be real.

A soft breeze rustles the canopy followed by the scutter of a squirrel climbing a nearby tree. Everything is serene… virtually untouched by humans despite the man-made path twisting through the forest.

It goes for ages, disappearing through the trees. Where it goes is impossible to tell with the way it turns. Undergrowth stretches over the brown trail, small bushes encroaching as young saplings reach across--a strain for sunlight.

Laughter breaks through the peace and the crunch grows louder. Shoes tread along the footpath, ignorant of the bugs that scuttle out of the way. Two people walk along the trail, bags on their backs, and dressed for a hike. They were chatting, entertaining each other as they made their way down the path.

One of them nudges the other, grinning as if they had just said the most clever thing. The other, a brunette, rolls their eyes with a small smile.

“C’mon Eret, you know I’m right!”

The brunette--Eret--scoffs. They shove the man back, just enough to make him stumble. “You are not. There’s no way that’s even possible!”

“What do you mean?!” He exclaims, eyes wide with shock. "I'm always right! I'm literally always right!"

"Fundy," Eret deadpans.

"Yeah?"

They stare at each other, quiet for a moment.

"How the fuck are peanuts meat?"

Fundy can barely contain his laughter as he tries to explain, “but they are! They’re literally meat, they’re with meat on the food pyramid. And, AND! They basically have the same protein. SO,” he points at Eret, “checkmate.”

“That’s not how that works!” Eret protests. “That’s not how that works at all! Just because they’re with the meat doesn’t mean shit!”

Fundy hums. “Uh-huh, sure.”

“They’re a nut!” the brunette whines. “They have nut in their name, they’re not ‘pea-meat’!”

The ginger chuckles, covering his mouth as the other tries to argue. It was clear Fundy wasn’t going to back down from the dispute, he had no intention to let Eret win, even when they had a point. Besides, he’s not dumb, he knows they aren’t meat. It’s just fucking hilarious.

After calming down enough to talk, the points to Eret’s pocket. “Get your phone out, prove to me they aren’t meat!”

“Fine! I will!” Eret fumbles with their shorts and pulls out their phone. A couple of seconds pass followed by an “aha! They aren’t meat!” They began to triumphantly read the blurb, far too confident over the fact that they won the debate. “Peanuts do not come from animals. So they are not meat. Although they are called a nut, they are not... a nut…” they trail off, a small frown appearing. “The peanut is a legume, related to the pea family.” Eret huffs and turns off their phone, shoving it in their pocket.

Fundy cackles, the sound disturbing a nearby bird. With a flurry of black feathers, it flutters off.

“It’s still not a meat,” they grumble.

Fundy steps closer to them, grinning as he pokes their shoulder. “But they’re not a nut~” he coos, clearly proud of his victory. If it could even be called that.

Eret rolls their eyes and shrugs the man off but the upturn of their lips is a hint of their amusement. They were enjoying the back and forth--it was far better than the two walking in silence. After all, they weren’t too sure they’d last a week in the woods if they didn’t have the sort of chemistry for lighthearted banter.

The two found the forest a week ago just driving around town and immediately decided to explore it, especially since they’re visiting Fundy for a couple of weeks. What could go wrong anyway? It’s just a forest in the middle of nowhere.

Though there were times as they were getting ready that Eret thought about some of the… warnings they’ve seen. They never took them seriously, but they always found the posts interesting.

They were warnings about going to certain places in the dark or at night--warnings about the things that stalk the cornfields of the Midwest or the forests around the world. Hell, even the creatures that lurk beneath the surface, just waiting for a ship to pass by to take without a warning.

As the two continue, Eret’s mind wanders. It drifts to the text posts they’ve seen and just how serious they seem. They were so detailed and specific, it made them start to wonder if maybe there was something behind them. There’s no way someone could come up with those warnings and make them so realistic without having something to back them on.

One that won’t leave them alone is a caution about the forests. The number of times they read it… they had it memorized at this point.

Start traveling during the day, it is always asleep by dawn and it will leave you be.

Never move at night.

Stay on the path at all times.

Never set a campfire outside of a designated area. It can smell the smoke and it will find you.

Always travel with a group. Never go solo. If someone gets injured, never leave them alone.

When the forest goes silent, stop moving immediately.

If you don’t, the crowns will come. When you see the crows, it sees you. Stop talking immediately, find a different way to communicate. It can mimic your voice.

When the crows swarm, run. Do not let them injure you. It can smell the blood.

If you stray from the path, find it again as soon as possible. The longer you are off the path, the more likely it will find you.

If you can't find the path, never stop moving at night. Rest during the day, run during the night. It hunts at night and if you stop, it will attack.

Keep anyone injured close, never leave them alone.

If you hear someone call for help, do not go to it. It’s a trap.

Eret shakes their head to clear the thoughts. There was no reason to be thinking about the list. The paranoia is stupid. It was made to scare people--a short thing for the niche group of people addicted to horror.

They're on a hike with their best friend, not on an exploration trip to try and get murdered by some forest monster. Whatever that forest monster is.

The thing is only ever referred to as "it".

But the reassurance that it's fake doesn't do much to calm Eret's nerves. If anything, it leaves them anxious--wondering if maybe… just maybe it isn't fake.

No, stop. It's fake, it's literally fake. Why the fuck would this stuff be real?? They think. It's just a forest.

The absence of their friend next to them is what makes Eret pause and look around. So caught up in their thoughts, they didn't even realize Fundy stopped walking. Turning, they find the ginger frowning, brown eyes staring at something obscured by the trees.

"Fundy?"

The man raises a finger to his lips, shushing Eret. Slowly, he points to his ear and glances at the brunette. "Do you hear that?"

Confused, Eret looks the same way Fundy is. When greeted by nothing but trees and chirping, they shake their head.

"Listen closer," Fundy insists.

Eret glances at Fundy, slightly concerned but curious nonetheless. They fall silent, this time trying to focus on the noises around them.

At first, there is nothing but the regular ambiance of the forest. Nothing out of the ordinary.

A few more seconds pass before they finally notice it. A rustling--faint and distant. It only grows louder, almost as if it’s approaching. It puzzles Eret, making them frown slightly as they comment, “What… is that?”

Fundy steps closer and squints into the trees. His hands wrap around the straps of his bag, his quizzical expression mirroring Eret’s feelings.

“I have no idea.”

The two stand there, watching. Maybe if they were thinking straight, they would’ve continued. But not everyone is bright, are they?

It’s the first crow darting out of the dense tree line that makes them jump, the bird squawking and frantically flapping its wings. Eret watches it, mouth agape as they stare. Confused, they can’t pull their gaze off the struggling bird.

They don’t even realize the shuffling is still getting louder.

Eret points at the bird and turns to Fundy. “You’re telling me we got scared by that?” There’s a slight smile on their face that only falters when they realize Fundy isn’t smiling and is instead still looking at the trees. “Fundy?”

The ginger doesn’t respond and instead backs up. Slow at first, speeding up within seconds as he grabs Eret. “Move, MOVE!”

Eret doesn’t get a chance to react before more birds burst from the trees. Their screeching is quick to overwhelm the two as a couple of birds turn into ten, then twenty, then a giant shrieking mass.

Feathers are everywhere, flying around as the crows swarm. They twist and turn, diving around as they grab each other with their talons. They rip each other apart, spraying blood and guts everywhere. The cawing never stops as bodies drop to the hiking trail, the hot crimson liquid misting the two humans as they try to get away.

And then the birds turn their attention elsewhere: right on the two.

“GO GO GO!” Eret cries, throwing their hands in Fundy’s direction. They make contact and manage to shove the man, forcing him to turn around and book it to the trees. He’s able to get his arms over his head to protect him from the birds. Eret, though?

They weren’t fast enough.

Crows latch onto them. Peck them, claw them. Their clothing tears under the sharp talons as Eret tries to swat the frenzied animals away. Panic gripped them and completely emptied their mind of conscious thought. It left them running off instinct, and it’s their downfall.

It only takes a couple of heartbeats for the crows to start digging into their skin. They shred the brunette’s shoulders, drawing blood under their sharp claws. Eret cries out and frantically tries to rip the birds off.

But a slash to their cheek is what utterly terrifies them.

They don’t even hear Fundy shouting at them to run.

Some of the birds stick to their upper body, but others go for Eret’s head. More specifically their face.

Razor-sharp claws do their work. They make the brunette finally start to try and cover their face. Even with the birds in the way, Eret did what they could, trying to force the animals away. But not before the most excruciating pain they’ve ever been in radiates from their face.

A blood-curdling scream tears through their throat. High--full of terror and agony. Their hands were on their face as the birds kept coming. But the simple touch only makes it worse, stinging every open wound they touched. Made Eret lower their hands only for them to come away hot and sticky. Bloody.

Eret stumbles back, shaking and terrified as the birds keep coming. They’re quiet, trying to back away…

Another slash to their face.

The world goes black.

They can't stop screaming.

Hands grab their shoulders and drag them back. Eret struggles to stay upright, feet catching on roots and bushes. They fumble around, frightened. They can’t tell where they’re going or who’s holding him or what’s going on. Their hands shoot out and grab onto a tree. Nails dig into the bark, break under the pressure.

A whimper falls from their lips as they continue to be pulled along.

But the birds are gone.

Eret’s pulled along for a few more paces before they’re stopped. They stumble, lightheaded and sick for reasons they don’t understand. All they know is the feeling of something trailing down their cheeks. Blood… tears… a mix? It’s everywhere.

Arms wrap around them, stabilizing them. A soothing voice follows the action.

“Eret… Eret listen to me, I need you to listen to me.” Fundy. Their friend. “Eret please, look at me.”

They turn slightly, blindly following the man’s voice. It’s dark… Why is the forest so dark…

A hand guides their head, making them turn a bit more.

“Open your eyes,” Fundy says.

It’s then Eret realizes they’ve been squeezing their eyes shut the entire time. It hurt so much to open them. Like something is stuck in them, stabbing their eyes every time they try to look around. They reach up, pressing their hands to their eyes only to gasp. The shock of pain that rushes through them is enough to make them let out another small whimper.

The hand never leaves their face and Fundy tries again. “Eret, don’t- stop. Don’t touch them just open them, please.”

Eret shakes their head.

The pain…

It’s horrible.

They’re shaking at this point, arms now wrapped around themselves as they lower their head. They don’t pull away from the touch… instead, they lean into it a bit.

The only soothing thing in the world of agony Eret’s living in.

“Eret… please,” Fundy begs.

A shaky breath. They look up and open their eyes. The sound that comes out of their friend is nearly lost to Eret as they immediately close them again. It hurt… so much. More of whatever was in their eyes fell down their face, wet and sticky. It trails into the corners of their mouth, leaving a salty… coppery tang on their tongue.

Blood and tears.

Fundy starts mumbling. Eret doesn’t understand him. Everything around them fades out, sounds becoming muffled as if their head had been dunked underwater. Their stomach knots and their body sways. A dizziness takes hold, making their breathing short and head spin. They can’t seem to catch their breath, every inhale shorter than the last as they struggle to breathe.

Eret digs their nails into their arms. They couldn’t focus. Couldn’t think.

The bag on their back is really heavy, teetering their balance.

Take it off…

Cold, clammy, unsteady.

So much is overwhelming and yet there’s nothing at all. The world is dark and quiet but the pain in their eyes reminds them they’re still awake. The feeling of Fundy’s hands on Eret’s elbows trying to keep them upright…

They open their mouth as if to talk but all they can do is wheeze.

Breathe breathe breathe…

A second passes and their knees buckle. Eret collapses against the ginger and before they even drop that far, they fall unconscious.

Eret moans as they wake up, body sore. Their head is fuzzy, mind vacant of thoughts. Everything is black and their awareness of their surroundings is gone. The only things they can tell are they’re lying down, the bag is gone, and there’s a weird pressure on their face. It rubs weird and keeps their eyes shut when Eret tries to open them.

The pain that follows only makes them whimper.

But then a voice… someone is talking to them. It’s inaudible. Can’t tell who’s talking.

Shuffling followed by someone’s hand on their shoulder.

They nod off as the person tries to get their attention.

The next time they wake up their arm is slung around someone’s shoulder. An arm around Eret’s waist is what’s keeping them upright as they’re being partially carried, partially dragged through the forest.

Their foot catches on a root, causing them to stumble. Eret’s reaction is delayed to the point they’re guided by the man carrying them, only barely managing to pull their foot away with the man’s help.

“Come on… ..almost… ..got this.” Fundy. It’s Fundy carrying them.

Eret doesn’t catch much of what the ginger says, only nodding in reply, hoping that it’s the right answer.

Fundy’s hold on them tightens.

Time passes as a blur. Unable to see, Eret is barely able to tell how long they’re awake. Sometimes they fade to unconsciousness, sometimes they’re aware and helping walk around. Their sense of direction has long since vanished as well, the brunette completely relying on the man carrying him.

Eret trips; their legs come out from under them. Fundy catches them, a death grip on the brunette.

“I gotcha.”

Fundy’s mumbling under his breath. They’re still moving, only much slower. He’s messing with something at the same time, Eret can tell from the way the man is struggling to hold them up with one arm.

“Come on… Turn on…”

“Where the fuck is the path?” Fundy mutters.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Don’t die, come on!”

Eret gets tugged along, Fundy seemingly more frantic than before. He’s moving fast, trying to get the taller one around obstacles with less care than before. Panicked, almost.

Both hands are on Eret now. Tight, nails digging into their wrist.

The ginger breathes heavily and Eret can feel him shifting around, constantly looking back.

“Eret, Eret wake up. Wake up right now.”

They lift their head, dazed and confused as they once again become aware. Their face scrunches up as they turn their head towards Fundy.

“We gotta go, you gotta move,” Fundy hisses. He sounds freaked out… Eret can’t figure out why. “You gotta move.” He starts to pull them along, forcing them to get their feet going.

Caught off guard, they lose their balance. Fundy doesn’t wait, not this time. He continues to tug Eret along, set on wherever their destination was. Forces Eret to get their act together and stay upright. They try their best, struggling quite a bit to keep up.

Eret manages to hold their own despite being unable to see. With their feet on the ground and the ginger guiding him around trees and undergrowth, the rush becomes easier. It gives them a chance to finally talk. “Why are we-?”

Fundy shushes them. Pulls them along faster. “Stop talking, just keep moving.”

They fall silent.

Eret didn’t even realize they passed out again until they’re suddenly being dragged along the forest floor. Arms wrap under their shoulders and around their chest; their feet trail through the brush and debris.

They lift their head. Barely moves much else, lulling in a fit of exhaustion.

Breathing is hard… really hard. Short, rapid, erratic. Can’t get enough in can’t take a deep breath why is it so hard to breathe?

They start to move but it’s sluggish. Weak hands reach up and try to pry the arms off.

Breathe… need to breathe…

Fundy is quick to try and get them to stop. "Stop- stop it! Quit moving, you're only going to slow us down more!" His voice is low and hurried. It seems strained and distant…

...is he running from something?

The brunette wakes up to being propped up against a tree. The two had stopped moving at some point. When, Eret wasn't entirely sure.

With Fundy no longer holding them up in some way, Eret assumes the guy had finally found them a place to stop so he could sleep. It only makes sense.

Rubbing their eyes, they come to find their face covered in bandages. The rough cloth was stark compared to the smooth skin they expected to feel. Carefully, they run their fingers along with the bandages. They're wrapped around most of the upper half of their head, concealing their eyes and ears.

Covering the horrible wounds that mar their face.

Lowering their hands, they find more haphazardly wrapped gauze around their shoulders. It pokes through their shredded shirt.

Makes them wonder just how bad it was.

Their hands shake as Eret pulls them away from their chest. So much so fast…

The two just wanted to hike, to explore. And yet within hours, everything had gone to shit.

And now they have no idea what time it is or where they are or where Fundy is.

"Fundy?" They try to sit up further, looking around despite being unable to see. Somehow the darkness only makes the world lonely.

There's shuffling nearby followed by the crunch of leaves. "You're awake!" More movement and then a hand is on Eret's shoulder. "How are you feeling? You alright?"

A stupid question really.

Eret feels like shit. Constantly being jostled around while unconscious, waking up over and over and being forced to run… it's hard to feel alright after all of that. And yet, at the same time, they were in considerably less pain than before.

"I'm… okay?" They sound uncertain. "What happened?"

Fundy doesn't say anything at first. He seems lenient to explain and the silence has a weird air to it. It doesn't sit well with Eret.

Soon enough, the ginger says, "a lot. So much.” There’s a pause. “After we got thrown off the path by those birds we got lost and… and I tried to get back to the trail.” The hand falls away, fingers trailing along Eret’s shoulder before dropping entirely. “I couldn’t find it. But! You slept pretty hard I’m glad you’re alright.”

Eret frowns. That… That’s not…

That didn’t explain what happened every time Eret woke up. The carrying, the running, the dragging, none of it.

“What else?” they press, tone skeptical. “We were running, right? Why did we run?”

And there’s the hesitation again. Almost like Fundy doesn’t want to answer him. “Uh- It- It was nothing! Nothing really!” The man spoke quickly, voice pitching up at the same time. “Just thought I saw the path!”

Odd.

“Where are we?” Eret asks.

Leaves crunch as Fundy moves. “Somewhere in the forest. I don’t fucking know where.” He sighs. “I got lost last night… I have no fucking clue which way is what.”

Night.

“You mean it’s morning now?”

“Well, yeah.”

< If you can't find the path, never stop moving at night. Rest during the day, run during the night. It hunts at night and if you stop, it will attack. >

The thoughts come back, whispering in their ears and latching on to Eret’s conscious mind. Paranoia and anxiety refuse to leave them alone, pushing for them to think about the short list. That horrid, horrid list.

< When the crows swarm, run. Do not let them injure you. It can smell the blood. >

Eret froze, their entire body growing tense. It's just a list, it can't be real. Some stupid post they saw one day that happened to stick with them. They're just paranoid.

< “We gotta go, you gotta move,” Fundy hisses. He sounds freaked out… Eret can’t figure out why. “You gotta move.” He starts to pull them along, forcing them to get their feet going. >

They reach out, shaking hand finding itself on Fundy's shoulder. "Fundy," Eret says slowly. It earns a small hum. "What did you see?"

The voice that answers is quieter than usual. Small, frail almost. Vulnerable in a way Eret has never remembered Fundy being.

"I- I don't know."

The two ended up sleeping, exhaustion overtaking their need to stay awake and leaving them napping throughout the day. Though, more often than not, Eret finds themselves awake. Sitting propped against the tree, head resting against the truck as they stare up into the black expanse that is their vision.

They never were claustrophobic. Small spaces didn't make them feel too bad despite their height. Busses, trains, rooms… they were always fine. But the inky darkness that became their reality is constricting. It wraps around their body, suffocating them and leaving them to writhe and struggle in isolation.

But it's all mental. Up in their head in a world only they know; a world they'll never escape. The only signs of the toll the blindness takes on the man are the faint, quick breaths in and out. And with Fundy asleep somewhere nearby, there's no one there to see Eret holding themselves, lips pressed in a line as they try and stay calm.

If there weren't bandages over their face, maybe a trail of tears would adorn either cheek.

Shuffling makes them perk up. Drags them out of their head and forces them to pay attention to their surroundings. Something was moving nearby.

“Fundy?” Eret calls quietly, just in case the man was still sleeping. The lack of a response is enough of an answer. “Hello?” Now it was more directed to whoever or whatever was moving around.

Not like an animal could reply to them, but maybe someone was wandering off the path. Someone who could get them out of the damned forest. It was worth the shot.

When nothing answers them, Eret sighs and leans back against the tree. The small flicker of hope that ignited in their chest dwindles, snuffed out by the silence.

How far from the path are they anyway?

For all Eret knew, they could be ten feet away. Move around a couple of trees and there it would be. The man-made trail hikers travel on every day covered in sticks and decaying leaves, surrounded by beautiful plants and scenery and just… perfect.

But they’ll never know. They’ll never know just how close they are to the stupid path because those fucking birds STOLE THEIR SIGHT.

They take a deep breath, nostrils flaring as their hands ball into tight fists. A second passes and they slam the side of their hand against the cold hard ground. Frustration and anger isn’t a common emotion for Eret, it never has been. But sitting there with one of the most important senses ripped away from them, drowning them in a world of perpetual darkness… it’s starting to get hard to keep their emotions in check.

Sighing, they force themselves to relax, fingers uncurling and shoulders slouching. There’s no way the two of them are gonna be able to get out if they can’t stay calm. With so little experience getting mad, there’s no telling what could happen.

Tilting their head back, Eret stares up towards the sky. Wonders what it looks like… how the canopy must look with the yellow leaves dispersing the golden rays from the sun across the forest floor.

Shifting grass right next to Eret startles them. It’s faint, only audible because of the silence that hovers in the clearing, and it confuses them. Sitting back up, they carefully reach their hand towards the sound.

They lower their hand, fingers outstretched as they try to touch whatever is there. It could be a rabbit. A fuzzy little animal just hopping around trying to find something to eat or somewhere to sleep…

What they feel is not a bunny.

Slimy and boney, gnarled like a tree root but warm like a living creature. It writhes beneath their hand, moving around like a… a finger.

The sound that comes out of Eret is one of disgust and horror. A distorted scream rips through their throat as they try to pull their hand back only for whatever it was they touched to grab their wrist. A strong, wretched hand tightens its grip. Larger than a human’s, nails sharper than should be possible. Digging into their wrist, slicing up the delicate skin.

They kick out, squirming in the thing’s hold as they try to shove it away.

“Let GO of me!” they shriek.

Their foot makes contact with something solid. A grunt follows and the grip loosens.

THUD.

The thing lets go, a warbled cry following suit. Heavy breathing can be heard above Eret before something heavy is dropped on the ground. Barely even a second passes before Fundy speaks, the man on the ground next to Eret with his hands on their shoulders.

He sounds breathless as he talks. “Hey, hey it’s alright. Eret. Eret, look at me.”

Probably the worst thing someone could say to a blind man but it got the brit to react anyways. They turned their head slightly, hoping they were facing the right direction. They reach out, trembling hand finding a perch on Fundy’s arm. Once certain they were holding the ginger, their grasp tightens. A grounding.

“Breathe,” Fundy directs. “For the love of God, please calm down. It’s gone, you’re alright- we’re alright.” The reassurance is partnered with the gentle pull into a hug. Arms--human arms--wrap tenderly around their body. The ginger stays there despite the tension in the brunette, refusing to pull away until Eret finally melts, burying their head against Fundy’s shoulder as they return the gesture.

Fists ball into Fundy’s shirt and a choked sob rattles through the brit’s body. The slow-motion of the ginger rubbing their back is joined by what sounds like his own struggle to keep from crying. Hiccuped inhales and steady exhales… Fundy was... Trying…

Eventually, Fundy whispers, “it’s evening, we need to keep moving.”

Walking with the guidance of someone with sight is more off-putting than trying to learn a new language. At least, that’s what Eret would compare it to. It’s like relearning how to walk. Their perception of reality permanently altered, sense of balance destroyed, and their ability to perceive their surroundings forced to rely on their hearing and touch. But surrounded by a thick forest, they’re more than thankful for how accommodating their friend is.

Fundy laughs quietly. “Come on, you know it’s true.”

Eret scoffs, wishing they could roll their eyes at the man’s stupidity. “I can’t believe this is your focus right now.”

“Would you rather me talk about the fact we’re lost in a forest nearly out of food traveling in the middle of the night with no service, a dead phone, and your severe lack of a phone?” Fundy asks, voice deadpan. “Personally, I think my Minecraft boyfriend is far more important.”

Using their free hand that’s not wrapped around Fundy’s shoulder, the brit lightly punches the ginger’s side. “You proposed to him with a diamond only for him to get possessed! And then he had a fucking baby and George claimed to be the father!”

“WELL,” Fundy started, “that’s beside the point. Fuck you.”

Eret chuckles with a fond grin. It’s nice, being able to have a normal conversation despite the impending doom of whatever the hell went after the brit back where they were resting.

A slight discomfort is felt on the back of their head, making them shiver. A weird feeling. One that sets them on edge and spikes their anxiety. But they ignore it, preferring to focus on Fundy.

"Can't believe you got engaged and your man had-"

"Help!" The distance cry of what sounds like a young child can barely be heard. At first, Eret thinks it may be a trick of the ears, the wind whistling just right through the leaves. But Fundy stops walking.

He heard it too.

The child calls out again and it sets in stone the reality of the situation. "Please! Help!"

The two adjust their course and start to make their way towards the voice. Stumbling through the undergrowth, tripping on loose plants, and smacking against low hanging branches.

< If you hear someone call for help, do not go to it. It’s a trap. >

The wails grow louder but so does a weird smell. It makes Eret scrunch their nose, face contorting to one of disgust when they're first hit by the scent. "What the fu-"

Fundy shushes them, shutting them up. He doesn't clarify why, simply pulling the brit further along. Closer and closer to the cries of the young child.

"I want my mommy!" The kid cries, voice cracking with sadness.

The two come to an abrupt halt and the horrendous stench assaults Eret's senses. Malodorous and foul, it makes them gag as the smell becomes unbearable and so fucking strong they can taste it.

Eret covers their mouth, biting the inside of their cheek to keep from vomiting right then and there. Nothing could describe what they were experiencing. Nothing would ever be able to describe it. From everything they’ve dealt with in their lives, nothing prepared them for the sheer revulsion they were feeling

Something they vaguely remember their mother telling them creeps into their mind.

< “You never forget the smell of rotten human flesh or burning flesh. People say it haunts them for years.” >

They blocked that memory out years ago but now that they’re standing there, struggling to keep their head clear because of the stench, they can’t help but think about it again. Their head spins, dizziness growing as they reach up to cover their mouth.

Buzzing… Is that buzzing? Is all Eret can hear now that the child has gone silent. Loud and annoying, way too similar to the sound of a fly.

The tickling feeling of a bug landing on their hand is what confirms their suspicion. Shaking the bug off, they go to grumble a complaint but it’s drowned out by Fundy’s panic-stricken commands as the ginger drags them back.

“Come on- Eret work with me we need to fucking move right now.” He lets go of the brit, instead of focusing on grabbing their shoulders and spinning them around, shoving them back the way they came. Forces them to run--to get their legs moving.

The young child calls out again. “No- wait- please! Come back! Where’s my mommy?”

Fundy’s grip moves from Eret’s shoulders to their wrist, now pulling them along. Weaving between trees, ignoring their protests as they stumble around and run into branches. The two don’t stop moving and soon enough, Eret figures out why.

Crashing follows them. Plants being trampled and branches being ripped apart. Distorted voices begging for the two to come back. Children, adults, boys, girls… all warping and twisting like a broken record.

“Please, come back-”

“-not scary-”

“Hurt you! We won’t!”

“Come back…”

“I wanna go home.”

Heavy breathing… feet slamming against the hard ground… being yanked around every which way as Fundy navigates the forest. Getting them away from the thing chasing them, away from the horrible image Eret can only imagine had been laid out before them.

Their shoulder rams into a tree and the brit gasps and trips up, feet catching against the roots and making them stagger, nearly falling right then and there. The shocking pain that shoots down their arm disorients them. Hit right on the bandaged gashes from the birds’ sharp talons.

It makes Fundy grab them by their upper arm, becoming a better support as their fleeing continues. “Come on, keep moving. We gotta keep going.”

Eret’s only response is a nod.

Move.

Keep moving.

A warbled shriek from behind makes them cringe. Panic and adrenaline. A rush to run. Get away.

Run.

It’s the motivator that gets Eret to finally match Fundy’s pace, finally managing to ignore the obstacles in their way as best as they can. Trying to get away from the creature right on their tail.

“I think-” Fundy pauses for a moment. “I think I see something!”

A small spark of hope ignites in Eret. What the ginger sees, they have no idea, but that doesn’t stop them from hoping. Maybe, just maybe-

An excited cheer comes from the ginger. “Yes! YES! LIGHTS!”

Safety.

The two continue their push forward, exhaustion starting to set in and nearly making the brit slow down. But they can’t. They can’t. They’re so close…

Something grabs their ankle and tugs. Pulls their foot out from under them and sends Eret flying to the ground. They slip from Fundy's hold, falling into the dirt with a cry cut off by the wind being knocked out of them. They reach out, scrambling for purchase as the thing pulls them back. Nails did into the dirt, rip up small shrubs…

They finally get their hands on something. A tree root. Rough bark digging into their skin, leaving small cuts as it scraped against their palms. "FUNDY-"

They kick, doing everything they can to hold onto the roots while trying to dislodge the creature. It’s to no avail, the thing tugging and nearly making Eret let go. The bark shreds their hands and rips their nails. Makes them scream. Makes them almost lose their hold.

The ginger says something. What it is, Eret can't tell, but it vaguely sounded like "hold on."

No shit.

A pained, gargled cry, and then the creature let's go.

Fundy's helping them up now, getting Eret to their feet so they can keep running towards the lights. "They're so close, we're almost there!"

Breathing ragged, the brit does what they can to stay upright and focused on moving. It burns…

Their breath hitches when they run into another tree and it takes Fundy guiding Eret to put their arm around his shoulders for support to get them to ignore it.

It hurts…

Eret flinches when the ginger starts shouting. Presumably at whoever had the lights. They can’t process the words but from what registers, the man seems just as hopeful as the brit.

The two slow down, finally done running. More hands find themselves on Eret’s shoulders and arms, more voices speaking up and talking all at once. The touch makes them snap into reality--makes them listen to what’s going on.

The first thing they hear is Fundy. Breathless, happy, relieved. And a hand on their cheek as Fundy lets go of them… then they’re pulled into a tight hug. A head buried against the crook of their neck, cold, shaking hands wrapped around their shirt…

“We did it,” Fundy whispers. “We’re out…”

Eret returns the embrace, limbs weak and movements slow. They refuse to let go. Even when the ginger begins to profusely apologize. On and on… and Eret refuses to listen.

They’re safe.

#eret #the eret #fundy #itsfundy #dream team rpf #rpf #prince's writing #horror #halloween #spooky szn :)#l'manberg #dream smp #dream smp rpf #fanfic #platonic

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whatdoesshedotothem · 4 years ago

Text

Friday 18 May 1838

7 ¾

12 35/..

dampish dull morning F58 ½° at 8 ¾ - an hour turning out and repacking travelling bag and portmanteau and counting over money – then washed and dressed and breakfast at 9 ¾ - A- tolerably right on getting but breakfasted by herself and this probably set her wrong very poorly but her poorliness has so much of temper in it my pity goes tho’ I say nothing the best way is to let it pass off in this way – breakfast at 9 ¾ had not finished when Madame Mathioli came up with the washing bill abating only a franc and a few centimes – Long talk and she staid till 11 ½ - no good in it but that her French however Liégeoise does me good – I get my ear and understanding more au fait – Doubt whether to go to Spa – A- seems rather better and going on well .:. ordered the horses at 12 ½ for Spa - hotel d’Orange – Paid the hotel bill to Madame M- as also 14/. for the washerwoman – had just written so far at 12 – then at accounts and made out list of books etc. etc. Had M. Mathioli for about ½ hour to give him back his books and prints, and ask him for plan of his foyer de cuisine – satisfied everybody and off from the hotel du Pavillon Anglais à Liège at 1 ¾ for Spa – crossed the pont des arches – 12 minutes from the hotel to the barrière – just out of the barrière turn (right) to Fraipont – the road straight forwards leads to ..... where? pass the new Casino they are building in 3 or 4 minutes from the barrier and at 2 ¾ pass thro’ Chaudfontaine – very nice looking Bains –all around so beautiful and the bathing establishment looks so respectable and comfortable that we think of sleeping there on our return if we can arrange about post horses - at 3 42 change horses at Fraipont beautiful drive from Liège here – the narrow valley arrosée by the Vesdre Vaister as the maitre de poste at Fraipont pronounced it – beautiful valley beautifully shaped rounded and now and then pointed hills – everywhere beautifully [grottoed] wooded and great many good country houses, and good pretty villages – have crossed the Vesdre several times – at 3 55 off from Fraipont the post house stands alone – but near there is a neat auberge and soon afterwards a neat mill-cotton? – at other mills soon afterwards I smelt the smell of wool combing – the valley which opened a little just before Fraipont narrows again very beautifully just out of the hameau (of Frainpont) the Vesdre a picturesque shallow, narrow steam from 4 or 5 to 10 or 15 yards broad or more? – Red mainly argillaceous soil – the slaty strata (several quarries from soon after Liège all along the road) in some places almost perpendicular and everywhere highly inclined – at 4 20 (right) the newly built chateau de [Mazuri] (as pronounced by the postilion) M. Thioli (Theolle) a grotesque gothic as it were card-house set upon on the aisle of the church with a large pointed arched door way in the middle – a gable-ended building close adjoining the corners of the walls finished in 2 round tower with a tricolor flag flying on the top of arch – very striking – bad taste – but pretty? for the situation so beautiful – nice suspension bridge over the river to the pretty little gothic lodge – a very pretty Swiss cottage on the side of the hill above some distance before coming to the chateau – a good mill-establishment probably belonging to m. Thioli (the tradesman, manufacturers are the princes all hereabouts) and a considerable well built brick village Jusquelong ville, or so such name according to our postillon – not far from here the town of Theux (too as pronounced) 2 streets – not well built – more picturesque than good – just out of the town the very fine large remain of the old baronial castle – as it were the remains of a round tower based on a large squary high base finely situated on bold isolated line of hill – the valley opens here particularly on the left, and fine rich hedge-enclosed country – green fields and a little tilth – just like some rich beautiful part of England – nowhere else surely such rich pastures – Theux (Too) is about ½ way from Fraipont to Spa – cloth trade – I smell the smell of wool-combing – no long chimneys – many water wheels – 2 narrow 2 or 3 ft. breast wheels on our aisle, with merely float boards (no boxes to hold the water) – some overshot, some undergo and some breast – great many mills of one sort of other all along the river – at 5 25 nice fence against the river a railing of pyramidal stone posts about 3ft. high and perhaps 2 yards apart – tapering from about 8 inches square at the bottom to 6in. square at the top, and cramped to the tops (laid over) a 6in. square or more rail – very strong, good effect – at 5 ½ enter the 3 aisled avenue (limes inside chiefly elms or poplars outside) to Spa – the line of hill on each side lowers and opens out towards Spa – beautiful drive all the way from Liège, and perhaps more particularly from Theux – at 5 40 alight at the hotel d’Orange – sometime choosing the apartment – at last well pleased with our room looking onto the garden – salon and 2 bedrooms (1 double bedded for A- and myself and one for my dressing room) and 2 little rooms near for Oddy and 1 upstairs again for George all for 9/. a day – our dinner 3/. each + wine – the servants at 2/50 each a day breakfast dinner and supper + 1 bottle wine = 2/. total for the servants 7/. a day – soon settled ourselves and felt before dinner as if we had been here for months – A- better the journey did her good – the best dinner we have yet had at 6 55 we both enjoyed it and our bottle of lunel – A- had a good snoring sleep afterwards and I wrote out today and had just written thus far at 9 ¾ - Drizzling rain all the way – Damp drizzling day – yet still the country (the valley) all along very beautiful – very glad we came – I had forgotten that the drive was so beautiful – here trade spoils nothing – Read as I came along the Essai sur le statistique générale de la Belgique – see that the lieue = 500 metres .:. the post 10000 metres or about 6 English miles -

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randombtsprincessa · 5 years ago

Text

Azure || 3

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Chapters: 01 02

A/N: Below is our precious Alien! Koo!

The beam lit up purplish blue, and a pair of eyes – bright blue eyes looked back at me and I let out a small yelp just as a mouth opened, one word falling from it.

“Hello.”

My foot slipped in the loose dirt, foothold vanishing and I tumbled down, a few inches into the pit. Voice got lost somewhere in the throat and all I could do, was stare dumbly at the tall being. For its part, the creature didn’t give off threatening vibes as it kept standing there, in the light of my mobile flashlight.

Slowly, as if not to startle me, it took a step closer. The Purplish blue skin was what I saw first, with two bright eyes staring straight at me. There was no iris, no pupil, nothing; just blue orbs and a mass of red on what would serve as a head.

The creature was dressed in full black, a shimmery material that stretched onto its torso and legs, harnessing attached to the outfit that was rigged with buckles and buttons of sorts.

What was the most surprising was…it didn’t look too…inhuman. It had a face, lips, nose, jaw and neck. It was just the eyes that made me want to run.

“Do you understand me?” It spoke, and I jumped, my leg fixing itself in the mud even more firmly.

“I…” I looked about, wondering if anybody was around to help me with this. Even if there were, I doubted they would be of much help anyway.

It waited for a reply.

“Ye…yes, I understand you.” I tugged at the leg, trying to free myself from the hold of the earth.

“Ah good,” the blue eyed humanoid said, a hand came up, clamping onto its wrist where a button glowed as it touched it. “Looks like I got the language correct,” it mumbled.

“You…you mean, English?” I asked, frowning a little.

It nodded, and the mouth of the creature stretched, resembling a grimace, rather than a smile. “My name is Jung-Kook. What is yours?”

I blinked. “Um, it’s Y/N.” I lowered my voice and it put its hands palms up and facing me before bowing its head.

“Y/N, it is very nice to make your acquaintance.”

I raised my eyebrows. Who spoke like that, except maybe old timey people? But then, I spotted the button on its wrist still glowing. Maybe he was just speaking normally and it got translated like that?

“Uh…that’s great. Nice meeting you too.” I tugged at my leg again.

“Do you wish assistance with your limb?” it asked, noticing my struggle.

“No, no I got it.” I said but it was already moving…while also changing shape.

The glowing blue eyes dimmed, settling into the whites of a human male’s, only the iris glinted with evidence of the blue now. The limbs shortened, gaining human dimensions and the purplish glow of the skin vanished, retaining a deep golden tan. The floppy red hair fell into its eyes as now before me stood, an almost human looking boy of my age.

It…or He reached down, hand wrapping around my calf and with the other hand; he pushed the earth down, letting me pull my leg free. “There,” He drew back respectfully as I shook my shoe of the loose sand and mud.

“Thanks, I guess.” I looked up at him. “So…what are you doing here?”

Jung-Kook tilted his head. “That is something that I am going to require your help with.”

Maybe the ideas I had had after that particular meeting weren’t the brightest. But then, I couldn’t just leave the being I’d found in the woods out there to fend for himself. So, I’d beckoned at him, turning around and started the trek back home.

Jung-Kook had followed obediently, too quiet as he walked behind me slowly, looking around as he did. We didn’t speak at all till we were at the door. I unlocked it with my key, his eyes inquisitive as he watched me slot it in the lock and turn till it gave way.

And then, I had an absolute stranger that I had found in the woods, crashed landed in some spaceship in a crater in my house.

I turned around to see the man standing very still, in the center of the living room. His hands were bundled close to his body, fingers fumbling among themselves and those azure eyes spun around, soaking in the sights. It wasn’t much to take. Wood and concrete construction had been soon intermingled with metal and steel as generations had passes and were probably boring to the inhabitants of the home.

However, to Jung-Kook, it seemed to be the sights of the Great Pyramids.

“Do you,” I hesitated and Jung-Kook looked at me. “Are you hungry or thirsty or something?” I asked.

There was a pause as the translating button glowed. Jung-Kook processed your words and then took a step forward. “I don’t know what kind of nourishment you have that will work on me but yes, I would love to have something.” He slowed.

“Where am I?” He asked.

I supplied the name of the town.

“That’s not a planet I have heard of.” He frowned in thought.

“Wait, planet…no, we’re on planet Earth.” I clicked my fingers in realization and Jung-Kook’s face cleared.

“Oh,” he smiled, two front teeth poking out. “I have heard of that one. It’s the Blue Planet.” He poked some button on his waist harness.

“Yeah…” I moved into the open kitchen, watching him closely as a panel opened up on his palm, allowing him to click away.

“Terrain foods and water will do just fine.” He called.

“Is cold water and hot toast good?” I called back, pulling out bread and a bottle of water that I handed to him.

There wasn’t an answer. Jung-Kook gingerly accepted the bottle, one hand running up the surface.

“It feels strange to touch.” He murmured.

I took the bottle back, unscrewing the cap. “It’s cold. We put water in refrigerator to freeze or cool.” I explained.

“Like a cryogen chamber; we have those too, but we don’t put sustenance in it,” He returned.

I nodded, watching him place the tip at the base of his mouth, the water slipping onto his tongue and he shuddered, swallowing messily. Water spilled out from his lips, splattering onto his outfit and some on the counter. I moved back to avoid being splashed as well.

Jung-Kook spluttered, coughing, the deep gold of his skin flushing from the strain.

“Forgive me; I wasn’t prepared for that kind of onslaught.”

“Onslaught…? Calm down, it’s just some cold water.” I was saying when the toaster popped.

The reaction that garnered from the man was not what I expected, however.

Jung-Kook shot a mile in the air, blue eyes popped wide open as he let out a very loud and high pitched squeal. Strangely, the sound made something pop in my ear and a lot of lights went off along his shoulders.

The buckles on his clothes loosened, revealing more belts, filled with…some things that looked awfully like weapons of a very high technological grade.

“What’s wrong?” I screeched, hands coming up to rub at my ears.

Jung-Kook had already pulled one of the things from his belt, brandishing it. “What was that?” He screeched in turn.

I moved away so he could see the toaster.

“It’s just your toast!” I switched off the appliance, putting the toast of a plastic plate to slide it over to him.

He watched the lightly browned bread, still suspicion on his face and he prodded it. He actually prodded at it with his stick like thing.

“It’s…food?” he shot at me.

“What else would it be?” I asked, irritated when I noticed the time. My parents would be home in a few hours and there was no way, I could let Jung-Kook march about with that look.

“Ok, we need you to change your clothes.” I said.

All I got was a confused blink.

Jung-Kook sat at my dinner table, wearing a shirt and sweat pants that I’d gotten off of Yoongi and never bothered to return. It was a lot more fitted on him than on both me and Yoongi but it also made it less suspicious.

His chest filled out the green material, legs tapping nervously in the grey pants as he watched for my approval. I’d had him change quickly, stashing the ‘space suit’ under the loose floorboards of my closet.

“Cute,” I said, in surprise, flushing immediately. I had never blurted out a compliment to a guy so unmindfully before – not that it mattered. But he didn’t seem to mind, only taking the compliment in stride.

“Good, does that mean, I blend?” he asked.

I nodded, sitting down in front of him.

“So, you want to tell me everything?”

Jung-Kook fiddled with the hem of the shirt.

“Well, as is pretty obvious, I think, I am…not from this planet.” He began.

“I come from Planet 7B4T3S. It’s one of the farthest planets of the galaxy, and probably the most developed. It’s not discovered by your people yet.”

“Then how did you come here?” I asked.

Jung-Kook smiled that strained smile again, as if he was out of practice. “Because, we have discovered you,” He said.

“Like I said, my planet is much more advanced than this one. We don’t have popping heaters for our carbohydrate cubes.” He indicated the bread. “Anyway, I am a novice student at our Education Agency. I was studying in the training hangar for the Exploration pods. Part of it is mechanical surfing. You take a pod and work it around the outer atmosphere but something went wrong. The expedition program crashed on my server and I shot out of our orbit.”

He bit into the toast with a crunch. “Long story short, I blacked out pretty much all the way due to the pressure changes but here I was when I woke up. I tried to fix the pod, to see what crashed it and if I can reprogram it to take me back home but…”

He made a fist, making a show of plugging something in and then fizzling noises from his mouth.

“I don’t know what I’m doing and I probably don’t have the proper tools to do it.” He gave me a sheepish smile. I would’ve rolled my eyes if it wasn’t so endearing.

I sat there with him for a while, watching him finish the toast, crumbs flying everywhere. He was soon gobbling more food, first two more slices of toast and then a full brick of noodles and then cup ramen.

“You have a big stomach.” I commented, placing the steaming container of spicy ramen in front of the boy but he only shrugged.

“Food on our planet has a higher count of calories because we have higher stamina and energy. What I eat in one meal is probably two of three days worth of intake for you.” He eagerly grabbed the noodles, not paying attention to the temperature spikes anymore as he gripped the fork and began slurping.

A simple movement with the fork and spoon had taken him several tries before he revealed that they used spikes to shovel the food directly into their mouths, or took special forms of capsules, especially if they were doing something important or working and studying.

I think that pill compared to caffeine, not that I asked anything to the alien.

Jung-Kook was already apprehensive of everything except for the wooden chair he sat on and the table in front of him. He jumped at the toaster, cringed from the stove and he was nervous around the fridge.

I was content to leave him eating where he was as I took a minute in the kitchen, working out what I was doing and what I was going to do.

I had brought an alien into my home, I had a crashed space pod in my back woods…it…he was eating at my dinner table. I had fed him, clothed him, there was no way I could let him go out there onto the roads. Not only would it be unethical but also plain stupid.

An alien who had only one place to point to? Nope, no way was he going out there without me.

“Hey, um, Jung-Kook,”

“Yes,”

“I think we should bury your pod.”

Jung-Kook did most of the work.

With a couple rusty shovels that my dad kept in the garage, we dug the pit where his pod had landed a little deeper, allowing the huge thing to sink further into the ground. Then we shoveled the dirt on top of it, patting it with our hands till it lay smooth.

It wasn’t a beautiful job done by any means, but at least no one was going to trip over it if they went jogging through the woods.

By the time, we stashed the shovels and got cleaned up, my parents had returned – all too surprised to see a boy with me.

“His name is Jungkook.” I said, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and squeezing.

“And…?” My father asked.

“And, um, he’s a friend…he’s going to enroll to our school soon and he has no place to stay.” I made up as I went along, with Jung-Kook’s big eyes blinking at me.

“Y/N,” my father immediately began his refusal.

“It’s fine.” My mother said suddenly, smiling as she went to pat Jung-Kook’s cheeks. “As long as you need to, dear,” she said smiling before giving me a warning look over his shoulder.

So far so good, I thought as we retired for the night, Jung-Kook still eating as if he hadn’t eaten more than half of my food in one sitting.

But even as I looked out the window that night to see him pacing restlessly in the back yard, I wondered if it was all good for the alien.

#btsbookclub #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts #jungkook #jungkook x reader #azure

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a-table-of-fics · 4 years ago

Text

Cull to Adventure, Chapter 3, Draft 1

Cull shouldn’t have been surprised. But here he was, caught flat-footed by five Octotroopers on a pyramid of boxes. They didn’t even hesitate to open fire – clearly the one with the phone had everyone on alert now.

He hid back around the corner, wincing as some of the splash from the purple ink landed on him and sent little stings up his legs.

Okay, so. Higher ground, five of them, and they were all prepared for an Inkling to come through. Not a good spot to be in. Cull wondered why he agreed to this. He never joined in Turf Wars. He didn’t know how to fight – He struggled against just one opponent. He heard several Inklings brag about how they wiped the walls with entire teams single-handedly, but a single tentacle could easily overpower him.

Cull instinctively grabbed to tug his beanie downwards, but it wasn’t there. Did he take the Agent title away from someone who could get the Zapfish in minutes?

“HEY! Is the mic busted?”

“H-huh?”

“I said, I think I saw some closer cover. See if you can get to that half-wall over there.”

Cull risked a peek out into the area. Before he ducked back away from the barrage of Octarian gunfire, he indeed saw another wall. It was closer to his enemies, but might offer him a better look. Cull took one last look for another way around. There really wasn’t one.

He swallowed hard, and opened fire. Hopefully he could at least make a path there first.

Unfortunately, as inky projectiles turned the green to purple, the Octarians obviously had other ideas.

Cull stared blankly at the trail of purple for a moment, before regaining what composure he had. He noticed they didn’t take out the green closer to Cull, instead focusing on the end of Cull’s aim. As he had been making paths by shooting by his feet and slowly firing outwards, this presented a problem. Could he even make a way there?

“What’s the holdup, Agent 4? The spread on that thing should give you plenty of time! Just go for the other wall!”

Shaky hands once again prepared to shoot, but this time they aimed directly at the half-wall from the get-go. Score! The Octarians only shot at the destination.

Now there was the issue of getting there. Cull sighed, and sunk into the ink. His nerves screamed at him to swim faster and get out of there ASAP, but there was no sense trying if all he could manage were pathetic splashes the enemy would definitely notice. So it was a slow, awkward, painful way to the other side, but he made it silently.

Now what?

He could throw another bomb to at least strip them of the high ground, but would that give his position away? He risked a peek; they didn’t seem to be on hovercraft, but on turrets. They couldn’t move to attack even if he brought them down to his level, right? But they could just run up to him and beat him up that way… Or capture him… or…

Well, he didn’t really have any other options. It was either this or fleeing, and Cull wasn’t sure he could even attempt that at this point.

He kept his back glued to the wall, readying another Splat Bomb. Hoping for the best, he hurled it behind himself, making sure to pull his hand back into cover before it got soaked in Octo ink.

He heard the explosion go off and saw bits of wood fly overhead. When the blast cleared, there were loud and furious splashes to accompany loud and furious Octarian shouts. Cull risked a peek, and yes, all their turrets were sunk in green, with the Octos pulling and struggling to keep them afloat.

However, all of them still had their tentacles on the controls, and their aim was still squarely on Cull. When they looked up from the ink puddles they were stuck in, Cull yelped and took cover again, watching as yet more shots flew over his head. Okay, no problem, he just had to wait for his ink tank to fill enough for another bomb.

Waiting felt so much longer when you knew there were people nearby who wanted your head on a plate.

Then Cull realized – the shouts and splashes stopped, being replaced with a brief sound not unlike a high-powered faucet, and then silence. Cull looked and the turrets were standing on puddles of purple, as if they were never disrupted. Frantically, Cull grabbed at the spot on his ink tank to produce another bomb. He had just barely enough, luckily.

Ten green eyes turned to follow the bomb. The Octotroopers swiveled their platforms to take aim, firing in the vain hope of doing something to stop the bomb. Cull averted his eyes instinctively; ink splashes in the eye weren’t pleasant, and he wasn’t yet used to splatting anyone.

Once the bomb went off, Cull only had one more enemy to deal with. He went forward to finish them off, and prepared to fire, forgetting that he used the last of his ink to clear out the other four.

He realized his mistake at the same time the Octotrooper did.

So there Cull was, hiding behind the wall again, covered in purple and waiting for his armor and ink to recharge again. At least it was easier with the ink puddle that remained behind cover. Soon, the pain and general physical discomfort stopped, only leaving the more general worry and inexperience.

A few more shots and the Octotrooper was splatted, which somehow caused a nearby launchpad to activate. Cull didn’t wonder about that right now, but if he did, he would have guessed there was some kind of pressure switch or something.

Next, Cull saw the slope ahead was well-coated in purple, but there was something large, rubbery and green in the middle.

“Pop that Balloon Fish!” Marie said. “The Octoslobs keep ink in ‘em; they’ll pick the ink color that hits them and POW!”

Under her breath, she added “shoddy tech, if you ask me…”

Shoddy or not, Marie was otherwise right about the Balloon Fish. A few shots, and Cull was glad to see a ramp coated in green ink. He ran up, but heard a slurping sound behind him. He turned to see that another Balloon Fish had formed and inflated on the stand of the previous one, sucking up some of the surrounding green ink to do so.

Huh.

Well, two patrolling Octotroopers were driving around… a metal cylinder. It had large golden lock on it… Cull could only assume the Zapfish was in there.

“If there’s a vault, there’s a key,” Marie said. “See if one of those Octoslobs have one.”

Cull nodded, squidforming to try and creep up on them. He was thankful this was an easy slope. He didn’t have to struggle so much to swim. Soon, he was up to the large pool of purple his enemies were circling around in. He waited for one of them to be on the other side of the vault, then slowly came out of the ink to open fire.

Spray-and-pray aiming wasn’t an issue at this range. Sadly, it meant the other Octotrooper was immediately on alert. Even worse, the recently-splatted enemy did not have the key. This was Cull’s cue to dive directly into the green ink left by his fallen foe. He could hide and recover ink before taking the other guard on.

It worked for a moment, up until the Octotrooper came up to where Cull was. They didn’t seem to have seen him, but they did notice all the green in their path. The nozzle pointed downwards, and Agent 4 yelped, shooting out of the ink. Doused in purple, he made short work of his accidental assailant.

“Hmm…” Marie mused, as Cull shook the ink off with a grimace. “He didn’t have the key either…”

“Well,” Cull looked around, “now what?”

“Come on, kid! You think they would keep that vault around if they threw the key away? Knowing the Octarians, it should be around here somewhere…”

He looked around. There were apparently two storage rooms on either side, with plenty of crates in them, and a grate to protect each. Picking one at random, he went left and quickly squidformed through.

“Wow, wasn’t expecting you to do that so quickly,” Marie remarked. “There something I should know…?”

“…Graffiti artist,” Cull explained, after an awkward pause.

“Ah. I’ve worked with worse; I was just curious.”

Cull nodded sheepishly, looking around. There was a large pile of crates here, but also a Balloon Fish…

He fired, and the Balloon Fish burst all the crates at once. Not only was there no key to see, several Octarians were apparently hiding in the crates.

Cull had already had quite a day; he wasn’t in the mood to question that.

He fired wildly, hoping his spray-and-pray approach still worked. Unfortunately, as he ran forward, the Balloon Fish re-inflated behind him, knocking him down onto his stomach. He kept a tight grip on the Splattershot this time, but that surprise still knocked the wind out of him. He took a moment to recompose himself, but that was a moment the Octotroopers could fire at him. Not having time to get up, he had to roll out of harm’s way.

It was too late to dodge two of the shots, though – Cull winced as his armor broke again. He was just glad he could get out of the way before the third shot—

His eyes widened in realization, turning back to see the Balloon Fish get hit. The green on its back quickly changed to purple, and as it expanded, Cull could only hope diving into the ink was enough to save him.

BANG! SPLAT!

It wasn’t.

Cull’s “heart” struggled to swim up, away from the enemy ink. He moved haltingly, as even in this form, he had severed and badly cut tentacles. This only compounded the issues caused by not having ink to breathe through. Thankfully, he could sense nearby safety. Green ink, though most of it wasn’t concentrated enough to help. But wait! Back there, ink a-plenty! Cull was completely unable to think of anything except to head there.

It only took about ten seconds, but Cull felt like he was out for an eternity. He clutched his head, slumping onto his knees. He couldn’t even remember anything that happened after the Balloon Fish burst. He looked around, and he seemed to be back at the bottom of the ramp leading up to the vault.

“…First time?” Marie asked, not unkindly.

Cull whimpered in response. He took long, shaky breaths. He had heard that the first splat is the most difficult, of course; it was definitely taught in school. But nothing could have prepared him for the real thing. He quickly patted around himself; his new ink body seemed identical to the old one – right down to his clothing and weapon.

“…You need to leave?” Marie asked, carefully.

He shook his head, slowly standing back up.

“I-I made it t-too far,” he said. “I c-can’t just leave if the Zapfish is s-so close…”

“…”

Cull walked back up, and the vault was once again guarded by two Octarians. They must have re-formed too. Luckily, Cull could still throw Splat Bombs. Unfortunately for him, the next one he threw landed right on top of the vault. The blast still put some ink on them, causing them to yelp in surprise, but it wasn’t nearly enough to defeat them.

Cull hesitated, but ran up to finish the fight quickly, before the ink faded. He stopped to look at the Balloon Fish, and popped it. Running back and forth, still only having a vague concept of aim, he was able to take the guards down a second time.

Well, the left was a bust in more ways than one. Cull sent to the right, and no Balloon Fish was in sight. Instead, an inflatable bumper stood before the mass of boxes. It was odd, but it seemed big enough for an Inkling to hide behind.

He prepared to clear all the boxes here with another bomb, but…no. For all he knew, there were other Octos packed in all these crates, for some reason. He didn’t need to be ambushed again.

As such, he headed to the left, and started to break the boxes individually with his Splattershot. After a couple of Octarians, he found a large orange crate wrapped in packing tape, which made it harder to break. Still, the haphazard reinforcement allowed some ink to seep through and break the wood down. It took a while, but soon the crate shattered, revealing a large, impossible-to-miss key with a crablike design on it. Cull sighed in relief; he was finally going to open that vault and release…

…Another launchpad. He wasn’t done.

“Yeah, sorry, kid. Listen, if you wanna bail…”

Cull shook his head, but inched ahead to the launchpad slowly, leaning back like it would jump up and bite him.

“Yeah, you don’t have to worry about those, at least. Launchpads are designed for safe landings, you know.”

As Cull safely landed, he saw multiple Octotroopers up ahead, and backed up a little.

“Hey, I finally have some good news, Agent! The Zapfish is on our radar! It’s still a bit of distance, but…”

He didn’t acknowledge this at all. All he could think was how awful it would be if he went down when he was this close. Maybe there’d be something other than Power Eggs in these crates. Not that they weren’t helpful in an energy crisis, or easy to pocket, of course. They just wouldn’t be much help in a fight.

He opened one to find…a black case? He opened it up to reveal it was full of…was this translucent ink?

“That’s a set of armor! Should help you out here…”

Cull smiled a little. Finally, some great news. He felt the armor bond with his form, and chose to make the surplus ink this made look like a hardhat, like the Jellies back home always wore. With this, he felt he had a chance!

***

About two minutes later, he was on the other side, panting. Not only was his armor gone, but his suit was once again broken.

“Well…” Marie said, and Cull could swear he heard that forced smile he saw with people who knew about his tentacles, “At least you’re through. Just take care of this guy and we’ll be one step closer to that Zapfish!”

Another shielded Octarian, and there was no running around this guy. They were on a ledge higher up, their back was against the wall, and they were guarded by a wall on either side of them. Cull had no real choices but to try the Splat Bomb again. He doubted his chances with inking that shield up.

Remembering the last one, he decided to aim higher. He grunted as he threw this Splat Bomb, but as he rolled his shoulder, he saw that he hurled it too high. It landed on the ledge above the Octotrooper, and they didn’t seem to notice it, assuming Agent 4 had missed entirely. Cull moved to dodge return fire, using the last of his ink on the shield. It held fast, but this gave the Splat Bomb time to tip over, right into the Octarian’s lap. They shook frantically as the bomb beeped, but to no avail.

Splat!

“Nice one, Agent 4!” Marie remarked. “You sure know how to use the area!”

“…S-sure,” Cull replied, weakly smiling while the platform raised to the green-splattered outpost. “Plan…Planned it a-all along!”

He saw the launchpad on the wall, and looked at the walls thoughtfully. He had tagged unusual places before, and this actually seemed like an easy place to climb, compared to some spots he went to. He just needed to keep his hands and feet on opposite walls, like that one time he clambered down a well. This was far wet, and therefore less dangerous and stupid, so it shouldn’t be too hard.

It was slow to start, but Cull was steadily ascending, and this would be a lot easier than swimming up a wall. At least, for him.

“Uh, Agent 4…? Not that I’m not impressed, but…”

Cull stopped as Marie started to question. He was about a third of the way up, he guessed. But this gave him a moment to look down.

Not the best thing when climbing.

“…Wouldn’t it be a bit easier to ink the wall and climb that way?”

“N-n…”

As Cull thought about how to explain this, he could feel himself slide down a little. He quickly adjusted himself. It looked stupid, and Cull would die if someone saw him like this, but he held fast.

“Ah, y’know what, never mind, kid. You do you. Just stay safe, kay?”

Cull nodded, slowly starting to shuffle up again. Yeah, maybe this was weird, and a little slower than most Inklings swimming upwards, but it was less exhausting, and Cull didn’t need another reminder of his cut tentacles. He just wished he wasn’t wearing gloves today. Still, he soon made it to the top, and found a crate containing a chunk of fish-shaped metal.

“Ooh, nice find!” Marie said. “I’m sure that Sardinium will come in handy!”

Cull pocketed the metal and looked back down to the ledge. This should be easy at least; just a swing down and a quick squidform. He carefully clambered down, letting his body dangle. Thankfully, this meant he was right up against the launchpad. It only took a second for him to be heading off to the next area.

“This crazy plan might work after all!” Marie remarked, more to herself than to Agent 4.

Cull swallowed. She expected failure, just like he did? What if he were to fail now? Oh Cod, he could die doing this! What then? Did he seriously follow someone who claimed to be a celebrity on her word that the Octarians stole the Zapfish? And someone who didn’t expect any of this to work?

Marie must have caught onto Cull’s hesitation, as she was quick to clarify: “…I meant getting someone to help me out here. You’re doing fine, really!”

Not that Cull believed her; he recognized that tone all too well. Still, there wasn’t much he could reasonably do except push forward.

Here, he had to walk over a narrow bridge. It wasn’t forcing Cull to balance, but he took it easy all the same. It looked all too easy to plummet.

“Don’t look down,” Marie said, helpfully.

Cull immediately did, and didn’t immediately regret it. There were hundreds of cramped…well, Cull could only assume they were Octo houses. They were earthly-toned, rounded, and warped in a way that vaguely reminded Cull of coral. Gazing at the unique architecture, it was easy to forget it was a thousand-foot drop between here and there.

“...Or do, whatever.” Marie shrugged. “Just remember this is a rescue mission.”

Agent 4 nodded, carefully walking to the other side, where he could see several crates serving as a barrier to the one opening in the building. He readied his Splattershot once more..

…and stopped. Surely, if he went through here, he would have a bunch of Octarians waiting for him, with weird nozzle-cannons loaded and ready. No, it would be better to look around for another way. There wasn’t much to look at, but Cull did notice a crate haphazardly placed on a ledge below. Not only could he bypass a potential box ambush, but he might have something handy to give him the edge!

When he climbed down there, though, all he found was a tattered paper, with a couple of photographs on it and something written in Inklish. Odd.

He looked it over, and the note talked about a shockwave at a Youth Folk Singing contest from quite a long time ago. But the young girl in the picture looked familiar… Was that Pearl?

This whole paper raised more questions than Cull was comfortable seeking out the answers to. Besides, this just reminded him of a couple years ago, when he had a crush on Pearl. That was…well, looking back, it was just an embarrassing period of his life.

Still, might be worth bringing back. If Marie turned out to be sane and right about the Octarians, maybe she’d know why they’d keep information like this.

Anyway, where to go from here…?

The trip to the next launchpad wasn’t terribly eventful. Cull snuck past the one shielded Octotrooper on patrol, and clambered over the boxes rather than breaking them, being careful not to disturb the Balloon Fish.

But there was no way he was going to be able to sneak past what he saw when he landed. This new area had tons of Octarians in tight little patrols around multiple vaults. No cover, and the floors were coated in purple.

Cull gulped as he looked down at what he was going to face. While Marie did say that inking should come before thinking, this seemed a little much. No cover, no safe ground…And he doubted his slow-to-refill Splat Bombs would get them before they got him. All he had other than what he brought with him wasn’t going to help with combat, unless the Octarians were easily distracted by Power Eggs. There were a couple of small boxes up here, but it’s not like any of them have been much good for Cull, either containing yet more Power Eggs to pocket or more Octarians to battle. The best they did for him was form a bit of weak cover, and these crates were far too small to fill that role.

Actually, that gave him an idea…

Cull began to pull the boxes apart. Maybe he could fashion something like a shield or armor out of the planks and – wait, what was this can? It had a label with an image that looked like a rocket launcher. He couldn’t read what it said, but he had the feeling this was a special of some kind. People talked about them a lot, but he hadn’t seen one up close before.

“Tenta Missiles!” Marie exclaimed. “Stewin’ these stooges should be easy now!”

Cull looked down at what he had made so far for a shield.

“Hey, now,” Marie said, gently. “That wasn’t a bad idea, either!”

Agent 4 shook his head and opened the can, pulling out two very rubbery rocket launchers. A bracelet appeared on his wrist as some more clear ink went into his hands. A big red button appeared on it as the launchers seemed to fade away into Cull.

Tentatively, he pressed the button, and a targeting reticule suddenly appeared in front of his eye and the launchers appeared at full size in his arms. He nearly fell over from the sudden weight, and he had to work to keep himself stable. Suddenly, four different markers appeared in his vision. Unsure of what else to do, he squeezed both triggers. His awkward stance was not enough to keep the recoil from flinging him to the ground, but he was able to see eight inky streaks fly across the sky, and plummet to one of the platforms. Multiple splashy explosion sounds could be heard.

He got up and saw that there was a lot more green on that platform, and no Octotroopers. One of them dropped a key, and he opened the vault to find another can of Tenta Missiles. He looked down to where the sizable squadron was still guarding three different vaults. Looks like he could get eight targets with this. Hopefully he could deal with any remaining foes.

It still took effort to keep standing, but he managed to keep both launchers somewhat upright as he fired more rockets. He kept his eyes shut as he kept steady.

When he opened them, both missile launchers had melted away along with the bracelet and targeting reticule. He heard several panicked Octos from the platform ahead, but it sounded like it was fewer than the squadron Cull had seen. He ran up to check, and yep, the number had thinned down to around five very confused Octotroopers, trying to clean up the splotches of green on their once-perfect purple flooring. In their panic, they missed the two keys their splatted had dropped.

“Now’s your chance, Agent 4! The Zapfish is close!”

Cull nodded, quickly running forward and dropping onto the platform. He hoped he could find the Zapfish quick; it was horribly cruel to keep one in a vault like this…

He opened one, and they were protecting… a can of Power Eggs? Really? He kept firing, making a trail in front of himself as he ran to another vault. Another launchpad. Cull groaned; this was just going to take him into another firefight, wasn’t it? So the Zapfish must be in the final—

“Hey, Agent 4? Where you going? That’ll take you to the Zapfish!”

Cull stopped, taking a second to sidestep an enemy shot, unfortunately back into enemy ink.

“W-w-ow-will it?”

He really didn’t want to be here any longer than needed. He felt like he already wasted enough valuable time on one Zapfish. He painfully stomped through the purple muck to get to the launchpad, and escaped the by-now-enraged Octarians.

He landed once again on a strange floating platform. This one was smaller, with what looked like a massive lightbulb. In it, a Zapfish, struggling against the light clamps that held her by the whiskers. Poor guy – Marie was right. It wasn’t Miffens, but Cull was sure he had seen this little fish around, what with her green-pupiled eyes and strange blue stripe on her lip.

So, he found one. What was he supposed to do now? There was an energy field that swirled around the fish, and it felt quite solid (as well as warm to the touch).

Well, this seemed like as good a time as any to ink. It was pretty much the solution to all of Cull’s problems thus far.

The field around the Zapfish absorbed the ink, but the ink started to swirl within it, and it expanded slightly. Agent 4 kept firing, and the field kept expanding, until it was more liquid than energy, and finally the ink was dense enough to dissipate the field. The last bits of energy had one last surge, causing the ink bubble to burst with a pop!

“Well done, Agent 4.”

Cull gently opened the clamps, and lifted the Zapfish into his arms. She struggled and writhed, but Cull was quick to comfort her with head-petting and quietly going “Shhh…” He figured if the Zapfish bolted now, it would just be trouble, and she would just get taken here again.

While preoccupied with the Zapfish, Cull missed the hum of a motor powering down. What he didn’t miss, however, was the ground he was standing on starting to move. After the initial jolt, he looked around worriedly, his pets and soothes unconsciously getting more frantic. He could do little more but watch while he tried to keep the fish somewhat more at ease than he was.

The platform glided lazily along, finally pivoting to face… the place where Cull started?

“All right,” Marie chirped, “you ready to blow this takoyaki stand?”

#cull goes to octo canyon #chapter 3 #draft 1 #cull to adventure full chapter

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 5 years ago

Text

Allons-y, Mademoiselle Belle

While mulling over the dullness of her daily life, Belle discovers a mysterious box that captures her wild imagination- and makes a fascinating new friend unlike anyone she's met before.

2177 words

I wrote this one literally like 6 years ago and never posted it here. Enjoy!

Belle ran through the field, feeling the green grass tickle her ankles as she fled. She dropped to her knees when she reached the end of the meadow, her gaze falling upon the stream winding below, flowing this way and that into the distant horizon. She struggled to catch her breath as the afternoon's events replayed in her mind on a continuous loop: Gaston, the handsome, arrogant, and vain hunter who had set his sight on Belle as his next prey, had orchestrated a grand public wedding in her yard while her father was away, much to her shock and disgust.

"What did he expect?" Belle spat. Had Gaston, in all his pride and foolishness, truly expected her to leap at the opportunity to be his little wife? She wasn't ready to settle down, period, let alone with Gaston of all people. No sir. Not her.

Sure, he was handsome and rugged. Yes, everyone in town-especially the women- admired and adored him. And okay, she would have a very comfortable home with him. But could he relate to her favorite novels? Could he sit in a meadow with her and discuss Rousseau and other philosophers for hours? Could he love and respect her for her mind rather than the exceptional beauty she was usually valued for?

She doubted it.

Belle sighed and closed her eyes, feeling the light breeze brush her face and flow through her brown hair. Her life was lovely: she had a comfortable home, a loving father, all the books she could ever want thanks to a kind bookstore owner, and everyone in the village was in agreement that she was the most beautiful girl in town. All Belle had to do was snap her fingers and she could have any man in town for her husband.

But no one interested her. No one had she had come across in the village stimulated her mind the way her beloved authors and philosophers did. Not that she thought herself above the townspeople; rather, she fancied herself simply different, as did everyone else.

Thus, she found solace in books. Between the pages of novels Belle found company- friendship, conversation, romance, adventure. But it wasn't enough. She longed to sprout wings and fly far from her little town: to see the pyramids of Egypt, to walk amongst the ruins of Greece, to travel across the vast waters to England. To live.

A gust of air and an unfamiliar whirring sound- not the same as the gizmos her eccentric father dreamed up- interrupting her dreams of adventure. When Belle opened her hazel eyes, an unfamiliar object was settled in the meadow before her, looking at once so out of place yet as if it belonged among the green grass. It was a large, wooden blue box with words printed on the side: POLICE BOX.

While most young women Belle knew would have cowered and ran for the protection of a strong man like Gaston, Belle's curiosity and thirst for knowledge overtook any sense of fear. She rose to her feet and cautiously approached the box, trying to comprehend its sudden appearance. Her slender fingers rested on the cool, hard wood and she traced its edges slowly. She made her way around the box, eyeing it with fascination, until she found a door. A moment's hesitation prevented her from knocking. Was she going mad? The box's presence was completely illogical. And yet… here it was, at her fingertips. But… what could be inside? Some sort of magical creature, no doubt. Maybe a mad fairy or a wicked witch.

Belle chuckled in spite of herself. Fairies? Witches? Despite her passion for fantastic stories of magic and adventure, she had never truly believed in such things; they were simply fun tales. They couldn't possibly be real. But, on the same token, this box couldn't be real, either. With its mysterious appearance, Belle couldn't help but wonder what endless possibilities could have brought it here.

Thrusting all hesitations behind her, Belle turned her attention back to the door. She could stand here all afternoon, wondering what could be inside, or she could do the logical thing and open that door.

Taking a deep breath and brushing a stray hair from her eyes, Belle extended her trembling hand towards the door handle before she lost her nerve, trying to prepare herself for whatever was inside this box. Before she could fully build up her courage, however, the door flew open, causing her to jump back a step in shock, a step that caused her to stumble over a rock and land on her rear end.

"Hello there! Oh bother, are you alright? Come now, up, up. There's a good girl."

Numbly, Belle allowed herself to be helped up to her feet by the mysterious stranger from the mysterious box.

"Well bonjour, mademoiselle," the stranger said a broad grin spreading across his face.

Belle cleared her throat. "Hello," she replied. "Pardon my rudeness, but, who exactly are you?"

The stranger cocked his head to the side. "Who am I? Who am I?"

"Oui monsieur," Belle insisted.

"Why, I'm the Doctor."

"The Doctor?" she repeated curiously.

"Oui."

Belle stared at this strange man, taking in his appearance: his pointy brown hair, his thin-rimmed glasses, the matching brown pants and jacket he wore, and his curious bright red shoes with white tips. He was nothing like anyone she had ever seen in town.

The Doctor buried his hands in his pants' pockets and purposely strolled forward past a frozen Belle, wrinkling his nose. "Ah, colonial France. Very nice, very quaint. You've got a few more years of this, best enjoy it while it lasts. Can't keep the masses down for long, told those noble friends of mine, but they never listen, do they? Anywho, thought I'd take a lovely little holiday before it all hits the fan, see what there is to see, whatnot. So, if it wouldn't be too much trouble, would you kindly point me to the village so I may roam about?"

Quickly recovering from her shock, Belle pointed in the direction he desired. "Across the meadow, over the bridge you find, and follow the dirt road that curves to your left." She'd made that walk almost every day of her eighteen years; she knew it as well as any of her books.

"Hmm. Sounds a tad complicated." He held his arm out to Belle. "Show me the way, mademoiselle? Oh, that reminds me, I forgot to ask your name!"

"Belle. My name is Belle," said she, taking his arm.

The Doctor smiled. "Belle. I don't believe any name has ever fit someone so well. Well perhaps one person…" He stared off into the distance, lost in his memories. Just as suddenly, he was back to attention. "Onward to the village!"

As the two began their stroll, Belle stared at him curiously. "If you don't mind me asking," she began hesitantly, "where are you from?"

"Well." The Doctor smiled as the small bridge came into view. "I am from another world, quite unlike your own, and I travel in my TARDIS- that's the blue box I climbed out of earlier- and visit anywhere I want in time or space." The duo arrived at the bridge. "You must think I'm mad," he supposed.

Surprisingly, Belle shook her head. "Not at all," she confessed. "Truthfully, you sound wonderful."

The Doctor chuckled as they crossed the bridge. "Wonderful, eh? And why, Miss Belle, do you find me wonderful and not wacky?"

"I don't like to call people crazy or insane," the young woman began, speaking slowly. "My father is an inventor, and he's an absolute genius. But everyone in town thinks he's crazy." After a moment she added, "He's not."

The Doctor stared at her thoughtfully. "They look at you differently too, don't they?" he asked quietly.

She nodded. "I read a lot," she explained. "And I dream of adventure and far-off lands and exciting people. Every other girl in town just dreams of a strong, handsome husband to take care of her."

"But you want true romance and love and companionship, don't you Belle?"

"Oh yes," Belle breathes, the village growing closer. "There's a man in town who has asked me to marry him, but-"

"Belle."

Standing before the two was a mountain of a man, his black hair pulled into a ponytail and large boots covering his usually stomping feet. Gaston gazed down at them the way a hawk eyes its defenseless prey.

"Good afternoon Gaston," Belle murmured, subconsciously tightening her grasp on the Doctor's arm as she looked to the ground.

Gaston's focus shifted to the Doctor, taking in his strange clothes and lanky figure, and finally the way he smiled childishly as Belle clung to him. "And who would this be?"

Before Belle could answer, the Doctor stretched out a friendly hand, not registering the scowl on Gaston's face. "Ah, yes. I'm the Doctor. Lovely to meet you. Belle was just showing me the village." His smile didn't fade as Gaston ignored his hand. "Right then, if you'll excuse us, I see a bakery over there and I skipped lunch. Come along, Mademoiselle Belle." His eyes danced between Belle and Gaston as he chuckled to himself. "Mademoiselle Belle. Oh, I like that." He tugged Belle's arm towards the bakery. "Allons-y, Mademoiselle Belle!"

Belle glanced back at Gaston, who stared after them with fire in his eyes. She turned to the Doctor, who was excitedly chattering about how good the bread smelled. "Doctor?"

"Hmm?"

"Remember I told you a man asked for my hand?"

"Mmm hmm," he replied absently.

Belle took a deep breath. "Well, that actually happened today. And it was Gaston who asked." The words came out in a jumble, but the Doctor caught every word she blurted out.

"Ah." After a long moment, the Doctor said, "That might explain why he wouldn't shake my hand. Oh well. Now then, what shall we get?" He nodded towards the cart full of breads and pastries.

"Um… the baguettes here are excellent here," she murmured. Belle looked back again, watching Gaston sulk into the tavern, his favorite place in town. She sighed with relief and turned back to the Doctor. "Marie makes them fresh every morning. Oh, and the croissants are delicious too…"

Less than an hour later, the Doctor smiled as he took another piece from the dwindling baguette in Belle's hand. He looked down at her as she talked while they strolled along.

"… and she doesn't realize it's him until chapter three!" Her eyes lit up with excitement.

"Oi! Thanks for the spoiler!" The Doctor shouted.

Belle smiled and shook her head. "I'm sorry. It's just my favorite book. I've read it twice already," she admitted with a shrug.

The Doctor cocked his head curiously. "Twice, really? What about it do you love so much?"

A dreamy expression crossed Belle's beautiful face. "What don't I love? Far-off places, daring swordfights, a prince in disguise!" She handed the Doctor the last of the baguette. "That's why I love books, I guess. I don't get much adventure around here. But in between the pages of books, I can go anywhere and be anyone. When I read I get to travel through time and all over the world and meet amazing people who inspire me. I love going to these worlds outside my own."

There was no response from the Doctor. Instead, he grabbed Belle's hand and smiled at her. He turned and ran through the town, a laughing Belle in tow. Not caring about the strange and curious looks from everyone around them- as both were used to such looks- the two twisted and turned their way down the streets of town and back down the dirt path, over the bridge, and across the meadow. Breathless, they arrived at the TARDIS.

"Come with me," the Doctor choked out between gasps.

Belle blinked at him. "Pardon?"

He smiled, grasping both her hands in his. "Come away with me," he repeated. "You want far-off places? I can show you those. We can go to a planet all the way across the galaxy. We can visit ancient India. We can meet Plato in Athens. We can see France a thousand years from this moment." He looked into her eyes, excitement covering his handsome features. "And I can have you back in time for supper."

"Oh, Doctor, I don't know." Belle bit her lip, looking down.

"Madamoiselle." The Doctor lifted her chin. "I understand. It's madness. There's danger- real danger- involved. I'm afraid I can't guarantee your safety. But I can swear to you that you will have the experience of a lifetime. You will make amazing memories. Belle, you can have your own adventure unlike anything you've ever imagined."

Belle looked in the direction of the village. The village was the same as it was yesterday, or last week, or even last year. And surely it would be the same when she returned. She turned to the Doctor, taking a deep breath.

"Allons-y, monsieur Doctor!"

#doctor who #doctor who fanfic #beauty and the beast #beauty and the beast fanfic #tenth doctor #tenth doctor fanfiction #doctor who fanfiction

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