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whateveriwant · 1 year

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Heads or Tails

Summary: Ghost has undergone a lot of changes recently, many of which you find concerning. So you concoct a plan to try to bring the old Ghost back, the first and most crucial step: getting rid of that new mask.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Word Count: ~4.0k

Warnings: language, slight physical aggression, some uncool boundary crossing, my attempt to sound Bri'ish

A/N: Hello! So this is a new endeavor for me! I've never written for Ghost or CoD/MW before, but I've recently become obsessed with interested in the characters, and so wanted to give it a go. I was rushing a little to get this out, but I really hope you enjoy! :)

"Bet it's a fetish or somethin'."

Your neck nearly snaps as you swivel to the left, your eyes bugging at the Scot's words.

"Probably humiliation kink… Maybe breath play," Soap ponders aloud, eyes trained across the room pensively.

"Nah, mate. I reckon it's a bad trim, or some bad ink," Gaz adds from your right, making you pivot in your seat. "What'd you think? Tribal or teardrops?" He gestures to his own face, attention also drawn straight ahead.

As the two go back and forth positing ideas, your own eyes are finally steered to the figure in question. This conversation, like seemingly all the ones as of late, is centered around one topic and one topic only.

That damn mask.

While Ghost's signature masks are nothing new to the members of the 141, this one in particular has had you all scratching your heads for weeks. Much like his other balaclavas, this one is dark with a contrasting white skull, only this mask has one minor addition that none of the others have ever included: A big, bouncy puffball right on the top of his head.

When you first saw it, you honestly thought it was a joke; you were on a mission in the tundra, after all. But as you started to laugh, the sharp, deathly glare the Lieutenant gave you had you immediately snapping your mouth shut, averting your eyes out of respect.

Where he got that mask, you hadn't a clue, but you figured it would be just a one time thing anyway. However, that assumption turned out to be entirely wrong as Ghost continued to wear it again and again, no matter the mission conditions. Not only that, but he's also been exclusively wearing it around the base too; that is, whenever you do see him around the base.

It's been weeks now and you haven't spotted him without that ridiculous mask once. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he wears it 24/7. But that can't actually be the case unless he likes waterboarding himself with every shower, which if he does, then good for him, you guess.

Though you have a lot of questions you'd like to ask the Lieutenant, the one eating at you the most is why. Why the switch up? Why the obsession with this specific mask? Why all these little changes you've noticed about him over the past several weeks?

Because that's the thing. Beyond the pom pom, there's something about Ghost that's been… different. Better, even, in some regards, but there's also been a massive decline in others.

Out in the field, he's shown significant improvement. His aim has been sharper, his knife skills cleaner, hell, even his walk has been more sure-footed. While Lieutenant Riley has always been the cream of the military crop, for the last several weeks, he's been on another level.

Off the field, however, is a different story entirely. Instead of the man you thought you knew, it's like you hardly recognize Ghost anymore. He's been much more curt, closed off, and dare you say, a downright cunt to you all, and that doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of all the other discrepancies you've noticed with his character.

Like why has he been avoiding the team much more than he ever used to, or why does he immediately shut down any attempts at getting close with him? He's never been an incredibly open or approachable man per se, but it's like he's gone full blown antisocial recluse now.

The sudden switch in his behavior just didn't make sense to you, so you tried casually bringing it up to Price one day, hoping maybe he had an explanation that would help piece things together. In response, however, your Captain simply shrugged his shoulders, dubbing the mask Ghost's "good luck charm" that must've just gone to his head.

While you didn't necessarily have a better answer yourself, Price's conclusion wasn't good enough for you to accept as the truth. Maybe a lucky rabbit's foot or good luck coin or whatever could explain away Ghost's overnight tactical improvements, but it didn't answer the why of everything else.

Why has Ghost changed so much?

As you reflect, the sound of Gaz and Soap's continued discussion slowly brings you back to the present, making you blink out of your stupor.

"...been acting all off. Like he's… paranoid or something," you hear Gaz say regarding Ghost. "Like, the other day for instance, when we got dropped off back at base, I swear, as soon as his boots hit the ground, he was booking it like he was about to get shot."

Well, that's certainly a relief. Not that Ghost is acting strange, but that at least you're not the only one to notice.

"I thought maybe he was just sensitive to the floodlights – those things were ruddy blinding that night – but when I tried to catch up and ask him, you'd think I was chasing him from how fast he ran," Gaz adds.

Though that's a bit unexpected on Ghost's part, you suppose it's not all that uncharacteristic anymore. He's been increasingly aloof nowadays, and while you're not totally sold on Gaz's paranoia claims, you definitely see the cause for concern.

"Y'know, I think you're on to somethin'," Soap agrees with Gaz's conclusions. "Just the other night, 'round two in the mornin', I caught him rummagin' around the kitchens like he was afraid to get caught."

"Hold on," Gaz interjects, craning his head to face the other Sergeant. "What were you doing in the kitchens at two a.m.?"

"Mind yer business, that's what," Soap huffs, waving his hand dismissively. "But anyway, even then he was still hidin' beneath that bloody mask. I cannae even remember that last time I saw him without it," he says, almost dejectedly.

You can't remember the last time you did either, though you're not as beat up about it as Soap is. The man seems to have a certain fascination with staring at his Lieutenant's bare face that you can't say you totally relate to.

As Soap continues thinking to himself of when last he saw Ghost without his mask, he suddenly snorts, smiling as he tells you, "Y'know, I once tried to break in his room and steal that thing while he slept, but the lad has some unpickable locks on his door, I tell ya," he chuckles.

"Oi, you mental or something?" Gaz's voice pitches up. "Trying to steal his mask? You'd be lucky if he didn't string you up by your bollocks just for thinking it."

Soap scoffs, peeking over from the corner of his eye. "Oh, come on. Like you've never?"

"I'd like to keep my boys securely attached, thank you." Gaz shifts his weight at the uneasy thought, grimacing slightly.

That has Soap turning fully in his seat, making to confront Gaz head on. "So you're tellin' me you like the new mask? That you don't want to see the fucker gone?"

Gaz shakes his head, mirroring Soap as he similarly turns to face him. "I didn't say that. I'm just as tired of looking at it as you are."

At that, Soap throws his hands up, letting out an exasperated breath. "So let's do somethin' about it!" he exclaims, calling back to his attempted theft.

"Like what?" Gaz huffs. "You want me to ask nicely? 'Ghost, would you please lose the mask? There's only room for one ugly hat around here, and Price has already filled that niche. So sorry.'"

As the two Sergeants continue to bicker over the top of your head, you keep your eyes on Ghost who's still in the room. Thankfully, he appears to be completely oblivious to the animated discussion happening around you. You don't think he'd enjoy hearing how his teammates want to throw his mask in an on-fire garbage bin.

Gradually, your attention starts to drift away from the conversation at hand until you're right back at your earlier conundrum: trying to figure out Ghost's deal.

Why has he been acting so different as of late? What could have brought on such a drastic change in his behavior? As you think, Soap and Gaz's words lightly filter through your mind, and suddenly, the answer becomes blatantly obvious.

What's the common denominator in all of this? What seems to be the root cause of all this discourse? It all comes down to one thing and one thing alone.

That fucking puffball mask of his.

Ever since he got that new mask, there's been a never ending stream of changes with Ghost, most of which you'd argue are for the worse. You know it's silly to cast blame on such a normally inconsequential scrap of fabric, but at this moment, there's nothing else that makes sense in your mind.

Maybe the change is because his brain is being squeezed too tight or maybe he's been having a constant bout of heat stroke these last few weeks. Whatever the reason, you can see how wearing that mask has negatively affected him, and you're eager to see that rectified.

"I've got it!" you pipe up for the first time, interrupting the Sergeants who are still verbally going at it. You look between them both before once more bringing your gaze back to Ghost. "I know what to do," you say confidently.

Though the old Ghost you knew has been M.I.A. recently, you don't think he's truly gone, not permanently anyway. He's just been squirreled away for the time being, trapped in a cage of woven black thread. You just hope that, with a little luck and a lot of planning, soon…

You'll be able to set him free again.

~~~~~

You peek impatiently around the corner, seeing Gaz standing at the end of the hall. When he notices you, he shakes his head, turning back to keep watch like directed.

Annoyed, you check your phone again. Soap said they were on their way five minutes ago. You know it's a maze of passageways between here and there, but still, they should've shown up by now.

At its core, your plan is simple, but so many pieces have to come together for you to pull it off successfully. One screw up and it all comes toppling down, and you doubt you'll ever get a chance at a redo.

Another 30 seconds pass before you're checking on Gaz again, the man keeping a silent sentinel against the wall. The trap's been set, all you have to do is sit back and wait. But you're not sure how much longer you can handle until you go mad.

Just as you're about to text Soap for confirmation again, Gaz perks up, turning and nodding over at you. Before he can be spotted by anyone else, he slips into the room at his back, quickly closing the door shut.

Finally! It's time. Operation Unmask is a go.

You stoop to pick up one of the items at your feet, counting down from 20 as you hear a pair of heavy boots slowly approach your position. When you finally reach zero, you suck in your breath. It's now or never, baby.

Right before the figure can descend on your hiding spot, you pop out around the corner, colliding directly with the man you'd expected to find. Ghost grunts in surprise at the blunt contact, that damn pom pom on his head bouncing as he stumbles slightly.

"Oh, sorry!" you call out innocently. "Didn't see you there." It's not exactly a lie. You struggle to peer around the tower of boxes in your arms, stacked high enough that you can hardly see a thing ahead.

Ghost grunts again as he takes in the scene you've laid out, thankfully seeming to accept it at face value. "Careful," is all he says, moving to continue in the direction he was headed.

"Oh, uh, actually—?" you stop him before he can escape. "Sorry, but… Do you think you could…?" You shift the boxes deliberately in your hold, hinting at the favor you mean to ask. "If you don't mind. They're really heavy."

This plan all hinges on whether or not Ghost will take the bait. Though he's been less than charitable recently, in the past, he used to be quite helpful to you in particular. That's why you're the one who had to ask for his help. You knew that anyone else, he'd decline immediately.

But you can tell Ghost is hesitant to agree to assist you now, not only because of his recent change in character, but because he was currently preoccupied.

"Price is waitin' for m—" he starts to give the excuse Soap had fabricated to lure him out of his room.

"Please," you cut him short, pretending your situation is dire. "It'll be quick. I just need to get these to my office." That's where you pulled them from initially, filling them with whatever junk you could find to weigh them down. Soap and Gaz weren't thrilled to have to lug them all the way over here, but you had to make them heavy to be convincing, you'd told them.

As if on cue, out of the corner of your eye, you see Soap finally make his appearance at the end of the hall. He turns the corner Ghost had come from earlier, having successfully tailed the Lieutenant all the way from his room undetected. Gaz's timing is also stellar as not a second later, he carefully opens and exits the door Soap passes by.

Luckily, Ghost doesn't seem to notice the two Sergeants quietly lurking behind him – a blessing since, sometimes, you swear he has a pair of eyes in the back of his head.

He considers you for a moment, staring at the stack in your hands, glancing at the others still by your feet. Though you can sense he's warring with himself, another light 'please' from your lips has him caving with a sigh.

As Ghost bends to grab one of the box towers, that's when Soap really makes his move. The Scot creeps forward until he's within arm's length of Ghost, hand outstretching as he reaches towards the Lieutenant's head. Just before he can close his fingers around the mask – intending to snatch and run, the fastest of you three – Ghost does something that surprises you all.

Without even looking, Ghost suddenly jerks away from Soap's grasp, ducking at an almost unnatural speed and angle. At first, it's like he doesn't even realize what's happened himself, but then he turns and sees Soap standing there, hand caught right in the cookie jar.

"What the fuck d'you think you're doing, MacTavish?" Ghost asks roughly.

Soap blinks dumbly, shocked by Ghost’s quick reaction. "S-Sir," he stutters, his brain trying to catch up with his mouth. "Just… thought… I… saw a piece of lint," he makes up the fib on the spot, then boldly reaches towards the mask again.

Once more, Ghost evades his reach, leaning far back like he's in The Matrix. He growls and slaps Soap's arm down. "You wanna keep that hand, Sergeant?" he rumbles.

In response, all Soap can do is nod his head, baffled into a state of silence.

"Then fuck off," Ghost warns him not to try again. He then nods towards the pile at your feet. "Or better yet, make yourself useful and pick up a box."

Still in a trance, Soap immediately complies with the Lieutenant's order. The two grab a respective stack, Ghost directing Soap to walk ahead as he no longer trusts him where he can't see him.

Fuck! This is not at all what you envisioned. This train is rapidly going off the tracks, heading straight over a cliff.

But thankfully, you have a potential backup in place, and Gaz quickly makes his way over as he sees things running amok.

"Ghost?" he captures the attention of the growingly irritated man, who stops and turns at the sound of his voice. "Uh… your shoe's untied," Gaz mumbles once he's under the intimidating gaze of Ghost, and your eyes fall shut at the lame excuse.

Christ, this is all going to shit. There's no way you're going to pull this off.

Somehow, though, Ghost chooses to check Gaz's statement, and he cranes his head down to inspect his boots. "No," is all he says, seeing his laces clearly intact. But before he can stand back up, head still down turned, Gaz takes his opportunity before it can slip away.

Gaz tries to grab for the bloated puffball wobbling in his face, but just like before, Ghost seems to have a sixth sense for it. Again, he bends out of the way, spectacularly agile, and shoots a glare at the Sergeant's gall.

"You out of your fuckin' mind? What's gotten into you lot?" Ghost accuses the three of you, turning to look at you all, becoming increasingly suspicious of what you're doing.

Shit fuck ass balls. You need to act fast. He's starting to catch on.

Panicked, you do the first thing that pops into your head, dropping the boxes to the floor with a thunderous thump. Ghost's head snaps in your direction, eyes wide in confusion, and they only widen more as you purposefully knock the boxes out of his hands too.

"Whoops!" you exclaim and swiftly crouch down, starting to pick up all the bits and bobs that spilled out.

Gaz realizes your intent and quickly follows suit, stooping down to help you clean up the mess. It's a few seconds before Soap catches on as well, and then all three of you are on your hands and knees, crawling around like a pack of vermin.

"The fuck's the matter with you bunch?" Ghost exhales, unable to make sense of the unfolding chaos. Nevertheless, though, he begrudgingly lowers himself down, electing to assist despite his growing skepticism.

As you go about cleaning up the mess you made, you try to covertly catch the eyes of your accomplices. Without words, you ask them which one is going to make a move, who'll grab for the mask next, but both seem a little reluctant at trying their hand again.

Ugh, whatever. You'll just do it yourself then. Really, how hard can it be?

Slyly, you creep around until you have a good vantage on Ghost, his back partially turned to you. You edge closer and closer until you're nearly bumping into him, pretending to still pick up the items scattered around. Then slowly, so incredibly slowly, you raise your hand up, reaching towards the back of Ghost's mask. Just as your fingers graze the fabric, pulling it up a mere centimeter, Ghost jolts, springing to his feet with a start.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" he yells.

"What's wrong with you?!" you fire back, your frustrations boiling over. You pop up to mimic his stance, throwing all stealth to the wayside as you figure the jig is up anyway. "We're just trying to help you."

"Help me?" he sneers. "Like hell. You're out to fuckin' get me."

There he goes again with the paranoia Gaz proposed. Though maybe, in this instance, he's not entirely wrong.

"You think we haven't noticed the differences with you? How much you've changed recently?" you continue. "We can see what that thing's doing to you. You'd be better off without it."

Ghost shakes his head in wild perplexity. "The hell are you on about?"

"The mask, L.T.," Soap rises to his feet. "Take it off," he implores.

"Who the fuck d'you think you are giving me orders, Sergeant?"

"It's just a mask, sir, and we've all seen you without one before," Gaz joins the showdown. "What have you got to lose?"

Ghost looks between each of you angrily, pointing an accusatory finger at you all in turn. "You're all way out of line! Get the hell back," he urges as you three start to close in.

"Why d'ya always hide from us now? I thought we were friends, L.T." Soap reaches forward, his hand immediately swatted away.

"Ghost, really, the thing's a bloody eyesore. Just get rid of it." Gaz tries his luck, only to be met with the same result.

Again and again, you all try dislodging the mask, descending on Ghost like a pack of rabid animals. With each swipe and stretch, he expertly dodges your attacks, bending and batting you away like pests.

"Quit fuckin'—!"

"Just let me—!"

"Oh, for cryin' out loud!"

The scene is total, unbridled chaos – voices raised, arms entangled, rubbish littered all over the ground. You three push forward on Ghost until he's backed into the wall, trapped with no way out. He fights and fights, the pom pom jostling around perilously, until finally, bitterly, he's overcome.

Soap gets his fingers hooked under an edge of the mask, and he yanks, pulling it all the way off. For the first time in weeks, Ghost's face is revealed to you all, and you'd be ecstatic if not for one detail that has you freezing.

Is that a…?

No, it can't be. You must be imagining things.

Actually, that looks kind of real. Holy shit, that's definitely real!

Oh my God! Is that a—?

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THAT?!"

You, Gaz, and Soap all jump back in horror at the sight before you: a plump, little, white rat nestled atop Ghost's head. The rodent seems just as shocked to see you as you are it, and it lets out a small squeak as you lock with its beady eyes, tiny fingers clinging to Ghost's hair.

"Aaaahhh!" Soap unleashes a girlish shriek, dropping the mask as he rears back.

"What the fuck, Ghost? No really, what the fuck?!" Gaz asks dumbfounded, hand coming up to cover his mouth.

Before anyone has a chance to fully process what they're seeing, the rat tugs on Ghost's hair, moving him to scoop up his mask from the floor. He's guided to shove the fabric back on his head, perhaps a little more roughly than intended, because you hear a pathetic squeak ring out as he does.

He points his index finger at you in a threatening manner, the holes over his eyes slightly askew. "Not a word," he grumbles, spinning on his heel. "Not one fuckin' word!"

And just like that, he takes off down the hall, a fat, pink tail sticking out from under the back of his mask. It takes a moment before you even realize your mouth is still wide open, and you close your jaw with an audible thud.

Vaguely, you hear Soap muttering behind you, near tears as he cowers against the wall. "Steamin' Jesus, I think I touched it! Did— Did it bite me? Am I bleedin'? I think I'm bleedin'!" he blubbers hysterically.

"Nah, you're alright, mate! You're alright!" Gaz tries to comfort him, unsuccessful as he’s also rattled.

As the two huddle together in the corner, you're left staring after Ghost's rapidly fleeing figure, trying to pick up the pieces of your newly fractured reality.

That… was…

Honestly, you're not sure what the hell that was.

A rat? That rides on Ghost's head? Controlling his every move and muscle? You guess that explains a few things about his behavior recently, but mostly, it just leaves you with more questions than answers.

Where the hell did he get that thing? How the fuck does it work? Why did he even think to test it out in the first place?

Actually, on second thought, no, you don't want to know. You've seen enough for one day, or really, one lifetime.

At the start of this, you thought you had such a great plan to unveil – one that would simply reveal the "true" Ghost again. You didn't realize that in the process of trying to set him free, you would release a whole other beast, literally. And while at your core you still believe your intentions to help were good, you realize now that, perhaps…

Some things are better off hidden.

__________

A/N: Squeak squeaker squeaky squeak! [Translation: Happy April Fools!]

It figures that my first venture in this fandom is a crack fic. I expected nothing less lmao. But anyway, I'd love to know what you thought! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley fanfiction #simon riley fanfic #ghost mw2 #cod mw2

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anonymouslymadebydesign · 2 months

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im having an awful day at work so how about some aeon/phantom angst i thought about during my shift

something something classics aeon being summoned and clicking with Aurora instantly since she's also a new summon. the rest of the pack trying to warm up to aeon but they're still grieving the loss of aether and even call him the wrong name nearly to a point where aeon resents his own name.

something something aeon fleeing the pack the instant the tour is over but staying within the Abbey cause he has no idea where else he'd go. the idea of keeping a glamour up and pretending to be human 24/7 if he DID run away makes his stomach curl so he stays.

somethinnnnnnn aeon hiding in the kitchen of the Abbey and the Siblings of Sin take him in, let him stay because they realize "hey this kid is really helpful". the siblings of sin adopting him into their group and teaching him how to cook. Aeon seamlessly fitting into their group to a point where he even considers them his primary pack instead of the band.

Aeon who's comforted by his new friends/family when he tells them about how it was like being on tour. Not even the band itself but how he felt like an outcast and how it hurt to hear his band mates address him as "aeth- sorry, aeon."

One of the siblings who primarily work in the kitchens is the one to suggest "Phantom" instead because the little quint moves so quietly and stealthily that he's like a little ghost, like a phantom. He adores this idea and latches onto it. From that point forward they call him Phantom.

The pack doesn't even notice at first, the first few days, a week even, after returning everyone's just so happy to see their old pack mates and be back home that no one notices Aeons missing.

Aethers the one to ask how the new quint has been holding up and where he's gone off too. Everyone's kinda vague in their answers, not giving anything satisfactory. Aurora is the one to chime in with "he's holed himself up in his room and hasn't come out."

Aether who decides to go the quints room only to find it empty, bed made and everything, all traces of the quint scrubbed clean, like he never existed.

Aether who tells the pack that he's not in his room and forcing everyone to tell him what caused it. Tell him why he's run away. TELL HIM WHY the newest member who was entrusted in their care felt the need to slip away wordlessly.

Phantom who's so integrated into the kitchen staff/pack that when the band eventually finds him, he even SMELLS different. The mere sight of his old pack causes him to reek of disparity and panic and confusion.

Phantom who's being shielded by humans and ghouls alike, cowering behind the wall of safety, clearly holding onto a fire ghoul for dear life.

Aether watching this whole scene unfold as he finds the young quint ghoul and can only call out his name, frightened at what he sees, not understanding this reaction.

Aether turning to his own pack with a mixture of disappointment , disbelief, and above all else, anger. Aether looking at them all and asking

"What have you done to him?"

#aeon ghoul #phantom ghoul #aether ghoul #aurora ghoulette #ghost band #hurt/comfort #light angst #i wanna see him suffer #i love seeing phantom cry #ghost b.c #ghost fanfic

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loadedberetta · 6 months

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Apartment 10

Ghost x fReader // callsign Misfit; fem no body desc // MDNI

cw bullet removal, taking a painkiller, slight blood and gore

summary: a new member of KorTac, you get caught out cold, and the only place to hole up in is a SpecGru safehouse... it's quiet. that is until Ghost arrives.

3.6k words // rating: E/18+ // MDNI // Part 2: Barracks 4

warnings: porn with plot (MDNI!!); unprotected sex (only fools don't wrap their tools); implied König x Reader; degradation whoops; possessive Ghost; slight pain play; size difference (reader isn't itty bitty, but she's smaller than Ghost that's realistic imo); hurt/mild comfort; nicknames used: callsign Misfit, girly, princess, sweetness, good girl, lovey, slut (1x)

a/n: this came to me because I've been apartment hunting for the last month or so, enjoy this trainwreck I put together in one afternoon. not betad. feedback appreciated.

How do you explain a bullet wound and other highly suspicious scars and bruises to a nurse in a language you don't speak, in a country you're illegally in?

You don't.

You keep your head down and get your arse to a safehouse.

That's what you do.

Good thing there was one in the city. It wasn't even your safe house, it was a SpecGru one. Still better than nothing.

Maybe.

You heard about it once, when you were stationed in the nearby capital, and met up with some operators for a beer.

You had to pick the lock and pray that you were the only one inside. Silence. You stepped forward. Flicking your handgun into the kitchen on the left, you saw nothing but an empty plate on the waxed tablecloth covering the small dining table.

Dead silent. Turning out from the kitchen, you moved forward. Two rooms, one large enough to house a bed, and the other presumably a bathroom.

Not bad, you nodded.

A droplet ran down your leg, where the baggy pair of pants allowed it to.

Sweat? Blood?

You had to check. Shedding your jacket, and the tac vest underneath, you sat down on the bed.

A bullet was lodged in your left hip for hours by then. Great.

Your face felt hot, lighting up with both regret and the sweet kiss of concrete you had to familiarize yourself with a few hours prior while fleeing a compromised position.

Palms scabbed, knees bruised, and that terrible throb of a bullet nestling in the thick bone.

You sighed and pulled the pants down just enough to assess the wound better. Peeling off the hastily applied gauze, you hissed in discomfort.

A small 9mil round of a handgun. If you strained yourself, you could get it out, it sat in a very advantageous position. You'd been through worse.

You started counting up the hours if it was worth torturing yourself with trying to remove the bullet. Earliest, you could head down to the nearest base, which happened to be an airfield via train the next day.

The total trip would have made up about 24 hours before being back on home soil in these conditions.

With a sigh, you stood up. Opening a drawer of the large closet nearby, relief washed over you as a small, half-empty bottle of disinfectant spray rolled to the wooden wall with a knock.

Pocketing it, you headed to the kitchen. Laying beneath the lip of the plate on the table, something reflected the light from outside. A key.

Swiftly, you locked the front door and disappeared they key deep in your pocket. Palming through the drawers, a small stake-knife was the closest thing to a scalpel, with its pointy end.

"Fucking SpecGru…" You grunted, shoving the drawer closed.

Back in the small bedroom, you sat on the edge of the bed to catch as much light as you could from the white streetlights outside to aid your surgery. Groaning, you pulled your pants down again a little and assessed the damage.

Fifty agonizing minutes later, you threw yourself back on the bed and spat the rag from your mouth, just as the stubborn round clinked on the ground below. Panting for a few minutes, you smeared away a little tear with the back of your hand, still holding the knife in a tight grip.

After carefully applying the last of your sterile patches, you silently washed up in the bathroom, and laid down on the cold mattress again, this time falling into a comatose sleep.

***

Something rustled.

Your eyes flashed awake. The moon was no longer shining through the window.

Movement of a door handle. Your ears perked, and your hands moved beneath the pillow to grab hold of your silenced pistol.

Footsteps.

You turned around, toward the door, and extended your hand ending in the barrel of the pistol toward the opening.

And a mirror image stared back at you. Another silenced pistol, but a man at the other end of it.

His eyes narrowed, the only feature on him you could make out in the dim light, apart from how large his frame seemed to be, still you recognized him from the times you'd seen him on tape... Impressive and commanding... Ghost.

"Lower the gun." He rasped quietly. It was a multi-storey apartment building after all.

A fellow operator. 'Fellow'. The only thing you'd seen of him yet was on bodycam, yet it still made you drool. He was an even more impressive sight in the flesh.

"You're…"

"SpecGru. And you're KorTac." He kept the gun trained on you, flicking his gaze to the discarded tac vest lying by the foot of the bed with the insignia patch on it.

You had to lower yours; having the short end of the stick. Freshly roused, wounded, and on enemy land. Well, enemy.

"I can explain." You offered and lowered the pistol.

He didn't.

Carefully, you laid it down on the bed and raised your hands. "Gromsko and Fender showed me this place once. I don't know how they knew. I was wounded. I picked the lock."

He sighed and lowered his gun, finally.

"You're Ghost." You tried. Had someone told you that morning you were going to meet him that day, you would have laughed in their face. But just then, you were the farthest away from laughing.

"Aye." He rasped and stepped into the room. "Won't ask what brings you here."

"No." You sat up in the bed.

He walked to the window and looked around. Without looking back at you, he addressed you by your callsign, "Misfit".

"Word travels…" You mumbled.

"Were you followed?" He finally looked back at you.

You shook your head, grabbing your pistol and stashing it back under the pillow under his watchful eye.

"Where you hit?" He took a step closer, searching eyes flicking up and down your body.

Pulling the undone waistband of your pants down, you showed him the patch.

"There's the bullet." You nodded towards the shiny cartridge on the ground.

He grunted and picked it up, black windstopper struggling to hold his frame.

"We're after the same target." He rumbled and pulled out a shell from one of his pockets. The bullet you dug out of yourself slotted right into it.

You shook your head in surprise and stood up, groaning at the sharp pain jolting through your damaged hip.

"'ve got a few more pain pills left. Willing to give you one if that means you'll sleep through the night and let me catch some shuteye too." He commented as he dropped the bullet into your palm.

It almost disappeared between his thick fingers, you noticed.

"That'd… That'd be appreciated, yes." You busied yourself with inspecting the disfigured bullet between your much smaller fingers.

He left for the bathroom and you took the time to sit back on the bed, one leg pulled below you. After some shuffling and strange clinks, he returned with a prescription bottle of painkillers. Name rubbed off, you noticed as he lobbed the container at you.

"Thank you." You screwed the cap off and took one. "Napro?" You glanced at the blue tablet.

You narrowed your eye at Ghost leaning against the doorframe as you took one and swallowed it. He barely fit in the doorway, you took notice.

"The American banker, right?" He asked nonchalantly and caught the bottle you threw back at him with a curve.

You remained silent. It was, your target.

"I'm here to observe him… He's part of a bigger plot…" He threw the bone at you.

"I have execute authority on him." You stared back at Ghost. "If you and your friends are about to ruin my mission…"

"Looks like there's competition, Misfit." An audible smirk lurked beneath his mask.

A sigh parted your lips.

"You blew the fuse already anyway." You massaged your temple as he spoke. "They're alerted that someone's here by now."

Silence descended on the room. A car passed outside.

"Security will be tight now. Working in our favour." He chuckled dryly, and it made you look up at him.

"So you did know I was here." You narrowed your eyes at him, searching.

"Might have." He shrugged short.

He stepped closer and closed the door to the room behind himself.

"You're in deep shit, Misfit." His voice neared a growl, and he leaned in more as he talked. "Wading in so deep onto enemy territory, trying to kill someone we want to keep alive… And I'm here feeding you my napro, and you're taking up my space on that bed. How's that right girlie, huh?"

His gloved hand cupped your cheek as he reached over the bed that separated the two of you.

Words evaded you as a finger brushed against your lightly parted lips, ghosting wisps of the cotton above your skin.

"I…"

"Been keepin' an eye on you, sweetness… Since you got off that train…" He explained, and rounded the bed, letting go of your jaw in the process that left you a few seconds to catch your breath; unsuccessfully.

"Didn't know KorTac needed eyes this badly, that they'd tolerate you in their ranks…" He continued, cooing when you frowned at his foul tone.

"Did I strike a nerve, princess? Hm?" He placed his hand under your jaw yet again, and gripped it tighter. "Answer me, princess. Did you get in over your head here? Don't tell me you want to prove yourself to someone…"

He rasped a chuckle from above you. His frame intimidated you in a way that sparked something previously unknown in your brain.

It was a secret, tightly drawn to your chest that you were attracted to him. You've seen photos of him, tapes, and other recordings; fighting, interrogating, or just simply being a menace on the field. His impressive (public) record also struck a chord in you. You often found yourself imagining him in your room, touching you when you were left alone for longer missions by the sly Colonel of your faction; König.

This time it was not the Colonel standing over you; Ghost was slightly smaller, but not a hair less impressive.

Legs lightly spread, hulking frame dwarfing you despite the fact you yourself weren't the smallest either, bulking up to pass KorTac's deathly entrance exams.

"Well, are you? Who's the lucky one, don't be tongue-tied now…"

Him. It was him, you slowly came to realize. König dwarfed in the back of your mind.

"Nobody…" You exalted, against the tight grip on your face. Even if it wasn't the entire truth, you weren't new to keeping secrets.

His eyes flashed with a strange light when an ambulance passed silently in the night on the street below.

"Now, now…"

"No. It's no one." Your gut twisted with a sinful delight when you came to, and the first thought connecting in your head was of his jealousy, and how painfully arousing it was to you.

There wasn't enough defiance in you at that moment to play cocky. You wanted it as much as one could have, and it was not the time to play around…

"Nobody?" His eyes narrowed behind the black paint.

You tried shaking your head, but his hand stopped you and held your head in place.

"Words, princess, use your words…" He leaned in closer only with his head.

"No." You repeated yourself in a voice breaking over the single syllable, only to elicit a chuckle from him.

Condescendingly, he shook his head.

"Too damn bad. I don't like liars." He shoved your face backward, making you fall back on the bed with a painful yelp.

"Will you make me fuck the truth out of you, princess?" He asked with a furrow of his brows.

No reply. Breath caught in your throat, as you focused on a much more dangerous sensation of wetness pooling in your half-undone trousers, soaking your knickers painfully quickly.

"Lying is one thing." He straightened up and zipped down his windbreaker as you found grip and propped yourself up on one elbow. "And silence… is another."

His jacket hit the floor mid-sentence, revealing a sweater underneath, the black hood of it already on his head.

"So…" He chuckled as he undid his belt, seeing your worried expression trail his hand. "I don't want to fill your pretty mouth in case you have sum'n to tell me…" He chuckled darkly and stepped closer to the bed, parting your legs hanging off it with his.

He grabbed your hips with both hands firmly, and dragged you closer to him, separating your legs even more. It was painfully obvious that the bedframe left you way lower than it'd have been comfortable for either of you.

And he saw it too. So without a word, he turned you over to your stomach, as if you were a rather large pillow. Your legs tangled, and the fresh wound on your hip spurted blood onto the dressing. Your closer hand flew to the area to shield it, and a pained whimper broke past your lips.

"Gotta wait for the pill to kick in, do ya?" He chuckled darkly and bent your knees expertly to prop your arse up into the air, undone pants already riding hallway down it.

"Good girl…" He drew out the words as he palmed the exposed flesh hungrily. The praise went straight to your cunt.

"You're making it hard to resist, lovey, to just fuck you without a thought of concern."

For once, he paid attention to the material riding against the wound but pulled the pants down recklessly over every other inch of your legs, the hems scraping along your sensitive thighs, discarding the cargos on the floor.

Your head buried into the thick mattress, scrunching the material of the covers against your skin.

"I still haven't got a name from you, princess… Who is it, that you so- desperately- want- to- prove yourself to, huh?" He punctuated his words with quick, small smacks against your now bare arse.

"Ugh…" You groaned into the covers, not wanting to admit yet, that this was a game you highly enjoyed as well.

The name of your Colonel escaped your mind, the empty space filled with hazy thoughts instead.

Had Ghost not shown up that night, realization might have settled in you way later; or maybe never. Affiliation be damned, it was him, there in that moment.

The gloves were gone, you noticed by the stinging sensation and the noise. The thought barely settled in you, when two fingers pushed the hem of your knickers aside, and dragged on top of your swollen lips, eliciting a breathy inhale of a moan from you. It embarrassed you, more after he chuckled in reaction.

"Those are not words, lovey…" He mumbled from above you. "Really? Do I really gotta finger you open to talk? I reckon…" You gasped feverishly as he pushed the two thick digits inside of you without any warning. "I reckon you have got to start talking soon enough… Will ya, pretty girl?"

Uncaring towards the painful throb in your hipbone, you sought some sort of anchorage in the sheets, nodding into them when you did.

Sprawled out on the bed like a cat stretching, you started making small but audible gasps to the rhythm of Ghost's two fingers pumping into you, easing you open.

"Good Lord, princess, you really- fuck, you really enjoying this now, are ya?" His rhythm sped up, and he bottomed out in you, ring finger hitting your clit with every stroke now, making you see stars.

His other hand supported your good hip, helping you fuck back into his hand.

You were eager by then, uncaring toward the pain, that quickly eased with the building pleasure in you.

"Next time… Next time you're not getting a painkiller, I'll just- God, I'll just make you take it, shit…"

His words, how raw and dismissive they were, sent shivers down your already buzzing spine, and let pleasure build in your further.

Then, his pace slowed, leaving you breathy and aching for more.

"I'm not going to let you come from my fingers alone, no…" You felt him lean closer, onto you. "You ought to talk first, lovey." His words barely settled in your ears when he removed his fingers from your sloppy cunt, pulling down your panties, and leaving you cold and dripping.

"Ah, no, no, please… No… I'll…" You breathed hastily through the words.

"You'll what, hm?" He punctuated the sentence with a light groan, and something clinked in the background. A concealed holster dropped on the ground with a light thud. "I'm listening."

You screwed your eyes shut just in time his leaking, angry head nudged against your entrance. A surprised moan rolled out onto the mattress from your lungs, only to be met with the harsher, more guttural sound of his groan.

"Sweet Jesus, Misfit…" He rasped between clenching teeth.

He didn't prod much, coating himself barely in your slick before pushing into you slowly. Velvety, ridged walls enveloped his raging length, and the sensation left you both gasping for air.

"So tight…"

"So big…"

The sounds overlapped.

His one hand continued holding your hip, the other settling on your back, pushing you into the mattress roughly.

He didn't move for a moment, but only a moment, before he drew a few languid strokes into you, settling finally deep within your walls, forcing you to arch your back even sharper.

"Got a bit sidetracked, eh, princess?" He teased.

The lack of your response prompted him to speed up his pace, jerking you forward with each thrust.

"You're,- ah fuck- you wanted this, didn'tcha?" He chuckled at the little gasps you were taking how the pace allowed it, the lack of oxygen making you slightly lightheaded. Your head tilted to the side, and he saw your eyes roll back into your head, which sparked him to ramble on.

"Can't take it, can you now, huh? Should have talked when you had the chance, slut." The longer he talked, the more muddled his words became, building a sensation in you with each thrust into you, that soon became irresistibly delicious.

Your dominant hand moved, seeking that one component that could send you over the edge.

"Yeah, touch yourself, that's it, princess." He mumbled, his pace earth-shattering and unwavering, launching you into another dimension.

Not only was the stretch immense from his thickness, but the curve and the length of his cock moved something primally deep in you.

"Can you talk? Can you, hm? I will fuck it out of you soon enough…"

Clearing your throat shakily, with the heavy frame of him rocking into you unyielding, you tried talking. The teasing few rubs on your clit turned intense in a moment, and words dared to spill out of your mouth.

"Yeah- ye-yes…" You cried out with more force than you expected.

"There you are, ungh-- good girl, now… Talk to me…" His pace did not falter, not for a syllable, keeping a murderous rhythm that soon had you teetering on the edge of a devastating orgasm.

"Do you want to prove yourself to me now, pretty girl? Hm?" His hand snaked forward, onto your nape, pressing your head down, increasing sensation to almost unbearable levels, and depriving you of your already dwindling oxygen supply.

"I do!" You agreed furiously, as wave after wave crashed onto you, making your legs shake beneath Ghost's intimidating form.

"Yes, that's it, good girl…" He growled, fingers digging into your good hip, the other hand grabbing your side to anchor you through your climax.

It arrived moments later, with incoherent words babbling out of your mouth, feeding the already swelling ego of Ghost.

"Tell me.." He panted, swallowing. "Talk, talk, princess, fuck-"

"It's you… yes. Yes, yes, you Ghost… Fuck, ah, fuck…" You rode out the last waves, and your hand fell back on the bed.

"So fucking cockdrunk, pretty girl, yeah…" He ignored your small shrieks the oversensitivity of your throbbing pussy pressed out of you, and continued pounding into you, thrusts growing shallow and erratic.

"Only for me, yeah? Answer me." He demanded sternly, as you barely recognized the world around you.

"Only… yes." That was all you managed, all care for your well-being or future consequences having been fucked out of your head.

"God, fuck, you're making me, mhh…" You felt him throw his head back, groaning as he did so.

"Prove your--self, only- to me. Nobody fucking else. Me." He stuttered for a moment, then sent home the building tension in his body with one last slam against your shaky hips, as you felt him empty his load deep inside your receptive walls. "Take it. Take it, fuck… Only from me."

"Yes, yes…" You mumbled, delirious and fucked out, twitching in cramped overstimulation.

You felt empty as he pulled out of our spent pussy, leaking and draining his spend messily over your folds.

"That taught you a lesson, didn't it?" He asked as you lowered your arse, and laid you down on your good side. Straining your tired body, you looked up at him.

Ghost was clasping his belt shut again, and adjusted his jumper when the two of you locked eyes.

"That pussy is mine now." He disclosed simply, gaze unwavering. "Nobody else touches you like me, do they?"

Unable to think of anything smart to say, you shook your head.

"None of those KorTac boys…" He cooed. "Not one of them can make you fall apart like this, no…" He chuckled and left for the washroom. Thoughts slowly came to you, but you slotted them away for another day. A minute later, he lobbed a wet towel at you and disappeared for a moment more until you cleaned yourself up and threw the rag to the foot of the bed.

"Move." He simply commanded, when he came back, much calmer than he was just but a minute ago. "Bed's big enough for the two of us, and we're well acquainted now. Now move." He sat down on the edge of it as you shifted to leave him some space.

You were still bare from the waist down, and just as you looked around the room for your knickers and pants he handed you both. Without a word, you put them on again, the cold, wet material slightly uncomfortable against your hot, still pulsing cunt.

Slightly groaning, you settled on the bed, facing away from him, on your good hip.

"You mad, princess?" You heard him ask as the mattress dipped beside you. It really was a tight fit, for the both of you to comfortably settle on the creaky bed.

You didn't have an answer to that.

"I'll take that as a no." He mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

Well, that was an answer.

One you desperately wanted to fight, before sleep dragged you under violently fast.

Part 2 - Barracks 4

a/n: we're not going to leave it here, I already thought of a new chapter, suit yourselves. rb and share and stuff, thanks for reading!!

#I think y'all can already tell what part 2's going to be about #beretta does fics #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #cod fanfic #cod mw fanfiction #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #call of duty #König cod #könig x reader #könig call of duty #konig x reader #konig mw2

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half-deadmagicperson · 27 days

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Phic Phight '24 Phic 2

Title: Summoning Shenanigans

Words: 767

For @phicphight

Prompt by @five-rivers : For centuries, the cult has anticipated the glorious rise and return of Lord Phantom. That time is at hand. All they need to bring him fully into the mortal world is the perfect sacrifice: Danny Fenton.

Rating: G

Warning: One (1) cuss word

AO3

Low chanting filled a dark hall. People disguised in cloaks circled around the chalk markings on the floor. Ancient runes were spelled out to call for their lord. The head of the cult ordered for the sacrifice to be brought.

A black-haired teenager writhed around in the arms of two of their members. He was trying and failing to escape. Upon spotting the leader of the cult, the entire teenager’s demeanor shifted. Members who were close enough could see the boy’s calculating glare. When they arrived at the circle, the leader raised their hands to stop the chanting.

“The time is nigh for the return of our lord. For centuries we have waited to see signs of his presence. History tells of the mighty acts of the supreme, and there have been signs of his return near Amity Park, Illinois.”

The crowd murmured before the leader raised their hand again.

“However, in order for our supreme to ascend to the mortal plane, a sacrifice must be made! And who better a sacrifice than the son of those who want to hurt the supreme! Therefore, we are sacrificing Daniel James Fenton, son of ghost hunters, to be used as the conduit for our supreme leader, Lord Phantom of the Infinite Realms!” Their heavily modulated voice echoed, as cultists began to cheer.

Daniel’s eyes widened as the chanting and fire began. He scuffed his feet along the ground as the members dragged him into the circle. A small grin flashed on his face before smoke hid him from everyone’s view.

The ground split with green cracks of light. The sound of electricity crackling echoed off the walls. The cultists shook in fear as a bright halo of light appeared among the unearthly smoke. The leader screamed and disappeared into the smoke. Several members ran away from the spectacle, others were frozen in place.

Frost coated the ground as the smoke turned into snowflakes. As members scrambled and tripped over each other, one figure stood calmly in the middle of the circle.

Danny Fenton, in his tattered NASA hoodie and ripped jeans, watched the chaos unfolding around him. However, this was not the same person they sacrificed. A grin too wide to be human split the teenager’s face in two. His ears were pointed, and his eyes were glowing an acidic green.

Next to him, sat the leader trying to scramble away. Daniel, no, Phantom looked down at the person and ripped off their hood. A teenager with a bright mop of red hair quickly went to try and put his hood back up.

“Really, Wes? You went through all this trouble trying to prove your theories?” Fenton’s voice came out with static pops.

“Well, yeah? I thought you’d, like, use your powers before we did the actual sacrificing bit,” the voice was quiet and no longer modulated. The other cultists murmured to each other.

“You know, since I am an ‘immortal being your cult has been waiting centuries for’ it seems highly impossible for me to be a lowly highschooler, especially a low-life son of ghost hunters,” he turned towards the crowd,”Alright everyone! The show’s over, you should go home now.”

“But wait! What if he somehow time travels! What if that’s why he’s in different artifacts!” Wes pleaded, but everyone ignored him and started walking away. Once they all left, Fenton patted Weston on the shoulder.

“It’s okay Wes, I believe you,” he said with shit-eating grin before disappearing. Wes scowled.

“FENTON!”

A laugh echoed in the hall before fading, and Wes knew he was alone again. He sighed and started cleaning up. He worked really hard on that plan! Does Fenton know how hard it is to form a large congregation of believers?

He finishes cleaning before exiting the venue he rented. After making sure the door was locked, Wes started his car and went home.

~~~~~~~~~~

A confused college student popped out of the bathroom and walked into the main hall. The room was empty in sharp contrast to the large number of people gathered before. The student noticed a small device on the floor next to him. It looked like a voice modulator, like what their leader had. He grabbed the small box and tucked it into their cloak.

He knew what he had to do, he needed to find a better sacrifice for Lord Phantom, one that the entity will approve of.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Sir there has been a development. A teenager has imitated our organization, but even worse, they actually summoned our lord."

"Well, well, well, we may have to pay this teen a visit."

#danny phantom #dp #wes weston #phicphight #phic phight 2024

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insufferableprotagonistpoll · 2 months

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Propaganda why Alex Eagleston is insufferable:

literally causes the end of the world by being The Absolute Worst and has done so multiple times including his alternate selves. he technically has three (and a half) love interests (cause theyre the only characters he can/attempt to kiss or express any attraction to) and he treats them all poorly first three vella sammy and essentia 2000 are cause hes a misogynist but they all get different flavors of it sammy gets fridged for the plot of the game and is basically never relevant again outside of a secret(?) ending. shes also based off of a real life dead person for no fucking reason. vella is subjected to weird speculation about her age in her introduction scene with alex saying something along the lines of she cant be older than him cause shes too pretty (alex is like 24 and vella 27 from what i recall its been a few years since ive thought about yiik) and has a weird internal monologue about his feminist ex girlfriend prompted by vella just existing. theres a weird scene when alex asks her if shes korean n says she looks vaguely ethnic making her uncomfortable. One Of His Alternate Selves Literally Caused Her To Leave Her Home Dimension Cause Of How Poorly He Treated Her and the context behind that is that to leave the world/timeline/dimension/whatever you're originally from you basically have to be super suicidal and he pushed her to that point by ghosting her for a while and next time vella saw him he was hooking up with a girl noticably younger than her (<- remember this) and immediately after being told this he can attempt to kiss her which has no actual repercussions. essentia 2000 is like technically supposed to be evil i guess but her goal is supposed to be killing alex so i cant fault her on that. the in game day after they first meet alex has like a monologue about how special and attractive she is ""she was like water filling all my cracks"" or some shit. all three girls are alternates of eachother and are on a sliding scale of how objectified they are by alex with who got it the worst depending on which aspect you're focusing on. other sort of love interest is rory (diversity loss!) who alex can attempt to kiss after he confides in him about something when rory is like 18-19 (hes meant to be about the same age as michael whos recently graduated high school) and depending on how alex treats him can literally kill himself and alex's reaction to learning this is to only focus on how terrible he feels before moving on n rory's death never being mentioned again. the whole point of the game is that alex is a piece of shit who cant even buy groceries for his mom without throwing a hissy fit about it but it undermines itself constantly by having characters forgive or just stop being mad at alex on a dime after hes been exceedingly shitty towards them in various ways and any sort of charm or endearing traits he had quickly wearing off due to him never shutting the fuck up. near the end of the game all the other party members are killed off in quick succession leaving alex by himself and all he can do is sulk in self pity before going on a space adventure or whatever to stop an alternate him thats linked to an alternate essentia and enlisting the player as a different alternate him to help fight various superficial flaws of himself (which arent even like the actual things that make him insufferable n a bad person) n then finish the job for him. i need to punt him into the sun

He constantly goes on annoying monologues about things that nobody cares about. In game he is meant to be kind of an asshole, but they never give him the necessary character development to make him feel like a proper flawed protagonist, yet the narrative makes him out to be a character who is ""deep down a good guy"". Also he doesn't seem to care about any of his friends/party members.

"""YIIK"" is a poorly written, irony-poisoned RPG using a real life actual unsolved murder as the basis for an inciting event, altered so that what happened to the victim was some ~scary supernatural stuff~ and also Alex was there being vaguely misogynistic the whole time and monologuing to no-one in a way no real human person thinks uncritically.

The game intends to paint Alex as a bad person, but this is implemented in such a snide and uninteresting manner which has nothing to actually say about him being this way, nor is it at all fun or entertaining to experience.

He has no idea what's going on, blindly following the plot with the vague motivation of being suddenly stricken with affection for a girl he basically called a freak as soon as he met her five minutes ago. He is self-absorbed, lazy and overconfident, constantly bemoaning and ignoring the needs and feelings of others. He is the only character given enough breathing space to have something to him, and yet manages to not even feel any sort of dimensional.

Also his shirt is an ad for the dev's last game.

An incel who always screams about everything and yet is overly pretentious about everything.

Propaganda why Scott Pilgrim is insufferable:

He is not a good person. He doesn’t take other people’s feelings into consideration. He mooches off his one real friend. He’s dating a teenager as a grown ass man. Every girlfriend he’s ever had hates him for good reasons

Stupid idiot

dated a 17 yr old

kind of a cop-out answer since he's like deliberately made to be an annoying person but

#alex eagleston #yiik #yiik: a postmodern rpg #scott pilgrim #scott pilgram takes off #scott pilgram vs the world #insufferable protagonist poll #insufferable protagonist tournament #tournament poll

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sharksupermacy · 8 months

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LDR

LDR- lily morrow x non-idol! reader

synopsis: you and her know that your always on each others minds

genre: fluff, slight angst, actually reader ain't despresso espresso, surprises, they are actually in love your honor, long distance relationship, lily shocked pikachu face

lily was a little worried that you haven't replied in 48 hours. a whole two days without a single text from you.

now sure, she could've played it off as some sort of time difference between you two as she was still on her showcase tour in america. but she couldn't shake this gut feeling she had. she contacted your sister a day earlier to check in with you saying that she was worried about you. of course your sister had replied back saying you were the same old, lounging on the couch, and bragging to your sister about how lucky you were to have some like lily.

but why weren't you replying to her text if your sister had just seen you yesterday. it was 24 hours since then plenty of time the intial check up. but she had to shake this feeling after all in about 2 hours she was going up on stage to meet Nwsers in brooklyn.

you on the other hand during that 48 hours have been packing and flying to brooklyn to surprise your amazing girlfriend. you had arrived the day before the showcase deciding it would be the best idea to rest in order to get up early to go to the nice to mixx you meet and greet.

man you were so glad you took all of those extra english classes in high school as you were currently reaping the benefits of it all when ordering coffee and food for lily and yourself. you headed over to the venue soon after you finished your food and bringing yours and lilys coffee to it. patentially waiting outside where you had to discover you had dump yours and your girlfriend coffee but was still allow flowers in because apparently haewon had vouch for you once she figured out you were here. you asked haewon to keep it a secret for now and also asked her to drop off the boquet you bought lily in the changing room. she smiled and hit your should saying you owe me one loser with a dorky smile.

you beamed proudly when the show started seeing your girlfriends and her member perform and entertain the crowd for 3 hours. man you were so exhausted from waving your lightstick and chanting your heart out for nmixx. you sat down in your seat for a bit watching the audience slowly file out after seeing nmixx disappear from stage. eventually it was very few people left and no one left on the balcony. but then you can feel someone tapping you on the shoulder saying in a stern voice, "excuse me, you need to leave."

you turned around apologizing at the man for over staying your bit making your way down to the theatre entrance where the door was oddly closed. "hey man, i think you might have to unlock the door for me," you yelled up in the direction of which you came. as you turned around to see the security guard walking down the stairs taking out his key to unlock the door until you were tackled.

"y/nnie!!!! why didn't you tell me you were coming," yelled out kyujin who was on the ground with you. you looked around and saw haewon shaking her head at the younger with thier manager giggling right behind her.

you see pink hair in your peripheral view holding the boquet you had given lily. you hear the voice slowly approaching the both of you asking a question to the younger, "hey kyujin? why did you tackle a stranger- omg wait. y/n?"

"hey... stranger?" you said a little bit worried of what lily response would be for ghosting her for over 2 days.

well the answer is she placed the flowers down, took kyujin off you, then hugged you as if she was going to lose you, and then smacked the crap out of you (her and you crying for different reasons). "why did you ghost me for two days," she whined out she was still hitting you and you hugging her.

"i'm sorry i flew over and got jet lagged so i slept a lot and now i'm here," you explained while trying to comfort her.

she pulled you out of the hug placing her hand on both of your shoulder, "wait. how did you even survive here? you don't even speak english," she says looking you up and down as if you were some imposter.

you sputter a bit a begining but replied in english, "i... uh-, do? i just don't really have a use for it in korea so i don't say much in it."

you knew you would regret these words because then lily went back to smack town her asking you why you didn't tell her, or how many conversation you had over heard in english.

you couldn't help laugh at this situation, even though lily was kept smacking you. you can't help the thought of how lucky you were to have lily, despite you two being in a long distance relationship. you two are perfect for each other.

a/n: after writing too many bouts of angst it is honestly really nice to be able to write something fluffy. anyways angst tmr

#nmixx imagines #nmixx x reader #lily morrow x reader #lily morrow imagines

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bakujho · 2 years

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TWST common headcanons mistaken for canon

I Made a thread on twitter about some of the common headcanons/misconceptions/misinfo about some of the stuff in twst, so thought I could maybe post it here too. (I am working on a few more posts but those will be longer and come later- this is just the simple stuff.)

“Floyd gives fish nicknames as a sign of affection”

Nope! When it is brought up in Ep 4-24 he refers to Kalim as Sea-Otter which Grim is confused about, and Jade goes on to say that he prefers to give people sea-creature themed nicknames. The addition of “sign of affection” was not in the original version!

“Herbivore is only used for Yuu (and used as a sign of affection)”

Nope! Leona calls several characters besides Yuu/Grim Herbivores, it seems to be his “go to” insult. (Ex. rival magift team members etc)

“Cater used to be the Heartslabuyl Dorm Leader”

Nope! He and Trey had been roommates for 2 years, and dorm leaders get their own rooms so they wouldn't have had to share. Also, Riddle mentions that it’s one of Trey’s “upperclassmen” rather than “classmates”.

“Floyd threw a fit first year because he (or Jade) got sorted into a different dorm”

Nope! This one was theorized due to one of Jades home voicelines, but in Floyd’s Beans Day personal story, he clarifies that he teased Riddle during the ceremony until he got blasted with magic.

“Azul and the twins are childhood friends”

Er, Sort of. Depending on where you draw the line for ‘childhood’. They’ve known Azul since elementary school, but weren’t friends with him at the very least until middle school, and only then did he change from Tako-chan to Azul.

“Floyd only calls people he likes/respects by their real name.”

Maybe, but not confirmed. The only characters he calls by their names are Jade and Azul, and Azul’s changed after X amount of years on his radar as Tako-chan. Everyone else, including the staff, have fish names.

“Child-of-man is specifically used for Yuu (and a sign of affection)”

Nope! He refers to the entire VDC group as ‘children-of-men’ in 5-67, as well as humans in general (as in 6-52)

“Malleus redecorated Ramshackle for Yuu after the STYX incident”

Nope! It was fixed by STYX and the VDC gang! (6-84)

“Ortho is a sweet baby that would never hurt a fly”

Nope! Ortho has threatened to destroy the school on multiple occasions (Ghost marriage, halloween, fairy gala) with his proton beam. Not to mention humiliating the Dia mob characters in his Dorm SSR story. ****SPOILERS FOR EP 6*** DO NOT READ THIS ONE IF YOU DON'T WANT TO BE SPOILED** YOU'VE BEEN WARNED!!*** and definitely wanted to destroy the world but you know. I personally think Ortho should be allowed to fire the beam, just once, as a treat.

“The Leech Family are Mafia”

Let’s be real there’s a GOOD fucking chance this one is true, but I think one that’ll stay HC because of that Disney label. The information about the Leech family status and business dealings leads pretty pointedly towards fish crimes, but as Jade assures in his first birthday card, it is all ‘VERY normal’.

“X character is __ sexuality”

Schrodinger's canon, all of it is canon and at the same time none of it is canon. All of them are up for interpretation (and will likely always remain so to rake in $$$). The only thing mentioned is that Ace had a girlfriend in middle school. Some characters seem more “coded” (gay, bi, ace, etc) than others, but outside of that one mention of Ace’s ex, nothing has been confirmed.

#twst #twst meta #twst headcanons #twst canon #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland

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blobghost · 7 months

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Blobby's Master List

You can find all my writing under the tag #blobby wrote something or you can look below! Click fic title to take you to its post! (In order of oldest to newest)

Ectober 2021 Masterlist (DP)

ectober ficlets

Exhausted Teen to Eternal King (DP)

Essentially exiled from Amity after a reveal gone wrong, Danny is on his way to becoming High King of the Infinite Realms. With a quick stop by the Core, who tells him about being an Ancient and something concerning about how the portal works, Danny ‘survives’ his final trial and coronation with only like ten different new things to worry about! Now, he just has to face his parents, stop the permanent portal that killed him, and repair a giant hole in reality. So like just another Tuesday for him. Written for Invisobang '23.

Anaktáomai: regain for oneself, recover (DPxDC)

Jason is trying to live his second chance at life to the fullest: protecting Gotham's streets as the Red Hood, going to college to get a degree, participating in Gotham's Renaissance Faire, getting a boyfriend, all of it. Sure, he's been daydreaming a lot more and it might be becoming a major problem and his boyfriend is apparently a meta who saved his kid brother after a mission gone wrong, but as far as he was concerned those were nothing to worry about. What he does need to worry about is homework and rogues attempting to kill him… right?

Take the L (DP)

Dash wants nothing more than to be a hero. When he gets a chance to be Phantom's hero for once, he takes it. Things get complicated when Dash finds out that his dad is Operative L of the GiW and demands that Dash hand over Phantom. Can Dash make things right or is everything doomed to go wrong?

Blobs of Love (DP)

Danny has been protecting Amity Park alone for what feels like years. After a long day of sleep deprivation and various rogues pushing him to his limit, he finally starts breaking down when he can't fully switch from Phantom to Fenton. Unfortunately, certain blobs who love him can't stand to see him break so bring in some help. Written for Ecto-Implosion '23.

Battle for the Ancient Realms (DP)

After having to go to the Far Frozen to check why his ghost sense is acting up, Danny finds himself the primary target during a fight with Dan and Pariah Dark. Things get more complicated when the Ancient Seals of the Barren Realms become involved. Now, Danny has to learn about the Ancients and the new powers these Seals provide the wearer before once again fighting the two hardest foes he's ever faced. Written for Ecto-Implosion '23.

Danny Doesn't Want To Go... (DP)

Five times someone drags Danny somewhere he didn't want to go and one time he drags them somewhere. Written for Phandom Truce '23.

Holding Each Other Back (DPxDC)

When the GIW appear in Gotham, Jason finds himself needing to find out what they are up to. Unfortunately, they find him first and use him as the nice sacrifice for their Ghost King summoning. Will Jason be able to fight his way out of this mess with his secrets (and life) in tact? Written for Ecto-Implosion '23.

I Know What You Are. You're (Not) a Goon. (DPxDC)

Jason can't figure out why his boyfriend keeps missing or being late to dates. He thinks that Danny is a goon, but it's only a theory. He might get his answers from the newest Justice League member Phantom, though. Written for Valentine's Core Exchange '24.

#blobby wrote something #masterlist

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madangel19 · 1 year

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Ok. How many people are in Ghost? And do people know what they look like without the masks?

Is Papa (?) Pope (?) same person??? Same mask ? different names?

Oh man, there are a lot of people in Ghost, but currently, there are nine members of the band. Eight ghouls and Papa Emeritus IV. There have been many others, mostly those who played the ghouls, but they usually leave on their own terms.

For a long time, people didn't know what the band members looked like beneath their masks. They wanted to remain anonymous, but that didn't last long so now people know what they all look like under the mask.

All of the Papas are played by the same man, Tobias Forge, who wears a different mask for each character. Here's Tender Father below. He's a mad talented genius :D

Onto the Papas! There are four of them and each album has a different Papa as the lead. All of them are brothers with their father being this old fart, Papa Nihil.

He's the only Papa that's not played by Tobias Forge. I'll get back to him a little later.

This here is Papa 1, also known as Primo. He's the first Papa and he's also an old fart. All of them are old farts, but Primo is the second oldest fart behind Nihil.

I honestly don't know much about him, but Ghost started out with him with the album, OpusEponymous. He's crusty and dusty lookin, but the fans still love him. Also, the fandom has collectively agreed that he loves gardening due to a very good cosplayer playing around in a garden.

Next up is Papa 2, also known as Secondo. He looks like an older Pitbull when not in makeup (that's still a mask :'D)

He's the bone daddy and he's pretty intimidating with that stare. He was the frontman for the album, Infestissumam, which fucking slaps holy shit. I highly recommend that one.

Next up is Terzo, who quickly became a fan favorite as Ghost started getting more popular. Lord almighty, this man has most everyone in the fandom acting up. He's horny on main almost 24/7 and it shows lol

With their Grammy hit, Cirice, came the most wanted experience by many ghost fans: Being picked by Papa Emeritus if you're near the stage so he can serenade you and give your hand a smooch. Lord, I'd die on the spot. The charisma is dripping from those gifs, good lord almighty I think I need to fan myself lol

He was behind the Meliora album where it focused less on the devil, which was focused on in the other albums, and more on worshipping the self. The ministry didn't like this and Terzo ended up getting dragged off stage and eventually killed along with Primo and Secondo. Very sad :(, but next up is when things get very good :D

Before Terzo was killed off, we were introduced to Cardinal Copia

He is also a fan favorite and he became the frontman for the Prequelle album once Terzo and the others were killed off. It's very likely that he is also an Emeritus due to Papa Nihil hooking up with Sister Imperator when they were younger.

Anyway, back to Copia. Nihil didn't want Copia leading the band because he wasn't a part of the bloodline, but Sister said he was very good at his job as Cardinal and him having the second most employee of the month achievements convinced Papa Nihil to let Copia lead the band. Nihil wanted to lead, but he's an extra old fart and the band needed someone a bit younger.

So Copia became the frontman and he was goofy, sexy and fabulous!

He wore a lot of tight-ass clothes and he liked to ride around on a lil tricycle both off and on stage. He's the rat daddy :3

And then, everything changed when Papa Nihil died on stage and Copai just rolled out on his lil trike in this video where he became the new Papa. Warning, this video is loud, but it's mostly due to this one guy losing his shit

youtube

So, Cardi C turned into Papa Emeritus IV and he's the current Papa right now and I adore him :')

Also, with Cardi becoming Papa, he got plastic surgery (new mask), so he looks a lot different now without makeup. Still love him tho :')

So, Copia is still the frontman and he's on two albums: Prequelle and Impera (which fucking slaps). It's also very likely that he's gonna get killed off at the end of this upcoming summer tour due to this video

youtube

The fandom is scared for Copia because we have no idea what's going to go down on 9/11 and 9/12. Those are their last two shows of the tour and no filming from the crowd is allowed, so something big is gonna happen. I don't want rat daddy to die :'D

Anyway, thank you so much for the ask about Ghost! There's a lot of lore, but this pretty much sums it up for the Papas. The ghouls are totally different story since there's so many of them :'D

There are a lot of other explanation vids online you can check out if you want to look more into them

#the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost band #papa emeritus #cardinal copia #papa terzo #papa secondo #papa primo #papa copia

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peskygirl13 · 2 years

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Imagine mc have two zorua/zoroark. One is normal and one is shiny. They might trolling ace and azul by disguising as them and there's chaos from them. Of course, mc might have that dark face if someone trying to take them away, in which they won't go alive

Slight spoilers for Chapter 6 for any English-only fans.

Nobody actually knew about your Zorua(s).

You caught your Zorua(s) at different times. The first Zorua you caught (a male you nicknamed Zorro) you got in Castelia City. The second one (a shiny female you nicknamed Rue) was given to you in Driftveil City by former Team Plasma members after she took a shine to you.

Both Zorua was cautious around people, so they often took your form when around new people. You could always tell which was which because your style was different each time you got them and they always kept their red or blue highlights.

Skip ahead to you getting sent to Twisted Wonderland, your Zorua(s) had been sent with you, and they both came to NRC looking like you, so people assumed that you were triplets.

When you figured out that there were no pokemon in this world, you decided to keep up the ruse. You just said that your siblings were mute, which is why they never spoke.

The only people who knew the truth were Crowley, Grim, and the Ramshackle ghosts.

Not even Ace and Deuce knew. You were very careful that nobody found out.

You did well for a good several months.

I mean, some beastmen did find their smell funny.

Others found it weird that your "siblings" had magic, but not you.

And you always got a kick out of it when some boys would flirt with Rue when she was disguised, not knowing that she was actually a monster like Grim.

And found it cute when Grim and Zorro fought over her back in the safety of your dorm.

But it all came to an end when the VDC camp took place at your dorm.

You had argued with Crowley about it in the privacy of his office later, trying to convince him to come up with an alternative and that it was unfair for Zorro and Rue to be in their disguises for longer than usual.

But he remained equally unmovable and unhelpful.

Your biggest concern was Rook.

The hunter had remained a thorn in your side for months now. Ever since the Savanaclaw incident.

He would not. Leave. You. Alone.

And now he was going to be living with you?!

From the get-go, you made the rules of Ramshackle very clear. Your room was off-limits. That was Zorro and Rue's safe space where they could de-transform whenever they wanted.

The boys did well with respecting this and, aside from a few close calls, everything went mostly smoothly.

Until the actual day of VDC.

Turns out, you should've been more afraid of Vil.

Vil's overblot was the worse one you and your team experienced. Between the fight and the exhaustion of having to keep their disguises on for four weeks straight, their illusions wore off once Vil was defeated.

Hugging your pokemon close to your chest, you told the group (and Malleus, who appeared early for VDC) everything.

They were surprised, obviously, but understood. Ace and Deuce were a little bitter that you didn't tell them, however.

While the boys performed, you met with Crowley (who was surprised to see Zorro and Rue out of their disguises) and told him when happened.

Knowing there was nothing either of you could do now, Crowley used the coverage of VDC to introduce your Zorua(s) to the world and explain that they were important creatures under the protection of Night Raven College and that you were their "keeper" of sorts.

The publicity of NRC skyrocketed, much to the joy of Crowley. (Will you pay us more, now?) And your pokemon were much happier now that they didn't need their disguises 24/7.

Some beastmen were kicking themselves for not being able to tell that Zorro and Rue weren't human, and the boys who flirted with Rue when she was disguised had to face the mockery of their peers for weeks, but all-in-all everything turned out pretty good.

Still, you couldn't help but worry, you wonder what will happen when your Zorua evolve?

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foreveralwaysanauthor · 10 months

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Camp Wanamaker (Ch. 2/10)

June 24, 2023

Notes - Guess who had one of the busiest weeks of her life, yet still managed to write 35 pages - that’s right, it’s me! Guess who also forgot that Royce's birthday falls halfway through the week and she had already written out the day it takes place on, so she had to go back and add a hint at his birthday being, you know, a thing... Yeah, also me.

Chapter 2 - Gives You Hell

Sundays, typically, were free days in the O’Brian household. Before Damien and Chelsea’s separation, they spent Sundays doing something as a family. Bowling, arcades, go-kart racing, and visits to museums became the norm until everything was finalized. Although the pair chose to stay in the same house to take care of the children and watch them grow together, Sundays were a common thread of adventures and excitement they would spend as a family. Over time, however, the excitement faded as schedules filled up and the children grew interests of their own. Though there were the occasional Sundays spent in the back pew of the church in the next town over or attempting to have fun at the town’s practically unused candlepin bowling alley, most days were spent bustling around Sanbornton - each member of the family doing something different than the next.

Contrary to popular belief, Vivien enjoyed Sundays. Well, most of the time. As she had been the oldest of the siblings, she remembered the most from the time before their parents’ divorce. She could recall going on long drives in the family’s minivan, hogging the bench seat in the far back all to herself, and using Pac-Man to kick a bunch of ghost asses as she button-mashed her Atomic Purple Game Boy. More often than not, she spent her Sundays draining her parents’ bank accounts wherever they went and filling the rest of the back seat with stuffed animals and bags filled with souvenirs. Despite those days being long gone, Vivien still found herself enjoying Sundays in particular, just for a different reason.

As her family’s schedules became cluttered and they had less time to spend on day trips to far-off places, she had begun spending more weekends with her Aunt Hayley and her girlfriend, Charlie, sometimes staying from Friday night to Sunday evening with the woman she had always felt close with. During the summer, however, things were different. The first time Vivien had spent a full summer with Hayley and Charlie, she was ten, and the pair had signed up to work at the summer camp Chelsea and Hayley’s parents owned - Camp Wanamaker. Vivien was the youngest person there when they arrived that Sunday, as Hayley and Charlie were there for the workers-only week. Most of the people at the camp enjoyed having Vivien around despite her age, and, as the first week came to a close and bus-loads of campers began piling in on the following Monday, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of disappointment that her week of being treated like the camp’s princess was over.

Now that she was older and had spent many of her pre-teen and teenage summers at the camp as both a camper and a cabin lead, Vivien had grown to deeply appreciate Sundays for what they were: bookends. The summer seasons at Camp Wanamaker technically started on a Sunday for the workers as that was the first full day they would be there, and the season ended with the big, end-of-summer showcase on either the second or third Sunday of August. Sundays were, quite literally, the beginning and end of her summers at camp.

Maybe that was why Vivien liked summer Sundays so much.

Sundays at Camp Wanamaker hardly ever changed. More often than not, Sundays were a constant in a world fueled by chaotic variables. Unlike most days at camp when counselors would chase down the kids they were responsible for and drag them to whatever activity was next for the day, Sundays at the camp were a day to rest, lounge around the cabins with your bunkmates, and eat s'mores around the campfire. Imagine Vivien’s surprise when she showed up to the mess hall on what was supposed to be a normal Sunday to see Carrie and Royce working well together in the kitchen, talking and laughing like old friends.

Perhaps, however, we should start our story a week prior to this incident, on Sunday, the eighteenth of June.

Waking up in a room without stars on the ceiling was nothing new for Vivien O’Brian. Well, at least not during the summer. Waking up to the sound of gentle breathing was new, however. Slowly shifting her head upwards, Vivien found herself watching Royce as he slept soundly beside her. They had only done this a handful of times in their relationship - most of them accidental sleepovers on the Birch family’s living room floor - but Vivien found something oddly soothing about the gentle rise and fall of Royce’s chest as he slept peacefully. Trying not to roll her eyes at herself, Vivien let out a soft sigh; she was turning into Mick - sappy enough to fill an entire maple tree.

As much as she loved feeling like a mushy, lovesick, twenty-something-year-old, Vivien slowly detached herself from Royce’s grasp, giving the snoring blond on the other side of her boyfriend a chance to absorb Royce’s unending warmth as she rose from the bed and grabbed her glasses from the nightstand before creeping out of the room as silently as she could. Heading around the balcony toward the room she had claimed the day prior, Vivien tried not to laugh as she passed the room where a certain auburn-haired male muttered a cuss in his sleep and rolled onto his side with an incoherent, grumbling complaint. Reaching her bedroom, Vivien softly closed the door and checked her phone for the weather before pulling a swimsuit from her dresser and bringing it with her to the bathroom to change into once she was ready for the day to begin.

By the time she had made it down to the water, the sun was just barely breaching the horizon, casting an array of reds and pinks across the sky. Vivien sighed to herself as she stood at the waterline; if old wives’ tales could be trusted, red in the morning meant storms to come later in the day. Glad to have chosen to take a morning swim, Vivien ditched her towel and glasses on the sand under the pier before venturing into the chilly water. Once she was far enough out, Vivien dove into the water, happy to get the worst part over with as she resurfaced, staring up at the sky as though it could tell her what was in store for her that day.

To be fair, she had no intention of doing much apart from the norm. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner were a staple, but apart from that, she had no plans. Maybe, if she felt up to it, she would go to the archery range with Mick or go up to the counselor’s lodge to teach herself how to play her grandmother’s old violin in the vain hope that her terrible, wounded-cat-esque playing would encourage the older woman to teach her how to actually handle the old string instrument. As Vivien let the water carry her further from the shore, she took in a deep breath and relaxed - it felt nice not to have plans for once.

Time became nothing more than an illusion as Vivien floated on the water, the sun gradually warming the waves as it steadily rose overhead. After what felt like nothing more than a few minutes had passed, Vivien jolted as a hand captured her ankle. The hand released her as she began treading water, coming face to face with the blurry visage of who she presumed was none other than her boyfriend.

“Royce?” she questioned.

“Not quite,” the voice replied, a smirk noticeable in the male’s tone.

Vivien usually felt pretty confident in her ability to differentiate between voices, but for some reason, she couldn’t tell who this person was. “Are you one of the people I’m staying with?” she asked.

“No,” the man replied.

Cautiously, she questioned, “Do I know you?”

“You might if you were wearing your glasses,” he snickered. Ah, so whoever had chosen to approach her had a sense of humor - duly noted.

If he knew she had glasses, there was a chance she truly did know whoever it was, but Vivien wasn’t easily convinced. He could have easily spotted her glasses on her towel and taken that information with him. Then again, she had left her things under the pier. With a sigh, Vivien asked, “Are we close to shore?”

The water sloshed around them as the mystery man looked around, “We’re near the end of the pier.”

With a nod, Vivien gestured for the man to lead the way and followed the sound of splashes until she found sand under her feet again. After running a hand over her dripping hair and wiping her eyes of water, Vivien followed the edge of the pier until she found her hiding spot. Taking her glasses from where she’d left them, Vivien placed them on the bridge of her nose and wrapped her violet towel around her shoulders, clutching it close with wrinkly, raisin-like fingers before turning toward the only other person on the beach. Standing not far away with a crooked smile, shimmering green eyes, and drenched, golden brown hair was a man who, if the tattoo of the Spider-Man symbol on his wrist was anything to go by, was a bit older than Vivien. Though he had no shirt on, he was quick to pick one up from the sand, taking his phone from it before shaking it free of sand. To her dismay, however, nothing about the person before her rang any bells. He just looked like some random guy.

“I’m sorry,” she began slowly, sending the man an apologetic smile, “I’m not sure I recognize you.”

The man chuckled, “That’s alright, Viv. I get it. I’ve changed a lot since you last saw me.”

“I guess so,” Vivien chuckled nervously.

Instead of pressing further, the green-eyed man unlocked his cell phone and tapped on it before scrolling a few times and tapping on something. With a smile, he turned the phone around to Vivien and held it out to her, allowing her to take it as he said, “That might help.”

The picture he had chosen was an old photograph that had been taken long ago at a party at the next town’s roller rink. Vivien vaguely remembered the party, recalling the disco ball shining brightly overhead, the many falls to the wooden floor she had taken, and spending time with the birthday boy in the arcade after both of them had collided into a heap and scuffed up their knees. Despite the birthday boy being born a year before her, Vivien had grown up with him, both of them being in the same class from kindergarten to sixth grade and spending most of their evenings at the boy’s house, doing their homework together before battling each other to the death on different games his family had that Vivien’s didn’t. They were quite close, and, if Vivien remembered correctly, the boy’s birthday party was the last time she had seen him before his family’s move to Seattle.

Examining the photograph, Vivien found herself staring at a younger version of herself - metal-filled mouth and all - who sat beside a boy with dark hair that had only just begun to grow back in after his buzz cut, their matching green eyes shining as they gave each other bunny ears. As the puzzle pieces began to fall into place, Vivien looked up, finding those same green eyes shining back at her. Moving the phone up so that she could look between the two, Vivien breathed, “Noah?”

With a widening smile and a nod, he chuckled, “Hey, Vivien.”

Noah Michaels had certainly changed over the five years they had been apart. The once-geeky boy had transformed into someone who could have easily walked off of the set of some beach show. His previously buzzed hair was now long, he stood quite a bit taller, and, if Vivien had to guess, he had been working out over the years. However, that didn’t change the fact that she could vividly remember forcing him to dress up as Anna from Frozen when they were seven so that she had someone to perform with at the school talent show when her friend Ivy got the flu the day before. Regardless of how much had changed over time, Noah was still the dumbass she had grown up with.

“I thought you guys moved out to Washington,” Vivien claimed as she handed back the phone.

“We did,” he confirmed. “Seattle to Los Angeles, Los Angeles to some small town in New Jersey, and from there back to Lisbon.”

“You live in Lisbon now?”

“Mhm,” Noah hummed. “Dad left the military, and we decided to move back to the area to be closer to family.”

Vivien nodded, sparing a glance at the cabin as the front door creaked open, and a barely alert Royce made his way outside. Turning back toward Noah, she asked, “So, what brings you to camp?”

He chuckled, “I ran into some of the guys from school and they were telling me that they were going to work the summer here, so I decided I’d try it out too. What about you?”

“My grandparents own the place, so I’m here every year,” Vivien replied as Royce neared her. Stretching out an arm, Vivien pulled her boyfriend close, allowing him to kiss her cheek before turning back to Noah and saying, “Noah, this is my boyfriend, Royce. Royce, this is Noah; we grew up together.”

“Nice to meet you,” Royce yawned, holding out a hand.

Noah was quick to latch on with a smile, “Likewise, man.”

Royce eyed the tattoo with a raised eyebrow and asked, “Is that from Spider-Man?”

As emerald eyes glimmered, Noah nodded, “Yeah, it’s the Tobey Maguire one. I got it for my birthday back in October.”

“Nice,” Royce commented, stifling another yawn as he turned to Vivien and smiled. “Were you out swimming for a long time?”

“I’m not sure,” she shrugged. “It was around five when I got up.”

“It’s six-twenty,” Noah claimed, checking his phone before clicking it off again.

Vivien chuckled, “I guess I was out there longer than I thought.”

The three stood around almost awkwardly for a while before Noah grinned and said, “Well, I’ll let you two spend some time together. I’m going to get my morning swim in.”

“Since when do you swim?” Vivien questioned as Noah set his shirt and cell phone on the edge of the pier. “Last I knew, you sink like a rock in any body of water.”

Noah let out a bark of laughter, “I used to, yeah. I took swimming lessons in LA and ended up joining a swim team last year. I’m hoping to do a triathlon in a year or two.”

“Holy shit, man!” Vivien laughed. “I don’t even know what I want to do in an hour or two, let alone a year or so.”

Noah chuckled, running a hand through his hair and pushing it out of his face, “Yeah, well, I’m hoping to compete with my dad at some point, so I’m trying my hardest to prepare for the day when it comes.”

“Ah,” Vivien breathed, nodding in understanding. “Well, in that case, I suppose we better let you get to it.”

“Thanks. I hope you guys have a good rest of your morning,” Noah smiled. Turning his focus onto Royce, he added, “It was nice meeting you, Royce.”

“Yeah,” Royce nodded as the other boy headed toward the water. “It was nice meeting you, too.”

With a final wave to her friend, Vivien took Royce by the hand and guided him back toward the lodge, allowing him to sit on the wooden porch swing at the front of the building as she took advantage of the outdoor shower on the side. As Vivien recalled stories from her childhood with Noah, Royce watched the taller, older boy swim across to the other side of the lake with ease. Royce laughed distantly as Vivien made a joke about cake and water balloons as he watched Noah glide across the water. If that had been him, Royce would have had to stop time and time again to catch his breath and try not to panic as large fish brushed his legs. Back home, he had no problem in the water as sea creatures kept their distance from the crashing shoreline, but after accidentally kicking a fish in the lake the night before and feeling its slimy scales glide across his leg, the thought of it happening again made Royce’s skin crawl. How Noah was handling himself so well, Royce had no idea, but he was impressed all the same.

As Vivien finished washing the lake water smell from her hair, Royce moved so that she could sit beside him and the pair watched the sky glow in an array of hues until it was almost time for breakfast. Sitting beside Vivien as he stabbed a piece of his pancake with a fork, Royce wasn’t too surprised to see Noah approach them with a smile, asking to join them for the first meal of the day. After going through a round of introductions, most of the people at the table fell into an easy conversation with Noah, listening to him recount stories from his adventures over the years. When Royce later asked if Vivien wanted to join him in the library, he was only mildly disappointed that she had already promised Noah that she would show him around the campground. After giving her a hug and wishing her a fun time with her friend, Royce watched them leave with a small smile before heading to the library to lounge around for a while.

When it began raining after lunch, Royce was sure she would return to the lodge to lounge in the living room and play cards with him and Bentley. However, he didn’t see her again until dinner when she and Noah burst into the mess hall soaking wet and laughing about something nobody else had any clue about. Happy to see his girlfriend enjoying herself with an old friend, Royce simply sat and listened as the two rambled on about all that they had done throughout the day. After the meal was over, the two finally split off and Vivien chattered on about the fun she’d had with the older boy for a while before eventually settling in on the living room with Riven, Royce, and Bentley. The quartet played a rather intense game of Monopoly that went well past lights-out, but nobody else in the lodge said a word as they were far more interested in who would win the game than they were about what hour it was.

Riven got sick of having to pay Bentley every turn and “accidentally” flipped the board as he exasperatedly laid back on the floor, coincidentally kicking the coffee table instead of Bentley’s thigh. With the game over, the cabin mates went their separate ways, heading to their bedrooms to change after wishing each other a good night. Once he was changed into his pajamas, Bentley headed for Royce’s room, sitting on the bed while Royce picked out an outfit for the next day. Royce listened with a smile as Bentley rambled about his day, having spent most of it attempting to mold a lump of wet clay into a vase in the pottery barn. Then, a simple statement caught his attention.

“Then, when Viv and her friend came in, I stopped for a while and we hung out,” Bentley claimed, tossing a hacky sack he’d gotten from the activity shed into the air and catching it in the other hand.

“Oh yeah?” Royce wondered as he turned toward Bentley with a smile. “What did you guys do?”

Bentley shrugged, “Noah painted for a while with Viv and then he helped me cut the clay I wanted to work with since I had taken too much and it kept falling in on itself.”

“That’s cool,” Royce commented as he moved to sit on the edge of his bed. “What do you think of him?”

“He’s pretty cool, I guess,” Bentley offered. “I’ve only known him for a day, though.”

“Yeah,” Royce nodded. “Kind of hard to have an opinion after just a day.”

Bentley hummed, “But if Viv trusts him, I do too.”

Royce adjusted his pillow as he nodded. Bentley was right; although it had only been a day, Noah had gained everyone’s trust because Vivien knew him. It was a quick adjustment, but an easy one. Though he hadn’t spent much time with Noah, he seemed to be a good companion for Vivien outside of the people she now shared a cabin with. Royce smiled to himself as he relaxed into his mattress, glad that his girlfriend had another friend on the grounds of her family’s camp for the summer. Seeing her so excited to have reignited an old friendship made Royce happy all the same. Taking in a deep breath, Royce tried to think of ways he could try to get to know Noah better, wanting to put in an effort to become friends with Vivien’s old schoolmate.

Perhaps things were easier said than done.

Mondays were the one day every week Miles always dreaded. It wasn’t just the typical, “Monday means back to work or school, therefore, it sucks,” type of deal either, it was something much more than that. Regardless of whether or not he had to do anything, something always seemed to occur on a Monday to make him want to do nothing more than slam his head against a wall. It could be something as simple as his alarm not going off and it would still send his entire day down the drain. Sure, there were a few odd days where nothing would happen and he would simply be on edge all day, waiting for the inevitable, only for it to never come, but those were few and far between.

Today just so happened to be one of those rare days.

He had gotten up just before the camp’s speaker system began to play Highway to Hell, pushing himself from the blankets just as the song cut off halfway through and Vivien’s grandmother came over the speaker with an apology before starting a new song; he had arrived at the mess hall just in time for a new pot of coffee to be made available, earning himself a fresh cup of hot coffee that somehow managed to wake him up more than two cups of espresso could; his assignment for the day was to work in the fitness center, managing everything from the desk unless asked otherwise; and, to top it all off, he had free time to work on the song he and Vivien had been working on in their free time. As far as Mondays go, it was clear to Miles that this one far surpassed any other. However, that just set him even further on edge than he already was.

Miles wouldn’t say he was necessarily surprised when Vivien’s friend, Noah, crossed the threshold into the fitness center, but he was a bit taken aback to see Vivien with him. As far as he knew, the closest Vivien had come to working out was her time on the ice at her skating rink and her ballet classes, but as she followed the taller male to a leg press machine and instructed him on how much weight to add, Miles smirked to himself. He knew Vivien had legs of steel - she had to in order to be such an impressive skater - but it wasn’t until she easily out-pressed her friend, that he realized just how strong she was.

By the time it was nearly noon, Miles had watched the pair go through most of the machines, competing to see who was stronger or faster. From just over his notebook filled with musical notes, Miles watched the two argue about who ran further than who on the treadmill over the duration of a single song. With a shake of his head, Miles went back to working on his music until a hand grabbed the top of the book and he was forced to look up at Vivien’s cockily grinning face.

“Can I help you?” he drawled.

“I need an impartial person to keep track of my distance because someone-” Vivien glared over her shoulder at her friend, “-keeps restarting my machine when the song is over.”

Glancing at the green-eyed boy who didn’t bother wiping the mischievous smirk from his face before turning his gaze back toward Vivien, Miles sighed, “Do I have to?”

Before Vivien could answer with a sassy remark - because, yes, he did have to do his job - Noah spoke up, “You’re the one who’s currently in charge of the gym, aren’t you?”

Miles presumed that the boy’s remark was probably intended to be a humorous quip, but he found nothing overly funny about the teenager’s deadpan delivery. If anything, the boy sounded serious about the question. The only reason he gave the boy the faintest breath of a chuckle was because of the short snicker Vivien gave and, even then, it was obvious his reaction was forced. After giving Noah a quick once-over, Miles’ gaze flickered to Vivien and he placed his notebook on the table before rising from his seat. “I’ll be there in a minute,” Miles claimed with a nod.

Vivien gave Miles a quick smile before turning to Noah and saying, “Why don’t you go ahead? I have to tell Miles about something his girlfriend said this morning while he was too busy snoring into his coffee cup.”

Noah let out a short snort and nodded, “Yeah, alright.”

As Noah walked off, Vivien stayed glued to her spot before the desk and, once he was far enough away, she turned to Miles again before softly saying, “Noah isn’t the best at jokes.”

“I noticed,” Miles muttered, glancing at the boy.

“He’s trying,” Vivien offered. “He’s been homeschooled for a long time and I think it kept him from making a ton of friends. I think he’s just trying to navigate everyone’s sense of humor. It may not sound like it sometimes, but I promise, he is trying.”

From the moment he had heard about Noah, Miles was more than a bit apprehensive to accept him. While he wanted nothing more than for Vivien to be excited to spend time with her old friend, the way Royce’s eyes dulled ever-so-slightly while Vivien’s glowed as she sang the boy’s praises at the breakfast table, made an uncomfortable pit begin to grow in Miles’ gut. Despite his instincts screaming at him to tell Vivien he felt off about the boy she was so delighted to spend time with, Miles could see just how eager she was for him to accept her friend. So, as he swallowed his commentary for the time being, Miles took in a deep breath and reached across the table to nudge Vivien’s shoulder.

“Relax, kiddo,” he began as he rounded the desk. “I get it. I’ll pass the message along to the others to make things easier for him.”

“Really?” Vivien questioned. “You would do that?”

“Of course,” Miles agreed. “Now, let’s get this race over with before lunch.”

Vivien beamed, sliding an arm around Miles as they walked toward the waiting treadmill, “Merci, Miles.”

Bringing an arm around the brunette’s shoulders, Miles grinned, “Toujours, Vivien.”

Once the lunch announcement echoed throughout the camp and the fitness center was empty, Miles gathered his notebook and drink and left for the mess hall where almost everyone from their cabin was already sitting around their typical lunch table. As Miles joined the line of people waiting to fill their plates with food, he glanced over at the table where Royce sat between Vivien and Bentley, the three of them laughing and talking as they always did. The trio looked up as a familiar head of golden brown hair approached, but instead of continuing on to sit with the other workers he was bunking with in one of the cabins on the far side of the camp, Noah took up a spot across from Vivien.

Taking in a breath and forcing himself to smile as the kids noticed him looking over at them, Miles jumped as a hand landed on his shoulder. Chuckling, Vivien’s grandfather removed his hand as Miles turned to face him, “Just me, son.”

“Sorry, sir,” Miles apologized as he placed a slice of pizza on his plate.

“Don’t be,” the man brushed off. “And, Miles, you don’t have to call me sir.”

Peering at the man from the corner of his eyes, Miles chuckled nervously, “I’m not sure what else I would call you.”

“Most of the counselors call me Chief,” George suggested, glancing around cautiously to see if his wife was watching before adding another two slices of pizza to his plate. Turning back toward Miles with a bright smile, the man placed a hand on Miles’ arm and continued his previous train of thought, “Vivien and some of her friends, however, call me Grandpa George. The choice is yours, son.”

Smiling at the man’s gesture, Miles nodded, “Alright, then. Thank you.”

“Of course,” George said, patting Miles on the arm before stepping around him. “Now, would you care to tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?”

“What do you mean?” Miles wondered.

George’s eyes shone knowingly as he met Miles curious stare. “You’re worried about something. I want to offer help if I can.”

With a heavy sigh, Miles glanced at his plate before looking over to where Bentley and Royce were listening to Vivien and Noah blather on about their day, “I’m not sure it can be helped, really.”

“Ah,” George breathed, following Miles’ line of sight to where his granddaughter and her friends sat. “You’re worried about Noah coming between Vivien and your brothers.”

Whirling around to find George once again, Miles asked, “How did you figure that out?”

“I’m old,” George shrugged. “I see things clearer now than I did when I was your age.”

“Tell that to your eye doctors,” Dawn commented as she joined them. Turning her gentle gaze onto Miles, she smiled, “Truthfully, Miles, you don’t have much to worry about when it comes to Vivien.”

“It’s not necessarily her that I’m worried about,” Miles admitted.

“Noah, then?” Dawn presumed. When Miles relented a nod of confirmation, she shook her head. “Long ago, when they were still just children, we all used to say that the two of them would be a cute couple. Nowadays, however, I couldn’t say the same.”

George nodded, “They’re good friends, sure, but there is nothing romantic between them on either side.”

“How can you be so sure?” Miles asked. “All day yesterday and today, he’s been attached at her hip.”

Dawn found George’s eyes and sighed, “That might be my fault. I asked Vivien to show him around this week and help him feel more comfortable. He’s shadowing her until Sunday. After that, I believe we’re setting him up as a lifeguard at the pool.”

“So it’s just for this week?” Miles asked.

Dawn hummed as George nodded, “It should be, yes.”

Reassured that things would return to normal by the end of the week, Miles smiled and thanked the older couple before making his way to the table where everyone was listening to Bentley talk about how someone got slammed in the face by a basketball earlier in the day. Once lunch was over and everyone was allowed some free time, Miles accompanied his brothers to the art barn, where Bentley proudly showed them how he managed to make a lopsided bowl that he insisted Miles could put by the door to hold his keys. After spending a few hours messily attempting to make something out of a lump of clay, the dinner bell rang and they cleaned things up before leaving to see what was being served in the mess hall.

Later that night, when Miles was sitting on the joined section of the pier with Royce and Bentley to watch the sunset, he took in a deep breath and turned to Royce and asked, “So, what do you think about this Noah guy?”

“He’s alright,” Royce shrugged, swinging his legs back and forth in the water. “He’s not overly talkative with anyone other than Vivien, but he’s getting better at talking with me and Benny now that we’ve hung out a little.”

Miles hummed, “Viv’s grandparents said that he’s shadowing her for the week to see if that helps him get more comfortable with people.”

“They picked a good person to help him,” Bentley said. “She’s one of the most outgoing people here.”

With a chuckle, Miles nodded, “Yeah. I guess they were really close as kids, so I guess that helps.”

“Viv said that, when they were little, a lot of people thought they would be together at some point, but that she thought it was weird,” Bentley claimed.

Ah, so Bentley had been worried about it too. Miles fought to keep himself from grinning at just how secretly protective his baby brother had gotten to be. “Her grandma told me something similar,” Miles agreed.

Dodging the obvious question of his thoughts on the matter, Royce turned to his brothers and smiled as he said, “They were talking about doing archery with us tomorrow. Maybe we can try to help him open up more while we’re hanging out.”

Miles shared a subtle look of disappointment with Bentley before turning to Royce with a smile, “That sounds like a great idea, RJ.”

“Yeah, because there’s nothing like getting someone to talk when you’ve got a weapon in your hands,” Bentley sarcastically claimed, earning himself an elbow from Miles.

Despite his best efforts, Bentley arose early that Tuesday morning, finding himself alone with a note on the table beside his bed that told him Royce and Vivien were going to spend the morning sitting on the porch and reading together. Unlike Royce and Vivien, he never liked rising early or using the morning to do anything productive. If he could have done so, he would have rolled over and slept in until at least eight or nine. However, he knew the wake-up call would come over the camp’s speakers sooner rather than later, so he pried himself from the comfort of his blankets and drowsily pushed himself to venture down the stairs.

True to the note they had left, Bentley found Vivien and Royce sitting on the porch swing together, a book open between them as Royce read aloud. As Bentley stepped onto the porch and closed the door behind him, Royce paused his reading, smiling at his younger brother as he said, “Morning, Ben.”

“Mornin’,” Bentley mumbled, taking what space was left on the swing as Vivien slid closer to Royce.

As Bentley’s head fell onto Vivien’s shoulder and Vivien’s, in turn, dropped onto Royce’s, Royce chuckled and began reading once more, his soft, dulcet voice dragging Bentley closer to the brink of sleep. It wasn’t until Wouldn’t It Be Nice by The Beach Boys began playing over the speakers that Bentley realized he had fallen asleep. After attempting to pull Bentley away from his new sleeping spot, Vivien headed inside the lodge and dragged Riven outside, getting her skating partner to pull Bentley from the swing. Riven went a step further, however, picking the half-asleep boy up and settling him on his back before making the journey to the mess hall a while behind the others.

Bentley’s nonsensical mumblings about wanting to go back to bed did nothing to steer Riven back toward the lodge, instead making the older boy chuckle, “If I had the choice, I’d be right there with you, half-pint, but Vivien dragged us into this, so we’re going to have to see it through.”

Scoffing as he rested his chin on Riven’s shoulder, Bentley huffed, “It’s not like it matters. She’s gonna spend all day with Noah anyway.”

“You don’t like Noah?” Riven questioned quietly.

Bentley’s noncommittal noise did little to answer, but he soon decided, “He’s nice and all, but Miley and I think Royce is a little bothered by him having Viv all to himself.”

Riven hummed in understanding, giving the young blond a nod as he thought things over. Ever the observant one, Riven had quickly found Royce sitting a bit quieter at meal times when Noah was around. It didn’t take a genius to see that, whether Royce knew it or not, he was at least a little bothered by the boy’s presence. Choosing to steer away from the topic until he had looked more into it, Riven asked, “Is Miley what you call Miles?”

With a nod, Bentley muttered, “Me, Royce, and sometimes Viv.”

Letting out a confused chuckle, Riven wondered, “Why sometimes?”

“He gave her permission to call him that when she stayed with us over vacation,” Bentley claimed, “but she says she only calls him that when there’s an emergency or if she needs help.”

“Has she ever called him Miley?”

“Twice that I know of.”

“What happened?” Riven asked.

“The first time she called him that, Miles wasn’t too thrilled,” Bentley snickered. “She was doing it to tease him and he explained that was a nickname that only Royce and I could use.”

“But now she can use it?”

“Yeah,” Bentley nodded, “but she’s only done it once since then that I know about.”

Riven nodded, attempting to recall whether or not he had been there when Vivien had called Miles by his nickname. When he couldn’t, he softly asked, “Was that in your world or ours?”

Just as Bentley opened his mouth to answer, the realization of what Riven had said hit him like a brick wall. Instead, his mouth slowly closed and, as Riven peered back at him, he forced a small smile and asked, “You mean our state or yours?”

“No,” Riven chuckled. “I know what I said.”

“What do you mean?” Bentley chuckled. “We don’t live in another world.”

Smiling knowingly as he stepped over a tree root that stuck up out of the ground, Riven smiled and shook his head, “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a terrible liar?”

“Yeah,” Bentley sagged. Glancing at Riven’s hazel eyes, he asked, “When did you figure it out?”

“A while ago,” Riven shrugged. “Don’t worry, though; I never told Vivien or Mick about it. I haven’t told anyone about it, actually.”

“I wasn’t overly worried about that, actually,” Bentley smiled.

Riven smirked, “They already know, don’t they?”

“They do,” Bentley confirmed. “But if you want to surprise them with the fact that you know, I won’t say anything to them.”

With a chuckle, Riven nodded, “I could have some fun with that.”

A brief round of laughter filled the air between the boys, before Bentley wondered, “So, if you don’t mind me asking, how did you figure it out?”

Sighing, Riven began, “I’d had an inkling that something wasn’t quite right when Pip seemed hesitant to show me pictures of her boyfriend. At first, I thought that maybe he was a criminal of some sort as Vivien had sort of dodged ever having a ‘teenage rebellion’ phase, but when I was eventually shown a picture of this kid who looked like he couldn’t hurt a fly, I was more than a bit suspicious.”

“Understandable,” Bentley nodded. “Did you look him up or something?”

“I tried to, with no results,” Riven confirmed. “Deciding that I would be getting nowhere fast if I kept pressing on like that, I let it go.”

“So, what happened?” the blond pressed. “How did you figure it out?”

“It was an accident, really,” Riven explained with a short laugh. “I bought a set of old beach movies from this shop my dad frequents with the idea to see if there was any way I could use some lines from them at the beginning of our song recordings.”

“Instead, you found us.”

The auburn-haired male nodded, “Right on the title screen when I put the DVD into the player.”

Bentley snorted, it seemed as though Riven and Vivien were more alike than he had previously thought. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

With a shrug, Riven admitted, “I figured you guys would say something when you felt ready to.”

“Viv wanted to,” Bentley claimed as Riven set him back on his feet, “but everyone else felt it was a good idea to keep it to ourselves until we figured out how to do it without freaking you out like we did Vivien.”

Chuckling Riven smirked as he asked, “I take it she didn’t take it too well?”

“She was pretty much shell-shocked at the time,” Bentley stated, “but it got better after she sat through the show and asked us about a million questions.”

“Typical,” Riven chortled.

As they made their way toward the front door of the mess hall, Bentley snatched Riven’s wrist and asked, “You’re not going to tell anybody, right?”

“Are you?” Bentley quickly shook his head, so, in response, Riven shook his. “Then, no. It’s our secret, half-pint.”

Glad to be able to feel somewhat closer to the older skater, Bentley made sure Riven sat beside him at the breakfast table, the blond eager to get to know him as something more than Vivien’s friend from practice. When Noah joined the table, Riven easily picked up on Bentley’s amiable unease, followed closely by how Royce’s energetic chatter about some book series he’d been enjoying in the library seemed to take a backseat to Vivien’s childhood friend’s tentative ramblings about swimming.

Although Riven could tell Vivien wasn’t nearly as enthralled by the sandy brunet’s talk of a triathlon as she was in the book her boyfriend was enjoying, it didn’t appear as though Royce could see the minute way Vivien’s fingers drummed on the table or how her attention seemed to flicker like a dying flashlight. When Royce chimed in with something to add to the conversation, Vivien’s incessant tapping stilled and her focus was solely on the curly-haired boy to her right - something Riven was sure went unnoticed by most of the people at the table. Trying not to make his observations known, Riven simply continued eating, allowing the others at the table to carry on with their morning conversations as he sat in near-perfect silence.

As they all began to clear the tables and prepared to head out to their stations for the first half of the day, Riven followed Bentley to the trash with a pile he had gathered. While they worked on draining the excess maple syrup from a few plates, Riven locked gazes with the blond and offered, “If you need my help talking to Royce about this, let me know.”

Bentley glanced over Riven’s shoulder, presumably at his brother, before finding Riven’s eyes once again. “Are you sure?”

Riven nodded, “I can try to get something out of him tomorrow when we’re both holed up in the health center.”

“Thank you,” Bentley breathed.

Smiling at the younger blond, Riven said, “Anytime.”

According to the schedule, Riven’s first Wednesday at Camp Wanamaker would be spent in the most boring building on the grounds - the health center. Hardly anyone ever ended up in the health center during the training week. At the most, maybe three or four people would come in asking for something to help their headaches or period cramps. Overall, it was a fairly boring spot until the campers arrived.

Children always brought chaos to camp. Splinters, twisted ankles, and the occasional tumble from the rock wall or smack to the face from a volleyball were fairly common when the children arrived. Without them wreaking all sorts of havoc on the grounds, the health center was quiet. The tedious chores of sweeping floors and taking inventory were taken care of fairly quickly in the morning and again at night, but once the typical tasks were done, there was nothing else to do. As Riven stared across the room to where Royce was occupying his type with a book he’d borrowed from the library, he let out a sigh.

Royce peered over the top of his book, finding Riven’s head tipped back as the older boy stared up at the ceiling. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m bored as hell,” Riven groaned. “This is, by far, the worst place to be holed up all day.”

“Tell me about it,” Royce huffed. “Today is my birthday.”

“How come you didn’t ask for the day off to go hang out somewhere?” Riven asked. “Chief would’ve let you go.”

“He also would have had to let out my brothers, Viv, and anyone else who wanted to spend the day with me,” Royce deadpanned. With a shrug, he said, “It’s not worth it anyway.”

“It’s your birthday,” Riven stated. “You should be allowed to do fun shit instead of being holed up in here with me all day.”

“It doesn’t bother me as much as I thought it would,” Royce shrugged. Choosing to set aside his book in favor of distracting his girlfriend’s closest friend, Royce stood and crossed the room to sit on Riven’s desk. “What would you rather be doing?”

“Literally anything else,” Riven chuckled humorlessly. “I would even take archery at this point and we both know how that would go.”

Royce fought the smirk that wanted so desperately to appear. The day before, he had spent time at the archery station with the majority of his cabin mates and had seen Riven both try and fail to land a single arrow on the target. Clearing his throat and smiling at the auburn-haired boy, he offered, “Do you want me to run to the cabin and grab a deck of cards? You could beat my ass in poker for a few hours.”

Taking in a deep, contemplative breath, Riven nodded, “That could be fun.” Royce smiled and pushed himself away from the desk, but before he could get far, Riven suggested, “Why don’t you check in your desk first? I think Erica and I spent a few hours building a house of cards last year and we might have left the deck in one of these desks.”

Royce nodded, rounding his desk and pulling open each drawer, searching them before pulling a tattered cardboard box out of the second to last. Shaking the box victoriously, Royce beamed, “Found them.”

“Alright,” Riven smirked. As Royce grabbed his chair and wheeled it over to Riven’s desk, Riven cleared a spot on his desk. “So,” he began, “do you want to play blackjack or regular poker?”

Royce shrugged, “I’ve never really played either one, so I don’t know. Dealer’s choice, I guess?”

“I’ll teach you,” Riven said with a smile. “Blackjack would probably be a bit easier to start with since it’s just math.”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” Riven nodded, taking a piece of paper and a pen from his desk and writing out the card numbers on the paper. “You just have to get as close as you can to twenty-one points without going over.”

“That sounds easy enough,” Royce smiled.

Riven hummed, “Everything is its normal number apart from the aces and the royalty cards. Royal cards are worth ten and aces can be either one or eleven points.”

Royce looked over the paper as Riven turned it toward him. “The suits don’t matter?” he asked.

“Nope,” Riven declared with a smile as he pulled the cards from the box and began shuffling them. “Just try to get close to twenty-one. If you want another card to add to your deck, you say ‘hit,’ and when you think you’re close enough and don’t want to risk going over, you say ‘freeze.’ At least, that’s what my dad taught me.”

Royce nodded, watching Riven shuffle the cards a few times before asking, “Are you close with your dad?”

“Pretty close, yeah,” Riven claimed. “After my mom died a while back, he and I grew a lot closer. We’re all we have left, so we try to keep our relationship in good standing. Bentley said your mom died a while ago, too, right? Were you close with your dad after that?”

Royce took in a deep breath and sighed, “No. When our mom died, our dad went sort of off the rails - drinking and all that.”

“Is that why your brother didn’t take Chief up on his offer of a drink last night?” Riven asked as he placed two cards in front of Royce - one facing up and the other down.

“He offered Miles alcohol?”

Riven nodded, “He usually offers the older counselors a drink at some point just to sit around and get to know them better. It’s never anything hard - maybe a beer or something - but he takes one cabin at a time and offers them either something lightly alcoholic or a soda. I heard him talking with your brother when I was helping Bentley clean tables.”

“Do you know what he chose?” Royce questioned as he looked over his cards.

“A soda,” Riven stated. “Hit or freeze?”

Chuckling at the measly nine he had gotten, Royce said, “Hit, please.”

As Riven placed another card face-up on Royce’s side of the table, he continued with their previous conversation, “I think Chief gave him a can of cream soda and brought him back to the office to talk with him more.”

“I was wondering why he came back late,” Royce admitted as he recounted his cards. “I’m going to freeze there.”

“Good job,” Riven commented with a smile, taking a moment to look over his cards before adding another to his pile. “I’m frozen too. Let’s flip them and see who’s closer.”

As they both flipped their cards over, Riven smiled as Royce came out with a nineteen and his own hand managed to be just a point shy. “I won?” Royce wondered softly.

“You did,” Riven agreed, placing his hand of cards on top of Royce’s and pushing them to the side. As he flipped another set of cards onto the desk, Riven asked, “Do you think you’ll ever drink?”

Ryce was quick to shake his head, “I doubt it. After watching our dad spiral into drunken stupors more than once, I don’t think I want to touch the stuff.”

“Wise decision,” Riven applauded. “Vivien shares a similar opinion, but she’s had wine before.”

“She’s not old enough to drink,” Royce slowly mused, his head tilting to the side.

Riven smiled as he recalled, “It was an accident. We were screwing around in the winery and took some of the sample cups thinking they were punch for an upcoming wedding reception.”

Royce grinned, “What happened?”

“We got absolutely trashed,” Riven snickered. “Her mom was pissed while our dads were too busy laughing their asses off at us. I guess we both had guzzled about four cups of chocolate raspberry wine before they found us.”

“Holy shit!” Royce squawked.

“Oh yeah,” Riven laughed. “To make things even worse, Vivien started cussing at her parents - told her mom to fuck off and flipped her dad off.”

“How old was she?”

Riven glanced at his cards as he thought about his answer before replying, “I was almost ten, so she was maybe six or seven.”

“Wow,” Royce breathed. “I can’t imagine her doing anything like that, especially not so young.”

“Like I said, it wasn’t intentional,” Riven shrugged. “After that, she’s sworn off alcohol, but she does taste-test the season wines her family puts out every once in a while. It’s just not enough to get drunk on.”

Royce nodded and checked his cards, smiling as the image of a young, chaotic Vivien running around her family’s winery, drunk off her ass and flipping people off, filled his thoughts. “I guess she and I have more in common than I thought."

Spotting the opportunity to get his point across, Riven glanced over at Royce and nodded, “Add that to the list of reasons you shouldn’t be worried about her friendship with Noah.”

Freezing, Roycer slowly looked up, finding Riven’s calm stare aimed back at him. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Placing the deck of cards aside, Riven folded his hands together on the desk and leveled Royce with a small grin, “I can tell you’re bothered by how close they’ve been, whether you see it or not. Granted, you two have time together in the mornings and after dinner, but it bothers you, at least a little, that he’s been attached to her hip for the last few days.”

“I trust Vivien,” Royce stated firmly.

“And I’m glad you do,” Riven said placatingly, “but I’m not questioning how much you trust her. I just want you to know that it’s understandable if you’re uncomfortable with another boy, around your age, hanging around your girl all day, every day.”

“She and Noah are just friends and I know it wouldn’t go further than that,” Royce said, but to Riven, it almost sounded as though he was trying to convince himself of that. “Besides, he’s supposed to be shadowing her until the campers begin to show up. Even if the situation did bother me, which it doesn’t, I wouldn't be able to do anything about it.”

“You could, actually,” Riven claimed. When Royce’s curiosity became evident, Riven smiled and said, “I’ve known Noah as long as Vivien has; if it makes things better for you, I can always swap out with her.”

Before answering, Royce actually appeared to think on the idea, his eyes flitting around before finally stilling. With a shake of his head, Royce replied, “It’s only three more days.”

“Four,” Riven corrected. “The campers don’t come until Monday, so you have until Sunday night.”

“Still,” Royce sighed, “I can handle that. After that, things will go back to normal, and I can pretend this never happened.”

Riven examined Royce’s face and, despite having the intense urge to shake the boy until he relented, he couldn’t find any reason to. Royce’s steadfast expression gave Riven little wiggle room, but as he knew he had, at the very least, offered Royce an out if he wanted it, Riven chose to wave his white flag of defeat and picked up the deck of cards once more. “Alright,” he said, “but just remember what I said. I’m here if you need me.”

“Thanks,” Royce breathed, allowing a small smile to tug at his lips. “I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Riven nodded. Adjusting his grip on the cards, Riven smiled as he asked, “Now, hit or freeze?”

It wasn’t often that Royce got the chance to spend one-on-one time with Mick. Most days, they were too busy with their individual interests and schedules, but that Thursday was something different. When Royce entered the downstairs section of the Lakeside Lodge, he found he wasn’t the only one awake. Mick had pushed the coffee table out of the way before putting her headphones on and beginning her usual morning exercises, but when she took notice of the young brunet, she smiled and invited him to join her. Shrugging, Royce set his book and cell phone aside before joining the woman.

They talked for a while about the different stretches Mick did every day, but there wasn’t much to their conversation apart from that. Breakfast came and went as uneventfully as it always did, but as Royce joined back up with Mick on the steps outside the mess hall, he found himself feeling almost excited to spend the day lifeguarding with her. Jade and Erica joined them at the pool after a while, having taken the time to go back to their cabin to put on clothing that would be more forgiving in the heat of the snack stand. While Erica and Jade took their spots in the little shack near the pool entrance, Mick and Royce perched themselves on one of the lifeguard chairs. There wasn’t much to do as most everyone had to work in other positions, but as the day grew hotter and the heat became more noticeable, a select few workers entered the pool to cool off from the heat of the sun.

Royce was grateful for the overhead umbrella they had over the chair to keep themselves cool from the heat, but as Mick climbed down from their perch and grabbed a pair of popsicles to snack on, he realized just how hot it had gotten. “Thanks again, Mick,” he said before sucking down some of the extra juice from the plastic tube.

“Of course,” she replied with a smile. “I wasn’t sure if it was you or Viv who preferred the blue raspberry ones.”

“We both like it,” Royce shrugged. “She just prefers watermelon.”

As Mick nodded, she sighed thoughtfully, “I think I’m the only one in the entire cabin who likes the banana-flavored ones.”

“Is that what the yellow ones taste like?” Royce questioned. When Mick nodded, Royce laughed, “I thought they were lemon!”

Mick made a face of disgust and shook her head, “Ew, no. Lemon-scented anything makes me think of cleaning supplies; that’s why I picked the box with the banana-flavored pops.”

“Huh,” Royce chuckled. “Learn something new every day, I guess.”

“I guess so.”

The pair sat in near-silence as the few people in the pool took turns blasting each other with sprays of water. Taking another bite of his popsicle, Royce allowed his thoughts to fill his head as he stared off into space. After the conversation he’d had with Riven the day before, he had continuously found himself deep in thought on the topic of Noah and his relationship with Vivien. While Royce was confident in his trust of Vivien and knew he had nothing to worry about on her end of things, he couldn’t exactly say that he had the same trust in Noah. He hadn’t known the other boy for a full week yet and his apprehensiveness with the boy’s presence was becoming more and more obvious.

Slowly taking in a deep breath, Royce pulled his attention back to the present and looked over at the people swimming about in the crystalline water before him before turning his gaze toward Mick. As her neighbor, Mick was most likely to have known Vivien the longest. Maybe she would have some sort of insider knowledge on the situation. As he tried to think of a way to broach the situation, Royce heard a laugh that drew his attention away from the older girl. Finding Vivien laughing as she walked with Noah toward their station at the tennis court, Royce allowed himself to smile. Maybe he had no reason to worry about any of it. Maybe he was just overreacting. They were old friends, after all.

Mick seemed to have noticed the trio as she let out a soft laugh, “It’s so nice to see them together again.”

Shifting his gaze from the pair to the brunette beside him, Royce asked, “Who? Viv and Noah?”

Mick nodded as she turned to Royce with a smile, “Yeah. They were so close when they were little.”

“Mick said they went to school together,” Royce acknowledged.

“They did everything together,” Mick agreed. “No matter what they were doing or where they were, they were always together.”

Royce hummed, “So they were like me and Bentley when we first came to town?”

“In a way,” Mick shrugged. “You could never find one of them without the other.”

With a nod, Royce glanced back toward the pair, just barely catching Vivien throwing a tennis ball across the court at Noah, hitting him in the shoulder with a cackle of victory. He couldn’t quite make out what was being said between the pair, it was obvious that they were getting along as they always had. Noah picked up the ball and hurled it back across the net between himself and Vivien, cursing as Vivien dodged his throw and instead chucked another ball at him. Smirking at his girlfriend’s determination to pelt her friend with fuzzy, green balls, Royce chuckled, “They seem to be getting along well.”

“I’m not surprised,” Mick smiled. “The two of them were so close before that I bet it feels like no time has passed to them.” With a short, thoughtful chuckle as Vivien found a bag of tennis balls to assault her friend with, Mick claimed, “You know, a lot of people thought the two of them would end up together someday.”

The news had Royce’s attention at once. The thought brought an uncomfortable sinking feeling to his stomach and he was sure that, if he hadn’t been sitting, he would have fallen to the cement surrounding the pool. Nobody had told him this. How many people knew? Did Vivien and Noah feel that way as well at some point? As he watched the two on the tennis court laugh and screech insults at each other, Royce could see his girlfriend’s beaming smile and a tense strain of impending doom spread through his chest as Noah ducked under Vivien’s attack and brought his arms around her knees, hauling her over his shoulder while she squeaked at the sudden height difference.

“Really?” Royce wondered softly as he watched Vivien drop the balls she had collected in favor of thumping a fist against Noah’s back, begging to be let down.

Mick hummed, “Back then, I think everyone thought they would be a cute couple, but I can’t see it now.”

Allowing his gaze to fall on the brunette beside him, Royce asked, “You can’t.”

“I doubt anyone can,” she claimed as she turned toward him. “After all the time they’ve spent apart, they’re just getting accustomed to being around each other again. I think them spending so much time together now is just giving them a chance to get to know each other all over again.”

Royce nodded slowly, “Things have changed a lot since they last saw each other.”

“They have, yeah.” Mick glanced back at the pair as Vivien whacked Noah on the shoulder with her tennis racket. With a snort, she said, “One thing remains a constant, though.” When Royce’s eyebrow raised in a silent question, Mick said, “Vivien has no interest in him as anything more than her friend.”

“How can you tell?” he asked.

“Well, for one, it’s obvious how much she adores you,” Mick stated with a smile. “I’ve never seen her as happy as I have since she’s been with you. Two…” Mick shook her head, “I don’t think she’s ever seen him as anything more than a friend. The two used to beat each other up and harass each other on a daily basis, which, by the look of things, I don’t think has changed.”

“She’s like that with me sometimes,” Royce admitted.

“It’s different,” Mick stated. “With you, she’s gentle and, when she does shove you around, it’s playful and soft. With Noah, it’s like an actual fight; they know each other’s limits and dance around them with ease. To him, she’s one of the guys and he knows she can hold her own. To her, he’s another Riven - a sibling-like figure she can push around without worrying about getting in trouble for it.”

Once Royce felt as though he had absorbed the concept, he softly asked, “Is that why you think they wouldn’t make a good couple anymore?”

“That’s one of many reasons,” Mick chuckled with a nod, “but yeah, that’s the jist of it.”

Royce hummed and brought his melting popsicle to his lips before tipping it up and draining some of the juice from it. He was grateful it had been Mick that explained it to him. Most of the time, she made things make sense more than anyone else could. She had a way of explaining things that could make even the most tense person relax. He took in a deep breath and looked over the swimmers making laps in the pool before glancing over at Vivien and her friend. Royce smiled as he watched the two begin an easy-going match, sending the ball across the net - or attempting to, at the very least. Maybe Mick was right - he had nothing to worry about.

Friday, as it so happened, was campfire day at Camp Wanamaker and, as most of the campers were, Butchy was busy finding logs to burn. Though the camp had a storage area on the side of the main office filled with logs to burn, Vivien’s grandparents had given everyone the task of finding some wood to burn on their own. Some had ventured toward the lake in search of driftwood or fallen logs on the tree line, but Butchy had taken it upon himself to search the area around the amphitheatre as hardly anyone had headed there. With a collection of sticks and kindling, Butchy took in a deep breath and headed toward the fire pit that had yet to be started. Just as he set his pile down beside the circle of rocks, Royce came out of the tree line on the other side, pushing his way past some shrubbery with a grin and dropping off some wood to burn.

“Hey, gattino,” Butchy greeted, waving the younger boy toward him. “There are some good size logs where I was looking. Do you want to help me get some?”

“Sure,” Royce smiled.

Butchy smiled in return, bringing an arm around Royce as they headed back toward the trees. The pair talked as they walked through the woods, discussing everything from what they’d had for breakfast to some movie Royce was letting Vivien drag him to when they got the chance to leave camp for a few hours. As he loaded Royce’s arms with firewood, Butchy chuckled, “I don’t know what happened between you and Vivien, but I’m glad you two resolved whatever it was.”

“What do you mean?” Royce questioned as he followed Butchy to where a fallen tree blanketed the ground.

Butchy turned back to Royce and shrugged, “It just seemed as though the two of you were, I don’t know… a bit off the past few days. I just figured you two had sorted things out and that’s why it feels like you both are back to your normal selves.”

“We weren’t fighting or anything,” Royce stated. As Butchy laid a few small branches on the ever-growing pile, he said, “I just needed time to process her friendship with Noah, I guess. They were really close as kids and were spending a lot of time together the last few days, but I talked it over with a few people and I feel a lot better about it now.”

Butchy nodded, giving Royce a small grin as he recalled, “You know, Mickie and I had a similar issue a while back.”

Royce’s eyebrow raised as he asked, “You did?” When Butchy nodded in confirmation, Royce breathed, “Wow. I didn’t think that was possible for the two of you.”

“It’s possible for anyone,” Butchy stated. “Back then, our relationship was pretty secretive to anyone in her world and, when one of her closest friends came over for a visit, I was pretty tense. His name was Hudson and he would sit closer to her than he did to anyone else, they would talk about things I had no clue about and, when I tried to do things with them, it felt as though I wasn’t wanted.”

Pausing, Royce realized he had been in the exact same position. “That’s what happened to me with Noah,” he claimed. Shaking his head, he turned to Butchy and asked, “What happened?”

“Obviously, we were fine,” Butchy chuckled. “I found out they thought of each other as siblings. They had grown up together as their parents were close friends and had grown up treating each other as family. Just like with your situation with Noah, I found that I had nothing to worry about.”

Royce almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He couldn’t imagine Butchy having much of anything to worry about; he always seemed so sure of himself and, as far as appearances went, he could have found anyone to be with if things with Mick went to the wayside. However, the knowledge that even someone like Butchy had gone through something similar in his love life and still came out on top, was reassuring. Watching Butchy pile his arms full of branches and fallen tree limbs, Royce smiled, “Thank you, Butchy.”

“You’re welcome, gattino,” Butchy grinned, gently nudging the boy toward the amphitheatre. As they began walking, he added, “You had nothing to worry about in the first place.”

“What do you mean?” Royce asked as he turned to look back at Butchy.

Instead of answering directly, Butchy asked, “You know how they say the eyes are the windows to the soul?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, take a good look at how Vivien looks at you,” Butchy said with a knowing smile. “She loves you with all of her heart and it’s obvious.”

The idea had Royce smiling despite himself. He would just have to pay more attention to her eyes when he saw her next. Flicking his attention back to Butchy, he asked, “Are you sure?”

Butchy chuckled, shifting the wood in his grasp to one arm as he reached up to pat Royce on the shoulder, “I, of all people, would know. The two of you have a rare kind of love, bud. Don’t waste your time worrying about something that will only keep you from seeing what’s right in front of you.”

As Butchy gave Royce one last reassuring pat on the shoulder and continued on toward where they would soon be lighting the fire, Royce stood in place, grinning like an idiot to himself as he registered all that Butchy had told him. It was reassuring, to say the least. Pleased with the hopeful statements Butchy had given him, Royce turned to the camp and continued trekking through the woods, glad to be given more reassurance that he was on the right track. Once everyone returned from their searches for kindling, Royce took his seat on one of the wooden benches closest to the fire pit and allowed his smile to only broaden as Vivien sat beside him, her head resting comfortably on his shoulder.

The weekend, according to Royce’s schedule, were the days to dread most. The schedule for the first week had been easy enough to follow, but Royce had been silently dreading the weekend schedule he had been given. Whoever decided to pair him with Carrie in the playhouse on Saturday and in the kitchen on Sunday, had to have had it out for him. Although he had promised Miles he would at least try to be more civil with the blonde, he wasn’t sure that entailed him listening to Carrie sing show tunes all day.

After breakfast, they had made their way to the playhouse, Royce fighting the urge to tell the blonde to just be quiet as she sang some lyrics from a show she, Mick, and Vivien had made them start watching in the evenings. By the time they had finally gotten to their designated building for the day, they had met up with the other playhouse workers and Royce was subjected to hearing them blather on and on about which show they were hoping the camp would put together over the summer.

While Royce certainly cared about theatre - he had to with Vivien around - he wasn't very fond of the idea of being on stage in front of everyone and their families. He was more than willing to help out if they needed help painting sets or writing scripts, but having to memorize lines to be on stage would absolutely be outside of his comfort zone. When he made this fact known to the others, only one other person seemed to agree with him and, to Royce’s dismay, the ginger girl had nobody from her cabin with her to keep her participating and ultimately sat on the edge of the stage, more occupied with her cell phone than anything else.

After sending a few members of the group to the art barn for paints and other supplies, the group sat along the edge of the stage waiting for Vivien’s grandmother, Dawn, to arrive. They didn’t have to wait long as the doors to the barn were pushed open and Dawn took a moment to flip the doors’ respective stoppers down to keep them open. Making her way to the stage, Dawn smiled as she scanned over those present, “Well, it appears we have a full cast of players ready to help with stage prep today.”

One boy with blond-tipped hair hurried to offer Dawn a hand as she headed for the stairs on the side of the stage, “Ten in total, Nonna.”

“More than enough for today,” she commented as she stepped further onto the stage. As the workers moved into a line across the stage, Dawn examined them all briefly before smiling, “As I’m sure some of you have heard through the grapevine, we’re narrowing down our list of performances for the end-of-summer showcase.”

Murmurs of excitement passed over the group before Carrie raised a hand and asked, “Are we getting rid of more today?”

“Better than that,” Dawn said. “We’re narrowing it down to the final option.”

The boy with the blond-tipped hair - Royce was sure his name was one of those weird ones that his parents probably thought was different and creative, but was really just ridiculous - ran for the side of the stage, dragging back a whiteboard with five pieces of paper still taped to it. Each paper had a different show’s title and logo on it, but Royce couldn’t understand the hype as everyone else got excited about the listings. A Midsummer Night’s Dream, he knew, was one of Shakespeare’s plays, but he couldn’t see many children sitting still long enough to enjoy it. Legally Blonde and Hairspray had made it to the finals, but, if he was going to be completely honest, Royce wasn’t surprised; the shows were energetic and fun - something they could captivate any audience with. Clue had made it into the mix and, although it wasn’t a musical, it was certainly a fun addition. The last show on the whiteboard was a show called Arsenic and Old Lace, but Royce wasn’t sure exactly what that show entailed.

Though Royce could claim he was intrigued, it appeared as though he wasn’t nearly as excited as some of the others present as Dawn reached up and hovered a hand over the different names. Anytime she came close to stopping over a certain one, there would be exclamations of shock or pleas for her to take something else from the board. Then, her first choice came like ripping off a bandage - quick and painless - and A Midsummer Night’s Dream was torn away, leaving a small piece of paper stuck to the tape that refused to peel away from the whiteboard. One by one, the names were pulled until only Clue and Hairspray remained.

As though she was on the edge of her seat, Carrie gripped the only thing close enough to her that wouldn’t fall over - Royce’s arm. The blonde’s claws dug into Royce’s arm unknowingly, but as Royce turned to glare at her and tell her to remove herself before he did, he saw the genuine excitement glimmering in her eyes and chose to hold off on his remarks, allowing her to use his arm as an emery board as Dawn reached for the last paper. Royce watched with mild anticipation as the older woman held both papers in her hands, but as she pulled both from the board, holding one above her head in victory, even Royce felt a surge of elation. Hairspray would have been his pick of the bunch anyway.

After giving a brief speech about the musical and how they had chosen it to allow some of the campers to perform as well, Dawn began dismissing them to different areas. “Marcus, Thalia, you two are on props. There is a large bin in the storage room that should have some of what you need. We’ll get donations for the rest.”

The redhead who had been on her phone throughout most of her time in the playhouse followed a short boy to the side of the stage, the two of them disappearing behind a curtain. The boy who stood beside Dawn said, “Kiran, Summer, you’re going to be helping us with the costumes. We’ve started on a few, but we need more help.”

Dawn smiled as a paid stepped from the crowd and moved toward the curtains to watch everyone else get sorted out. Another pair was assigned to see how many chairs they could fill the audience with and, before Royce knew it, the older woman was calling his name. “Royce and Carrie, you two are going to be working on painting set pieces with me.”

Royce’s brain stalled. Was she serious? Was she really telling him to spend the rest of his day with her and Carrie? Did Vivien not tell her about how strained his relationship with Carrie was? Maybe she had and the woman simply didn't care. No, Dawn seemed too nice to do something like that. Maybe Vivien put her up to it! That sounded like a more likely cause. Vivien was forever trying to get the two of them to work past things. He wouldn’t put it past Vivien to ask her grandmother for help moving things along.

Being caught up in his thoughts, Royce missed the older woman’s dismissal of another pair and only realized he was being left behind when Carrie nudged him and told him to follow them. Containers of paint and a few wooden boards were brought outside, and the trio sat around a picnic table to work on their projects. As they worked, Carrie and Dawn began talking about their enjoyment of musicals and theatre in general while Royce got to work on using an image from Dawn’s phone to help him paint a copy of the musical’s hairspray can onto a board. After a while of radio silence on the boy’s part, Dawn reached over the table and dotted the back of his hand with a splotch of yellow paint.

Royce glanced down at his hand before looking across the table at the woman with widened eyes. “I’m sorry, did you say something?” he asked.

Dawn smirked, “No, sweetheart. You’ve just been awfully quiet. Is everything alright?”

“I’m fine,” Royce claimed, perhaps just a bit too eagerly.

“Are you sure?” Carrie tried.

“Yeah,” Royce said. Although Carrie looked ready to press further, she simply took in a deep breath and sighed as she went on with her work, allowing Royce to continue on with his work. Dawn hummed thoughtfully, but left the subject alone as she continued painting. After a while, Royce couldn’t take the silence anymore and glanced over at the woman before asking, “Do we all have to participate in the showcase performance?”

Glad to have finally caught on to the root of the issue, Dawn set a soft smile on her face and nodded, “In some way or another, yes.”

“Do we all have to be on stage at some point?” Royce questioned. “I don’t like being on stage like that.”

Before Dawn could answer, Carrie smiled as she mused, “Miles isn’t a fan of it much either, but he’s gotten out of his shell at least a little since I’ve been with him.”

“Not like you gave him much of a choice,” Royce muttered under his breath.

Ignoring the snide comment directed toward the blonde, Dawn answered Royce’s previous question, “Even the people who worked on the set design go on the stage at some point.”

After a tentative pause, Royce seemingly resigned to his fate as he nodded and breathed, “Okay.”

As Royce rigidly returned to his painting, Dawn smiled gently and said, “You know, even my husband despises being on that stage sometimes.”

“Really?” Royce questioned.

Carrie nodded, “I would have thought he would be used to it after running the camp for so long.”

“Well, I’m sure part of his reasoning is that he knows I’ve concocted some sort of end-of-year prank for him,” Dawn claimed with a shrug, “but I know he detests being on stage anyway. I just don’t see how.”

“I can,” Royce scoffed. “Up there, you’ve got blazingly hot lights shining in your face, you have to memorize a bunch of songs and dances and know when to come in for them, and we can’t forget the fact that there are at least a zillion eyes on you, judging you at all times.”

Dawn nodded thoughtfully before smiling, “But this stage is different.”

“What do you mean?” Royce asked.

“This isn’t Broadway,” Dawn said with a reassuring smile. “Up there, there is no judgment if someone forgets what to say or do. I mean, hell, if you want a good example of that, go ask Chief to show you last year’s performance of The Play That Goes Wrong. That entire show was a trainwreck, but everyone loved it.”

Royce allowed the woman’s comments to sink in before he asked, “Nobody cares if you screw up?” When Dawn shook her head, Royce tacked on, “I thought you have to be perfect on stage.”

“Nobody is perfect,” Carrie said before Dawn could. “Everyone messes up at some point or another. On the stage, we’re merely players putting on a show. As long as you have fun and enjoy yourself on the stage, nobody will care how well things go as they’ll be more focused on your energy and acting.”

Dawn nodded in agreement, “The only thing we ask of everyone is that they try to have fun no matter what they do or don’t do on stage.”

“And, if it makes it any better,” Carrie began, “you’ll have everyone you love by your side - and me, of course - and we’ll all be rooting for you no matter what you do.”

For a fleeting moment, Royce had the instinct to correct the blonde on her statement, adding her to the group that he cared about, yet he bit his tongue, holding back the instinctual comment as he gave a sharp nod. The thought of the blonde being on the list of people he cared about had never occurred to Royce before - at least, not that he knew of - and the instinct to speak his mind on the topic had certainly never come around before, so Royce had no clue where it had come from. Brushing it off as something to do with Miles and Vivien’s incessant pleas for him to mend whatever imaginary bond they saw between himself and Carrie, Royce took in a deep breath and thanked both women with a smile before returning to his painting, not once bothering to wipe the yellow paint from the back of his hand.

Normal Sundays in the Murphy household were spent on the couch, watching cartoons while they ate a late breakfast. However, that rainy Sunday morning felt anything but typical as Royce rose early and made his way to the mess hall to begin working on the breakfast he and Carrie would be serving to the line of hungry counselors and other staff arriving within the hour. Carrie arrived not long after, pulling her hair into a bun of sorts before taking an apron from the hooks on the wall and joining Royce as he pulled a variety of food from the refrigerator.

“What are we making this morning?” she asked as Royce placed a gallon of milk on a nearby metal counter.

Royce turned toward Carrie before nodding to the whiteboard beside the fridge, “It’s on the calendar. The list of everything we need is on the paper taped to the wall next to it.”

After thanking Royce, Carrie made her way to where the listing was. Breakfast at camp was simple more often than not. There was always a selection of cold foods left out for the residents to make for themselves - cereal, microwavable oatmeal, yogurts, an assortment of berries, fruit salad, and bread for toast being left on a counter off to the side of where the rest of the food was kept in heated containers. It seemed as though the options for the day were going to be simple staples as everyone would probably end up scarfing down their food in favor of getting things ready before the campers were destined to arrive the next day. According to the list, eggs were to be either scrambled or placed in breakfast sandwiches, a minimum of fifty pancakes were to be made, and a smaller portion of breakfast tacos were to be made up, wrapped, and pinned with toothpicks before the arrival of the first counselors.

“I didn’t realize just how much food was being eaten every day,” Carrie claimed.

“Yeah, well, now that you realize it,” Royce began as he began cracking eggs into a metal bowl, “do you think you could get started on making something? I can handle the scrambled eggs for the tacos and everything if you want to start on something else.”

Carrie nodded wordlessly, taking an extra bowl from the set Royce had pulled from the cupboards and looking over the supplies before picking up a box of pancake mix. “‘Just add water’ pancakes? How is that supposed to make it taste good?”

Looking up from the eggs he had been whisking, Royce gave Carrie a disbelieving stare, “You weren’t complaining when you ate them yesterday.”

“Yesterday, they had blueberries in them,” Carrie retorted.

“Then add blueberries or chocolate chips or whatever you want,” Royce shrugged, turning back to his eggs as he brought them over to the griddle to cook them. “Just don’t go overboard; it’s supposed to be quick and easy so that we have it done by the time everyone gets here.”

Carrie nodded to herself as Royce turned his back on her, grabbing a measuring cup from the counter and tearing the bag of pancake mix open. Dumping the bag into the bowl, Carrie grabbed another and crossed over to the sink, pouring cup after cup of water into the bowl until she had enough to mix into the pancake powder. Carrying the bowl over to the counter, Carrie took her time pouring the water into the powder-filled bowl, but just as she was grabbing a whisk to mix everything with, the kitchen door swung open, and a head of golden brown hair entered the room.

Royce turned to see who had come to visit them, yet quickly got back to work as he spotted Noah’s usual smirk. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “Isn’t this usual when you go out to swim?”

“Normally, yeah,” Noah agreed, observing Royce’s handiwork as he entered the room, “but Viv asked me to come and check on you guys while she’s at a short meeting with her grandparents this morning. She said you guys don’t always get along.”

“We don’t,” Carrie agreed as she stepped up to the griddle next to Royce’s and began pouring out the first of many pancakes, “but we know when to set that aside for the greater good.”

“Well, that’s good,” Noah chuckled. “I was worried I would have to start breaking up a fight or something.”

“Nope,” Royce said, trying desperately to focus on not scorching the eggs before him.

Noah hummed, watching the pair work in silence for a while, “You know, she always talks about you guys when we’re together.”

“She does?” Royce asked.

“Yeah,” Noah agreed. “She’s got some weird-ass nicknames for all of you, though. I mean, who calls someone named Bentley, Beemer? It’s not even the nickname for the Bentley car company. It’s for BMW.”

Taking in a slow breath, Royce fought to keep himself calm as he clenched his teeth and replied, “At the time, she couldn’t remember which company it was, but Bentley liked it, so we went with it.”

“Ah, that makes sense,” Noah sighed. Giving a chuckle, he continued, “I think some of her nicknames are funny, though.”

Carrie leaned forward so she could see Noah as she smiled patiently and claimed, “I do too, but they’re individually hers, and she’s almost always sincere when she uses them.”

Royce peered over at Carrie, finding the blonde’s smile to be welcoming despite her eyes portraying her desire to get Noah out of the kitchen so that they could work in peace. As Royce turned back to his eggs, he found himself smiling at the thought of Carrie kicking Noah out through the swinging doors using some moves she’d had to learn for the spy show she was in recently. Shaking the thought from his head, he chuckled, “Even when Viv calls Riven an ass, she’s got some kind of fondness to it.”

“Yeah, I heard that the other day,” Noah snorted. After a moment, he claimed, “I’ve heard most of her nicknames when we’re with other people, but I have a few I can’t see the reasoning for.”

“Like what?” Carrie asked.

Noah didn’t hesitate as he asked, “Why does she call your older brother ‘Miley’?”

“What?” Royce pressed, pausing in his scrambling of the eggs.

“Just yesterday, while we were hanging out with him on the basketball court, she called him Miley and started teasing him about losing the ball to her,” Noah recalled. “I thought it was kind of stupid. I mean, who calls a boy by a girl’s name?”

Royce could feel the urge to tackle the teenager through the swinging doors rising with every breath he took, but before he had the chance to verbally demolish Noah for his lack of tact regarding Miles’ nickname, Carrie spoke up, “Actually, it’s a family nickname. His brothers have called him that since they were little and, naturally, Vivien picked up on it after a while.”

Either Noah didn’t pick up on the glare from Royce that would have driven him six feet under or he simply ignored it as he smiled and claimed, “That makes sense.” After a while of silence, he asked, “Is there anything you guys need help with?”

“No,” Royce stated firmly, ready to get the older boy out of the room before he did something that would result in him ending up behind bars.

Carrie plastered a smile on her face as she leaned forward and said, “If you want, you could restock the staple foods in the mess hall. Other than that, we’re all set.”

Noah nodded, giving a final departing statement before exiting the kitchen to grab things from the pantry to put out for the morning meal. As soon as he was sure that Noah was gone, Royce let out a sigh and let his head hang for a moment as he breathed in a breath of relief. Wanting to help the brunet by her side although she was unsure of how he would react to it, Carrie placed a hand on his back and rubbed a small circle between his shoulder blades before returning to the pancakes before her, adding some to the plates she had set aside. Once Royce had calmed himself a bit, he hurriedly scooped the eggs he’s been cooking into a heated plate that would keep them warm until the rest of the workers arrived.

As silence fell over the room, Carrie found herself glancing at the younger boy more often to check up on him, but as they finished their respective foods and worked on slicing open packages of sausage and bacon, Carrie asked, “I do have to ask, why do you call Miles that?”

Royce looked up at the blonde, finding himself giving her a small smile as he replied, “It was something our mom called him. If I remember correctly, it started as ‘Smiley Miley’ before fading into just Miley. Most of the time, Bentley and I call him that in order to either get out of trouble or let him know we’re hurting without outright saying it. Sometimes, though, it’s just to feel closer to our mom.”

Carrie smiled thoughtfully, distantly wondering what their mom was like. Maybe, in some not-so-distant world, she had already met the woman the Murphy boys loved so much. Maybe Miles had introduced them early in their relationship and the two got along like mother and daughter. Carrie wondered just how many things would be different in a world where the brothers never lost their mother. Shaking the thought from her head, Carrie turned to Royce and asked, “Now he lets Vivien call him that too, huh?”

Royce nodded as a beaming smile flooded his face, “She doesn’t do it often at all, but I guess she does it more to tease him than anything. He doesn’t seem to mind it, though, as it’s only happened a few times.”

Carrie glanced toward the door as she heard something being torn open on the other side. Noah was still working on filling the tray of other foods, it seemed. Turning back to Royce, she asked, “It bothers you when someone from outside of your family calls him that, though, doesn’t it?”

“Usually, yeah,” Royce confirmed. “Viv is an exception since she’s known him for a while.”

“Of course,” Carrie chuckled. “It only makes sense that, since he sees her as his family just as much as you and Bentley are, he would allow her to call him such a personal nickname.”

Almost surprised with the blonde’s easy acceptance of his statement, Royce grinned and nodded as he continued cutting open bacon pouches and setting them on a plate to bring to the griddle. After the meat was fully cooked and ready to go, the two settled into a rhythm as they worked on making breakfast for everyone. Once Royce was done filling a tortilla with eggs and a few strips of bacon, Carrie would add sausage and sprinkled cheese before wrapping them up and setting them aside.

As she took another wrap from Royce, Carrie said, “I know it probably won’t mean much to you, but I’m proud of you for not letting things with Noah get to you.”

Royce snickered, “It took everything in me not to jump across the counter; somehow, I don’t think I handled that all too well.”

Carrie shook her head with a smile, “I meant with him spending so much time with Vivien these last few days. It feels like he’s been up her ass this last week, and you’ve handled it with ease and grace.”

“I did?” Royce questioned.

“Regardless of whether or not you felt like you were, I think you were,” Carrie stated. “Most boys, especially in their teens and early twenties, are insecure in their relationships and get jealous easily, but you seemed so confident in your relationship with Viv that I never once thought I would have to get Miles to step in.”

As Royce slid two strips of bacon into the tortilla and handed it to Carrie, he sighed, “At first, I was only acting like I was alright with it, but after talking with Riven, Mick, and Butchy about things, I think I felt better about it all.

“Regardless of whether or not you were merely acting,” Carrie began, placing a hand on Royce’s arm with a smile, “I know it wasn’t easy, and I congratulate you for being so mature. It was very impressive.”

Finding nothing but sincerity in the blonde’s oceanic eyes, Royce allowed himself to smile as he muttered, “Thanks, Carrie.”

The two continued on with their task only a few minutes more, their hands stilling as the doors to the kitchen swung open and an out-of-breath Vivien entered, rambling about the meeting she’d been in as she threw an apron on. However, as she turned around and saw Carrie and Royce working together in a mostly-clean kitchen, no angrily thrown pans wedged in the walls or knives held to the other’s throat, the brunette stalled, her brain short-circuiting at the scene before her.

Looking around as though she was anticipating someone to jump out of a cabinet with a camera, telling her she was being pranked, Vivien asked, “Did I just enter the Twilight Zone or something?” Royce watched his girlfriend for a moment before turning to Carrie with an amused grin. As the pair locked eyes, they burst into laughter, only furthering Vivien’s confusion about the situation. With wide eyes, Vivien watched the two laugh as though her reaction had been totally out of pocket and softly muttered to herself, “Yeah, I definitely entered the Twilight Zone.”

#Camp Wanamaker

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randomhuman45 · 2 years

Text

Dannymay 2022- Day 9 Ghost King AU

"Sup dude? Uhhhhh, what's up with the, uhhhhh," Tucker said gesturing to the space just above his head.

"Look Danny I know we're the losers of the school, but this is a bit much." Sam adds in.

"Okay, okay, I know I know, but hear me out." Danny stammers to his defense.

"Oh, this better be good." Sam responds crossing her arms across her chest with an unamused look on her face.

"Okay so you know how Clockwork told me I had 'urgent duties to attend in the ghost zone'?"

"Yeah you kind called super frantic dude."

"Anyways, so exactly 1 year from yesterday I defeated the previous Ghost King, so as per the ancient tradition and law of the ghost zone, I was to be crowned the new king and ruler of the ghost zone and all ghosts."

"I'm sorry what?" Sam asked.

"Dude you mean to tell me my best friend is a King? Hey can you make me a lord or something? Oh, I know! You can make me a knight! Can I get cool armor and a sword? A sword would be so cool!"

"Shut up Tucker!" Sam retaliated. "Are you joking Danny? I swear you better not, this is a serious thing!"

"Trust me the rulers of different parts of the ghost zone were all there like Dora and Frostbite, plus Clockwork and the observants had to read from this giant ancient book and it was a whole thing."

"So you have the ring of rage and crown of fire now?"

"Yeah. And see that's the problem."

"Yeah no kidding."

"Danny you're a mess already with your powers. Adding more power to that is just going to be a mess!" Sam argued.

"Okay, wow. First of all, ow. Secondly, not what I was talking about. You see since my role as King wasn't challenged by any of the lower division royalty members in the zone, my royal ghost stuff cannot be taken off. So I'm stuck with the crown and ring on me 24/7!"

"Okay but why is the crown of rage a Burger King crown?" Tucker asked.

Danny just sighed and slumped down. "Look when I detransform I still can't take them off. But Hades explained that I can alter the way they look. Apparently it's how he alters how he looks to humans when he enters the living world. Anyways, a small simple silver ring and burger king crown were the best I could come up with. So, yeah. This is what I'm going to be wearing the rest of my life."

"Damn dude. You are so gonna get beat by Dash for that. Good luck."

"Well what else was I supposed to do?"

"Literally anything else. Danny, you can't take it off, meaning it can't fall off, you couldn't just make it so small people can't see it or small and dark enough to blend in with your hair?" Sam pointed out.

"You know I hate you right?"

"You're welcome. So, change it?"

"Uggg, I would if I could Sam. But I kinda need Hades' help. I basically had him do this for me cause I could NOT figure it out."

"Well like Tuck said, good luck with Dash."

-----------------

Bonus:

Phantom Chat Room

Phantom_Can_Get_It: Omg have you guys seen Phantoms' new look????? That fire crown is sooooooo hot!!!!!🔥🔥🔥🔥😫😫😫😫

Phantom_is_a_hero: I saw! It's so badass!!!💪💪💪💪💪

Phantom=Fenton: You guys have to be kidding me! Fenton comes to class with a crown on and now Phantom has a crown!!!! Are you blind!!!Clearly they are the same person!!!

Phantom_Fanatic: Omg I thought we blocked Wes, who keeps letting him in here?????

Phantom=Fenton: You do know my dad is like a tech genius right? I won't let you silence the truth!!

Phantom_my_hero: You mean the guy who's been trying to get into Mayor Master's pants for the past 3 years?

Phantom_is_a_hero: Loser! Besides Fenton probably just wore it cause I called him the king if losers.

Phantom=Fenton: You called him that because he was wearing a crown. He was wearing the crown before you called him that.

Phantom_Fanatic: Omg can someone just kick him out again!!!

//Phantom_Can_Get_It has kicked Phantom=Fenton out of chat//

Phantom_Can_Get_It: There you go bestie!!!!❤❤❤❤❤

Phantom_my_hero: Thank you!!❤❤❤

Phantom_Can_Get_It: Okay so I know Phantom was wearing a ring, but you think he would leave his partner for me?????

Phantom_my_hero: Oh absolutely!!!!

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tanglepelt · 1 year

Text

Run Ghost Run 10

A03 prev next

What have Sam Tucker and Jazz been up to?

Sam was panicking. Danny had left for a council meeting this morning. It was now around 5 p.m. Those meetings never took this long in the human realm.

The longest had been three hours. For them.

Danny says they feel super long back in the realm. With Clockwork as a long-standing member, it wouldn’t be hard to see him messing around. Then again nobody enjoyed these meetings.

Every member hated the meeting except the Observants. They always went the same way. Parties never changed minds most meetings solved nothing, and everyone left without a solution. Only to have to come back for the next meeting for the same thing to happen. Time is nothing for immortal beings, all would rather not sit around doing nothing. That was the observants job.

Once, Danny, has his coronation majority will fall on him. The council was only formed when Pariah was sealed away. A group of ghosts of different backgrounds to keep balance. Danny hadn’t told her the full details, honestly, he probably hardly listened. Danny tended to zone out on those things.

The whole king thing was odd.

Trial by combat isn’t a good way to choose a king.

Only the powerful would be able to lead. Those often only want to get stronger. Absolute power corrupts, a whole leadership based on the premise was doomed.

It was 5:17 on the dot when she got a message.

The council wanted war; Danny said he tried to get them to listen. They didn’t. Danny thanks to clockwork convinced them to give a warning. To the GIW of all people.

The government was going to be the death of them all.

She’s been saying it for years.

At 5:45 p.m. they all glow green. Sam and Tucker had been alone in the theater room. A text to jazz and it happened to her as well. Thankfully she had been in the bathroom.

At 7:15 p.m. the ghost alarm goes off. Lockdowns now mandatory. The GIW and “mayor” masters had made sure they were enforced. Tucker and her at her house. Pretending to have a movie night.

Tucker gets grilled by her parents. They didn’t want him there in a lockdown. They can’t do much.

So, she waits.

An hour passes. No word

Tucker finally escapes the grilling of her parents they wait some more.

It was 9 p.m. no word from Danny. It’s now after curfew. Still stuck at her house. Still on lockdown.

No ghost had attacked. None of their equipment had been set off. So why was the alarm sounding? Why did the Fenton parents set it off?

Stuck sitting here going insane. No word nothing.

Maybe he just forgot. A call and text go unanswered.

Jazz wasn’t even home for them to check with her. She had been away for the night a tutoring session gone long. The parents offered her to stay the night when the ghost alarm went off. She couldn’t get out of there. Curse the curfew and lockdowns. Not expected back until around noon the next day. Longer than 24 hours after he disappeared.

Still, they texted her.

Jazz was going to hit home when she could. The parents of who she was tutoring were guarding the door. Just like how Gram was watching them.

The night passed too slowly.

Jazz texted them back at 6:05. 5 minimum after curfew.

He’s not here.

They had to find him.

Tucker knows he’s a good hacker, good reprogramming, and a good coder.

He knows he can hack the Fenton stuff well. He often overrides their security to make Danny’s life easy. Disengaging the security system, wiping Danny’s ecto-signature from their devices, and general device management.

All his safety protocols had been removed. Danny’s ecto signature was logged back into the system. The Fenton parents had to of seen them. Any trace of him was gone. All the hints, the bugs anything he ever touched. Software once up to date now older versions. This had to have been an old backup. He had been found out and a restore had been done.

Any trace of the Fenton’s experiments and lab work is long gone.

The security footage in the lab was wiped. All of it is gone. Deleted digitally and the SD card they kept for each day is gone. No record of anything that had occurred in the last week. Not for the nearly 24 hours they hadn’t seen Danny.

The Fenton parents never got rid of anything. Not after the portal incident, the one-to-many close calls with Danny always showed that. Tucker had to constantly loop the footage and change the time stamps. It was never deleted never fully gone. Not even the incident when Mr. Fenton got pantsed by a ghost.

The two Drs. had to have done something.

It was at 10:10 when he had to inform the group, he had nothing.

All he could do was wipe the little information remaining, the ecto-signatures. The items that are meant to track and hunt down. Those remained.

Jazz left for the infinite realm at 10:11. They would know if he made it back. She searched the house even calling her parents. The GAV was gone, and Danny’s room didn’t look slept in.

Was she wrong about their parents?

Her fingerprint unlocked the portal. She left with the speedster. Sam and Tucker staying to look for clues. Looks for his signature to see if they could follow him.

Pandora and Frostbite were by the entrance. Guarding it from Danny’s rogues, a promise they meant to keep. Preventing them from leaving the realm. The two were worried, Jazz promised updates. She left the realm more worried than before.

Pandora and Frostbite wouldn’t stand by idle if they had no word.

There was a war now looming.

Knowing it was only a matter of time. Knowing Danny, the would-be king was missing. Knowing they’ll look for him if he doesn’t show up. Knowing her baby brother was missing.

It was 11:00 am when they went to the go bag. Pulling it from its hiding spot. Jazz made sure the med kit was stocked. Full to the brim with supplies. She put a note on the bag as well. Sam added some cash.

She knew her baby brother.

He’d run if something happened to him. Thinking it would hide the situation from prying eyes. The GIW would chase him down, they had enough force to spare. Ever since those acts, they only got more and more members. It would only be a matter of time before they’d nab a ghost inditing war… If they hadn’t to Danny.

Hopefully, her note would get through to him.

She knew it wouldn’t, but she had to try.

The three regrouped at the nasty burger. Text and calls still going unanswered. The GIW was their next step. It couldn’t just be rushed into, breaking into government labs isn’t always Childs play. Not with the GIW seeming to have better weapons each and every day.

They planned and plotted. Only leaving the nasty burger when it became more crowded. Their tiny corner booth is no longer prime real estate.

Her parent's answer about Danny was concerning. I’m sure he’s fine jazzicans. Just leave it be.

They had done something.

The three went to Tucker's apartment this time. Away from Sam’s home and away from her parents. She wouldn’t leave it be. It was her brother, and she would do whatever she could for him.

Tucker wasn’t having luck getting into the GIW security system. All the spyware they had managed to get in was non-functional. Nothing was coming live.

8:00 was curfew. They’d keep trying until then. At curfew, she would confront her parents. Since 4 p.m. they’d been telling her to come back home. That it was important.

She wasn’t ready to confront them. Not until they knew how to find her brother.

At 7:54 when the communicator went off. It was Danny. He was alive.

The communicator sat left behind at the meeting point. He left them behind just three letters at the rendezvous point.

Each envelope was labeled Jazz, Tucker, and then Sam.

That wouldn’t stop them from finding him. Danny was self-destructive. It was Jazz’s job as an older sister to find him and scold him. Well after making sure he was okay.

He wasn’t.

She knew that.

Jazz could hope he was safe.

The three would get supplies from the lab and head out. Some pure ectoplasm and ecto-dejecto. The specialty meds and thread was made just for him. Nothing else would work. They just had to get past her parents. Sam and Jazz had been bonding science the “girls” night. It would be too hard to believe they got caught up before curfew and all just went to the closest house.

Everyone played the system this way. To “trick” the system.

The Three would find him despite what he wanted. Hiding wouldn’t solve anything. Letters are hidden away in pockets.

They could read them on the road.

Jazz knew something felt off as they got closed. The air was tense. Things were wrong. She ignored it. So did the other two.

They shouldn’t have.

Immediately upon entering the house, the alarm system spoke.

Lockdown protocols engaged.

Her parents rushed up from the lab. Looking frantic and worried. Anti-ecto weapons in hand. The two looked feral and crazed.

“Good, it’s the three of you.”

“There’s no easy way to break this to you guys.”

Jack hissed out “Phantom had been possessing our baby boy for who knows how long.”

With a disgusted tone, Maddie agreed with him “That thing has been disposed of...”

Time froze for Jazz.

Jazz wasn’t listening anymore. All she could do was think about Danny.

What did they do?

There was yelling between Sam, Tucker, and her parents. She only caught keywords.

disposed

possessed

thing

What did they do?

Rage filled her as she thought of the past. Learning his secret, the picnics as kids, fending off dinner together, and all the botched holidays.

She was barely aware of the shouting and the struggle. That Jack was now restricting Sam and Tucker in a “hug”. That Maddie was approaching her.

“WHAT did You” Jazz spit out at them “to my little brother” then lunged at Maddie.

Jazz would like to say she put up a fight. The most she accomplished was pulling the blue hood off Maddie’s face. Only to ultimately have her hands forced behind her back.

Sam and Tucker were oddly calm in Jack's grasp.

The prick in her neck made her realize why. Some type of relaxant.

Brought to the lab a blood test for all. Monitors on their wrists. In case of an escape.

To the shock of none of them, all three of them were contaminated. They’ve known this for ages. Anyone with enough exposure to a portal of the beings of the realms would be exposed. What they have is ingrained into them, something that would never go away.

The majority in the town had exposure. A kind that would dissipate after a day or two of being overshadowed only an hour or two after a major fight. No one else in town that they were aware of where like them.

Jack and Maddie kept talking. It was hard to stay focused on what was going on. She heard them talk about texting Sam and Tucker's parents. A lie about being with Danny. Talks of how to cleanse them all. Talks of how they only had just a tad bit more than them. Talks of if they should hand them over to the GIW.

There was a flash of green. A green rip opened wide through the lab. The room now illuminated in green.

Guards who attacked at the town hall meeting came through a portal. Followed by they eyeballs, the observants. They looked even creepier then Danny had described. Not the one that had been made. The one on lockdown is out of reach to them.

Frostbite and Pandora looking beyond furious. Staring daggers at Jack and Maddie. Eyes that looked ready to kill.

A minor reveal from an observant of all things. The beings Danny always complains about. The know-it-alls who watch everything. The ones who casually mentioned watching Danny but not acting hoping he’d see their way and cease his rebellious streak.

Whatever they had done to him caused this. She didn’t know what.

What did they do?

She heard them talk about a new hunt. An ecto-signature had suddenly been hidden after leaving Amity. The one for Danny, the talks of rounding up those in this realm before they began. She, Tucker, and Sam were the first to be retrieved. More would follow. Talks all around them like nothing was wrong.

Nothing could happen until all entities were found. They would follow the agreement that had been made. The capture of Jack and Maddie would be handled now. It wouldn’t change the results, while they can’t destroy anything they could be kept.

Jack and Maddie use a portable ghost shield to get away. The ghost couldn’t touch them as they left up the stairs out of view.

They’d be kept in the realm in the keep until arrangements could be made. As she was being brought through the portal. Out of the side of her eyes, she saw a figure leaving behind a green glowing sticky note. Hidden right by an ecto-dejecto.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #run ghost run #sam manson #tucker foley #jazz fenton

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wicked-futures · 1 year

Text

Project Minx [Two]

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word-Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of anxiety

Summary: You arrive on base and meet the 141

Notes: I want to thank you for all the support I got on chapter one. I really appreciate it, and I'm sorry it has taken so long to write #2. Between finals coming up and getting incredibly sick this week, it's been hard getting it out! (But I did anyways) As always, Grammarly is my beta read so if something is off, please let me know!

The drugs had been flushed out of your system fully over a few hours, and you had gotten to take another small nap. You felt better than ever and you were antsy to start the next leg of your journey. Getting out of bed, you stretched for a moment. You thanked the medical ward for its hospitality, but the uncomfortable bed was something you could live without.

“Good morning, you’re looking a hell of a lot better,” Jessica entered your room with a big smile plastered across your face. She was excited that you were feeling good, and she also looked like she finally got some sleep. She handed you a plain manilla folder, with no identifying details other than “Task Force 141.”

“Got the rest of the info on the group you’re teaming up with,” She stated, nodding at you to open the folder. Inside was information on the group, the missions they had completed, and overall descriptions of the members. They were impressive, to say the least, and seemed way too good for the job that was Dmitri Volkov. You quirked your eyebrow in confusion, weren’t they a little too overqualified?

“There is reason to suspect Volkov’s operation is a lot bigger than we thought, so you got paired with the big dogs on the request of Kate Laswell,” Big alright, these men looked like they fought fires and saved kittens as a hobby. You were used to working with big army men during your years, but this task force was different and even more hardened than the others.

“Good luck with them girl, you’re gonna need it.” Jess giggled in your direction when she saw your eyes widen in surprise.

“Wait, you’re not coming with me?” You asked, snapping your eyes up from the page. Jessica had been with you this whole mission and was just as important as you were. The thought of continuing the mission without her made you feel odd, felt wrong.

“They’re having me stay here, do more research on Volkov himself. Since I’m not crazy about combat, I’m more of a stationary help over here. You always know where to find me though Minx, remember that.” And you did, you could list several ways to get a hold of the woman.

When you were ‘officially’ friends, she gave you just about every form of communication she had. It made it easy in case one of them got compromised or if there were any other complications. Giving the woman a quick hug, you waved to her as she left.

You read through the files for a moment longer, using the spare moments you had. A nervous feeling crept up at the thought of you being the only female on the team. Being a woman in the field, it had been pretty common to see a small number compared to men working. Especially after working on mostly solo missions for so long, having a team to work with 24/7 seemed weird. When they were as accredited and intimidating as they were, it made you feel as if you were going to be out of place.

Shutting the folder back up, you decided to get ready for departure and out of your feels. The 141 was a group of extreme professionals, and you wanted to get off on the right foot. Grabbing your spare items left in the med ward, you went to retrieve your items from the barracks.

It was almost bittersweet, leaving the place you had begrudgingly stayed at for the past few weeks. You had a small apartment back in your hometown, but you stayed wherever you needed to be during missions. At the moment, that just happened to be a military base in New York. It didn’t matter where you stayed since you were rarely there anyway. Most of the days were spent working, the base was just a place to sleep at night. Many took part in the nightlife around the base, but you were always too busy; too ingrained into your work.

When you first started training, you thought you were missing out on some social life. Nights spent learning how to down a man twice your size instead of getting blackout drunk at some club seemed boring in contrast. As you matured, it dawned that this was the choice you were meant to make all along. You gained more by helping people and felt proud of your decision to become a skilled agent. You hoped your family also felt the same, even though they never reached out to you.

As soon as you finished the jog over to the barracks, you grabbed your shower supplies to quickly bathe yourself before departure. The smell of the med building needed to be ridden from your body, not to mention you still felt a little clammy from the constant sweating. A hot shower was bound to fix that feeling, washing off the drug detox as a whole.

After the quick shower, you changed and packed your bags. You only ever kept mostly necessities at the bases, wanting to keep the load light. The only item you kept that had sentimental value was an old family photo, weathered by the years of you carrying it around. In the photo were you, your mother and your father.

It was way back in your childhood, showing the small family at a park. The memory was clear in your mind, even after all these years. Yet, it didn’t seem like it was your memory. It seemed as if it happened through someone else's eyes. That little girl on the swingset wasn’t the same woman who was trained to kill a man in just a few milliseconds. Those simpler days were missed, those filled with sunshine and laughter instead of grueling hard work.

Folding the image up, you set it in the bag gently. Zipping everything else up, you were ready for the flight to your newfound group.

After a few years of working in the US, you forgot how long the plane ride overseas was. Hours upon hours of you stuck in a metal box flying at ungodly speeds over a body of water. You weren’t afraid of flying, just extremely bored. It was not some luxury craft with TVs and sparkling water, you were left to try and sleep the whole ride.

Of course, nerves won your brain over instead of the sleep you so desperately craved. Your left leg bounced as you stared out the window into the vast empty plain that was the sky, thinking about the seventy-five different ways a bad introduction could fuck over yourself.

You read through the files of the 141 again out of habit, now having actual hours to spend studying your new teammates. The only one that stuck completely was that of the forces masked boogeyman, Ghost. His entire background was redacted, the black ink taking up most of the page. You decided to ask about it later, maybe he wasn’t as terrifying in person.

“So you’re telling me she’s been running this whole mission basically by herself, and Laswell has been letting her?” Soap questioned, his heavy Scottish accent coating each word. He crossed his arms in disbelief, confused by what the captain was explaining.

They had heard of the Volkov issue and you, getting the info only a few hours before you had heard of them. Price raised his shoulders in defeat, on the same wavelength as Soap. The rest of the men sat at the table, looking just as confused as Soap or just generally bored. The 141 had worked with strong women in the past, but none of them had ever worked a mission this heavy alone. They were incredibly impressed with your work, to say the least.

“Laswell says she knows her shit, you know we don’t question that woman.” Price responded, and boy did everyone know that. After many missions worked with Laswell, he didn’t know if he respected her, or was genuinely afraid of her. She was a hardworking woman, who took what she wanted. The rest of the boys at the table nodded their heads, reliving memories of her.

“She’s a jack of all trades and has been doing solo contracts for the past few years. Laswell had been keeping tabs on her and assigned the Volkov case to her,” Price held his hand out to the folder containing the info on the scientist.

“Sure she’s good, but she couldn’t have done it all on her own,” Gaz mentioned from across the table, keeping a respectful tone to his voice. He didn’t want to be offensive to his new teammate, especially since he had not yet been introduced.

“Jessica Salvatore has worked with her these past few jobs, mostly behind-the-screen activities. She is good with hacking and knows her way around a computer, so she has come in handy when infiltrating Volkov’s operations. She has also been the one reviewing the files on Volkov and keeping them up to date. Everything else has been done exclusively by Minx, any more questions?” Standing up from the meeting table, Price concluded the meeting with a pointed look. If his men had questions, they could do the smart thing and look through the files he handed out.

“No sir,” Ghost responded from his side of the table. He had no questions during the meeting and decided to flip through pages dedicated to you. It started with your background, documenting parts of your life since you graduated high school. He noted how you had training in multiple fields, and overall seemed well-rounded. He also noticed the redacted sections in your history, all too familiar with the black lines. Impressive, he could even admit, which was a lot to admit from the masked man.

Ghost saw no issues with you joining the team, as long as you had a good head on your shoulders and could pull your weight with the others. He needed a feel for how your personality was before he could say. Simon Riley didn’t just hand his trust out, it needed to be earned. Handing your file over to Soap, he grabbed the one about Volkov and the whole operation.

“Bloody Jesus, Price didn’t tell us she was hot!” Soap exclaimed when he opened the folder, causing his skull-faced companion to roll his eyes. Ghost was surprised they didn’t stay stuck to the back of his skull with how annoyed he was. He couldn’t have half the team busy drooling over you when they were supposed to be fighting to stop a drug worse than any seen before.

He just hoped that whatever hype surrounded your arrival would quickly fade out.

Ghost, of course, was incredibly wrong.

“Boys, I want to introduce you to Agent Minx,” The moment your plane landed, you concluded that Captain John Price was a decent man. He asked how the flight over was, and how your recovery the night before had been. Price was surprisingly kind, and made it seem as if he was happy with you joining the team.

Smiling at the group in front of you, you let your eyes assess your new teammates. They were all fighters, visibly bigger than the photos in their files. The men had been worn and shaped after years of demanding missions, their bodies just matching their atmosphere. Rugged muscles covered in military-grade clothing and armor, you doubted they owned regular civilian clothing.

“Pleasure to have you all assigned to this mission, god knows I need the help.” You spoke, hoping to alleviate the awkward introductions. It was a partial lie, you could’ve finished the mission by yourself you presumed. You wanted the team to feel comfortable with your presence, and accept you as one of their own. Being introduced to a team that had regularly worked with each other for years without having a new member was a feat in itself. You tried to keep a confident composure, even though you felt anything but.

Price motioned for you to sit down at the table, allowing you one last glance at the others before you did so. None of them looked visibly angry with your arrival, which was a plus. Ghost just stared in your direction, an indescribable look plastered in his dark gaze.

Other men you had worked with in the past were audibly uncomfortable with working with a female, even after seeing your skills on the field. You hoped the 141 was different, even accepting of your presence.

Volkov had been your case in the beginning anyways.

“As I spoke to you all last night, she knows the most about Dmitri and anything affiliated with his case. Any other questions that were not answered in the files I gave you all last night can be asked, only if Minx is willing of course.” All eyes were on you as you nodded approvingly. If they had questions about the report Jessica had slaved over while you recovered in a hospital bed, you were glad to answer them.

“There was no mention of his family, do you know anything of importance?” A voice asked from across the table. You matched the face to the name Kyle “Gaz” Garrick from your research.

“I haven’t been able to find anything other than mentions of a daughter. My guess is she’s holed up in some boarding school, living off of her daddy’s drug money,” Shrugging your shoulders, you replied truthfully. Gaz nodded, looking off in thought.

“In the report, it said you were forced to ingest one of the pills. What was it like?” You shifted your focus to John “Soap” Mactavish, and you had to stop yourself from laughing. He had childlike wonder etched onto his face, making his eyes almost sparkle with interest.

“I honestly couldn’t describe it if I tried. It was like heaven and hell all at once, I do not feel like reliving it.” The experience was overall terrifying, with your nerves already being so high it just made the high worse. Your body practically shut down the second Volkov’s potion set foot in it, making a treacherous path.

It felt like a blazing rod of lava placing itself in your chest, but an icicle not far behind. Visual hallucinations of the most horrifying visions known to you, showing the most gruesome memories of your life. Then moments later they would be replaced with the complete opposite, leaving your body in a state of shock. The constant state of fight or flight being replaced with deep comfort was a terrifying feeling, not knowing which one came next.

“I can see why someone would continue to do it though if you only focus on the good moments of the high.” You continued, maintaining eye contact with the mohawked man. The good moments of the high felt like the best euphoria you could ever achieve, leaving you craving more. Then that craving would return to the vile and terrifying bad moments, leaving you in a pit of fear.

“Intense euphoria paired with an even more intense down-fall. I’m just happy they got me out of that club and hooked up to an IV, any more questions?” You shivered slightly, not wanting to remember the high. It took a toll on you, mentally and physically. Thanking the med ward for the physical healing, you tried to ignore the mental portion. The things you saw couldn’t get to you, not during one of if not the most important missions you had been assigned.

You looked around the table, being met with mostly shrugs. As you passed over Ghost again, he just stared in your direction. He had not said a single word since you stepped foot into the meeting room, which made you nervous. Even sitting down, you could tell he was a massive figure of a man entrenched in a costume to hide his identity. You understood why he did it, ensuring his anonymity, but still thought it was a little goofy to do it at his home base where he was safe.

“Alright, everyone is dismissed. Soap, can you give Minx a tour?” Soap just about jumped up from his seat, a charming smile painted onto his face as he looked in your direction. He seemed as if he ran on an unlimited energy source, maybe he ran on some Scottish battery you didn’t know about.

“Let’s go, lass!” You got up from your seat, giving Ghost one last glance over before you left. That same glare was still cemented onto his dark eyes, bringing back that uneasy feeling. You decided to brush off the whole ordeal, quickly following Soap out the door. If that's how the man was, you would just have to get used to it.

Soap showed you around the small base, telling funny stories about each area. You could already tell the man had a big personality and was extremely kind. It made you wonder how he was out in the field when he was so cheerful and upbeat at the base. Even in its small size, the base was well furnished. It had a kitchen, living area, small gym, artillery storage, and shooting range. Soap commented on how each man got his room, fit with its bathroom and utilities.

“These babies have got thick walls, trust me.” Soap winked in your direction, causing you to roll your eyes playfully. Finally, you arrived at your room where you could put your items away and take a break from the welcome party. Opening the door for you, Soap told you everything else about the base you should know.

The room was plain looking, mostly a beige color. A simple bed paired with a bedside table and lamp, all the same color. It was all military grade but seemed cozy enough for your stay. Besides, after this mission, you planned on going back to your normal way of life of going from solo job to solo job.

“I saw that weird stare-off you had with Ghost earlier, he's a nice lad I promise. He’ll warm up to you, just give him some time. It took me almost dying in Mexico for him to admit he cared about me, so take that as you will,” Soap admitted, looking a little awkward as he stood in the doorway.

“His whole file was practically blacked out, it was hard to get any information on the man. Also, does he wear that mask all the time?” You asked, wanting to know more. Ghost’s file was a graveyard for black ink, with how much it used. Not much of his life or background was there, giving you a hard time getting to know him before you met the man. His real name was even redacted, not giving you much to work with.

“He does, I’ve seen him without it a few times though. The bastard made me question some things,” Soap scratched the back of his head as if he had been caught in something, causing you to cock an eyebrow. You had no issues with your teammate's identities, so you just brushed the whole remark off.

“Well that's all then, I’ll let you get all unpacked and everything else. We usually eat as a team around 1700 if you’re interested.” You smiled at Soap as he left, leaving you to yourself. The introductions made you feel a little more confident in your work with the 141, and you overall felt good. Other than being jetlagged from the trip over and not being able to rest much in the past 48 hours, you were fine. Unpacking your items, you went on your way to make the small room look like a real human being lived inside.

You assumed everyone else's room was also scarcely decorated, especially with the constant moving around. When Soap mentioned you were going to have an individual one in the first place, it was incredibly surprising. You were used to bunking with others when you worked with them, usually sharing one big bunk room. Having privacy was a newfound luxury, especially being the only girl on the team.

As you unpacked, the rest of the 141 went about their usual daytime routines. Most of them worked out or practiced on the shooting range if they weren’t sleeping or working. Ghost found himself back in his room, doing god knows what.

He was an enigma even his team couldn’t figure out at times, floating from each job to another. Between each mission, he just kind of existed. He didn’t take part in the bonding the other members did, but they didn’t resent him for it. Ghost needed his space, needed to be alone. His team respected that need, that deep solitude. They understood he had been through a lot, and in return gave him the resources he needed.

Ghost sat on his bed, holding onto your file from earlier. He had swiped it from the meeting, wanting to gain more information on you. You placed an uneasy feeling in his stomach the second you stepped foot into his life. Simon Riley never felt uneasy unless he was on the field, and he had to figure out why you made him feel that way.

There was no reason to distrust you, but he felt uneasy about working with you. It seemed odd how highly those around you spoke of you, but you had been working mostly solo missions so they didn’t know how you were on the field. You were extremely confident when you arrived, but it all seemed practiced. He wanted to figure you out, to see if you were trustworthy or not.

Earning Ghost's trust was a lot easier said than done.

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