#cryptid-believer

The drumming had only gotten louder and more frenzied since they’d arrived at the treehouse.

Simon wasn’t even sure if ‘louder’ was the right term to use. Gunter was unable to hear the drums, perhaps due to being less humanoid, or maybe he didn’t  have the wanderlust mentioned on the inside of the game box.

A game for those who seek to find/A way to leave their world behind, The game’s introduction read. Simon had seen the words himself - he’d peeked inside the game before he and Bonnie had set off for the treehouse. It had seemed so harmless in person, and for a moment, he wondered if Bonnie had been hearing drums from somewhere else.

The moment he’d closed the case again, Simon had been able to hear the drumming too, however, and it was definitely coming from the game.

Simon looked up from the box - he’d set it on the kitchen table, where there was quick access to the sink (if they needed water), the oven (if they needed fire), and also where Gunter had left a jug of freshly squeezed apple and raspberry juice and some cinnamon peanut butter apple slices for them to eat as they played. (He was also making flapjacks, but they were still in the oven at present.)

“Dib needs to hurry up,“ Bonnie grumbled from across the table, her dark-ringed eyes also fixed on the box. about two minutes after they’d sat down, Bonnie had grabbed two of Gunter’s clones and pressed them to each ear like they were pillows, attempting to block out the - admittedly pretty impressive, Simon thought - tattoo of drumming that was emanating from the antique carved wooden case laying on the newer, more identifiable wood of the table (apple wood, if Simon recalled correctly).

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll be here soon,“ one of the Gunter clones said. Bonnie made no movement to indicate that she had heard the clone speak - she probably couldn’t, anyway. Bonnie had made it clear on the way there that she was going to cover her ears even if only for the placebo effect of doing so.

Raising himself halfway out of his seat, Simon peered out of the window on the opposite side of the room, scanning the direction from Bonnie’s for the approach of that telltale spiky inkblot of hair approaching through the paled late-autumn grass.

hahah

thanks Dib

that’s not necessary although I appreciate it a lot

he’s just. old. and middle eastern. and they dont raise men to apologize over there.

this is my first prompt so, blows u a kiss

“Oh, pardon me, I didn’t realize you were expecting a medal,” the agent responds, casting the kid in the seat beside him only half a glance. It’s funny, though--for all of that quarter of a second that he even looks at Dib, the eleven year old feels an overwhelming sense of disdain, radiating from the driver.

“Let me make something clear, Encyclopedia Brown, and I’d like to make sure I don’t have to repeat myself.”

Dib sinks into the worn leather seat. It sticks to his skin unpleasantly.

“I’m aware of what you seem to regard as your quote unquote past achievements, but while you’re here instead of in an eight by eight cell, you’re starting off clean. That means you have no achievements. Any achievements you make are my achievements, right up until the very second you become a legitimate agent.”

Dib’s heart throbs in his throat. He stares at the ugly grey color of his pants, and how his fists curl and uncurl on the fabric of his knees.

“So, yes, I did see your file. But, as you’ll be quick to learn, I don’t care. Now shut up, I’m getting off the freeway.”

Mothman Heart for @redmageseptavious

(normal) Moth Heart for @well-spoken-rambler

Paperman Heart for @nmzuka and @bonkalore

Rose Petal Heart for @faerendipitous

Yo, that is like, the hardest thing to answer! There are a LOT of them that I may possibly have an unhealthy obsession with. The one that just popped into my head, that I am still wigged out by, would be the Phoenix Lights. Weirdest darn thing I ever saw and wouldn’t be the last unexplained lights I saw around Arizona either.