02-23-2016, 01:55 PM
Mickey was beginning to grow worried about Belle.
Prior to the competition, when she had thrown around words like ‘cartoon’ and ‘show,’ he’d thought of it as a mere momentary delusion. Perhaps she had confused him with someone she actually had seen on TV—after all, there were plenty of famous mice that had their own entertainment franchises.
He had always been partial to Fievel the Mouse, personally.
Admittedly, part of it had contributed to his fear that somehow, some way, other realms spied on his—that would certainly explain how Omni had managed to find him. But that all still seemed like crazy talk.
Especially now, after her outburst with Link. The girl had gone off the handle, rambling on about things like video games and Ocarinas of Time and other strange, foreign-sounding phrases that seemed to catch the green-clad boy by surprise. They disturbed Mickey, a little bit, too; Blues seemed to take them in stride, coming up with some cockamamie theory about how maybe Belle’s world was connected to Link’s and his own Disney Realms.
Psh, the mouse scoffed, Now that’s just a crock of poo.
Blues snatched his scarf away from Belle, who, in her haze, had assaulted Link trying to get his autograph. Mickey huffed a little bit, but he couldn’t tell whether it was from frustration with the redhead girl’s condition or jealousy that despite his fame in her eyes, she’d never asked him for his autograph.
“You need to use this to stop the bleeding anyway, Belle,” Proto Man scowled, shoving the girl to the ground and once again wrapping his blood-stained scarf tightly around her head. She grimaced.
“Such a buzzkill, Blues,” she sassed him, but the preteen machine took on the role of the protective parent and simply responded with the silent treatment as he finished re-bandaging her wound. Meanwhile, Mickey Mouse turned to Link, whose relief at seeing some friendly-ish faces had quickly transformed into something between awe and fear. Poor guy, he’d probably been through a bunch of stuff on this island.
“Hey,” Mickey reached out with one of his gloved hands, offering to help Link further into the clearing. “Glad you’re friendly now.”
“Yeah, about before…” Link started, “…Kopaka, he, uh, he’s after you bad.”
“I know,” the mouse assured their new buddy, “But it’s cool. I know it’s hard to tell who’s good and who’s bad in this place at first. Everyone seems okay at first but lemme tell ya, deep down they’re all a bunch of goshdarn evildoers. Well, most of them.” At that last amendment, the mouse gestured to Proto Man and Belle, still bickering about the redheaded girl’s bandage.
Link nodded in agreement. “They seem okay.”
“They are,” Mickey stole a glance at his friends, “and there’s some other nice guys out there. But you gotta be careful. People here can be nasty. It’s okay though—Teucer gave me a survival guide to make sure we don’t run into too much trouble.”
“OhmyGOD,” Belle shouted out from a few meters away, “You’re Link and you’re TALKING!”
Mickey and Link shared a puzzled look, and then an idea sparked in the mouse’s brain.
He pulled the rolled up Play, Boy from his back pocket and, despite a quizzical glare from Link, began flipping through it. He’d seen many an article about how to soothe a disturbed woman in here, so maybe he could find one that would help him out. Soon enough, he landed on one that seemed at least slightly legible. Hopefully it would help start Belle on the road to recovery, because these head injuries had really begun to mess with her mental faculties.
“Hey, Belle,” Mickey said, scurrying over to where Blues and the redhead sat, “You’re looking extra hot tonight!”
Belle’s face went pale.
“…what?”
“Yeah, I really appreciate having you in my life!” the mouse continued, reading almost verbatim from the page. Blues leaned over to him.
“…what are you doing, Mick?” he asked. His expression seemed a bit concerned, but the King couldn’t possibly understand why.
“Look, see—” the mouse pointed to the page, “‘Remind her how hot she is. Tell her how much you appreciate her. This is your one-way ticket to a more happy and DTF lady!’ I don’t know what DTF means, but I’m just trying to make sure Belle feels better!”
Little could be heard over the sounds of Belle’s desperate, embarrassed sobs.
Prior to the competition, when she had thrown around words like ‘cartoon’ and ‘show,’ he’d thought of it as a mere momentary delusion. Perhaps she had confused him with someone she actually had seen on TV—after all, there were plenty of famous mice that had their own entertainment franchises.
He had always been partial to Fievel the Mouse, personally.
Admittedly, part of it had contributed to his fear that somehow, some way, other realms spied on his—that would certainly explain how Omni had managed to find him. But that all still seemed like crazy talk.
Especially now, after her outburst with Link. The girl had gone off the handle, rambling on about things like video games and Ocarinas of Time and other strange, foreign-sounding phrases that seemed to catch the green-clad boy by surprise. They disturbed Mickey, a little bit, too; Blues seemed to take them in stride, coming up with some cockamamie theory about how maybe Belle’s world was connected to Link’s and his own Disney Realms.
Psh, the mouse scoffed, Now that’s just a crock of poo.
Blues snatched his scarf away from Belle, who, in her haze, had assaulted Link trying to get his autograph. Mickey huffed a little bit, but he couldn’t tell whether it was from frustration with the redhead girl’s condition or jealousy that despite his fame in her eyes, she’d never asked him for his autograph.
“You need to use this to stop the bleeding anyway, Belle,” Proto Man scowled, shoving the girl to the ground and once again wrapping his blood-stained scarf tightly around her head. She grimaced.
“Such a buzzkill, Blues,” she sassed him, but the preteen machine took on the role of the protective parent and simply responded with the silent treatment as he finished re-bandaging her wound. Meanwhile, Mickey Mouse turned to Link, whose relief at seeing some friendly-ish faces had quickly transformed into something between awe and fear. Poor guy, he’d probably been through a bunch of stuff on this island.
“Hey,” Mickey reached out with one of his gloved hands, offering to help Link further into the clearing. “Glad you’re friendly now.”
“Yeah, about before…” Link started, “…Kopaka, he, uh, he’s after you bad.”
“I know,” the mouse assured their new buddy, “But it’s cool. I know it’s hard to tell who’s good and who’s bad in this place at first. Everyone seems okay at first but lemme tell ya, deep down they’re all a bunch of goshdarn evildoers. Well, most of them.” At that last amendment, the mouse gestured to Proto Man and Belle, still bickering about the redheaded girl’s bandage.
Link nodded in agreement. “They seem okay.”
“They are,” Mickey stole a glance at his friends, “and there’s some other nice guys out there. But you gotta be careful. People here can be nasty. It’s okay though—Teucer gave me a survival guide to make sure we don’t run into too much trouble.”
“OhmyGOD,” Belle shouted out from a few meters away, “You’re Link and you’re TALKING!”
Mickey and Link shared a puzzled look, and then an idea sparked in the mouse’s brain.
He pulled the rolled up Play, Boy from his back pocket and, despite a quizzical glare from Link, began flipping through it. He’d seen many an article about how to soothe a disturbed woman in here, so maybe he could find one that would help him out. Soon enough, he landed on one that seemed at least slightly legible. Hopefully it would help start Belle on the road to recovery, because these head injuries had really begun to mess with her mental faculties.
“Hey, Belle,” Mickey said, scurrying over to where Blues and the redhead sat, “You’re looking extra hot tonight!”
Belle’s face went pale.
“…what?”
“Yeah, I really appreciate having you in my life!” the mouse continued, reading almost verbatim from the page. Blues leaned over to him.
“…what are you doing, Mick?” he asked. His expression seemed a bit concerned, but the King couldn’t possibly understand why.
“Look, see—” the mouse pointed to the page, “‘Remind her how hot she is. Tell her how much you appreciate her. This is your one-way ticket to a more happy and DTF lady!’ I don’t know what DTF means, but I’m just trying to make sure Belle feels better!”
Little could be heard over the sounds of Belle’s desperate, embarrassed sobs.
![[Image: 2agonyw.png]](http://i68.tinypic.com/2agonyw.png)