{A/N} Due to the severe (and fairly recently discovered) lack of Dizzy (Duncan + Izzy) based fiction, I've decided to devote a good portion of my summer to writing works for my two favorite campers, who I truly believe should've at least hooked up during the course of the show. They're too similar and just the right amount of psychotic to have so little interaction with one another, so this is my rebellion against and contribution to you, Total Drama! Also, as a quick excuse for my points of utter atrocity during the course of this long-winded chapter, this is a rather basic introduction to a setting that most (if not all) of my TDI/A/WT fictions will take place during, so I figured I'd do it in as much detail as possible for the quick pace I'd like to get it over with in. As far as I could go with all of the characters as people in such an open-ended setting, my sole interest is Duncan and Izzy's developing relationship, not the others. There's always room for a sequel, anyhow. Please, review if you'd be interested in seeing my take on other characters' growth and relationships with the others in this odd, yet delightfully vague setting, and if you're a fellow, hopeless Dizzy fanatic like me. Please enjoy, and please, please review!

{Disclaimer} I don't claim ownership over any of the characters, names, or any other merchandise referenced in this work of fiction. I do, however, have rights to the situations I set them in, and kindly advise you to ask permission to use said situations if you so choose to.

{Summary} As a gift from the production crew of the Total Drama series to the cast, each one of the unwitting teens was shipped back to Wawanakwa for the remainder of their summer, just a few weeks before filming for Total Drama World Tour began. It's the only vacation anyone's had in the past year, what with the past two seasons of glorified, televised torture, and everyone's glad to have some time out of the limelight, as far as they know. What drama will the Total Drama teens stir up on a real vacation, more specifically, which two infamous hoodlums will discover they have much, much more in common than anyone could've thought?

A Little Dizzy

The usual hum of collective chatter filled the mess hall as the last of the motley group of teens arrived with their belongings gathered erroneously into varying suit cases, duffle bags, and simplistic yet sufficient rucksacks clutched at their sides or over their shoulders. It was the same group of teens as had inhabited the pathetic excuse for a summer camp nearly a year ago, though everything seemed much more natural, more relaxed, more realistic than they'd all been that short year ago. Excusable, though, as they'd all been led to believe there were no cameras anywhere on the premises, and the fact there was no million dollar prize to hack away at every last one of the surrounding twenty-one campers for. Chris McLean, the notorious and heavily malicious reality show host, would be acting as one of the "camp counselors" alongside his reluctant consort, Chef Hatchet, for the following weeks, present only to supervise the vast group of reality television personalities and toss in a few illegal scares and pranks, unbeknownst to the teens, of course. Entertainment was a dirty business, and each of them were given fair warning at the show's uneasy start, after all.

Clapping his freshly manicured hands together an odd few times as a feeble attempt to capture the teens' attention, Chris signaled - after a final failed pursuit – to Chef to make his authority known, eliciting a macabre yelp from the veteran turned self proclaimed culinary prodigy. Immediately, all was quiet and both elder men were well aware all attention was upon them. Chris cleared his throat in thanks to his friend, and waved him off with a fluid flick of his wrist. Shaking his head in distaste, the sturdily built man lumbered back into the kitchen, murmuring in protest until his gravelly voice died away, the sliding door into the linoleum encrusted room flapping closed with him disappearing from it.

"I'd ask how the trip here from the studio was, but frankly, I don't care! Y'know why?" the excitable, yet all too sadistic young movie star wagered with the numerous others occupying the spacious room, evidently unaware that the conversation was not, in fact, one-sided, as it tended to be; much too accustomed to the narcissistic bastard setting the rules for them, obviously.

A lanky teenage girl scantily clad in remarkably dark clothing towards the back of the multi-purpose room, Gwen, called back in response to the hedonistic host. "You haven't even hinted at caring about any of us whatsoever at all in the events leading up to all of this, so it's a wonder why any of us would expect any different…" The rather morbid looking, young self-proclaimed "goth" scowled towards the end of her own statement, earning a few oddly placed groans of disapproval from the other teens about her.

Chris narrowed his thick brows at the minor annoyance with a grunt, but poised his lips to continue where he'd left off. "Because it's freakin' vacation, and that means no more grueling challenges, no more alliances or ruthless plots for someone else's demise, and no more video cameras in the washrooms! And before you ask, yes, Chef is still cooking all your food, and no, we're not responsible for any diseases you may contract from eating whatever the hell he gives you and we've got the paperwork to back it up, so Courtney, you can hang up on your lawyer now. Looks like we got through that a lot faster than the producers thought, so, I guess you guys can all get to your cabins now and we—"

"Chris?" the youthful, rather drowsy sounding drone rumbled from the resident partier Geoff, a half-empty soda in one strong hand whilst the other lay draped over the slender frame of the equally apathetic teenage girl beside him, Bridgette.

"Or I could answer questions. Right, that's totally how I wanted to spend my vacation too. Shoot, dude." The aforementioned host grumbled, crossing his arms before gazing out at the beach, a few generously sized yards from the campsite through the cheap screen door keeping him from his precious tan.

Geoff, not recognizing the rather unfriendly tone in the elder man's voice, grinned widely at the impatient actor, taking a quick swig from the perspiring glass bottle in his able grip. "Is there, like, any supervision? I mean, you n' Chef are the only old dudes here, right?"

Brows furrowed in blatant offense, Chris forced only a blank, disinterested stare to meet with the blonde partier's, before sighing, "We have a few interns running around on errands for me and Chef, but yeah, we're the only camp counselors here. Co-ed rooms, too, by the way. Pick your roommates wisely, 'cause you're trapped with 'em for the rest of your summer. Anymore questions? Too late, don't care. I'll be working on my tan if anyone needs me, so feel free to do me a solid and not need me. Later, kids!"

With that, the crowded room was emptied of any and all authority and each newly unrestricted teen released a celebratory cheer before collecting their possessions and racing off towards the cabins, each one eager to share a room with the girls and guys of their choosing, this time. Separating twenty-two overactive and much too intent teenagers into only four mediocre quality cabins, however, is in no way simple, nor all that desirable. The first cabin overlooked the peaceful shoreline and the murky turquoise lake waters lapping lazily at said barren sands, perfect for taking a dive or just relaxing and following Chris's lead and catching up on a few well deserved rays after the months of emotional and physical distress whilst taping their essentially self-imposed mutilation that the rest of the world had fancied to call Total Drama.

The second and third cabins stood, unstably mind you, nearest the forest limits, directly across from the showers and local washrooms, and a delightfully short distance from the mess hall. Despite the convenience, they're arguably the most poorly built lodgings within the altogether rather dismal campsite, and are consistently plagued by rogue forest creatures wandering their way into and around the cabins. The fourth cabin, while the most fastidious of any of the four living quarters offered to the returning campers, is furthest from any of the campsite utilities, but nearest to the disreputable – yet highly rated by fans of the series – cliff from which each camper leapt in the very first night spent at Wawanakwa.

Our main focuses, two fairly young and notorious troublemaking specimens, gravitated immediately toward the insecure, modestly sized cottage; one to follow his hesitantly close-knit faction of friends while the other desired only the easy access to the forest as well as what she briefly analyzed to be a paramount view of the moon from its unsteady roofing in the unholy hours of night. Duncan, a well built and indifferent delinquent fresh out of juvenile hall for what had to have been the twelfth time, sauntered without purpose up the rickety steps up to the cabin he'd watched his relatively good friend, and resident brick house with a monstrously warm heart, wander into of his own accord, evidently electing not to stick around to chat with several of his own mutual friends.

The viridian plumed teen cringed as the wooden floorboards screeched under his every step and paused in the slightly faulted doorway, pushing open the rest of the way and chuckling a bit at the staggered shriek his taller, more muscular friend belted out. "S'okay, DJ, no one special. Got room for one more in this shit-hole?"

DJ nodded and finished placing the ever so cherished framed photo of his mother on the nightstand beside his chosen divan, setting his knapsack down casually upon the lower bunk and swooping below to take a seat beside it in a single, fluid motion. "'Course there's room, man! You seen Courtney and Gwen at all today? I got interrogated by those two 'bout you, right after I got off the boat-they seemed a li'l jumpy. I hope they're okay…"

Shaking his head and, sniggering silently to himself, the delinquent fell onto the bunk opposite the much too kindhearted young man, dumping his heavy duffle bag in an unorganized heap on the cabin floor at his large, sneaker sheathed feet. "Jumpy is not the word, dude. I don't get what it is with girls. I mean they're all just so—"

"We're all just so, what, Duncan?" an indistinctly feminine and familiarly soothing voice resonated as one of the most infamous couples, Bridgette and Geoff, meandered across the threshold and into the shabby one-room bungalow.

Both of the nonpareil companions already residing quite comfortably within the thin, pathetically constructed wooden walls chanted friendly greetings to their friends and roommates, a fact made apparent by the thoughtless placing of Geoff's luggage and abrupt decision to make himself comfortable on the mattress beside DJ, in conjunction with Bridgette busying herself with the task of sorting her clothes in the limited storage offered by the nightstand alone. Duncan grazed the back of his neck with his calloused fingertips, clearing his throat for a moment as Bridgette glared over her shoulder at him, still obviously expecting a response.

"Well, not all girls, just Gwen and Courtney. What makes them so fucking catty, anyway, Bridge?" the proud troublemaker pondered a small bit too confidently, judging from the snide smirk gracing his thin lips.

Manipulating her moderately full, slightly moistened lips into a thin, incredulous line, the composed teenage surfer planted her hands on her curvaceous hips and turned to face her friend, with whom she was almost always at odds with – for whatever reason. "Have you met Courtney? The second she saw you and Gwen 'wrestle' to the ground, both of you were royally screwed, dude. And since Gwen and Trent aren't together anymore, she's decided to risk it and go after you, but Courtney's not about to let that happen. They're being catty because they're obsessive girls, it's what they do."

Gentle, honey brazen eyes met with hardened azure ones as Duncan searched for the proper retort that didn't let on just how frenetic the adolescent punk felt about his whole situation. If pride hadn't mattered nearly as much as it did to the outspoken young man, he'd have thanked whatever deity there was left to thank that he had a platonic friend like Bridgette to tell him just what he was doing wrong and right with the girls in his life, but of course, elected to stow away those confounding thoughts and smirked cockily towards the much smaller teen. "Oh, I bet. All this time I thought it was just Courtney who couldn't deal with how hot she thought I was, and I find out Gwen has a thing for me too. Not my best, but still a job well done,"

"You just don't know when to quit," the slipshod blond muttered to herself as she went back to her work on the drawer, eventually extending a slender arm back to her boyfriend, a nonverbal question for him to pass her his own belongings for her to put away neatly, to which he complied warmly.

"Don't think this conversation's goin' anywhere good, so," DJ began, his deep voice rumbling lowly in his firmly built chest, unsure of how to change the uncomfortable subject, "what's up? I mean, how many people can we fit in here?"

"Willin' to test that out with a party, bro? I'm all over it! Lemme run over to cabin numero uno and grab Owen's stash of soda and some tunes and we're good to go!" Geoff shouted enthusiastically, striding over to the doorway with a glazed over look in his eyes and the pop bottle still poised in his hand.

"No, I don't mean a party, but keep that thought, seriously. I mean how many more cabin-mates are we gonna have? I don't have any problems with anyone here, but it's gonna be weird for Bridge if she's the only girl, right?"

Duncan pursed his lips and sputtered at his incredibly muscular friend's innate sensitivity, wanting nothing to do with the matter. Bridgette abandoned her place at the bedside bureau once more to thank DJ for just how "considerate" and "friendly" he'd been to her for as long as they'd known one another, which – as Duncan could easily assume – was nothing of interest to him, so he made an effort to focus on something else. He leaned back to lay flat upon the cheap, unlaundered mattress below him and reveled a bit in the memorable squeal it wheezed out beneath his body weight. What did Bridgette care if she was the only girl in the cabin anyway? She chose to follow her own damn boyfriend inside, and she was the only one to blame if she got a little lonely, or felt just a bit awkward.

The young criminal caught a few of Geoff's unsure glimpses and snorted out a hearty laugh, both of the teens well aware that Bridgette was as much a member of the long-disbanded Guy's Alliance as they were, despite their voting her off during Total Drama Island's initial run. Tilting his head forward to cup his hands upon the facility provided pillow and falling back into his own awaiting cradle, Duncan released an uncharacteristically tranquil sigh from the modestly built confines of his chest, heaving up and down rhythmically with his own breathing. It felt good to be back at Wawanakwa, especially with free reign of the grounds. The girls would be the only thing causing him drama as far as he knew, and it felt damn good to finally be free of Chris's egotistical clutches for the first time in what all would agree on as "much too long".

As could be expected, the quiet lasted little more than those sweet, sweet seconds graciously acknowledged by the rash young man, when a shrill, rousing wail drilled through the campsite and through the forest, rattling the trees violently and forcing countless birds from their rightful places in the pines and into the waiting blue skies, the sun – unaffected, of course – still simmering down upon the vulnerable island below. Duncan's eyes were open within moments, his hands clasped tightly over his profusely probed ears, falling to the splintered wooden floor in that same instant. His crystalline blue eyes, wide in fear and confusion, searched those of his roommates and – finding nothing but more disorient – ventured to his feet and to the front deck of the unfortunate little cabin. He dropped one hand to his side and the other fell casually against the porch post, supporting the sheet metal roofing of the lodge as the screaming came to a gradual halt, ebony brows knit closely together in annoyance.

"What the hell was that?" he began, running his free hand through his oddly hued, spiked locks and analyzing the large, mostly barren expanse of land before him. Broad shoulders heaved in defeat, the delinquent noticed nothing out of the ordinary but a few fellow campers inspecting to see what was amiss, and turned leisurely on his heel to stroll back into place on his bed, but lurched back in alarm at the familiar face he nearly crashed into on his return trip.

"Izzy!" Duncan gasped, losing his footing but regaining his slouched stance with the aforementioned psychopath's steady hand offered to him. "Holy shit, how'd you do that?"

The fiery haired beauty pursed her lips and gave a thoughtful glance back into the makeshift homestead her reluctant companion was just about to enter then pointed a thin finger towards the roof, now sporting a gaping hole. "Just dropped in, I guess!"

Rolling cold eyes at the smaller young woman, Duncan pushed his way past her and receded into his comfortable position on the lower bunk of the double bed both Geoff and Bridgette had apparently called ownership of, evident by their huddled form atop it. Taking note of this most likely unfortunate fact, the criminal quirked a brow at the mattress directly above him, and vowed to sleep with headphones in tact at the very least during the nights. His uninviting gaze befell the yieldingly attractive madwoman still standing over the threshold, wide viridian eyes scouring the inhabitants of the room with intrigue, though Duncan looked away quickly when she made the effort to stare right back at him.

"Um…Iz?" Geoff began, leaping down boldly from his suspended sleeping quarters and taking a few hesitant steps toward the redhead. "What're you doing, bra?"

The slender self-proclaimed adventurer and "general" knotted her thin brows together in confusion and hurt, round, tanned face tilting gently to the side. "You mean I can't stay here? I mean, there are way too many people in Owen's cabin, and Eva's too. Then again, I never really called a bunk in either of their places, I just threw turtles with my spare bikini sashes tied around their ankles through their windows…I guess they didn't catch the message. It's cool if you don't let me stay, I guess, I could just camp out on Noah's cabin's roof like I planned to."

The blonde haired partier chortled good-naturedly at the strange young woman, placing his hand endearingly upon her shoulder. "Nah, it's totally cool if you stick around. Me n' Bridge are sharing a bunk anyway, so there's just enough room for you in here. Nobody's sleeping on the roof unless it's a freaking beautiful prank, as far as I'm concerned."

"How is it totally cool? The chick just fell through the roof asking for a place to stay!" Duncan complained as soon as the excitable little woman took a seat beside the easily contrastable brick house, DJ, giving him a warm embrace and a large, trepid grin in accordance.

Izzy then focused upon Duncan, grinning daringly back at the obviously frustrated juvenile hall probation applicant, that fact reminding her of the several charges that were pressed upon her after numerous stalking and breaking and entering ordeals in middle school and all throughout high school. "Totally weird, I thought you'd like that kinda thing, Dunk-a-doodles. It's breaking and entering and destruction of property - busting through a roof - right? That's what Chef tried to charge me with the first time I broke through the roof in the Mess Hall, but nobody catches Explosivo and lives."

Taken aback by the surprisingly extensive knowledge showcased by the somewhat mentally unstable teen, he stared up at her idly before nodding and casting the nonsensical beauty a smirk of approval. "Okay, then. Roommates it is, Dizzy Izzy."

And, little did either of our less than stable subjects know, it was all downhill from there.