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livesincerely · 10 months

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take a shot (but how’s your aim?) ch. 8 - interlude: recalibrating

Also on Ao3. Chapter seven here.

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“And you’re sure you’re okay with this?” Jack asks for what feels like the hundredth time, the shadows cast by the setting sun emphasizing the worried furrow between his brows. “You jus’ say the word and I’ll tell Racer to kick rocks—“

“Jack,” Maggie sighs, stopping him before he can get worked up again. “It’s fine. I’m sure it’ll all be fine.”

As if sensing her nerves, Jack wraps a protective arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer as they continue making their way downtown. “If he tries anything stupid, if he steps a toe outta line, I swear I’ll—“

“You said he wanted to apologize,” Maggie reminds him.

“That's what he said,” he confirms with a frown.

“Then I’m sure it will be fine,” Maggie says, trying for optimism despite the flutter in her stomach. “Where did you say that we’re meeting him?”

“You know Irving Hall?” Jack asks. “Ms. Medda, the lady that owns it, lets me use it sometimes. Figured it was a little more private than Jacobi’s or the Square. She said it’s fine as long as we’re out by 8.” A sudden scowl. “Racer better not be late or I’m gonna—“

“Can we talk about something else, please?” Maggie blurts, and Jack falls abruptly silent. “How was your day?”

Jack’s eyes turn stormy. “It was fine.”

“Have things gotten any better?” she presses tentatively. “Or are they still giving you a hard time?”

An unhappy shrug. “Could've been better. Could’ve been worse.”

“Well, maybe this is a sign that things are starting to improve,” she suggests. “At least one of your friends is making an effort to fix things, right?”

“Yeah,” Jack mutters. He doesn’t look the least bit convinced, which doesn’t exactly instill her with confidence. “Right.”

All too soon, they arrive outside the theater. Maggie can’t help another swell of anxiety, smoothing her hands over the pleats of her skirt.

Jack’s keen gaze catches her fidgeting: his expression softens and he lets out a long breath, a warm hand landing high on her back.

“Hey,” he says gently. “It’s all gonna be okay. I know he ain’t made a great first impression—god knows he deserves a few smacks upside the head—but Racetrack ain’t a bad sort. Me an’ him… we’re havin’ our own issues that ain’t got nothin’ ta do wit’cha.”

“You keep saying that,” Maggie notices. “And I know I shouldn’t care so much about what one person thinks of me, but he’s one of your closest friends, Jack. One of your brothers. I don’t want him to hate me.”

“Racetrack don’t hate you,” Jack says, and on this point, at least, he seems sure. “He ain’t hardly even met you. Don’t let him make ya nervous.”

“I just don’t know what to expect,” Maggie admits. “I only really know him through what you’ve told me, and you’ve been so angry with him—“

“Like I said, we got our own issues to sort out,” Jack assures her wryly. “I’m mad at him, he’s pissed at me, an’ that ain’t lookin’ like it’s gonna change any time soon. But, even when he’s bein’ a—pardon my French—a complete asshole, Racer ain’t never been mean. You shouldn’t’ve gotten dragged into the middle of our shit: I know it, an’ he knows it too. It’s all gonna be fine.”

Maggie takes a steadying breath. “It’s all going to be fine,” she repeats.

“Atta girl,” Jack says, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Chin up, ya hear? And, hey, if things end up goin’ south, I’ll shave off his eyebrows while he sleeps,” he offers, a spark of humor tugging at the corner of his mouth. “So you can keep that in your back pocket, too.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she says, returning his grin with a smile of her own.

“We can head inside while we wait for him,” Jack says, inclining his head towards the theater. “It’s jus’ in here.”

He reaches for the handle of an unobtrusive metal door, but right as he opens it he walks into the path of someone coming through from the other side. There’s a kerfuffle of fumbling footsteps and flailing limbs, then they both reach out to steady the other as one.

“Dave!” Jack exclaims, eyes wide.

“Jack!” the other person says, just as surprised. It takes Maggie a moment to place him: it’s David—Jack’s David—the one he’s been so worried about recently.

The two of them stand there, staring at each other, locked in their pseudo-embrace, for a moment longer. Then all at once they surge apart.

“What are you doing here?” Jack asks, and the change that’s come over him is as all-encompassing as the break of dawn. It’s not the frustration from earlier, or even the easy comfort of just beforehand; his attention catches and flares like fresh kindling, intensely focused and flame-bright. “I ain’t seen ya all day.”

David hoists his bag higher on his shoulder, shuffling another step backwards. He seems far less enthused at seeing Jack than Jack does at seeing him. “Oh, well, you know,” he murmurs. “Just needed a place to think.”

His gaze lands on Maggie and his expression seems to stick for a moment, like a rusted crank that won’t quite turn smoothly. When he smiles at her, his eyes are weary.

“Oh,” he says softly. “Hi, Maggie. Sorry, I didn’t see you there at first. How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you,” Maggie answers, not quite sure what to make of him. Even without the familiarity Jack has with him, she can tell at a glance that he’s not at his best: there’s a heaviness in his posture, a dullness to his pallor that speaks of several sleepless nights, and the haphazard way his curly hair falls over his forehead reminds her of her own hair when she’s at her most frazzled. “How are you, David? Or do you prefer Davey?

He winces, mouth curling into a grimace.

“Oh, David’s fine,” he says. “And I’ve been good, thank you.”

Jack gives a pointed scoff, the noise unexpectedly harsh amongst the polite small talk. David’s frown deepens almost imperceptibly and Maggie can feel something similar settling across her own features, her eyes darting back and forth between them.

“Jack mentioned you’d been under some stress, recently,” she says carefully, trying to navigate the obvious tension that’s fallen over their odd little trio. “I hope things start to take a turn for the better soon, if they haven’t already.”

David’s expression turns even more brittle around the edges. “That’s kind of you to say,” he responds after a moment. “But I’ll be fine, regardless.”

He glances between her and Jack in much the same way that she’d been considering the two of them. He seems to come to some sort of conclusion—fresh understanding swells over him like a crashing tide.

“Ah,” he says simply. “I won’t hold you up any longer. Have a nice evening.”

“Whoa, hey! What’s the rush?” Jack asks, lurching forward on unsteady feet, a hint of panic behind his eyes. “You don’t gotta run off.”

“I need to get home,” David says, a touch curtly. “And I’m sure the two of you have plans you’d like to get back to.”

“But, Dave—“

“But, what, Jack?”

Jack’s mouth works soundlessly for a moment, hurt bleeding across his features like an open wound. David doesn’t meet his eyes, staring past him towards the main road, his shoulders hunched like he’s bracing for an argument.

Maggie’s wondering exactly how to de-escalate the situation, what, exactly, she’s de-escalating, and if she even can, when a voice from behind her drawls, “Well, ain’t this a party.”

“Race,” David says, relief evident in every inch of his body.

“Racetrack,” Jack acknowledges much more cooly.

“Jack,” the boy, Racetrack, greets. “Maggie,” he continues, tipping his cap in her direction.

“What are you doin’ here?” He asks David, giving him a scrutinizing once over. Maggie’s not sure what he sees, but his stare turns to Jack for a brief, accusing second, and he steps closer to David’s side, as if to put a barrier between them. Judging by the way Jack’s expression sours, he’s noticed the same. “You don’t gotta be here for this.”

“I was just leaving,” David says quickly, then seems to process Racetrack’s words. “What do you mean…?” His eyes flit from Racetrack to Jack to Maggie in short succession. “Oh. Then I should definitely get out of your way. It was nice speaking with you, Maggie.”

“Wait,” Jack interjects before he can make his exit, and there’s a depth of feeling in his voice that makes her heart lurch in her chest. “Will I… I’ll see ya in the morning?”

David hesitates, then gives a brisk nod. He gives Jack a wide berth as he walks away, but one of his arms trails behind him as he goes—like he doesn’t know what to do with the empty space at his side, even as he creates it.

Jack’s stares after his retreating form for several long seconds, his hands curling into fists that he shoves roughly into his pockets. Racetrack lets out a long exhale, almost a sigh, as it all plays out. Maggie turns towards him automatically at the sound, and their eyes lock behind Jack’s back.

Racetrack’s gaze is piercing but not unkind: a little exasperated, a little rueful, and far too knowing. Biting her lip, Maggie looks away.

“Jack,” Racetrack eventually calls out, and Jack startles at the sound, clearly lost in his own thoughts. “Maybe we should, uh… get back to business?”

Jack is not ready to get back to business. “He looks like hell, Race. I thought you were lookin’ out for him?”

“I am lookin’ out for him,” Racetrack defends, in the sandpaper tones of someone who’s very tired of repeating themselves. “I ain’t a miracle worker, cowboy.”

“Yeah, tell me somethin’ I don’t know,'' Jack retorts, and Maggie’s always known him to be the protective sort, but the feeling seems to hone the edge of his words particularly sharply in this instance. “He looks like he’s ‘bout ta keel over any second!”

Racetrack bristles visibly at his tone, but to her surprise, he doesn’t lash back.

“Jack,” he says instead, sounding like he’s reaching for the deepest reserves of his patience, and it occurs to Maggie that they’ve already had this argument—several times over, it seems. “I ain’t here to hash it out with you over Davey.”

Jack stares at him, uncomprehending. Maggie shifts her weight, feeling increasingly out of place, and some part of her almost wants to laugh at the irony of the situation, given that they are, ostensibly, only here on her behalf. The motion draws Jack’s attention and his eyes snap to hers, remembering her presence. The fight seeps out of him like a candle that’s been snuffed out.

“Right,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “We should, uh… head inside, I guess.”

“Actually,” Racetrack says, holding up a hand. “Maybe you could give me and Miss Margaret some privacy for this one?”

“Uh huh,” Jack huffs, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “How ‘bout, no.”

“It’s okay, Jack,” Maggie interrupts before they can continue squabbling. She finds herself suddenly exhausted with this whole ordeal, more than ready to get things over and done with. “I don’t mind.”

Jack studies her expression. “You sure?”

She gives him a tight smile. Of all the things she’s unsure about in this moment, this is perhaps the least of them. “I’m sure.”

“I’ll be right outside,” he says.

Racetrack holds the door to the theater open for her, which gives her a second to collect her thoughts. The inside of the building is larger than she expected—unfinished brick walls and high, vaulted ceilings—and almost entirely empty, save for a few tall, rectangular structures covered in drop cloths leaning up against the far side of the room. Maybe set pieces, she wonders idly, but she’s not familiar enough with the workings of a theater to do much more than guess.

Racetrack seems a touch more familiar with the space—he knows where to find the cord for the overhead lights, at least—but his eyes are just as curious as her own as he takes in the covered pieces.

However, he doesn’t give them much more than a passing glance: he rolls his shoulders back and turns to face her, solemn and determined.

“I’m sure Jack told ya already,” he says, sweeping his flat cap off his head and tucking it into the waist of his pants, “but I asked to meet wit’cha because I wanted ta say sorry for bein’ so rude to ya, when Jack first introduced ya to everyone. I don’t got a good reason for why—they’s all jus’ excuses, if I’m bein’ honest, an’ it’s not even really my story ta share—but even if I had the best reason in the world, I’d still owe you an apology. Because you didn’t even do anythin’ wrong, I was jus’ bein’ nasty to ya ‘cause you were there to be nasty to. An’ that ain’t right. So, I’m real sorry ‘bout it.”

Maggie blinks, overwhelmed by the barrage.

“That’s it.” Racetrack tacks on awkwardly, something undeniably nervous creeping into his posture. “Uh, I can try sayin’ it again if I went too fast the first time, Albie’s always tellin’ me ta slow down—“

“No, you don’t have to—“ Maggie takes a breath, some of her own nerves fading away in the face of his own. She offers him a small, but honest smile. “I accept your apology.”

“You don’t gotta,” he tells her seriously. “I was an ass—sorry, ‘cuse me—a jerk, an’ it’s okay if you’re still mad. You prob’ly should be, I’d deserve it.”

“I’m not mad,” Maggie tells him. “I never was. Jack already explained that you were upset about something else, I was just… there. But I do appreciate you apologizing.”

Racetrack stares at her.

“…I kinda feel like you’re letting me off the hook too easy,” he says, looking perplexed. “You sure you ain’t mad? Nothin’ I can do ta make it up to ya?”

“Well, there is, maybe, one thing,” Maggie says. “I don’t mean to insert myself, but whatever’s going on between you and Jack and…” She pauses. “…and David, can you please try to fix it?”

Racetrack’s expression turns blank.

Hurriedly, she continues, “Not that I’m saying it’s your fault, or anyone’s fault in particular, or even that it’s up to you to fix it. But whatever it is that’s wrong, Jack’s been really, really bothered by it. He’s been beating himself up over not being able to help, over making things worse and being useless, so maybe you could… reach out? Extend an olive branch? Call a truce? Anything that’ll start to patch things back up between you all.”

“…Not askin’ for much, are ya?” Racetrack mutters under his breath, reaching up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “I… Listen. I’ll be honest, things are… complicated, to say the least. I’m not even sure if things can be fixed—at least, not in the way that Jack thinks they can be fixed. There’s a lot of hurt goin’ around, an’ most of it ain’t even mine. So, I can’t promise nothin’. But I guess… I could stand to let up on him some,” he agrees with a sigh. Then, nonsensically, he adds, “It ain’t his fault, really, even though absolutely it is.”

“Thank you,” Maggie says, deciding not to probe further. “I know it’s probably none of my business.”

Racetrack snorts.

“You’re the last person that should be thanking me,” he says, with a grim sort of smile. “But I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all I ask.”

Racetrack leans back on his heels, his gaze making its way around the room again, and his eyes land on one of the tarped-over pieces.

“Beatin’ himself up, you said?” he wonders, stepping closer to it. He lifts hand as if to uncover it, but he only reaches for a corner of the sheet, twisting it around between his fingers. “I shoulda figured.”

“What do you mean?” Maggie asks, not following.

“You know,” Racetrack says, unhelpfully. “Jack and his paintings.”

“His… paintings?”

“All these?” Race says, gesturing around, looking a little confused that he has to explain. “These are all Jack’s. He paints the backdrops for the shows here.”

“Jack paints?” Maggie asks, surprised.

“You didn’t know?” Race questions. “Yeah, he’s into all kinds of artsy stuff—drawing, painting—and he’s real good at it.”

“I knew he could draw,” Maggie says, feeling the strange need to defend her limited knowledge. “I mean, I've seen his comics in the paper. That’s how we met.”

Racetrack waves a dismissive hand. “No, yeah, he does the weekly comic ‘cause it’s good money and ‘cause he likes ta rub Joe’s nose innit, but he’d paint for Medda for free, jus’ ‘cause he loves it so much. Oh, don’t worry, Ms. Medda’s a good lady, she keeps things square, don’t take advantage or nothin’,” Racetrack hurries to assure her, misreading the expression that’s settled across her face. “I jus’ meant, this is the kind art he really loves.”

“He’s never mentioned,” Maggie murmurs, taking in the assortment of covered canvases with new eyes. “I had no idea.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Jack,” Racetrack says, rolling his eyes. “He and Ms. Medda got some kinda deal—she gives him the supplies and the space to work and he gets to use whatever ain’t needed for the theater for his own projects. Judgin’ by all the stuff that’s lyin’ around, he’s been at it a lot, recently. Says it helps him think. Don’t take it personal, he gets kind weird about it. None of even knew about it until after the strike an’ he don’t hardly show ‘em to anybody except—“ he coughs, fumbling for words, then continues, “—uh, except when, uh, Ms. Medda wants to check on his progress. For the shows, I mean.”

But that wasn’t what he was going to say. And they both know it.

“Oh,” Maggie says softly. And to think that she’d been so nervous about this meeting in the days leading up to it. How silly she’d been. “I see.”

“Aw, hell,” Racetrack groans. “I didn’t— I wasn’t gonna say anythin’. Really, I wasn’t! But…” He gives a helpless sort of shrug. “You saw ‘em yourself. You saw how they were. You don’t even need’ta say anythin’.”

Maggie closes her eyes.

“…No,” she agrees after a moment. “I suppose you don’t.”

“Please don’t tell him,” Racetrack begs. “Jack, I mean. He doesn’t know, and he’s definitely not gonna take it well if you storm outside and tell him.”

Then it’s Maggie’s turn to stare.

“What do you mean, he doesn’t know?” she demands, hands on her hips. “How on Earth can he not know?”

Racetrack winces. “He… hasn’t noticed, yet.”

Maggie takes a deep breath. Then she takes another, deeper breath.

“So, he hasn’t been stringing me along maliciously, is what you’re saying?”

“No!” Racetrack assures her, and it sounds like the truth even though it looks like he’d rather be literally anywhere else but here, explaining this to her. Maggie feels about the same. “No, I think he really does care about’cha. It’s jus’ that…”

“He cares about him, more,” she finishes for him.

“Yeah,” Racetrack says. Then, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Maggie sighs. “So, the two of them…?”

“Yes and no.”

“Well, is it yes or is it no?”

“It’s complicated,” Racetrack says. “Ta be honest with ya, you’ve been most of the complication.”

Okay then.

“That’s certainly one way of putting it,” she says faintly. “God, what a mess.”

“Tell me about it,” Racetrack mutters, and they share a weary, companionable look.

“I won’t tell him,” Maggie finally decides. “Not tonight, anyway. I need some time to figure out what I want to say, how best to end things… I cannot believe I’m going to have to break it to my own boyfriend that he’s in love with someone else.”

“…Sorry,” Racetrack offers once again. He does not, Maggie notices, offer to help, but given how the two of them have been fighting—why they’ve been fighting—she really can’t blame him. “But, uh… what are you gonna do in the meantime?”

There are a lot of ways she could answer: flippant, hysterical, furious, despondent.

She thinks of the kiss Jack pressed to her hairline, of the way his hands settle over her shoulders or high on her back but never around her waist, of how she’d been the one to ask him out all those weeks ago.

Then she thinks of the dark blue yarn she’d picked up the other day, the fingerless gloves that are nearly finished, just waiting for her to pick up her knitting needles when she gets home.

She smiles sadly, and her response is more honest than she’d intended, though perhaps not as straightforward as he’d like. It’s all she can muster up at this point. “Seems I’ve got some stitches that’ll need to be ripped out.”

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Special shout out to @the-broadsword-and-the-book , @livininmyhead , @claireverlasting and @sapphosboy for beta/test reading part of this chapter for me! I so, so appreciate your help with this 🙌🏼

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tdinyomomma · 8 months

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TDWT- Cody X Reader: Walk Like An Egyptian Pt. 1 (Chapter Two)

If you haven’t read: one

“Season three of Total Drama, folks! The world is gonna be mine, sea to shining sea! Sadly I’m forced to share my world with a three-ring traveling teen freak show!” A bus pulls up behind Chris McLean, as he continues to talk.

“They’ll be competing all around the globe for another one million dollars!” he grins.

“So let’s meet our players.” The first few teens come out, “Courtney, Duncan, Heather, Gwen, Leshawna!” Introducing them. Gwen accidentally bumps into Heather.

“Are there reserved seating? I.E. can’t have one behind Heather’s pony-hair ponytail?” She makes a jab at the once bald headed mean girl in front of her. “Um, my extensions are human hair!” Heather folds her arms.

“You learn something new everyday.” Duncan adds in, to which Gwen giggles at. He smirks, pissing off his girlfriend, Courtney.

“Lindsay!” Chris suddenly shouts, moving on from that whole hot mess, the blonde comes down from the bus. Blowing a kiss.

“Owen, DJ, and Harold!” He has his eyes shut, waiting for the boys to come out.

“Hey! Oh! Ah!” Owen grunts, he comes out with DJ bear hugging him from behind.

“Sweet Strawberry preserves! No!” The big guy yells out. “He’s afraid of flying remember?” DJ speaks for him, walking with Owen away from the bus to let others come out.

“Aerophobia, from the Latin, as apposed to Aeronausiphobia, the fear of air sickness.” Harold tells everyone his nerdy information,

“Keep up the fascinating facts and I’m going to be Aeronauseous all over you.” Noah threatens.

“And returning favorites: Noah, Cody and-”

“Yo, yo, yo! This years winner is in the house- Uh, bus. I mean runway! Where’s the plane, eh?” Ezekial announces himself.

“I know right? Let’s fly! Whoo!” Izzy pops out, jumping onto Ezekial’s shoulders. “Watch out! Ooh!” They both fall to the ground. “Yep Izzy’s back. Also returning this season, Tyler and the co-host of Total Drama Aftermath, Bridgette.” Both the athletes trip and fall over Izzy and Ezekial who still laid on the ground from falling themselves. “

Yo, Chris, you forgot to introduce me.” Ezekiel raises his hand, Chris sighs. “And Ezekial.”

“And now to mix things up and keep it all fresh, we’re adding three new competitors. He’s an honor-roll student with a diplomat for a dad and an amazing ability to charm the pants off most species; Alejandro!” The good looking Hispanic teen struts down the steps of the bus.

“Perhaps I can assist.” He helps up Izzy and Bridgette. “Wow-whee.” Izzy dreamily says. “I-I have a boyfriend!” Bridgette stammers.

“And, amigos, please allow me.” Alejandro then helps up the two other boys. “Wow-whee.” Ezekiel says. “I like girls.” Tyler defends himself unnecessarily.

“Here’s our first girl, she’s a well known actress who hates germs, super pretty by the way; [Name]!” The girl comes out with a disgusted expression, trying not to touch the handles of the bus, jumping off the last step.

“When was the last time this thing has been washed?” She questions, squirting hand sanitizer into her hands. A few of the teens hold back squeals, waving at her and she changes her expression and waves back with a small smile, before she can walk away Chris is already announcing the next girl.

“And she’s a sugar addicted superfan with 16 Total Drama blogs; Sierra!” The tall purple haired girl runs out, squeezing [Name] into an embrace, lifting the girl up.

“Oh, my gosh! I love you guys! And this is the greatest day of my life and-” She gasps for breath, hyperventilating and finally letting go of the actress who hurries away from her. “Anybody, got a paper bad I can breathe into?” She asks around then is quickly over that, heading to the other contestants.

“Ah! Oh my gosh! Cody and [Name] standing together!” She runs up to then, they both look confused. “I dreamt of this moment, Only you weren’t wearing a shirt!” She whispers the last part to Cody.

Cutting that off there’s a loud squeaking noise then they all turn to see a rusted plane.

POV change

“Excuse me, but I’d like to express some concerns about the safety of our plane.” That one smart girl, courtney raises her hand.

“Relax it’s perfectly safe,” Chris puts his hands up but then a part of the plan falls off. Freaking out that big blonde guy. “Really looks safe.” I comment, and the Noah guy agrees with me.

“Now, boarding!”

“No! I can’t ride in that! Call the United Nations! Call a cab! Call my mom! No I’m not doing this! I’m out, this is unethical!” He panics, but before he can keep it up, Chris knocks him out with a frying pan. “Mommy.” He whimpers.

“Anybody else got a problem with it?” The host motions to us.

“No.” Cody says.

“Love it!” Lindsay rubs her head nervously.

“Dibs on the window seat.” Bridgette calls.

“Now boarding on a voyage to a million big ones! We’re saving you a first-class seat for all the action right here on Total Drama World Tour!” Chris sings, “Seriously?” Duncan questions

We get into he plane. “Singing? Really? I thought Chris was joking about that.” Gwen exclaims. “Well I don’t have a problem with it.” Courtney shrugs.

“Yeah, cause you like singing.” Leshawna adds in.

“Well, I don’t. Girls sing. Little birdies sing. Duncan’s do not sing.” Duncan folds his arms.“Mm, we can tell.” I mutter, leaning my weight onto my right foot.

“Think I’ll get to beat box?” Harold asks in a hopeful tone. “I’ll beat you if you try.” Duncan holds up a fist.

“Why are you doing this to us?” Heather questions the host.

“Singing reality shows are huge. And the worse the singing the higher the ratings. Which is why this show, there will be no vocal coaches or rehearsals or warning.” Chris announces. Everyone grumbles but I sat there smirking.

Being a child star meant I had a little bit of an advantage, having extensive vocal coaching I won’t be embarrassed like the rest.

“Anywho this is the dining area, where you all enjoy in-flight meals.” Chris shows us the room we’ve been standing in for a few minutes now.

“Not for long, eh? Prepare to lose to the Zeke!” Ezekiel says. “Okay, so not trying to be mean here, but you do know that you got voted out first last time right?” Gwen reminds him.

“Word. And I spent every minute since making sure that don’t happen again. I’m stronger, faster, smarter-”

“Chattier, blabbier, can’t-shut-uppier.” Chris shouts, cutting the boy who we falters down.

“Is there a ladies room?” Leshawna speaks up. “Just through there.” Chris points. “Good, cause I got to make a deposit.” She says.

“Losing teams will enjoy a luxurious economy-class accommodations between destinations.” Chris informs.

“Okay, well were are our beds?” That blonde athletic girl glances around. “Owen, care to demonstrate?” Chris yells, we all turn our heads over to see Owen sleeping, strapped to the wall. “That does not look comfortable.” Heather speaks.

“No comfort for losers.” Chris teases. “Safety harnesses and an emergency exit out. No comfort here, here, or here.” Chris jokes, Sierra goes up to him with an obnoxious laugh but it was finally away from me so I don’t care. “O.M.G. Chris I am L.O.L.” She bends down laughing.

“We should hit the winners compartment, eh? Cause I ain’t never gonna be in here. Ha! Never!” Ezekiel confidently tells everyone.

“Is never your policy on mouthwash too, homeschool?” Noah fans his face, grossed out. We then move onto first class.

"You smell like coconut and vanilla.” Sierra whispers in my ear and my eyes widen, I move away from her for the hundredth time.

“This is the first-class cabin, the domain on each weeks winners.” Chris shows off,. “Now this is the kind of accommodation ladies deserve.” Alejandro flirts with Lindsay and I scrunch my face. “They get ladies in first class, too? Oh! Me! You meant me!” Lindsay then gushes at her realization, hiding behind her hand to giggle.

“That guy is as smooth as moma’s gravy.” DJ says and I agree. “You gotta be stupid to not see it’s poisoned though.” I mutter. “Lindsay’s supposed to like me.” Tyler slumps.

“Nobody can compete with gravy. Even the poisoned kind.” Dj nudges me and we both chuckle. “Lindsay! I can do a handspring!” We probably should’ve stopped him but instead we watch him do it and completely fail.

“Oh my gosh! Poor… uh I’m blanking on his name- Oh! Oh! I know! Alejandro.” She holds her r=hands together. “That’s my name.” The Hispanic smirks. “And what a nice name, Alejandro. I could say it all day.” She flirts back with him. “Please do.” She giggles at his response. I look over to see that Heather girl get annoyed.

“I can see right through that guy. You know, this extra confessional is a thousand times nicer than talking in the toilet.” heather admits. “Maybe for you. I’m trying to prep for a flight here.” Chef interrupts. “Hello, venting! Shh! Anyway, new guy is so transparent. So fake, so-” “Deliciously seductive.” chef speaks up once again. “That is exactly the opposite of what I was trying to say.” The girl disagrees. “Pretty good looking guy to boot, I’m just saying. Also there’s that actress it’s gonna be tough to compete with such a loved girl like her.” “Ugh! Forget this!”

“Whoa! Where are we now? A grand piano? Wood burning pizza over? Four person hot-tub with L.E.D. light show and dancing waters?” Cody questions, pointing out everything like we couldn’t see it ourselves.

“Definitely not ours.” I cross my arms and he looks over at me. “Huh?” “it’s Chris’s.” I laugh, his face turns red as I’m chuckling.

“Easy tiger, [Name]s right these are my quarters. And they’re off limits? Clear?” It looks like he was mainly talking to Harold but I missed what he said. “Crystal.” Harold puts his head down. “Oh, Chris. I heart your limits.” Sierra sighs.

“Anyway, with Beth gone, Lindsiot and Ale-whatever looking like a real threat, same with Miss all-loved actress, my only strategic option is to make friends with the other new girl, But pretending to like that is gonna be hard. I do not heart the new girl.” Heather declares to the camera, even getting closer to it.

“And that’s pretty much it, I skipped the cargo hold and galley but I’m sure you’ll find those exciting destinations later when I accidentally lock you in them.” Chris uses quotation marks with his fingers towards the end, being sarcastic. Then the plane moves like there’s a huge bump.

“One more thing. I’m sure you remember a little something called the elimination ceremony. Takes place right in here, my friends.” He points, we all follow him to the next area.

“If you don’t receive a barf bag full of airline-tissue peanuts-”

“I got a peanut allergy, yo, or more like a sensitivity.” Ezekiel confesses. “You will be forced to a drop of shame.” Chris ignores the boy who decides to carry.

“Okay, I just don’t like-” “Kind of like this.” Chris grabs the boy, throwing him out of the plane. “All eliminations are final, bro!” Chris waves outside the door.

Now we’re sitting back at the tables. “Every second, we’re getting closer to ad

venture. And further from momma.” DJ frowns, I pat his back. “It’s gonna be alright. You’ll be back with her in no time.” I smile, of course I notice the staring and gawking over me comforting the boy. There’s always eyes on me.

“Cody Emmett Jameson Anderson and [Name] [Middle Name] [Last Name]. I also happen to know your birthdays are April 1st and February 14th. My own April fool and Valentine.” Sierra stares at us in a creepy way except these eyes just have to be the most unsettling the I actually want to stop looking at me.

A spotlight shows upon the host. “Whenever you hear that friendly little bell, it’s musical number time. So let’s hear ti!” Chris tells them. “But what are we supposed to sing?” Courtney asks. “You have to make it up as you go. It wouldn’t be challenging otherwise now would it?” He questions and then music really starts and the teens start singing.

“Up, up, up, up!” Courtney starts it off, three other girls after. “Sing! Sing! Sing! Sing!” Harold, Cody, DJ, and Tyler go, looking quite panicked. “We’re flying and singing. We’re flying and we’re singing!” They all bunch together to sing. Cody sits on the edge of a snack cart, [Name] behind him as Sierra pushes them. “Come fly with us!” Sierra sings, “Come fly with us!” The three then sing together. “We’ve got a lot of crazy tunes to bust. Ha-ha!” Izzy jumps out of the vent. “Come fly with us!” Bridgette stands on the couch with her arms out and Lindsay does the same thing on a seat opposite side of Bridgette. “Come fly with us!”

“It’s a pleasure and a honor and a must!” Alejandro pulls both the girls down next to him, both blush. “Dudes this is messed. You’re singing in a plane.” Duncan boredly says. “What do you expect? Chris is freaking insane- unh!” Harold gets pushed away as he was swinging around numchucks. “Yeah, but, guys you’re singing on t.v.” Gwen joins in. “Haven’t you always wanted to? It can’t just be meeeee!” Courtney dances like a ballerina around the goth girl.

Then it cuts to DJ and Leshawna dancing. “Come fly with us!” DJ starts. “Come fly with us!”

The plane shakes startling everyone, it shows [Name] grabbing onto Cody since he’s the only one near, then she let’s go and uses her hand sanitizer. “Do you know how to steer this thing?” Heather grips her seat besides Chef Hatchet. “I try.” He leans back in his seat, feet kicked up. “They thought they could leave me and depart! But this stowaway’s got winning in his heart!” Ezekiel belts, coming out of the suitcases in the cargo.

“Come fly with us! Come die with us!” Noah watches outside one of the plane windows to see one of the jets smoking. “We’re flying? I hate flying! Stop the plane!” Owen wakes up in a panic but just gets knocked out again by Chris.

“Come fly wit us! Come sing with us!” A group tries to persuade Gwen and Duncan. “No!” They fold their arms, Chris walks over with a smug expression laid out on his face, papers in his hands. “Anyone care for a copy of the season three rules? Because in order to escape instant elimination-” His singing gets cut off by Bridgette taking the papers out of his hand. “All the contestants must sing in each show!” She reads out, pissing off Chris.

“Duncan, do it, let’s go!” Courtney nudges her boyfriend. “Gwen sing it, don’t go!” Cody pleads. “Well, I don’t want to go home.” She looks annoyed. “Come fly with us! Come fly with us! Come and fly with us!” Gwen shoots up doing a little dance where she ends up on her knees. “Duncan come on, please!” Courtney clasps her hands together. “This su-u-u-cks!” He belts and they all go around him, posing to finish off the song. “Yeah!” They do jazz hands.

“Enough singing fruitcakes, strap yourselves in. We are now beginning our descent into Egypt. Musical numbers. Worst idea ever. Chris is such an id- Hey, why is this P.A. light still in?” Chris gasps at Chef’s words. “Oh sh-” The P.A. turns off. “We’ll be right back.” Chris tells the audience in a short tone, scrunching his face in anger.

And here we stand, in a scorching hot dessert with pyramids.

“You guys ready for a little fun?” Chris comes over on a chair in Egyptian clothing, carried by two interns. “Huh? Wow! It’s a scorcher out here huh?” He takes a long sip of his cold beverage. “I call today’s challenge… pyramid over under.” He declares.

“An 11-hour flight, Chef’s in-flight cuisine, a forced musical number. Now we’ve got a challenge?!” Leshawna questions his show. I’m really starting to wish I had a different agent as I fan myself with my hand.

“Don’t you love this game?”

He moved us all over to a line to start a race of some sort. “It’s like we’re being cooked in a giant oven.” Harold complains.

“It might help if you weren’t dressed like a giant baked potato.” Leshawna tell shim, Harold wears a foil hat on his head.

“Aluminum foil means the aliens can’t read your brains. It’s a real problem in this area.” Harold informs her but is cut off by a cymbal crashing.

“Man, that’s satisfying. All right. Pyramid over under means you chose how you’ll get to the finish line- either over or under the pyramid. Got it?” We all nod to his instructions.

“Ready… Set…” “Wait up, yo! You guys wait up!” Ezekial runs in. “I told you I wasn’t gonna lose this time, eh?” Ezekiel points a finger in Chris’s face. “Didn’t we leave you in like Halifax or whitehorse or whatever?” Chris asks.

“It’s called landing gear, homie. I climbed it and hid with the cargo.” He tells him. “Impressive but you’re still out.” The host cuts off his dream. “No way! I’m in it to win it! Word!” Ezekiel angrily stomps. “Hey, it’s your funeral.” He just carries on.

“Set… Go!”

We all begin running.

“Oh, great. Our friendly neighborhood host dude failed to mention there were different paths.” Noah says in a monotone voice. I like him.

“Hey, Sierra which way do you think we should go?” Heather speaks up. “Me!?” Um… uh…” She thinks about it.

“How do we know which is right?” Owen asks.

“I know! Okay, I saw this in a spy movie once. You lick your finger and hold it up to find the air flow.” Izzy then licks her finger, “mmm, this sand really crunches in your teeth. Fun!” She doesn’t even do what she explained, instead turns to Owen and DJ.

“Okay, DJ, give me your hand.��

“Don’t do it DJ. You might catch a case of crazy.” Leshawna jumps before he can do it.

“Come on Harold.” The three walk away, going through the middle door way.

“Oh, oh, oh! Let’s take the scary mummy door!” Izzy points up. I fold my arms and end up following Sierra and Heather. Well I didn’t really have a choice as Sierra grabbed me by the bottom of my shirt for me to walk beside her.

As we make our way through Sierra steps onto a booby trap. Arrows shooting out of the wall almost getting us but Heather shoves us to the ground.

“Oops, sorry guys.” We get back up, I notice Heather fight back getting mad. “Honest mistake. Could have happened to anybody.” Heather forces a sweet smile. “Yeah, okay and it almost killed us. I’m not okay with this “honest” mistake.” I announce, walking ahead. “Awe, I’m sorry [Name]!” Sierra follows after me.

“Stop touching me!” I make a disgusted face.

We end up bumping into Cody, I try to tell him to go away but he stared at me instead and got caught by Sierra.

We hear a groan and a Mummy had it’s arms out, starting to follow us, out of fear and not knowing who it was we started screaming a running, eventually finding our way out of the pyramid. When we make it out, Sierra was holding Cody and somehow now holding the bottom of my shirt again.

“Oh, I’m so happy we found you. Heather aren’t you so happy? I have both of my loves!” Sierra speaks to the girl behind us.

“I’m so happy I could scream.” Heather sarcastically says and we make it past the finish line.

“We did it! Group hug!” Sierra places down Cody then squishes us into a hug with her. “Come on, Heath! You too!” I watch the brunette roll her eyes then force herself to join us into this already forced embrace.

“And hugs over, Sierra get behind number 2. Heather, Cody, and [Name], you’ll be on team three.” Chris tells us and I feel relief wash over me as Sierra is not with us on this team.

“In Egyptian-” “No one cares, Harold.” Chris cuts him off. “Where’s Gwen? Not like I care, just curious.” Cody rambles after glancing over to me. “Uh, kids!” That ding sound goes off and Chris is shouting up the pyramid with a megaphone.

“Recognize that sound? Time for whoever's not finished yet to give us a little musical reprise.” Chris pints up to them. “You said one song per episode.” Duncan angrily shouts down.

“Yeah and this is a reprise. Not a new song. So if you don’t sing. You’re out, now let’s hear it!” Chris yells.

“You know what? No!” He storms down the pyramid, dragging the two girls behind him.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no! Three hours of those two squawking on this stupid pyramid in this stupid heat and you want me to sing?! Forget it!” Duncan spits in the host’s face.

“Dude, you have a contract.”

“Eat it McLean! If you need me, I’ll be in the plane waiting for a ride home, cause I’m out. Done.” He cuts the rope he’s tied to after twirling the knife in his hand.

“I quit!” He stomps off.

“Girls on the rebound are the best. They cry and ten you et to buy them a pop and listen and then well they still won’t go out with you but yo get to buy them a pop!” Cody enthusiastically says.

Then comes out the two mummies one actually being Izzy, the same one that followed us out fo the pyramid having us scared for our lives.

“You’re carrying the undead!” Noah screams. “Cool! Bite me and I can be your undead friend, like Frankenstein!” Izzy says but it jumps out unwrapping itself.

“Thanks for all the help you knobs.” Ezekiel thanks us sarcastically.

“Izzy go join team-” “Teleta or three.” Harold cuts off Chris.

“Come on, guy! After all this, you’ve got to let me back in the game!” Ezekiel whines, begging. Chris pushes him down by the head.

“Fine, but only cause we’re down a man, thanks to Duncan McQuitty-pants. Go ahead and join team one.” Chris tells him. “Oh! Yes!” The kid cheers.

“Okay, teams talk amongst yourselves and determine a team name. You have three minutes while I enjoy this ice cream cone.”

“Team victory!” Team one says.

“Team Amazon!” My team says.

Then the second team takes a really long time to pick one. “Got it, Team Chris is really really, really, really hot.” Sierra declares loudly making it the name. “What!?” The rest of her team questions.

“All right, best team name ever! And here are your rewards. Team amazon you win a camel.” He shows off the animal. “Team Chris is really, really, really, really, really hot-” “I think there were only four reallys.” Alejandro corrects but is ignored. “You win a goat!” The goat then runs, crashing into Tyler knocking him down.

“And team victory here, you go.” He shows a stick.

“So the guys who come in last get a camel and we get a stick?” Leshawna speaks up for her team.

“All will be explained if I feel like it. Next time here on Total Drama World Tour!”

Sorry for the late post I had a few things happen the past few days but tomorrow I will try to get the next chapter for the Heather x Reader out and then after that is Cody I do have a family issue rn so it might put a slight hold on some writing later in the week but I don't know. Thank you for your patience!

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