I hateee when people are like "Omg Pope is crazy" and then the examples they use are like him being awkward, autistic or just like having a weird reaction. Like yes him watching Nicky and J sleep was weird. But was it crazy? I don't think so.
Just in general Andrew is, like any other human and especially any other Cody, a product of his environment. He has a lot of valid reactions to the things happening to him and the situation he's in.
I just think that the word crazy is just so overused and misused. Being weird is not being crazy, being awkward is not being crazy, being autistic is not being crazy!!!
in Your Eyes In The Woods (my novel that currently has one chapter)
Light shows us what things are, mean and where they are. It serves to tell what things are important and what are not. There are three main kinds of light: Sunlight, candlelight and artificial light. And those different kinds of light is where it becomes dangerous.
Sunlight belongs to the forest. The forest is actively trying to confuse and manipulate people. The main way it does so is sunlight. Already in the first chapter the sunlight shines onto the first drawer and Jonathan falls for the "trap".
Artificial light belongs to no one. It is unbiased, neutral and 100% true. It shines on anything you want it to/bring it to. Example are: Flashlights, the blue light from phones, LEDs.
Candlelight belongs to the Hollow Forest camp. The lamps around the camp are all candlelight. It is a mix of artificial light and sunlight so it serves to create a connection between human and forest.
“Welcome to Hollow Forest,” Alise said, voice loud over the excited whispers. “My name is Alise. I am one of the camp counselors here and your main contact person. We’re going to watch a quick safety video. There’s going to be instructions on what to do if there’s a fire or you encounter a wild animal, for example.”
The second counselor, Baily, took over, gently pushing Alise back. “But there’s really nothing to worry about,” he reassured. “It’s very unlikely that you’ll actually even see any wild animals.”
The new camp counselors seemed less interested in the safety regulations than any group either of them had ever seen. Slouching in the chairs and poking each other to mumble jokes into each other’s ears.
“What kind of wild animals?” Cassie asked. She had one of the most unpractical outfits, a long, black dress with red flowers stitched on and a white shirt underneath, but the most practical shoes, a pair of worn-in hiking boots.
Bailey waited a second before answering. “Well, the least likely is a wolf or a bear, more likely is a fox or an owl or a rabbit.” He smirked. “Something small like that, you know?”
More whispers flew around the room, scared looks of “Is he serious?” and some excitement from the animal fanatics and weirdos.
“Anyways, as I’m sure all of you know, my name is Bailey – like the alcohol – and I am also a camp counselor.” Bailey bowed before getting back up and walking over to the laptop. “We’re going to show you a basic introduction to some of the things you’ll need to know, not just boring safety stuff. Save all your questions for after, alright?”
Nods came from the group as the video started. How to start a fire, basic children discipline stuff and tips and tricks on what is safe to eat and what is not.
“Okay, any questions?” Alise asked when the screen faded to black.
A blonde woman from the last row, Nina, yelled out: “What kind of activities are there?”
“You will be given a plan with all the different times, activities and a map of the campgrounds and some hiking trails,” Alise answered quickly. “Then we’ll take a tour.”
“Okay, so we have two different age groups here: Kids and teens. Kids are 9-12 years old and teens are 13-18 years old. Though, don’t call them kids and teens, just say campers,” Alise explained, handing out papers.
“The kids get cranky when you call them children,” Bailey added.
“The main houses are in the west-side, which is where we are now.” Alise pointed to the giant sign at the edge of the half oval of houses that said ‘West-Side’.
“But depending on the weather we also might build some tents at the North-Side,” Bailey added. “But we usually only sleep outside once a week.”
The West-Side was surrounded by a wall of trees, but a large path cut through the forest so cars and large groups of people could easily find their way to and from both sides of the camp. The wooden cabins were old, but they didn’t smell moldy and the insides looked freshly renovated. In the middle there was a big fire pit with a pavilion and logs as seats. Around the camp and especially at doors and under roofs, a few lamps were hung.
North-side was a bit different. It lay in front of a lake and there weren’t a lot of buildings. Just a single staff hut at the entrance. Instead of the flaky, forest ground, grass grew around the entire area that slowly transitioned to a pebble beach. A kayak rack stood on the wall of the hut, the small boats secured with climbing ropes and carabiners.
Alise knocked on the window of the house. Two women were standing inside, talking to each other. The one facing the window was small and had a dark complexion. The bright gray strands stood out against her otherwise dark hair. When she saw the group, she smiled, her thick lips stretching across her face, and waved at them.
The other woman had obvious tan lines at the T-shirt sleeve length, no transition between the reddish brown the sun gave her forearms and her natural pale pink skin tone at her shoulder. The white streaks in her blonde hair weren’t all that noticeable but the deep lines all around her face and liver spots revealed her age.
As Bailey pushed open the door, the smell of herbal tea hit them; a nutty undertone followed, caused by the buckets of walnuts in the mudroom.
“Welcome to Hollow Forest,” the darker of the two addressed the group, bowing her head. “My name is Crilla and this is Tilf. We are the camp leaders and your employers.”
The blonde only gave a nod and flattened her lips.
“If they like you, you get to call them Grandma West and Grandmother North,” Bailey whispered to the new camp counselors.
One of the girls at the front, Melissa, gave a chuckle. She had jet-black hair and equally dark eyes. Her face and body were soft, even though she had a certain maturity the rest lacked. Her eyebrows were arched and pulled attention towards her long eyes. “Grandma West and Grandmother North, really?”
“What? Not a fan of nicknames?” Bailey smirked, leaning against a bookcase.
“They sound like the wicked witch of the west and the ice-queen.”
Bailey chuckled and shook his head. “Well, with a name like Melissa, you can’t really talk.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She squinted her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, mimicking his posture.
“Oh, nothing, I just…” He looked away, trying to stop himself from laughing. “Your name is Melissa, you’re wearing leggings and a crop top, and you have a pink water bottle.
“Okay, anyways, here’s the rest of the documents. You’ll find a list of activities and duties you can volunteer for and a schedule,” Alise interrupted. “If you have any camp-related questions, you can come to me or Bailey. Though, I wouldn’t rely on him. He has the memory of a squirrel.”
“Fair, but if you need any physical help, I am your guy,” Bailey retorted. “I mean, have you seen those noodle arms?”
He wrapped almost his entire hand around Alise’s upper arms before getting smacked on the head by Tilf.
“Hey, sorry, but I thought there was Wi-Fi here.” A moderately short man came up to Alise after about five minutes of the tour ending. He was tan and had shoulder-length, black hair with blonde highlights.
“There’s service like half a mile from here but no Wi-Fi,” Alise explained, turning away from him.
“So why do you have a phone in your pocket?” he asked, pointing a finger at her jeans.
“Why are you not wearing your nametag?” Alise replied, raising an eyebrow at him.
He stared at her, unimpressed. “It won’t stick to my shirt.”
“Then you’ll have to carry around extras.” She put away her clipboard and started walking over to the main cabin. “Come on, we still have a bunch.”
“Kayak instructor isn’t even on the list,” Bailey huffed, leaning back into his chair and stretching his legs out onto the table. “There’s plenty other stuff to do around here.”
Jonathan, the tallest and cockiest of the recruits, was sitting opposite him, legs spread. “Yeah, I know. I’m not saying that I want to replace you or anything, okay dude? But I’d love–”
“There’s no buts,” Bailey laughed, gesturing to the wall of pictures behind him. “You see any adults other than me and Tilfy on there?”
“Well, some of the campers–”
“You don’t.” Bailey furrowed his eyebrows “You know, if I were you, I’d try to blend into the group. If you don’t stand out, there’s no reason for anyone to give you a hard time.”
Just as he ended his sentence, the door slammed open. Immediately he had up straight and threw his legs off the table.
“We need some more nametags,” Alise declared, walking to the shelf behind Bailey. “This guy – What’s your name again? – anyways he doesn’t want to wear one, but you know how I am.”
“Bitchy?” Bailey smirked, lifting one of his feet onto the table again. Alise punched him in the shoulder and his full body clenched. “Ouch.”
“So, what’s your name?” Alise addressed the recruit she had dragged inside.
“Hm? Me?” He pointed at himself. “Hugo.”
Alise scribbled down his name and stuck it to the front of his shirt before patting his shoulder. “Well, Hugo, you can go and help with some of the cleaning now, okay?”
“Okay,” he mumbled as she pushed him out of the hut.
As soon as the door was shut, Alise turned to Bailey, completely ignoring Jonathan, and wrote something down on a sticky note. “Crilla went to pick up some mail and Tilf is getting some firewood with one of the others.” Neatly she folded the paper and handed it to him. For a moment, they held eye contact.
Bailey nodded and put the paper into the first drawer of the desk, smirking. “So, it’s just you and me in charge, huh?” He turned to look at Jonathan and continued: “Better hope they come back soon.”
Jonathan just stared as Alise and Bailey walked out together. He sighed as soon as they were out of the room, rubbing his eyes.
“Fuck this guy,” he mumbled, slouching down in the chair. He covered his eyes with his forearms, enjoying the warmth that came from the sunrays. They were filtered through the glass window on the wall next to him.
As he relaxed, he felt the light drift away, goosebumps littering his skin as a cold emptiness took its place. Slowly he lifted one of his arms off his face, only to see the sun shining onto the first drawer of the desk. His eyebrows pulled together and he leaned forward. He looked from the window to the table and back and forth again. That much time couldn’t have passed. It was still as bright outside as it had been when he had closed his eyes, just the direction of the light had changed.
Hesitantly he stood up and made his way around the sturdy piece of wood. The first drawer had a keyhole in it with the key still attached.
After looking around for anyone watching Jonathan twisted the key in one quick motion and pulled it out. There were papers inside. The sticky note from before, a photo, loose paperclips and envelopes.
At the beginning he only pulled out the note and straightened it. “C. is at Berry,” was written on it. His eyebrows furrowed. On the car ride to the camp, Melissa had shown him all the hiking trails, landmarks and towns in the vicinity, including an abandoned mineshaft at the near top of the mountain. As far as he could remember – which wasn’t far since he stopped listening to her after the fourth location – there weren’t any mentions of Berry.
He became a bit bolder after he had jumped over the initial hurdle and pulled out the picture. He recognized the background instantly, the teal-green lake water, the kayaks and tall trees. In the foreground of the photo was a group of people. He didn’t know most of them but Crilla, Tilf, Alise and Bailey, who were all standing in the middle, could easily be picked out. They were all wearing matching shirt, “best counselors ever” written on them in what was clearly children’s writing. The letters had different sizes, colors and styles. On the bottom stood: “Summer of ’22.”
When the photo didn’t soothe his thirst, he pulled out the envelopes. They were all addressed to different letters. C. B. A. C. A. C. C. B. Jonathan tried to pull them open, but they were glued shot and one was even stapled.
“Alise?” a voice called out from the door. The tone was sweet but darker, like a blackberry, and belonged to Cassie. She stopped in the doorframe when she saw Jonathan, papers strewn across the surface of not-his desk. She looked up at him carefully. “Do you know where Alise and Bailey are?”
Jonathan hid the stapled and glued letter behind his back, shaking his head. “Why?” he asked.
“Because we found a dead bear,” she answered, glancing back down to the documents.
“A bear? Are you sure?”
“Am I sure that the 600-kilogram, 2 meter, brown, bear-like creature we found is a bear?” She raised an eyebrow. “Hm, let’s see. It had ears like a bear, paws like a bear and was the size of a bear. I’m pretty sure it was a bear.”
“Damn,” Jonathan let out.
“Yeah, damn.”
Quickly he shoved everything back in the drawer and shut it before making his way over to her. “Where?”
A/N: This is a rough, rough first draft. I think the quality is okay but only for like a third/fourth chapter. Even to me it feels rushed, especially the dialogue. I'll definitely have to work on the describtions in my second draft. Also I wanted to experiment in making the safety video be the first scene or a car/bus ride there like in The Quarry. If you have any advice, feedback or critism (please please) I'll gladly take it.
He feels secure with it on. No one can see his expressions nor his features. The scars, the fear, the anger. It is hidden both from his friends and his foes.
For a long time he didn't think of himself as anything more than the mask. A skull printed into his very essence. He acted like it too. He refused to buy an apartment and stayed on base, didn't have any hobbies other than his training and tried to keep away from people.
Simon 'Ghost' Riley whose first time taking off his mask in front of you was while you were in a coma.
Mission gone wrong and now you're half-dead, an actual ghost lying in front of him. Your skin has become colorless and, even though he couldn't stand the sight, he stayed next to you. Every few minutes he would reach for your cold hands and put them under the blanket again. He repeated the pattern for hours.
Hold your hand. Stare at the clock. Look out the window. Look at your face. Sigh. Repeat.
After a bit, he couldn't handle it anymore, tears brimming at the edges of his eyes. They soaked down the fabric of his mask, nearly waterboarding him. So he took it off. He placed it on the nightstand next to you and turned away from you, silently crying into his hand.
Simon 'Ghost' Riley who stops wearing a mask when he notices that your child is intimated by it.
Simon noticed the fearful and confused look on his child's face. It was hard enough being away on missions and on base so much but the fact that his own baby was scared of him because of a stupid piece of cloth was his thirteenth reason.
At first he started slow. Wearing a medical mask, sunglasses, a hat and trying to compensate with thick clothing. One day, while you were getting dressed to go to the park, he just didn't put a mask nor glasses on. He was still wearing a hat and a jacket but his entire face was uncovered.
You almost cried when he stepped out of the house and carried your child around the park.
Few times in your life have you truly fought with your husband, simon riley.
Tonight is one of those nights.
"Simon, you fucking crossed a line! That is unacceptable!" You had told him two days ago after finding out he's put a tracker on you and has been sharing your location with his work buddies. That was your first big fight since the wedding.
Which leads you to now, fluffy comforter and favorite pillow in hand while you glare at the couch.
You didn't want it to come to this. You had hoped refusing cuddles and referring to him solely as "simon." Instead of your usual pet names would get the point across how serious this is. But ghost refused to budge.
So, you're sleeping on the couch. Because as pissed off as you are at simon and as much as you want to tear his face off, some silly part of you aches at the thought of him hurting his back sleeping on the couch.
So, you go tuck in and try to ignore how weird it feels not to have a warm body next to you.
When you wake up, you nearly trip over your husband sleeping on the floor by the couch.
"What— simon! What the hell—" all anger you'd initially feel is destroyed when you look closer at the wet lines down the scars on his face, the red tint around his eyes.
Oh. You've....You've never actually seen ghost cry.... not since the wedding.
"Please don't leave me love–" are the first choked words out of his mouth, not even awake for a minute and already shifting closer to you "ahm' sorry. I'm sorry, I just— i can't lose you. If— if something happens to me I—"
"Woah. Woah, hey, slow down si" You attempt to soothe, because pulling him up onto the bed. "I'm pissed off. You know that. But I'm not leaving you. What's going on?"
Ghost breathes for a second, looks at the window instead of you. When he speaks, his voice is quiet and raw "if I get captured. If I'm— compromised. The team needs to be able to find you. Keep you safe. I can't always be here."
Oh....oh.
The conversation that followed was long, painstaking, but necessary. You and simon struck a tentatively compromise, both mentally exhausted from it all. You could tell he was struggling not to shut down.
"....come to bed with me? I missed your cuddles last night." You smile, only to gasp and laugh when simon bodily hauled you over his shoulder to drag you to bed.
Arthur Morgan who doesn't care what he eats. He devours meager rabbit meat, no salts or species added, like it's the best meal he's ever had and treats Pearson's stew like it's something more than already sprouting potatoes and shriveled carrots.
Arthur Morgan who isn't picky with guns. He could just pick up a rusty revolver from the ground and shoot in the center of his target.
Arthur Morgan who has accepted that most people fear him, shrinking himself to ease their worries and disprove their prejudice.
Arthur Morgan who has slept in tents, on the ground, in the rain, on stolen boats. He finds it hilarious when you apologize for how small your house is. He hangs up his hat and coats, a smirk on his lips. "You're fine," he chuckles. "It's plenty big."
Arthur Morgan who settles for his feet hanging off of your bed so he could stay besides you in the night.
Arthur Morgan who, when he tells you about his frequent settling, you ask if he is settling for you. He doesn't know what to say for a moment. "Well, if anything, you'd be the one settling," he abswers after a solid half a minute of thinking.
A/N: I'm trying to write smaller stuff so I can write more but I'd love to know if you like longer or shorter pieces more.
When people think I love Simon Riley because everyone goons over him but I genuinely can’t stop crying my eyes out over how precious he is and how I wish I could hold him in my arms :(
My Stories and Original Characters: The Masterlist
Note: These are my personal stories, original characters and thoughts about them so if you're interested in knowing more about what I like/think, you can read this. Don't reuse, repost, copy or steal my works.
I have a lot of different projects (~20-30) but my main one currently is Your Eyes In The Woods.
Tag for all of my original stories: #Pink has an archive
jbbartram-illu
stormborns
titsay
kianamaiart
2087
izzy806
blakekathryn
