#outer world shenanigans

[fanficks-from-fictives]

JellyBean Bois Leo: can you hand me my water?

Editorials Bin: you're so thirsty ;)

Leo: *bites lip* ya for you

Leo: actually just for water

[robo-bozo7125]

am i the only one that didnt like vicar max

[egirl-vrissy]

The outer worlds is currently free on epic games ! ! (till tomorrow at 4pm GMT)

[eebie]

oo you wanna say literally every thought you've ever had about your ocs soo bad (wants to know what their deal is)

ugouguhghhgnnnghhhhh ^ My thoughts on them

[the-witchhunter]

DP x DC Ancient of Space: Lair

I’ve seen Danny being the ancient of space pop up a few times. A lot of it interprets that as the ancient of outer space, but I propose he has dominion pver the concept of physical space. Clockwork has time, Danny would have space, making them the counterparts for each other

So, imagine if you will, Danny only recently coming into his spatial powers retreating to his lair in the Ghost Zone. It’s too dangerous to have uncontrolled spatial distortions just randomly appearing in the human world. 

His lair is an extension of himself. His spatial powers extend not just to himself, but to his lair. It connects to liminal spaces. Walking through school hallways after hours? One of those doors leads to his lair. All night diner with flickering florescent lights and you’re the only customer? Carefull going to the bathroom or you might just end up somewhere else. Closed down building, or even buildings that never were there. Sometimes at just the right time, places just exsist, and they all lead to Danny’s lair. Inside is an MC Escher esque labyrinth of rooms, hallways, tunnels, ever shifting as their connections to the human world alter and shift.

Enter the Batfam

I pick Tim for this. He sees a building he’s never seen before on a street he’s very familiar with. He checks the address. 

“Hey Oracle? Is there a 147 Becker street?”

“No, Becker street stops at 144 before merging into Roosevelt.”

“That’s what I thought, but I’m there, I see it right in front of me.”

“What?”

Tim is too curious for his own good, and probably a bit sleep deprived. He enters the building only to get turned around and not be able to find where he came in from. It wouldn’t be so concerning if the building didn’t seem to go on and on. 

Next thing we know, Danny finds Red Robin wandering around, completely lost in his lair. The tricky part is getting him out around the right area and time, because space and time are connected, and when one is weird, so is the other. They need to take the scenic route, much to the impatience of Red Robin. He eventually gets him close enough: Bloodhaven. Tim can always get a ride back from Dick, then he looks at his watch. 

It’s only been 30 minutes. He had been wandering for hours, yet only 30 minutes had passed. 

Que confusion and shenanigans when somehow, yet more Bats wander into Danny’s lair

[loveharlow]

SEVEN - 001

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚ [9.6k] based on 1x01.

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, mentions of drowning, mentions of death

NOW PLAYING‧₊˚

A/N‧₊˚ I've been wanting to do an OBX rewrite for a very long time so here it is, the first chapter from yours truly.

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

‘THAT’S ABOUT A THREE-STORY FALL TO THE DECK? I give you about a one-in-three chance of survival.” Pope theoreticized from below. John B was balancing himself on the roof, beer in hand and not a care in the world. 

Licking his finger and holding it up in the air, he spoke. “Should I do it?”

“Yeah, you should jump! I’ll shoot you on the way down.” Pope joked, electric drill gun pointed up in the brunette’s direction. 

“You’re gonna shoot me?” JB mocked the boy below him with fingers guns as Kiara emerged from inside the unfinished home, interrupting their shenanigans.

“They’re gonna have Japanese toilets with towel warmers.” She said, mildly disgusted.

“Of course they are,” JJ chimed in. “Why wouldn’t they?”

“This used to be a turtle habitat,” she continued on, looking the house up and down. “But who cares about the turtles, I guess…”

“Can’t have cold towels…” 

“Do you even use towels, JJ?” You chimed in as you rounded the corner, earbud in one ear and even from the roof, the four of your friends could hear your music blasting faintly. “I thought you shook yourself off like a dog when you got wet.”

“Ha ha.” He fake laughed before he chucked an empty beer can in your direction. You dodged it with an annoyed sneer before picking it up and chucking it back ten times harder, hitting the side of the blonde’s head.

“Ah- ouch!”

“Could you please, not kill yourself?” Kiara stared up at John B with concern in her eyes.

“And don’t spill that beer! I’m not giving you another one…” JJ warned his best friend. His words almost like a trigger, JB dropping the beer right after, hearing the metal clank against the deck as the remaining liquid splattered on the wood.

“And of course he spills the beer.” You couldn’t help but speak as you slid down one of the wooden fixtures to sit against it.

“Hey!” A new voice bellowed. That’s when your eyes found Pope leaned over one of the banisters. 

“Security’s here. Let’s wrap it up.” He said, voice wavering slightly as he pat the deck and turned around.

John B got down from the roof, following behind JJ as you all picked up the pace. You all made your way into the house, quick in your steps to avoid the officers.

Rushing down the stairs, JJ was in the front. “Right turn, J!” You shouted. But of course, he still made a left turn, coming face to face and just narrowly missing one of the officers as you all went right. “I said right turn, dumbass!” You yelled over your shoulder.

“They’re going out front!”

You, Kiara, and John B had already managed to jump into the van, watching as JJ and Pope hopped the gate and landed flat on their stomachs. John B honked the horn to urge them on. “Bus is leaving!”

With the last two of the group in the vehicle, John B practically stomped on the pedal, sending the vehicle forward.

He drove the van as fast it could go, which wasn’t all that fast for the record. The side door was still open as you, along with JJ and Pope, mocked the officer who was chasing after the busted van. 

“Check out Gary, gunnin’ for a raise.” Pope mocked, eliciting a chorus of giggles inside the van. 

“You little pricks!”

JJ waved a beer can out the door, shaking it in the mans face. “You’re so close, you can do it! There you go.” He said as he tossed the can in the running officer’s direction. “They don’t pay you enough bro!”

The officer fell behind just as the van hit the bridge, passing the welcome sign to The Outer Banks. ‘Paradise on Earth.’ The natural habitat of you and your friends.

The Pogues. Pogues, pogies, the throwaway fish.

There’s JJ, one of your best friends out of them all. He’s about as local as they come. He does the dumb, risky things none of the rest of you will and you actually find him quite funny, not that you’d ever let him know that. He's tries to act all wreckless and tough-guy but you all know that he's just a loyal friend who tries to do the right thing in the wrong way.

Then there’s Kiara, or Kie as she would prefer to be called. She’s been your closest and dearest friend since forever. Your fathers were as thick as thieves and you and Kie seemed to follow in their steps being best friends since pre-school, even though you lived on two differen't sides of the island up until recently. Her family owns The Wreck, this Outer Banks institution and her parents love you. The others? Not so much… 

And you can’t forget Pope, the brains of the operation. Finalist for the Luther T. Vanderhorst Merit Scholarship. And the smartest person you know. Little bit of a weirdo but who isn’t. His father’s sort of.. strict, but he gives you free seafood. He says you're the 'least negative influence' his son keeps around.

Then, of course, There’s John B — legally, John Booker Routledge. You all have a myriad of nicknames for him though — John, JB, Bree, Jombee. You all typically hang at his place, The Chateau as his dad used to call it. Speaking of his dad, he disappeared at sea nine months ago, looking for a shipwreck and his mom split when he was three. You’ve all been doing your best to look out for him but it was an extremely difficult situation…

Last is you, the Pogues resident Pogue Princess. Well, former Pogue Princess. You moved to Figure Eight about eight months ago, after your dad died and your mom’s lawyer career skyrocketed seemingly out of the blue. But you hate it there, you spent her whole life on The Cut. Plus, your dad’s death caused a bit of a strain on your relationship with your mother. Things just haven't been the same.

WAKING UP TO HARSH POST-HURRICANE WINDS IS NEVER PLEASANT. Especially not for someone who isn’t much of a morning person. You’d barely had time to rub the sleep out of your eyes when your mom came into your room, in a rush as she was running late to meet with a client, reminding you to turn on the backup generator and ordering you to help out Kiara and her father at The Wreck.

“Is that all of it?” You asked, mouth half-full of french fries that were hot and salted to literal perfection. Kie stood in front of you, apron covered in food scraps and hair in a messy bun. 

“As much as we’re gonna be able to get today.” She sighed, eyes scanning over the crates and boxes littered amongst the floor. “Here,” She started, walking towards a couple of coolers stacked in the corner. “We’ll take these coolers out on the dock. The guys should be here soon.”

“M’kay.” You hummed, jumping out of the chair you were sitting backwards in and clapping your hands together to dust them off. She grabbed the cooler off the top and you grabbed the one underneath, following her out to the dock. 

It had gotten hotter in the short time you both had spent cleaning The Wreck, sun hitting you directly in the face as you walked out onto the damp deck, eyes squinting from the harsh beam of sunlight. Your hair was thrown up and out of your face into a high ponytail. You had discarded your flannel, tying it around your waist in front of your shorts, leaving your top half in only a bikini.

“Top o’ the mornin’ to ya.” JJ greeted. 

“Good morning.” Kie replied, shielding her eyes from the sun.

“Whatcha got? Some juice boxes?”

You lifted the lid and peeked inside as you and Kiara continued walking towards the boat. “Looks like, carrots? And… yogurt?” You looked to Kie for some assurance. She smirked.

“I have his kind of juice boxes in this one.” She assured, wiggling her cooler in the air. 

The boat stopped at the end of the dock, the guys helping you both inside. Once you and her were all arms and legs inside, John B sped off. Kie opened up her cooler handing everyone a beer who accepted, which was all except for John B, who was steering, and Pope who opted for baby carrots.

“Salud!” You all cheered as the three of you clanked bottles.

“HEY POPE, CAN YOU GO A LITTLE FASTER?” JJ asked, now standing at the forefront of the boat, beer in hand. Pope had taken over as driver when John B joined in drinking with the rest of the group.

“Dude, nooo, not this again. It fails every time.” You tried to stop the blonde from trying this borderline ritualistic party trick that never worked. 

“Have some faith, will you?” He shot back sarcastically. “It’s gonna work!” He spoke over the rev of the engine as Pope idiotically listened to him and sped up the boat. JJ tilted the beer bottle back enough to splatter beer into his mouth, and in Kie’s hair, and on John B’s cheek, and on your lips. 

“Alright, alright!” Pope tried. “Alright, stop!” 

It happened out of nowhere, the boat coming to an aggressive and abrupt stop. The last thing you saw was JJ flipping forward into the water, JB and Kie falling off their seats, and Pope tumbling back before you were submerged within an endlessness of dark blue, a harsh stinging-sensation blooming on your back and thighs. You couldn’t tell what was up and what was down. Too disoriented from the fall, your brain didn’t catch up with your body, attempting to inhale in your panic before getting a mouth full of water. Then, within seconds, you felt a hand on your back, seemingly feeling around to make sure you were what they were looking for before two hands were under your arms and pulling you up.

You coughed as your eyes were met with the harsh light of the sun, but you were grateful for it. You could hear JJ’s voice behind your ear as you coughed up water. “I got her! She’s fine!”

He swam in front of you, his hand rubbing and patting your back as your coughing fit slowly became less intense. “You alright? You took a nasty fall.” You managed to strain out a hoarse laugh. 

“You guys okay?” Pope shouted over the edge of the boat. 

“Almost drowned but yeah, we’re just fine.” You and JJ joked back, swimming back to the boat.

“Pope, man, what happened?” JJ inquired, treading water next to you. 

“Sandbar. The channel changed...” 

“No kidding.” You said, voice still scratchy from the Marsh water. 

“Guys…” Pope started, staring in confusion over the edge of the small boat. “I think there’s a boat down there.”

“Yeah, okay...”

“No, I’m serious. There’s a boat down there. For real.” You and JJ gave each other a glance, still treading in the water as you watched the remaining three peer over where Pope was staring. “There’s a boat!”

Kie quickly turned around. “Holy shit, he’s right.” You and JJ began paddling towards where your friends eyes were glued before as they shed their clothes and jumped in with the two of you. You all took one last glance at each other before dunking your heads below the surface and diving to the pristine, white boat that stood stuck in the middle of The Marsh.

When the tips of your fingers touched the surface of the boat, you swam around it, examining the structure. This wasn’t an old shipwreck, it was too clean. This had to have happened during the hurricane. As you kept swimming, you recognized the layout, the structure, the fixtures. There was no way this was what you thought it was…

Coming back up to the surface, JJ’s voice was the first one heard. “You guys saw that, right?” He asked breathlessly, a smile on his face as he shook his wet hair from in front of his face.

“That’s a Grady-White.” You added, still catching your breath. “That’s like a half a million dollar boat, just sitting there.” You all swam back to where the HMS Pogue swayed, climbing back on all at once. 

“That’s the boat I saw when I surfed the surge. Maybe it hit the jetty or something.” John B spoke. Both you and Kiara turned to him, your faces falling from excitement to dismay.

Kie was the first to speak, a quiet question. “You surfed the surge?...”

“Yeah.” JB spoke carelessly, barely paying any attention before answering.

“That’s my boy. Pogue style.” JJ encouraged him, slapping a hand against his shoulder.

“Well that was dumb.” You immediately protested, siding with Kie. “You could’ve gotten killed.” You added seriously. What the hell was he thinking? Surfing a surge isn’t uncommon in the Outer Banks, but waves like that? That’s a death wish, for sure.

“I’m still here, aren’t I?”

There was brief, tense eye contact between the both of you before you scoffed and turned around, walking off.

“Wait. Do we know whose boat that is?” Pope asked. 

“No, but we’re about to find out.” John B spoke up. 

“Dude, it’s way too deep.” JJ pointed out. He was right. It was too deep, especially for someone with no diving experience. Diving experience that you happened to have. No matter how pissed you were at him for surfing the surge, letting John B make another dumb mistake was just as bad. Also, mildly hypocritical.

“Oh, for the weak and feeble, JJ.”

“I’m not resuscitating you.” JJ reminded. “I’m just...making that clear up front.” He told him, scrunching his nose and shrugging his shoulders.

“That’s fine.” John was now standing on the edge of the boat, anchor in hand with a smile that was much to happy for someone doing something so dangerous.

“Diver down.” Pope saluted.

You turned around, about to offer to go down yourself. That was, until JJ pushed John B off the edge of the boat himself.

“JJ!” You shouted, hands out. He turned to you, blue eyes wide and wandering. 

“What?” You just shook your head and groaned.

You just opted to stand on the other side of Kie, watching and waiting for John B to emerge again. 

Seconds passed, seconds that felt like minutes. “He’s been down there too long.” You eventually vocalized, breaking through the tense silence. 

“Should we go get him?” Pope suggested. Just then, the brown haired boy sprung up out the water, shaking his head side to side flinging water on the four of you. You all shielded your faces, mutual groans leaving the four of you on the boat.

“Dude! C’mon…” Pope complained, wiping droplets of water from his forehead and peering over the edge of the boat. “Any dead bodies?”

“No.” John B answered. “I found this motel key.” He continued, holding up a small, silver key with a yellow tag attached. 

“A key...” Pope said unimpressed. 

“Great! We… salvaged a motel key.” JJ continued mocking as they helped John B back onto the boat. Pope resumed his position behind the wheel as John B examined the key, you sat back with your earbud in one ear, still able to listen and chime in on the conversation. 

“Guys, we should report the wreck to the coast guard. Maybe we’ll get a finder’s fee.” 

POPE DOCKED AT THE COAST GUARD, THE PLACE BOMBARDED WITH ISLANDERS. Some searching for their spouses, pets, and family members. JJ and John B walked inside to find someone while Pope, Kie and yourself waited outside the maze of tents.

“It’s the day after a hurricane. They’re looking for old people and children, not boats. Besides, would it really be that bad if we just, didn’t report it?” You voiced.

“I don’t know,” Pope expressed, hand on the back of his neck. “What if there’s a body down there and we just, I don’t know, missed it.”

“And,” Kie started in that motherly tone that could make you question all bad judgment. “Reporting it is the right thing to do. No matter what.”

Just then, JJ and John B came back out of the tent. JJ shook his head. “No luck.” You couldn’t say you were surprised. Or disappointed. All heads turned to John B who stared out at nothing. He fiddled with the key before voicing his thoughts. 

“...I think I know how we’re gonna find the guy who owns that boat.”

“No, no, no,” Pope stressed, pointing at the key as if the object was to blame. “No bad ideas. We don’t know whose that is.”

The two boys ignored him, JJ taking the key from John B’s fingers and tossing it to Kie. “I’m in.” He declared. 

“Come on,” Kie urged Pope. “I’ll be lookout.”

You shrugged, following behind them but talking to Pope as you walked backwards. “At least we tried.” You turned to walk forwards, JB trailing behind you. 

“Finder’s fee, just sayin’” You heard him say. “And hey! At least you’ll only be an accomplice.”

Pope sighed before you heard his footsteps join the group. “Man…”

“Come on, bubba.” John B comforted, throwing an arm over the dark-skinned boy's shoulders.

THE FIVE OF YOU ALL STOOD, NOT MOVING, AS YOU SILENTLY JUDGED THE MOTEL COMING INTO VIEW IN FRONT YOU AS THE HMS POGUE DRIFTED CLOSER TO IT. 

“This is place is a shithole.” You were the first to say it out loud. The cloudy windows, the overgrown vines on the, what you guessed used to be, white walls, and the overgrown weeds. 

“I thought The Chateau looked bad...”

“Motel or Meth-lab?”

“Doesn’t look like the type of place someone with a Grady-White would stay.” John pointed out the obvious.

“It looks like the type of place someone with a Grady-White would get mugged.” You mumbled as JJ winded up the rope and jumped off the front of the boat, tying it down to anchor it in place. 

“We good?” John B asked as the chipper blonde wrapped the blue and white rope around the anchor point a couple more times for good measure.

“Good to go.”

“All right,” John B said. “Here goes nothing.”

“Hey.” Pope uttered, pointing a finger at JJ but maintaining eye contact with JB. “Don’t let him do anything stupid.”

“I’m not making any promises.” Was all John B said, you and Pope simultaneously rolling your eyes.

“Be careful…” Kiara spoke softly, handing John B the key. “I mean it.” John B kept his eyes on hers until a small smile crept up on his sun kissed cheeks. He let out a soft, almost school-girlish chuckle.

“Yeah...” He muttered as he turned to walk away with JJ. 

Seconds passed as you watched the boys disappear, already knowing nothing good could come out of those two. It was only a small matter of time before Kiara spoke up, eyes on you as she fiddled nervously with her fingers.

“You should go with them.”

You could feel your expression morph into one of of confusion, looking on both sides of you. “Me?” You asked incredulously, pointing a finger at yourself. “Why me?”

“Well, they’d just rope Pope into whatever dumb decision they make, so he’s not an option.”

“Hey!” Pope threw his hands up in a poor attempt to defend himself. His mouth opened and closed, trying to find words before eventually surrendering to the fact that what she said was at least somewhat truthful.

“And what about you?” You asked, crossing my arms and raising an eyebrow. “Any chance for some extra time with John B, right?” You teased, edging towards the girl as she rolled her eyes.

“Will all of you stop saying that?” She looked away, playing with her bracelets. "I just get worried..."

You laughed and playfully pecked her cheek. “Yeah, worried. More like hot and bothered.” You played with the girl, hopping off the boat and landing just barely on your feet. You hadn’t made it but two steps before you heard her voice again.

“Hey!” You turned around. “Don’t forget your phone.” She reminded, tossing the small device your way as you caught it between your palms. A slight look of uncertainty on your face.

“Aren’t the towers down?”

Both of them shrugged before Pope spoke. “Couldn't hurt to have it.”

You pondered on it for a moment before letting the thought go. It wasn’t long before you caught up to the boys, the two not even noticing your presence behind them over their own conversation.

“...super sexy island chick that can play guitar and loves dogs. And her mom’s a hotshot lawyer, dude! Do you know how many guys on this island alone would jump at the chance to hit that?”

“I’d jump at the chance to hit you.” You disrupted whatever direction that conversation was going in. “I don't even want to know.” You snarked when he stuttered to defend himself, their heads turning back, JJ blubbering like a fish with his eyes wide.

“Where the hell did you...”

“Just, sh.” You dismissed him with your palm, John B chuckling under his breath. 

“It’s like, every girl who has a heartbeat you’re just like…” John B made a semi-sexual motion with his hands and let out some ancient, elderly groan. 

“It’s not a big deal.” JJ defended, the topic of conversation dying as the three of you approach the end of the walkway.

“Is this us? Twenty-nine?” You piped up, pointing to the motel door that was scuffed up entirely, paint chipped and scratches all over. 

“This is it.” John B declared, staring at the key in his palm. JJ knocked in a rhythm on the wood, pretending to be housekeeping with a high pitched voice. 

“Should we try it?” John B looked at JJ for a green light, JJ saying something in Spanish as you looked around before giving JB a nod as your signal of agreement. The door creaked open as we stood in the frame. Needless to say, the room looked better than the exterior. There was a decent sized duffel bag on the bed closest to the door, it was clear to see that the room was actually occupied for a considerable amount of time. 

“I’ll check the bag.” JB directed, using the flashlight to search through the bag. “Definitely over 50, he’s got New Balances…”

You shot him a dirty look that he couldn’t see. “I have New Balances…” You mumbled.

JJ was leaned over a map on the nightstand, scanning it curiously. “Maybe this is where they were fishing.” He declared, John B and you crowding around him on either side. “Right there?” He pointed with his finger at a spot on the map.

“No, that’s off the continental shelf.” John B argued. 

“That’s the Big Swell. No one fishes there.” You informed.

JJ continued looking over the map for a bit as you saw John B lift a piece of paper that was ripped from the motel notepad, a series of numbers written on it. You couldn’t see what numbers they were exactly but they didn’t seem important as he sat the paper down and both boys backed away from the nightstand.

You used the flashlight on your phone to continue scouting the room. It was what you’d expect out of a motel room — chipped walls, dust particles visible at every turn, the faint smell of sweat and what was either mildew or mold. Or both. 

“Oooh...” JJ could be heard from the bathroom.

“You find somethin’?” You inquired, walking into the space he was in and watching him rifle through a small black bag on a shelf.

“Just a dopp kit Bree won’t let me steal.” He whispered before peeking his head through the doorframe and pocketing a bottle of pills.

You swatted his chest, prompting him to clutch his chest like an offended old woman. “We aren’t stealing.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Put those back.”

“Whoever’s it is won’t miss them. They’re probably dead somewhere-”

“We’re not taking anything, JJ. Just put them back-”

“You know how much these could sell for?”

“I don’t care-”

“What are you guys doing?” JB was standing in the doorframe, flashlight by his side as he eyed the both of you back and forth. You both pausing and looking at John B, then each other.

You rolled your eyes and brushed past him, heading for the main bedroom. John B followed, crouching down in front of a cabinet that held a safe before he began punching in numbers.

“That will literally take forever.” You reprimanded, eyeing him with confusion as you shifted your weight behind him. 

“One, one, one, two?...” He ignored you as he continued punching in combinations.

“...Or try the piece of paper you picked up not even two minutes ago?” You told him as if was the most obvious thing in the world, face twisting as you threw your free hand out to the side. He paused in his number-punching, his head craning to the side before he stood up and looked at you.

“Maybe you are good for something.” He spoke absentmindedly, walking past you to get the piece of paper as JJ reviewed the map once again. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean…” You mumbled to no one in particular as he brushed past you once again to go back to entering codes into the safe, this time you crouching next to him, watching as he punched ‘61666’ into the keypad. You watched as the door unlocked itself. 

Your eyes widened when John B fully opened the safe, revealing wads of cash secured with rubber bands, a folder, and a gun. 

“I don’t think we should…” You started.

“Holy shit.” John B proclaimed in awe, picking up one of the stacks of money.

“..touch, any of that.” 

“JJ, you’re gonna wanna see this.” The boy called the blonde over, waving the money behind him.

JJ made his way behind the both of you. You could hear his gasp of “no freaking way” before his hand was reaching to grab the one thing in the safe all of you knew better than to touch — the gun.

“Why would you do that?” You whisper-shouted with wide eyes, standing up alongside John B as JJ played around with the firearm.

“Dude, don’t touch it!” John B warned.

“This is a fucking spendy-gatt man! Blat! Blat!” JJ geeked like a school girl, pretending to shoot the gun at the wall. “Just take a picture of me, man.”

“You want me to take a picture of you? With a gun?” John B asked as if JJ was an idiot. Just then, you heard something hit the frame of the window above the nightstand, speed walking over to it and peeking through the blinds to see a frantic Pope and Kie pointing to their left, mouthing what you thought was the word ‘cops’.

“What is it?” John B and JJ said almost simultaneously as you pushed through both of them to peek out of the window next to the motel room door, spotting Deputy Shoupe and another officer making their way to the room.

“Cops.” You spoke monotonously. “Go. Now. Hide.” You urged as the three of you scattered like mice throughout the room. 

“Kildare County Sheriff’s Department!” A manly voice boomed on the other side of the door when you decided to lift the window, urging the two boys to follow you out onto the roof as quietly as possible.

You could hear the officers enter the room seconds later, telling one another to look around. John B got a little too curious, peeking his head slowly around the corner before you grabbed the ends of his hair that poked out under his baseball cap to snatch his face away from the window.

“Ouch!” He whisper-yelled, hand going to the back of his head.

“What’re you, five? Stop peeking.”

The three of you waited, hearing the muffled chatter of the officers inside as now both John B and JJ attempted to peeked inside, little visibility with the blinds being closed. For some odd, unknown reason, JJ decided to try and retrieve the gun he shouldn’t have touched in the first place from his pocket, the metal slipping through his fingers and clattering against the roof you were standing on.

You all cringed at the noise, giving JJ a side glance and thumping your head against the brick wall. 

Your heart jumped in your throat when the blinds were suddenly drawn up from the inside, Shoupe peeking outside of the window carefully. The three of you waited, anticipating the worst thing to happen until he spoke, voice deafened from the wall between you.

“No one’s here. Let’s go.” You allowed yourself to breathe a sigh of relief. 

“WELL, THAT WAS FUN.” JJ spoke with a chipper tone.

“The cops took everything like it was a crime scene.” Pope spoke up. “Did you guys even find anything?”

“Did we find anything? No, I don’t think so…” JJ mocked, reaching into his pockets. All you could do was roll your eyes as he whipped out the gun and a wad of cash. “Oh, yeah, we did.”

“What the hell?” Pope said, anger in his voice. “Why would you take that from a crime scene?!”

“My thoughts exactly.” You reprimanded under your breath, glancing at Pope who looked at you for a brief second. 

“Better than the cops having it.” JJ tried to justify, shrugging nonchalantly.

“Are you serious?” Kie added. 

“I’m gonna lose my merit scholarship.” Pope worried, JJ pulling him into his side and putting the gun to his lips as he shushed him.

“At least you have us, right?” JJ tried to remedy to which Pope, as well as the rest of you, gave him a deadpan look, shoving him off.

“I’m living a nightmare.”

It wasn’t long before you’d made it back to the docks where it was now swarmed with emergency services. The coroner’s had a man’s body on a stretcher as they questioned another. You all watched on the sidelines with another group of teens as a middle-aged woman ran up to the body, cradling his face.

“Who’s that?” JJ asked.

“Scooter Grubbs. He was out during the storm.” A random blonde girl replied. “Check out this pic I got. Dead Body.” She mocked, shoving her phone into John B’s face.

“...What kind of boat did he have?” JJ piped up randomly, most eyes turning to him.

“Somehow,” The girl started. “That dirtbag copped a brand-new Grady White. Everyone’s out looking for it.”

BACK AT THE CHATEAU, POPE CAME THROUGH THE DOOR, FRANTIC AS HE JOINED THE REST OF YOU ON THE PATIO. “Okay, so we didn’t see anything and we don’t know anything. We need to have total and complete amnesia.” 

“Actually, Pope’s right, for once.” JJ chimed in from his place on the chair farthest from the rest of you. “Deny, deny, deny…” 

“Guys, we can’t keep that money.” Kie interrupted as if the thought had been plaguing her mind.

“Okay, not all of us can afford unlimited data plans, Kiara.”

“That’s not fair, JJ.” You added from your place next to John B, leaning against the post that held up the house.

“Coming from another person who can afford an unlimited data plan.”

“Why are you acting like we didn't live down the street from each other like, eight months ago?” You criticized.

“But you don’t live there now, do you, princess?”

“Don’t call me that." You warned, chucking a pillow at him as he dodged it. "You know I hate when you call me that-”

“Guys.” Pope stopped your childish bickering, allowing Kie to finish her thought. 

“We have to pass it off to Lana Grubbs. Otherwise, it’s bad karma.” 

You shook your head in disagreement. “If anything, giving her the money is bad karma. This whole thing is sketchy and those wads of cash literally scream drug money.”

“I agree.” JB finally spoke. “This is Scooter Grubbs we’re talking about. Same dude that’s buying individual cigarettes at the Porthole. One time, I saw this dude begging for change in the Save-A-Lot parking lot.”

“I can attest to that, I saw him doing the same outside of a Shopper’s once. He didn’t have a shirt on. It was disturbing.” You added absentmindedly.

John B threw his hands in your direction as if saying you were proving his point further. “We are talking about a dirtbag, marina rat who’s never had more than 40 bucks in his pocket and somehow managed to get a brand-new Grady White. Think about it—how does a marina rat get a Grady White, Pope?”

The boy sucked air in through his teeth, tilting his head to the side. “Prostitution?” John B shook his head in disagreement.

“Uh-uh. Square groupers, bro.” He claimed, using his hands for emphasis. “Flying under the radar, no aerial surveillance. They don’t do that stuff during a hurricane. Which means? JJ?” John B handed off the invisible mic to the blonde.

“They were straight smugglin’.”

“And I guarantee there’s a serious amount of contraband in that wreck.”

“For the record,” Pope began to tell the four of you in that overly-intelligent tone, fiddling with the wad of money. “If that is a smuggling ship with illegal contraband on it, it probably belongs to someone else. Someone could come looking for it. Taking it would be catastrophically stupid.”

“Right,” JJ added, taking the stolen stack of money from Pope’s hand. “But stupid things have good outcomes all the time.”

“But usually not in our case…”

“Not helping, Princess.” JJ quipped, head tilting in your direction. You took steps in his direction, smacking him upside the head and snatching the wad of cash from his hands, counting it as you spoke.

“Ouch- dammit!” He exclaimed, caressing the back of his head.

“I warned you once. Listening is fundamental.”

“We need a way on to the ship.” John B added, ignoring you both with that distant look in his eyes. “But for now we gotta lay low.”

“Right…and how exactly do we do that?” JJ inquired, leaning back in his seat.

Sharing a glance with Kie, you both looked back at the boy in front of you before speaking at the same time.

“Kegger?”

THE BONEYARD WAS CROWDED, TO SAY THE LEAST. With Kildare being such a small part of the Outer Banks, news spread quickly. The beach flooded with tourons, pogues, and kooks alike. Beer sloshing, girls dancing.

You’d all went your own sort of ways when it started to kick up — JJ chugging beer with some chick, John B chatting up another, Kie educating a group of girls, and Pope scaring off some poor girl with dead body talk. You’d just gotten off the keg, lightheaded as you stood back up the right way from where two strangers were holding your legs as everyone around you chanted, wiping the beer from your lips when Kie approached you with a snarl on her face.

“What is she doing here?” Your eyebrows pinched together, your eyes following hers to find what had her wound so tight.

It was no other than Sarah Cameron — stood on an old beach post with her loyal dog of a boyfriend, Topper, right behind her. You couldn’t help but internally groan, turning back to Kiara with an eye roll that set into an annoyed expression. 

“God, why is she everywhere?” The brown-haired girl complained as your eyes drifted across the beach, landing on the puppy-eyed friend of yours whose own eyes were fixated on the blonde near the shore. Even from feet away, you didn’t miss the glint in his eye. But there was no way JB had a thing for Sarah Cameron, right? He knew how you and Kie felt about her and he didn’t like Kooks. There was no way.

Nudging Kie’s shoulder, you spoke again. “Better question is, why is John B looking at her like that?”

Kiara’s attention drifted to John B, watching him like he was watching Sarah. A look in her eyes you couldn’t quite decipher — somewhere between disappointment and betrayal. Your own attention was pulled back to the aforementioned couple who were steadily approaching the crowd of teens.

If this were a house party, you’d shun them at the door. Unfortunately, this was public beach and nothing could be done to stop them from joining in.

THE SUN HAD GONE DOWN AND WHAT ONCE WAS A KEGGER IN FULL SWING WAS NOW A BEACH FULL OF TEENS CROWDED AROUND BONFIRE. The four of you were sitting near one another, the only one missing being JJ.

“I’m just saying, it was ninth grade guys. Maybe she’s changed.”

“Ninth grade or not, Sarah Cameron is still a bitch.” You shot at JB who was suspiciously defensive of a girl who really only knew of through his job, Kiara, and yourself. The topic of conversation kept drifting back to Sarah throughout the night, watching her frolic and gawk at the crowd of people as if she’d never been to a party before. Topper glued to her side per usual.

You all watch from the side as Topper grabbed her hand, helping her up from the log they were perched on as it seemed they finally decided to call it a night just as JJ had come back with the beers he’d went to go refill for John B and himself. 

John B stood up and approached his friend, ready to take the cup when Sarah and Topper walked by, gaining the attention of a drunk JJ Maybank who wouldn’t let them go unnoticed. If Kooks had one-hundred haters, JJ was the leader of them. If Kooks had no haters, JJ was dead. 

“Wait, Sarah!” He stopped them in their tracks. “Can I interest you in a tasty Milwaukee beverage?” He slurred. Sarah looked him up and down before politely declining the offer. You, Kie, and Pope watched the interaction silently from your places in the sand. “What? Is it not fancy enough for you?”

“We were just leaving…” She sassed, throwing her hair over her shoulder.

“Y’know what?” Topper mused. “I’ll take it. Thank you, man. ‘Preciate it.” You could tell this wasn’t a genuinely civil interaction, the remaining three of you in the sand watching from the sidelines sparing one another a weary glance.

“That’s a nice gesture, Topper, but I didn’t ask you.” JJ retorted, the smile dropping from Topper’s face quickly. John B was already attempting to step in between the two. “If you said ‘pretty please’? Maybe. But you didn’t. So…”

“Oh, pretty please?” Topper shot back unbelievably. 

JJ dismissed him, turning back to Sarah and once again offering the drink when Topper suddenly smacked the drink away, the beverage splattering all over JJ’s face. The beach of teen’s attention was suddenly pulled to the four of them in the middle of the beach as you, Kiara, and Pope stood from your spots in the sand.

JJ was quick to snatch Topper by the collar of his button-up before John B pushed him back in an effort to calm down his friend. He was speaking to JJ, words no one could hear until Topper shouted ‘dirty pogues’, stealing John B’s attention in a matter of seconds as the boy whipped around to march towards him.

John B pushed Topper’s shoulders back, the action not doing much. The three of you still standing figured it was time to step in, dispersing from your places and getting in between the four of them — mainly the three guys as Sarah stood off to the side. . 

You saw it coming before you heard the connect, Topper edging towards John B before striking him in the jaw.  “Hey!” You shouted, jogging in their direction with Kie by your side as you watched Topper kick your friend while he was down.

“Guys? Guys!” You heard Sarah shouting. 

“Don’t make me drown you like your old man, alright?!” Topper spat. If you were any further back in the crowd that all watched like this was a professional brawl, you wouldn’t have heard it.

The statement obviously struck a nerve within JB, the boy finding strength in his state of anger to get up and tackle Topper into the shallow water. You usually weren’t one to condone violence, but JB was standing his ground and Topper deserved it.

The two boys circled each other, taking turns throwing punches. The odds were in John B’s favor, until they weren’t, Topper taking the opportunity to flip him onto his back into the water. 

You couldn’t tell what was happening immediately until you finally registered what was going on. Topper had John B pinned by the back of his neck, face down into the shallow sea water.

“Topper!” Sarah shouted over and over, her whining making your fists ball.

“Sarah!” You turned to her. “Will you shut the hell up and get your psychotic boyfriend?!” All the girl could do was shoot you a mean glare, turning back to the sight in front of her and continuing her chant of Topper’s name.

“He’s drowning him.” You heard Kiara speak behind you. Your eyes scanned the beach for something, anything — landing on a thick piece of driftwood, you wasted no time in sprinting over to it, picking it up almost like a baseball bat. You could hear your three friends calling your name as you ran up behind Topper, wielding the piece of wood like a weapon, ready and fully prepared to knock his ass out with it.

You were feet away from the angry, rich blonde before JJ had beat you to it, holding a gun to the back of his head. You stopped in your tracks, the piece of wood falling to your side as your jaw went slack and your eyes wide.

“JJ!” Kiara yelled.

“Dude, chill!” Pope shouted, walking up behind his erratic friend.

“JJ! Put the gun down!” Sarah tried, finally deciding to actually step in with the rest of you. The blonde girl shouted you and Kie’s names. “Will you check your psycho friend, please?!”. You and Kie simply ignored the girl.

“We’re good! We’re good!” Topper surrendered, releasing John B’s neck from his hands. You, along with Pope and Kiara, wasted no time in rushing over to aid your friend, kneeling in the wet sand and salt water next to him as the three of you sat him up.

“Everyone listen up!” JJ continued. “Get the hell off our side of the island!” He yelled, shooting stray bullets to the sky. You flinched slightly at the unexpected, ear-ringing sound.

“JJ!” You yelled at him, louder than you had the entire night. The crowd of teens dispersing, running every which way in between the trees. You made sure Kiara and Pope could take care of your wounded friend themselves before shooting up from your crouched position and approaching JJ, snatching his shoulder back to face you before pushing his chest. “What the hell is wrong with you?! Do you have any idea what you just did?!”

“I was saving his life, okay?!”

“By firing a gun you stole?!”

JJ had no idea the trouble he’d just created and the argument didn’t go much further than that when the four of you heard a splash and turned back to find John B, who’d collapsed, unconscious, back into the water. 

“I’M CALLING IT OFF.” Was the first word said between any of you. It was the next morning and John B had called you all together at The Chateau, the five of you spread out in the yard. There was a cloud hanging over the group, a tense silence. The only noise being a ball JJ kept tossing back and forth. “Peterkin said that if I stay out of The Marsh, she’ll help with DCS.”

“And you believed her?” JJ asked as if his friend was the biggest dunce in the world. 

“Yes, I believed her, JJ, she's the Sheriff. All I have to do is stay out The Marsh for a few days and she’ll help me out.” He repeated. “It doesn’t help that your ass was the one shooting a gun!”

JJ scoffed, shaking his head side to side. “Y’know what? I should’ve let Topper drown your ass.” 

“Yeah, because Topper was really going to drown me.”

“It sure looked like it. I mean, have you looked in a mirror?” JJ shot back, leaning against a wooden post of the outdoor structure. “They always win, don’t they, man? They don’t want us in The Marsh which means there’s something valuable down there.” JJ tried to reason, eyes pleading with the rest of you. “I understand why you don’t wanna go.” He pointed at Pope. “You’re the Golden Boy, too much to risk.” Then his eyes were on Kie. “And you’re rich as fuck, anyway. Why would you bother?” She ignored him, rolling her eyes as his own blue ones landed on you. “And you? You-”

“Don’t go there, JJ.” You warned him, eyes connecting with his, a serious expression plastered all over your face. You stared at one another, a bitter exchange without words. Then, he was looking at John B.

“We got nothing nothing to lose. And I know it didn’t use to be that way for you.”

“I don’t wanna talk about this.” 

“I have plan John B, just listen,” JJ started, staring at the tense back of his best friend who wouldn't face him. “You got the key to Cameron’s big boat, right?”

“No, dude-”

“There’s scuba gear!” The blonde protested, standing right next to John B now. “We borrow that, go down to The Wreck this afternoon-” Your eyes met Kie and Pope’s as you mockingly mouthed ‘borrow’, the jab followed by an eye roll. JJ Maybank was never known to just ‘borrow’ anything. “And that’s what going to save you. You don’t see rich kids going into foster care, do you?”

“AND WE’RE SERIOUSLY LETTING JOHN B STEAL FROM THE LION’S DEN?” You questioned as the remaining four of you lounged around the boat. “I mean, what if he gets caught? I doubt Ward will just let him go.”

“He won’t get caught.” JJ exhaustedly reassured you for the millionth time as he unanchored the small motor boat from the dock.

“And how do you know that?”

“Well, judging by the lanky bandana wearing boy waddling towards us with his hands occupied by oxygen tanks, I’d say he did just fine.” Everyone’s attention was now drawn to John B, climbing one leg over the other into the boat, letting the tanks clank against the floor of the water vehicle.

You were the first to snatch them up, shooting JJ a mean glare for his sarcasm. It was only seconds before you scoffed and let your head fal back, zoning your sights in on John B. “Good job, you scored empty tanks.”

“What?” He proclaimed breathlessly, a look of sheer confusion written across his face as you continued looking at the meters on the tanks.

You held up one of them on display. “This one's a quarter-full. That’s only enough for one of us. And judging by the look on your faces, I’m going to assume I’m the only one here who knows how to dive?” They all averted their eyes. “Great.”

“It’s kind of a kook sport…” JJ mumbled. You supposed he was right but for you it was just a skill that your dad had spent years teaching you, being a professional diver himself. “Plus, how hard could it be anyway. You put the thing in your mouth and breathe.”

“Well,” Pope started. “If you come up too fast the nitrogen could enter your bloodstream and you could get the bends.” 

“The bends? Like bend over?-” JJ tried to joke before being cut off, his body in a half bent position.

“The bends kill you.” You and Pope both corrected simultaneously, both with the same amount of annoyance in your tone. Shaking your head, you stood up with the semi-full tank in hand and made your way over to Pope.

“You’re the only person I trust to help me with the math on this.” You proclaimed. The boy’s eyes widened, nearly jumping up from his feet, a notepad and pencil in his hand that seemed to almost appear out of thin air.

“Yeah, yeah, I can help,” He stammered. “The boat’s about thirty-feet down. So, at that depth, it’ll take twenty-five minutes. Which means you need to make your safety stop at about ten feet. For two minutes.”

“Got it.”

“When you’re down there,” JJ started, key in hand. “Look for the cargo hold, stick this thing inside, twist and pull-”

“I know how to use a key, JJ.” 

“I- y’know you have been very sassy today, little miss thing, and I don’t appreciate it, alright?” He started ranting in mock-offense. “That’ll be the last time I try to help you.” He muttered, pouting next to Pope. You chuckled before picking up the oxygen meter, trying to make sure you would have enough air to decompress. And you did, just barely.

“Hey,” Pope announced. “If we get caught in The Marsh, we’re basically screwed, so…”

“Is this your way of telling me to get my ass into the water?” His eyes looked around as if he were thinking deeply, a small nonchalant shoulder shrug before he was replying.

“Mmm...Basically, yeah.” You snickered at the boy before stripping down to your bikini, pulling the tank over your shoulders and the mask down over your face before jumping in. Once you were in the water, you gave one last look to your friends before letting the air fill your lungs and going completely under. 

You started to make your descent, slowly. Making your safety stop at what you estimated to be about ten feet as Pope has advised. Stopping for those two minutes before continuing to dive further down.

The water was dark, foggy, and murky — a lot different from diving in ocean water. It was like walking through an abandoned mansion with only a lighter to see. Nonetheless, your eyes landed on the cargo hold within the sunken boat. It was a small struggle trying to fit the key into the hole with the water swaying your hand in different directions but you managed after a couple tries.

Twisting and pulling as JJ had directed, the cargo holds door came up, floating gracefully to the side, revealing what was inside. A black duffel bag and even in the water, it was still decently heavy. You couldn’t waste time examining what was inside with the amount of oxygen you were running on, so you started to swim your way back up, careful not to move too fast.

Following the length of the bowline, the boat came into view the closer you got to the surface of the water. But then so did another, a slightly larger one. You stopped, squinting trying to make out whose boat it could be but it was pointless. The meter on your tank told you that you had about a minute before you were out of air. 

You waited for what felt like minutes but what had really only been about fifteen seconds. Your heart thumped out of your chest when you saw a figure standing on the edge of your friend’s boat through the water that was far too buff to be any of your friends. And you could’ve sworn it was Deputy Shoupe.

You were still but you didn’t feel still enough, as if any slight movement might make the man able to see through water. To see you. You couldn’t get caught in The Marsh. They couldn’t know Scooter’s boat was here. One wrong move and you could screw this all up. Despite your nerves, you looked frantically at the meter in your hand — fifteen seconds of air left.

And it just kept getting lower.

You were mentally screaming at whoever that figure was to get the hell out of here. Ten seconds. Then five. Four. Three. Two. One.

Zero.

You had no air left and your only option was to hold your breath and hope for the best. And maybe a little hope was all you needed because by the grace of God, the figure retreated not long before the boat was speeding away. You wasted no time in swimming towards the surface, bursting through the waves and snatching the mask off as fresh air filled your lungs.

You heard sighs of relief as your chest filled and your hearing returned to normal. 

“Don’t scare us like that!”

“Scare you?” You breathed out, treading water while looking at your four friends. “I thought I was gonna die!”

“What’d you find?” asked Pope.

“I don’t know but it’s something.” You started swimming back towards the boat, throwing the bag overhand towards JJ as you climbed up the ladder. 

“You good?” Pope questioned, concerned. “You scared the shit out of us. The cops were up here but we took care of ‘em.” So it was Shoupe, you thought as you plopped yourself down on the boat, wasting little time in shrugging the tank off of your back when you spotted another boat coming in your direction.

“Guys? Bogey, two o’clock.” You announced, breathlessly. 

“Anybody recognize it?” Pope asked, prompting collective ‘no’s’ to sound out. 

“What’re they doing here? The Marsh is closed…” John B questioned silently.

"Maybe they don't know?" You threw out.

“My vote’s on not sticking around to find out.” JJ advised, going straight for the bowline as fast as he could to unanchor the boat. John B began steering the boat before the anchor was even completely out of the water. 

“Go into The Marsh. Go.” Pope commanded firmly. At that moment, the opposing boat followed the HMS Pogue and you could’ve sworn it sped up. 

“They’re definitely following us.” Kie voiced worriedly. Looking back, there were only two men on the boat. Two faces you’d never seen in Kildare before.

“Gun it, JJ!” John B shouted. There was no doubt that you all were being followed at this point and you didn’t want to know what would happen if they caught up. Your hand was gripping the edge of the boat as it sped through the shaky waters, the small boat practically zooming past everything in sight but the two men remained on your tail. Suddenly, the man not steering the motorboat behind you pulled out something — a unmistakable object.

“Guys, get down!” Was the last thing heard and the only thing you could shout before a shot rang out in the air, a stray bullet clanking against the structure of John B’s boat but failing to puncture anything severe, everyone ducking except the boy himself. 

“John B, get down!” Another shot followed, zooming right past your head. So close and so fast that you didn’t even see it, the only sign being the sound of wind breaking next to your ear and a stinging, burning sensation at the top of it.

“Jesus!” You shouted, slouching against the inside of the boat, smooshing yourself in between Kiara and Pope. Your hand went up to hold your ear, pulling it back to reveal a small amount of blood on the tips of your fingers. You doubted you got fatally shot, it couldn’t have been anything more than graze.

“Are you okay?” Kie asked as you drifted your own eyes to meet hers, a genuine concern swimming in her gaze. Your sights roamed her face for a moment before nodding and touching your ear slightly.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine.”

Then a third shot was sounding out. “Shit!” yelled Kie, her own eyes were focused on some netting laying in the boat. You watched as she got up and grabbed the material, throwing it over the back of the boat just as the fourth, and hopefully final, shot rang out. The boat that had been following you all spun out once it the net, the trap causing their engine to fail, sending you miles ahead of them in seconds.

You all stood up and stared back at the male figures disappearing behind you, chuckles leaving you all one by one until the boat was nearly shaking with triumphant laughter. You turned to JJ, giving him a victorious double high-five.

“Oh, damn,” His smile fell as his gaze turned to the left side of your face. “Did you get hit?” He asked, his hands reaching out to trail his fingers down the length of your neck, pulling them back to reveal the red substance decorating his fingers.

“Barely. I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll have a sick scar, though.”

You scoffed at this. “A girl can only dream.”

THE SUN HAD SET BY THE TIME YOU ALL HAD REACHED THE DOCK. The four of you had all but flew off the boat and onto the wooden platform, John B rushing to unzip the duffel bag you’d retrieved, still shivering slightly from your damp state. You’d thrown your t-shirt back on at some point, using your shorts to soak up the blood from your ear which made them un-wearable.

“It’s gotta be money right?” You expressed, shaking the remaining water from your damp hair.

“That or a couple of keys with street value from the low to mid-mills.”

“Can we please just open the bag?” Pope blurted quite aggressively. The group turning to him in shock and amusement.

“Wow, Pope. That’s a… rare outburst of emotion.” John B added. 

“You guys are literally killing me with anticipation.”

“Same.” You added in your two cents. “I almost drowned for this.”

“We all almost died for this.” Pope cut in.

“Yeah, that too, I guess.” You dismissed him playfully.

John B finished unzipping the bag, revealing a metal container about the size of a human thigh. Anchoring the object between his knees, he grunted and groaned as he attempted to twist it open until it popped, allowing him to twist off the top and reveal…

“A compass?” Kie said unamused, almost disgustedly. Pope threw his hands over his head and JJ scoffed.

“Great job, everybody. We found a compass.” The blonde threw out. But John B saw something. He was looking at this object as if it meant the entire world to him, and that look prompted you to kneel next to your best friend and set a hand on his shoulder.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” You asked softly, eyes fleeting back and forth between John B’s watery gaze and the dingy compass.

“...This was my father’s.”

next chapter>

[cosmerelists]

Mistborn Era 1 Characters Read The Mistborn Era 2 Books

As requested by @foxofscadrial :)

[Spoilers, as you might imagine, from all of Mistborn Era 1 & 2!]

I've done this for Stormlight a couple of times: Stormlight characters read the The Stormlight Archive (link here) and they also read just the Kaladin chapters (link here). Now we're going to have the characters from Mistborn Era 1 sit down to read the Era 2 series: how will they react?

Now, just for the record...some of these characters are in both eras. For those characters, it's their Era 1 version doing the reacting, if that makes sense--like they're seeing their own futures.

1. Vin Live Reactions

Vin: This world seems so beautiful... So green... So vibrant... I'm gonna cry... Vin: THE STATUES OF ME AND ELEND 😭 Vin: Wow. I wish *I* had guns. Guns seem cool. Vin: It.....feels weird that everyone wants to be me. Like, sometimes I barely wanted to be me. Vin: ....Allrianne set the gender norms? I'm so sorry, women. Vin: TENSOOOOOOON! That speech about me...I can't take it... Vin: Killing a whole building of people, huh? Been there, Wax. Been there. Vin: I'm kinda glad Sazed became god. It seems like a hard job. Glad I didn't get it. Vin: ...Man. I REALLY wish we had guns!

2. Lord Ruler

Lord Ruler: Ugh, it's even worse than I imagined. Lord Ruler: Everything was so STABLE and SAFE under my rule. Lord Ruler: And now people have "freedom" and "fun"...and giraffes for some reason. Lord Ruler: You all are gonna do SO bad in the Cosmere-wide fight. Lord Ruler: Good riddance. Lord Ruler: ... Lord Ruler: Also, that guy who ends up taking over--Lord Mistborn or whatever. Lord Ruler: Who even is he???

3. Sazed

Sazed: ... Sazed: ... Sazed: I seem stressed.

4. Marsh

Marsh: ... Marsh: So, it seems that I never escape from my brother's shenanigans. Marsh: ... Marsh: Strangely comforting, I'll admit.

5. Elend Live Reactions

Elend: Heck yeah. Democracy. Elend: Huh. The noble houses stayed, huh? I just...don't know how I feel about that. Elend: Wait a sec....did they just recreate the noble/skaa divisions but with hereditary nobility versus workers? Elend: No...don't be crazy, Elend. At least it's not horrible slavery. Things are better! Way better! Elend: Ugh, are they abusing the outer cities too?? That train system is so horribly inefficient!! Elend: Is it too late for me to tutor Spook in legislative philosophy???

6. Breeze & Allrianne

Allrianne: Omg, Breeze, can you believe it? Our ancestor is the hero! Breeze: Seems like quite a...scruffy independent fellow. Allrianne: Not a Rioter OR a Soother, though... That's unfortunate... Breeze: Wears nice suits in the Rough, though. Now THAT I can get behind. Allrianne: I think we did good. 🩷

7. Spook

Spook: Well. Spook: Huh. Spook: Knowing that my street slang is gonna be High Imperial one day... Spook: That might be just enough to get me through all this alive.

8. TenSoon

TenSoon: I could imagine many fates for myself. TenSoon: Serving humans and the Lord Ruler forever. TenSoon: Being killed. TenSoon: Undertaking the Resolution and turning back into a mistwraith. TenSoon: ... TenSoon: Inspiring a line of stuffed toys for human children was NOT something I ever considered. TenSoon: I'm so glad I met the Ascendant Warrior.

9. Tindwyl

Tindwyl: It is...gratifying to see that the Terris people have survived. Tindwyl: And that feruchemy has survived with us. Tindwyl: *tsks* Naming a street after me, though. It would be more valuable for them to come to understand the real us, rather than mythologizing us to such a degree. Tindwyl: Wax naming his daughter after me, however... Tindwyl: ... Tindwyl: That honor I will accept.

10. Kelsier Live Reactions

(Note: This is the living Final Empire version of the character)

Kelsier: ........There are HOW many metals?!? Kelsier: Heh. Flowers. You would have loved that, Mare. Kelsier: Oof, no Mistborn. That's kinda harsh. Kelsier: YOU'RE FUCKING KIDDING ME--THEY CALLED IT ELENDEL?! (muttering) They could have at LEAST called it Vindale. Kelsier: "Ascendant Warrior," huh? That's my girl. Kelsier: "High Imperial." LOL. Kelsier: Omg, Marsh?! Marsh?!? Kelsier: SAZED IS GOD?! Kelsier: Heh, nice to know I have a crew in any reality. Kelsier: Yeah. I think I'm gonna be fine.

[goosewriting]

Glad to hear requests are open! I just wanted to say I love your inquis!cal fics :D

I was wondering if you could write something with Cal? Lovesick Inquis!Cal hunting an in-denial-of-feelings-for-him Jedi!reader is always a favorite of mine. Literally just Cal pinning the reader down and insisting how they’d make such a great team if only reader would join him. Just anything really, being at his mercy- ugh.

Feel free to write it or not, I don’t mind, just figured I’d put it out there :)

Loth-cat and Mouse

summary: as reader escapes from an inquisitor, old sparks might reignite despite the danger.

relationship: Inquisitor Cal Kestis x gn!Jedi!reader

warnings: mentions of death and murder 

word count: 3.6k

A/N: top tier request anon, tysm! writing the whole force shenanigans was my favourite part tbh. i’ve been meaning to explore that aspect for so long, battle of the will and all, and i’ll definitely be doing it again! tell me what you think pls c: 

[all masterlists] 🪶 [star wars masterlist] 🪶 [ao3]

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Living in hiding when the galaxy thinks you’re dead is easy. It comes with the privilege of being virtually invisible in a galaxy that seeks to oppress and exploit every living soul.

Ever since escaping the Clones turning on the Jedis as a Padawan, and the rise of the Empire, you’ve lived in hiding, as most of the surviving Jedis did. And for a long time, you were successful. That is, until an Inquisitor picked up your scent and started hunting you down.

This went on for two years, and you somehow managed to evade her, always being a step ahead. You only came face to face with the Inquisitor twice: the first time, when you looked the purplish skinned Mirialan in her yellow eyes for the first time, and the second when you knew what you had to do.

Sitting in the dusty booth of a run-down tavern somewhere in the Outer Rim, your shoulders slump forward as you remember how you had felt her life essence vanish through the Force like a cloud of spores disappearing, carried away by the wind. You knew you couldn’t get through with it with your own hands, so you rigged an old warehouse with so many explosives that not even the strongest Jedi Master would be able to escape. Using yourself as bait, standing by the entrance to the building, that was the last time you’d see her. Your plan worked, and the whole thing came down on her. So much so that it almost took you out as well, but you survived despite the injuries. You hope that in the eyes of the Force, you had freed her from her pain. Maybe somewhere deep inside she was thankful.

Or that was what you’d keep telling yourself to be able to sleep at night. 

It’s been a couple of months since then, and you’ve doubled your efforts at staying hidden, as you don’t think you can take another Inquisitor hunt. Not because you can’t win against them. You already did, and that’s the problem. When you first realised an Inquisitor was trailing you, you were afraid. But now, after defeating her, the thought of going out there and turning around the hunter and hunted roles suddenly seems… exhilarating. But that would make you no better than a Sith, would it? Your face contorts in discomfort as you can practically hear your Master’s disappointed voice at what has become of you.

“I thought I taught you better.”

You sigh. Yeah, you did. But you trained me to be a peacekeeper, not an outlaw. It’s a kill or get killed world out here. It probably always has been, but we were shielded from it, had a roof over our heads, clothes to wear and food on our plates. You smile bitterly to yourself, the hood of your cape casting a shadow over your face as you twirl a toothpick between your fingers. Who’d have thought that we had it better during the war than afterwards. 

Your motions come to a sudden halt and you involuntarily snap the thin piece of wood in two as you feel the air in the tavern change, turning impossibly cold. The constant chatter doesn’t stop though, the few customers currently in the tavern continue on unaware of the shift. 

Rising up to your feet quickly but without making a noise, you beeline towards the bar, turning a sharp corner into the kitchen and then towards the back exit you know of. You can hear some modulated voices back in the main room; Purge Troopers. And where there are black armoured troopers… you don’t need to look to know what else is there. 

Once out of view from the main area, you quicken your pace, exiting the place with one goal in mind: getting as far away as possible. With your mind reeling, you skilfully evade every person and droid in your way so as not to make a fuss or cause noise by something falling to the ground. Mentally, you go through every interaction from the last several weeks, trying to find where you did something careless that gave you away. But you’ve been so thorough with your recons, moving every few days, never staying in one place too long. 

How did they find me? 

This question echoes through your mind over and over as you take step after step. The destination of your brisk walk doesn’t really matter, you just need to put as much distance as possible between yourself and whatever hound they’ve sent after you. 

It isn’t until you suddenly feel your burning lungs and aching legs asking for a break that you realise how far you’ve walked, and at what speed. You ran all the way back to your hideout. Agh, stupid! you reprimand yourself, smacking your hand to your forehead. it must have been an automatic response to come to your current “safe spot”, but if they find you here, you wouldn’t be able to come back to retrieve your supplies. In the few days you’ve been here, you’ve collected several machinery parts that you were planning on selling, but that plan just went down the drain. So you pack up whatever you can carry, mentally saying goodbye to not only the place and everything you’re leaving behind, yet again, but also the potential money you could have made which you desperately needed. With a sigh and a mental promise to do better next time, you head out to the port. Not the nearest one, though; the troopers probably have that one surrounded and monitored. You’re going to the one two towns over. It will take a while to get there, but it’s the safer choice. 

The whole way there, you do your mental meditation exercises to keep your Force signature hidden. The familiarity of it also helps you calm down a little and recentre yourself. 

After what felt like half an eternity, you’re finally at the port, and you go to buy a ticket off the planet. You’re relieved that at first glance there don't seem to be any Stormtroopers doing patrols out here. There is a bit of a line at the ticket shop though, so you stay a little further back by some crates and equipment waiting to be loaded into the cargo ships. Hiding out of sight, you wait until you can approach the window directly. 

One by one you watch the people in the queue leave, and when there’s only one person left, you take a quick look around to make sure no Imperial has arrived. The coast is clear, and you take a step in that direction. Except that your boots remain stuck to the ground. All at once, you’re surrounded, no, enveloped in that cold, eerie aura from the tavern earlier, which holds you in place. You take a gulp of air much like a fish out of water, and you try to turn your head around when you hear a modulated chuckle behind you, but you’re frozen in place.

“Going to the port further away even though it cost you more time. Bold choice,” the modulated voice of a man says, and your heart feels like it’s about to leap out of your throat. 

This is it. They found me, you think to yourself, trying your hardest to slip your hand to your belt underneath your robe to reach your weapon, but to no avail.

“Don’t worry. All the troopers are probably still by the tavern searching the whole village,” he says, and you can feel yourself slowly being turned towards him. You were ready to spit in his face and curse him out, but the image before you catches you completely off-guard. While the red visor of his sleek helmet is practically unmistakable regarding his line of work, he threw on some sort of poncho to cover his armour. It’s almost comical, and were it not for the imminent danger you find yourself in, you probably would have laughed a bit.

“Everything has been so boring lately,” he continues, rolling his head back and to the side to make his point. Then, his visor locks onto your face, and he stays silent for a moment. “When I read what you did to the Eleventh Sister, though, I knew I had to come check you out for myself.”

“W-why,” you manage to croak out. His Force grip is starting to get tighter and it's getting harder for you to breathe.

He slightly shrugs, one of his shoulders leaning onto the big supply crate that shields you both from view. “As I said, I was bored. And you get a head start, so…” He pulls the poncho over his head, letting it fall down to the ground unceremoniously. “Entertain me.” 

As he turns on his heels, he finally lets go and you can fill your lungs again. You don't know what just happened, but you’re not about to waste this chance to escape, so you beeline to the ticket shop and buy your way off the planet. Before boarding the ship, you take one last look over your shoulder; the Inquisitor is nowhere to be seen. Or felt. 

From then on, a strange game of Loth-cat and mouse starts. You’d escape, the Inquisitor somehow following your trail, even though you took great care to stay anonymous. Only days after arriving at a new location, you’d find his Purge Troopers looking for you. Every time you thought you might be able to get a break and rest at one place a little longer, the Inquisitor would reach out in the Force, poking at you ever so slightly, just as a reminder that he’s still there. 

You’re exhausted.

People who aren’t Force-sensitive emit a certain aura, while those who are able to tap into and manipulate it, manifest in different ways. Most seem to have an extra set of long, immaterial limbs, able to scan their surroundings. Sometimes it’s like a flowy cape, fluttering around the person with grace; sometimes it’s more like thick and heavy vines, dragging themselves around and scratching everything with their thorns. 

Inquisitors have a very strong and rather aggressive presence in the Force, but you’ve never quite felt a signature as distinctly intense as the one currently hunting you. His whole essence feels like an icy mist, spreading quickly around him and seeping into every corner, looking for his victims. It starts out slow, unnoticeable at first, but by the time you realise what’s surrounding you, it’s too late. Once the victim is found, the mist solidifies into ice, sticking their feet to the ground, rendering them unable to move. The Inquisitor stretches out his arm in their direction, and the mist becomes more dense, constricting their airways, squeezing out every last drop of oxygen agonisingly slowly. 

At some point, his presence starts haunting you at night. In the few hours of restless sleep you allow yourself while on the run, you find him to be there more and more often. Worn down by how long the chase has been going on, your guard starts to fall. Suddenly you don’t dread it anymore, the cold shudders as you walk through a market, and the icy mist following you into your dreams. Not just his Force signature but his whole presence as a whole, it’s so strong, it’s almost intoxicating. The more he keeps finding you, the more you keep catching yourself almost looking for his presence.

Much to your surprise and not delight, you realise his manipulation game is working.

It doesn’t take much longer until you finally come face to face with the Inquisitor. You know it’s too late to escape him, and you don’t know if you can hold your own against him in your current state, but you have no choice.

As if the exhaustion wasn’t enough, you’re currently stuck in a tropical forest, and you can feel the dirt and debris after running through the thick vegetation sticking to you, a thin sheen of sweat on your skin. The only sound you hear is your ragged breathing and the sounds of the jungle. You know the Inquisitor is not far behind you, but he’s been moving surprisingly silently given his armour. More than ever, he feels like a predator. 

Arriving at a clearing in the forest, you stop. Deep in your gut you can feel it: it’s time. Whatever happens, only one of you will walk out of here. So, after taking a deep breath and wiping off your face with the back of your sleeve, you turn around. 

All this time, you’ve tried not to imagine what he looked like underneath his helmet, as you knew it would only humanise him and make it harder for you to fight the man. So when you’re met with a face instead of a red visor, you’re surprised. Whatever mental image you might have had of him, you were not expecting him to look as handsome and young as he did. There’s also a strange air of familiarity which you can’t place, but decide to ignore for the time being.

Sizing each other up from either side of the clearing, you merely stand there, looking at each other. He moves his hand and you instinctively reach for your sabre, but he casually adjusts his gloves, weapon stil sheathed.

“You know,” he says with a slight chuckle. “I only ever came after you because I recognised your name. I personally requested to pick up where the Eleventh Sister left off.” 

Your brows furrow at his confession, which feels very much misplaced. He talks like he’s expecting you to be flattered or honoured at his words.

You deny ever having seen him, and he seems a little dejected at that. Kneeling down, he picks a little blue flower from the shrubs, and takes a couple steps in your direction. Offering it to you, he calls you by a nickname that you haven’t heard in what feels like several lifetimes. 

That’s when you suddenly remember: you had met him once, on Coruscant, when Padawans from all over the galaxy would go to the temple and be shown the archives. You were from two different home planets, there was no reason for you to have ever crossed paths, yet fate would have you attending the tour through the archives on the same day. All Padawans got to spend some time together, mainly to train and spar with each other. You can’t really remember anyone else you met that day, and the events are pretty blurry as is, but you do distinctly remember a Padawan with wild copper hair and freckles that looked like the constellations the Jedi taught you about. You and him would steal glances at each other the whole day, until finally he approached you, offering you a little white flower he picked somewhere. Where exactly, you had no idea, given the lack of green spaces on the planet. 

“Cal. Cal Kestis,” you say as his name comes back to you, like it’s always been on the tip of your tongue, dormant. 

“Ah, so you do remember,” he smiles a little at that. You don’t take the flower from his hand though, so he flicks it away without a second thought.

”What did they do to you…” You shake your head in disbelief.

You mentally compare the sweet little boy with fiery hair that you had met that day, and try to superpose that image with the man now standing before you, and it’s just not possible. It’s not the same person any more. His eyes, once the colour of oceans and clear skies, now glow an angry yellow, his gaze piercing right through your soul.

Since coming face to face in the clearing, Cal’s presence in the Force has been as unmovable and strong as ever, so you had no choice but to mentally and emotionally shield yourself, like hiding behind a rock in a snowstorm, trying to avoid the relentless icy wind clawing at your exposed skin. But now that you know who he is, you’re certain there has to be something left, even if very deep within him. So you dig deep in your own heart for that short connection you had felt with him that day on Coruscant, and bring it back to the surface, holding onto it for dear life. You dig out the warmth, the safety, the certainty that those days used to have, using them as a shield to part the cold wind as you take step after step in the metaphorical snow towards Cal. 

Feeling the shift, Cal straightens up.

“What are you doing?” he questions.

You don’t answer immediately, holding his harsh gaze the best you can.

“I’m reaching out to you,” you say after a moment, the light of your Force finally strong enough to allow you to approach him without being knocked back by his icy aura. The dry leaves crunch under your feet as you take a step towards the Inquisitor.

To an outsider, this interaction would have looked like an intense staring contest. But if you allowed your dynamics in the Force to have an impact on the physical world, you two would have flattened the terrain around you both in an instant. 

During this battle of will and determination, which seems to go on forever, you shorten what little distance separates you from Cal. His whole body is tense, trying to keep his wits as you’re blinding him with your light. You wonder if there is a part in him that wants to give in, and that’s exactly what you’re trying to find within him. Stretching out your hand, you carefully cup his face. He flinches slightly in surprise, but doesn’t pull away.

“It’s not too late, Cal,” you say. Your voice is soft, contrasting the intensity in both your gazes. “Please come back.”

Now that you’re so close, you decide to drop the metaphorical shield you were holding up, exposing the warmth and joy from before to him. His icy wind almost knocks you back a couple of steps, but you let it wash over you. You inhale sharply as you let everything he’s throwing at you bounce off; his hate, his  anger, his pain. 

“Stop,” he demands almost breathlessly.

But you bring your other hand to his face too, holding him, as you cling onto the memory of your first meeting with him and try to emanate that light through his own shield wherever you find cracks. And you succeed, feeling how, for a split second, all his walls come crumbling down and all you’re left with is just a boy, scared and alone.

“Stop!” he yells, as his own hand reaches out this time, swatting yours away and harshly grabbing you by the throat. Pushing you back several steps until your back hits a tree, he holds you there, your own hands clawing at his wrists in an attempt to ease the pressure of his grip.

“Stop,” he repeats, much more collected this time. 

“You’re so deep in that dark cave, you forgot there’s an exit at all,” you say. “You don’t have to stay there, you know. Let me help you get back to the light.”

“Why would I want to leave?” He chuckles darkly. “Let me show you the way into the dark instead. There’s more here than you could ever know, so much power to be tapped into that you’re missing.”

He takes a moment to study your face, loosening his grip on you ever so slightly, which allows you to take a gulp of air. 

“Come with me,” he offers. ”You’ve already proven how powerful you are. Imagine how much more we could both accomplish if we joined forces.” 

“Me? Become like you?” You scoff. “I’d rather you kill me now.”

Cal hums, as if considering your suggestion for a moment. But he remains silent, with you still pinned to the tree. He doesn’t let go of you nor does he tighten his grip, leaving the next move to you instead. Your head spins, trying to figure out what to do.

He raises a brow at you, urging you to do or say something. You frown, conflicted.

“All this time I thought you were just playing a twisted game, coming after me until you got bored. And then you’d kill me. Now you’re trying to recruit me?”

“If I wanted you dead, you never would have even seen me coming,” he retorts with a bit of a snarl.  

Then he reaches out for the lightsabre at your belt, and one of your hands protectively grabs onto it before he can. Cal gives you a smug look as that’s exactly what he wanted, and placing his hand over yours, he guides your weapon up, pressing the unignited end into his ribcage. He’s essentially saying, ‘if you don’t want to come with me, you’ll have to kill me right now, right here.’

“Quite the conundrum we find ourselves in, huh,” he says after a moment, giving your hand a squeeze. “What’s stopping you?” 

“…Hope,” you answer rather unconvincingly, cringing at how corny it sounds.

He scoffs and lets go of your hand, which falls to your side still holding onto your weapon.

“Don’t worry, I can fix that.” 

Cal suddenly leans in, placing a lingering kiss on your cheek. 

“I’m looking forward to our next encounter,” he whispers into your ear, and a shudder runs down your spine. 

He lets go suddenly, your legs giving in, and you fall to the ground with a grunt as you take a couple deep breaths now that your airways aren’t constricted anymore.

As he walks away, Cal doesn’t turn back once. He picks up his helmet where he discarded it earlier, putting it on and disappearing amongst the trees.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

A/N2: part 2 anyone? 👀 let me know how you’d like the story to unfold!

A/N3: the amount of times i’ve written reader getting choked by inq!cal…….. i think i need to unpack something there

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🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!] @dybynyght, @galaxtic-writings, @kalea-bane, @soka-writes-things, @padawancat97, @ivelostmyabilitytoeven, @alternatescififandomelover, @riddikulus-obsessions, @optimisticprime3, @starilicious, @lovelyygirl8, @cathyket, @wildefire, @ghostkestis, @reckoning-star

[disneytva]

Disney Announces Jam-Packed D23 Fan Event Lineup With Many Animation, Muppets Panels And Screenings

With less than one month to go to the highly anticipated D23: The Ultimate Disney Fan Event presented by Visa, Disney today revealed details about what fans will be able to experience at the Anaheim Convention Center during this sold-out event, which will include an outstanding lineup of over 230 panels and presentations, show floor offerings and Talent Central interactions. This announcement builds upon plans previously shared about this year’s D23 gathering, which is set to be bigger and better than ever before.

Animation on Stage at D23

30 Years of Toy Story Celebrate 30 Years of Toy Story with filmmakers and Pixar Legends as they reflect on the making of the groundbreaking classic nearly 30 years ago and share never-before-heard anecdotes about how the historic film came to be. Exploring New Parts of the Mind: Behind the Design of Inside Out 2 + a Dreamy Surprise! Join Inside Out 2 production designer Jason Deamer as he gives an in-depth look at designing the new emotions joining Headquarters as Riley enters teenagehood. And stick around for a special dreamy sneak peek of an upcoming Pixar series! Marvel Animation Sneak Peek See what’s coming next to Disney+ from Marvel Animation, with special guests and first looks at hotly anticipated series including Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man, Eyes of Wakanda, future seasons of What If…?, X-Men ’97, and more! The Animation Greats + Cast and Creator Sessions featuring Bob’s Burgers, Futurama and The Simpsons Presented by Hulu Animayhem & 20th Television Animation Four of the most influential creators in the world of animation — Matt Groening (The Simpsons, Futurama), Seth MacFarlane (Family Guy, American Dad!), Mike Judge (King of the Hill) and Loren Bouchard (Bob’s Burgers, The Great North) — come together for a historic and extraordinary conversation you won’t want to miss. Then, the voice talent and creative teams behind Bob’s Burgers, Futurama, and The Simpsons take the stage to entertain with clips, conversation, and fan Q&A. Whether you’re a longtime fan or an aspiring animator, this is a must-see panel for all! Behind the Summer Shenanigans with the Phineas and Ferb Creators Join Dan Povenmire and Jeff “Swampy” Marsh, the masterminds behind the beloved animated show Phineas and Ferb as they look back at the creation and legacy of this pop culture phenomenon. Hear behind-the-scenes stories and get ready to laugh! Making A Goofy Movie: The Road to Lake Destiny The creatives behind the A Goofy Movie phenomenon reunite, reminisce, and share clips from a new documentary about the incredible origin story of this beloved cult classic. Stay Tuned: You’re Watching Disney Channel Join beloved Disney Channel stars on the Walt Disney Archives Stage for a look at some of the iconic series and movies that have created generations of fans. Stay tuned for laughs, fun and moments you won’t want to miss! Big City Greens the Movie: Spacecation Screening Blast off for a hilarious outer-space adventure with a screening of the animated comedy Big City Greens the Movie: Spacecation, introduced by the talented creative team, including creators and executive producers Chris and Shane Houghton. Restoring Disney Animation Classics Director of Restoration Kevin Schaeffer and Disney Animation artists Eric Goldberg and Michael Giaimo will delve into the history of Disney’s preservation program, showcase before-and-after clips, and share how classic films are brought back to life. The Muppets 70: A Glamorous Miss Piggy Retrospective Join Walt Disney Archives Director Becky Cline and The Muppets Producer Dani Iglesias for a fabulous look back on the past 70 years of the Muppets, but mostly Miss Piggy! We will dive into the vaults to uncover nostalgic artifacts along with how we preserve this collection today! Disney Epic Mickey: Rebrushed – The Return of a Beloved Classic Wield the paintbrush once more in Disney Epic Mickey: Rebrushed out this fall! Join Disney Games, Epic Mickey Creative Director Warren Spector, and more special guests, for a conversation that delves into how this beloved classic adventure came to life.

[fanficks-from-fictives]

Ebois Will: You flinched!

JellyBean Bois Theo: So?

Will: It’s a trauma response!

Theo: And? My entire existence is a trauma response!

[fandomtrashcan]

Bad habits

start Road to recovery - prev - next

Do you know when someone finally puts into words something that you had also been struggling with in such a way that it makes you realize things about yourself?

Thanks @moosemonstrous for proofreading, helping me getting rid of the typos and your enormous kindness in general.

I hope you enjoyed this update! Half of the shenanigans I have been posting the past months were supposed to be a set up for this moment and the follow up that happens in the next chapter. So I hope it pays off.

.

.

So when I first saw the concepts for the Hunter in the Marvel Midnight Suns artbook I found very curious that they were depicted as a fairly tan woman. A non male presenting and/or non white Hunter faces a much hostile outer world, considering that they grew up 300 years ago. I found that idea very interesting and that influenced the way I designed and wrote this version of The Hunter.

Things that would get a white, male Hunter branded as a hero will instead put a target in their chest, and I think it would make sense for them to be become more guarded as a result of that. Also, even if the Abbey is a largely progressive and accepting space, I think it would only be normal if some of her former teammates carried some degree of prejudices with them since, again, the world 300 years ago was a very harsh place.

[gabbbyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy]

Dagda Crom Cruach headcanons(REMADE)

HCS BELOW!!

Headcanon Voice: Edgar the Computer (Electric Dreams) (Skip to 9:15)

Age: 152 (76 years old in human years, mentally in his thirties)

Any Prns, he Usually uses he/him, but anything is good

-Dagda is an accidental muse. When Agriculture began to pop off in the 1800s, Dagda Crom Cruach was born as the physical embodiment of the sorrows and fears the average farmer has. Farmers nationwide have reports of experiencing nightmares about a weird scarecrow doing unruly acts at their barnhouses—such as eating and killing crops, and livestock. What’s worse? It’s always déjà rêvé. Implying that Dagda has some sort of connection to the real world as well, being able to simulate damages in both the dream, and real world.

-and by “accidental”…Way back in 1908, when the Astral Circle was still fresh out the oven, Zoth and Chaugnar had a little mishap while attempting to summon a powerful, outer god (at Yan Luo’s order) and ended up summoning. This little jackass scarecrow with little to no idea what’s going on. They couldn’t exile him due to his erratic, and oddly helpful nature. They just gave up, and decided to keep him around, given how they needed a few extra helping hands around the circle.

-Shortest Nightmare of the batch, standing tall at exactly 4’5. (134cm). He weighs around 30-50 ibs, making him slightly heavier than the average Scarecrow.

-Basically the contrary to his human counterpart (Alf); Loud, energetic, cheerful, hyper, insufferable, reckless. And probably a psychopath to put salt on the wound.

-He only ever gets serious when something really bad happens. It’s a considerably worse sight to behold than his usual shenanigans.

-Dagda wields a comically large Scythe as a weapon. He doesn’t carry it around willy nilly, but rather only uses it either during his work as a soul scarecrow, to make himself appear more threatening to the spirits—in the human realm, to “harvest” (steal) crops and livestock from the real world—or for actual combat, which. DAMNNN! The scythe is twice his size, mind you, and is probably heavy as hell…take what you will from that alone.

-When not roaming around and terrorizing farmers in the mortal world, he scares off stray souls that trespass in the Nightmare Realm…It’s not very affective as a job, in comparison to everyone else in the Astral Circle, but it’s something!

-Has only a stick holding him up, and is connected to his body VIA rope. acting as a singular wooden leg that he uses to hop around. The rope used to tie him onto the stick has an extended end, which can move on its own, acting as a tail. It wags when he’s excited.

-He has many pet crows! But they aren’t allowed in the astral circle for…many reasons. Mainly pertaining to incidents regarding said crows, and his colleagues. (Specifically Xezbet, Ishtar, Shub, and Izanami.)

-Speaking of him and Izanami Yomi: Izanami, after moving in (est. 1949) didn’t acknowledge Dagda’s existence until around a week later, during said week, she simply assumed Dagda was a doll of sorts, and would just keep him around with other dolls that she had (i hc her to be a doll collector, outside of her job as a face deformer). Many complaints were filed the day she discovered that her new ‘ragdoll’ was sentient, real nightmare.

-(inspired by @core-bagg‘s hc), Dagda is the “punching bag” or “stress doll” of the Astral Circle, As painful and burdening as it sounds, Dagda really doesn’t care. In fact, he actually enjoys it quite a bit. He has a rather abnormal reaction to Pain, which causes him to crave it rather than the inverse (cough cough masochist cough). Examples are, but not limited to:

Abducius, Barbatos, and Exael will occasionally use him as a sort of “test dummy/target” for their weaponry and such before actually utilizing it in their respective works. They always remember to stitch him back up together afterwards…

In terms of his relationship with the Nightmare Clown, he lost against him in every single one of their games together, and considering what he does to his victims…(minus the eating part obv)…yep. You can tell Dagda likes him a lot.

Izanami CAN AND COULD use Dagda as a sort of mannequin to practice her deforming skills on…but she doesn’t have the guts to, considering his odd resemblance to one of her favorite things. (dolls), she still hasn’t gotten over it.

Same goes for Teutates, but it’s a no-go for both parties. Teutates finds the fact that Dagda’s just rags and stuffing boring, and wants to focus on annihilating more organic things, and Dagda—despite being a sucker for pain—doesn’t want TOO many of his seams torn..

-His body can generate heat, as well as, without any assistance, catch on fire. This headcanon is based on the tradition of setting Scarecrows on fire to banish ill fortune. He’d do this to either garner attention, or scare off even more souls.

-Pertaining to the last headcanon, Dagda is also a Pyromaniac. He nearly made the Astral Circle go skadoosh because he snuck in during a ritual and started fucking around with candles n stuff. This is why Zoth and Chaugnar don’t like him.

-Arsonist behavior and all aside, in terms of his body generating heat, he ignites a medium-sized, non-spreading fire inside of him, specifically in his stomach area, which heats his body up. He does this a lot during the winter/cold days in the Astral Realm. He lets those without heat snuggle up to him. He’s just a doll <3 (this doesn’t burn or damage him in any way)

-Dagda’s innards are a blend between cotton (the type used in plushies specifically), hay/straw (same material used for scarecrows, obviously), and ash.

-His diet consists of raw Vegetables and meat. Specifically fresh, and stolen out from farms. His favorite foods are Candy Apples and Donuts, which he constantly gets told off by other Nightmares for eating. Is stealing these sweets risky? Yes. Does he care? No. Yan Luo does + will probably smack him upside the head for it, but he could give any less of a damn.

-Considering his “diet”, many are left wondering: ‘how does he digest food?’ And it’s simple. With the fact he can set moderate, non-damaging fires off inside of his body, he simply burns everything he ate inside of him, like a little cremation device, until it’s nothing but ash. The remaining ash just stays there until it’s able to be used once more.

-He doesn’t have any vital organs, other than lungs. These aren’t affected by his internal fireplace, and are basically just. There. For some reason. (I needed to make an excuse for the “breathing” in his idle animation)

-Dagda also takes orders/does chores for Yan Luo aside from his assigned duties; such as doing errands, gathering materials and whatnot. He doesn’t get assigned them too much considering how easily he gets distracted, and will probably go fuck off and do something else if he gets bored/sees something else to do.

-May or may not be related to Orcus, possibly a cousin, or long lost brother. Neither parties have realized this, but it’s definitely been the topic of discussion in the Astral Circle.

-Semi-nocturnal + usually goes to sleep @ what would be around 12PM, and usually wakes up at like. 7PM or an hour earlier. When he sleeps, he goes limp, and his eyes basically go hollow, causing him to look like a corpse, or a doll. He’d either sleep slumped over on the floor, or standing up, in Scarecrow position. He’s a deep sleeper.

-Has a strange obsession with Anthropology, and the concept of Mortality, and how the Mortals (Real world people/humans) go on about their day, their lives, motives, their mere existence thrills him, in an almost sick way—Considering his job being to deal with the damned souls of said mortals. He’d sometimes even smuggle in some souls just to interrogate them on their past lives as humans, just for some sick kicks.

-Met his human counterpart, Alf Cappuccin, once in a dream. He Tormented him + made him super late for a court hearing (and probably also made him have an identity crisis). He leaves little signs and objects around for Alf and his wife to see, just to fuck with them a bit from time to time.

-Dagda can communicate with dolls and toys, considering he…technically is one, to some degree… (he has long, extensive, vulgar arguments with the other mfs in Izanami’s doll collection. The Beef goes insane)

-His relationship with a certain Neighbor (Xezbet) Isn’t too good…Considering how his job as a Soul Scarecrow was meant to drive Souls away….and how Xezbet, a Soul Eater, eats souls…it ends up having the Souls get away, and Xezbet to get angry that Dagda let his lunch go to waste…they’ll probably warm up to eachother somehow…probably…

-Dagda has met Henry before. He bit his finger and gave him Formidophobia :[

-An absolute sucker for physical affection. Despite being a Scarecrow—something made to stand around senselessly with no purpose other than to be feared, He longs touch, any kind. Praise? Belittlement? Doesn’t matter. He’s like a lovesick puppy. Mindlessly devoting himself to anything and anyone who even slightly thinks higher (or lower, he doesn’t care) of him.

-The rope slung around his shoulders/neck area can be used for many things, It can…

be adjusted and worn like a tie (formally), he’d probably do this to mock humans and their fashion.

He can take it off and use it as a lasso (rarely) to catch things…he probably learned this from eavesdropping on farmers worldwide, during his time on the mortal realm

he can tighten it up and use it as a harness to hang and spy from above, except whenever he does do this, he looks like a sagging corpse. Not a very pleasant sight.

…a leash. Mhm. I’ll leave you at that.

-Regarding the Tie, Leash and “Harness” parts. Yes, this does suffocate and hurt him. Does he care? No. Does this pain stop him from doing this? Absolutely not. Lil bro does not care, worse has happened to him

[robo-bozo7125]

i need/want to start writing more often on my own... hrm

[theficpusher]

Good boy by 28sunflowers | E | 2768 Harry is startled out of his thoughts by the needle going over one of his ribs. Thankfully, he catches himself and manages to stay still, but accidentally lets out a whimper at the unexpected stronger burn. He exhales slowly when Louis takes the gun off his skin, trying to remain calm. “Good boy,” Louis tells him automatically, giving him a pat to the hip.

Soft Wings by kingsofeverything | G | 4375 Harry is a Dolly Parton fan who wants to get a tattoo in tribute to her. Louis is the tattoo artist.

take your whole life then you put a line through it by sunflower_lwt | M | 5332 an AU with trans harry, an all-knowing cousin, and tattoo artist louis.

lemongrass and sleep by moonshinelouis | E | 5370 Louis is a tattoo artist and Harry wants a rose tattoo.

I See Your Colours and I'm Dying of Thirst by taking_sweet_time | nr | 6244 Harry asks Louis for a tattoo, but forgets to mention that he's got a little bit of a... problem when it comes getting inked. Shenanigans ensue. Or, a very dumb fic about Harry's fucking whale (maybe) tattoo.

Makes Me Feel Alive by hazzahtomlinson | E | 8372 Louis hated when people came in to get tattooed and couldn’t sit still— bunch of fucking squares is what they were. If only that had been the issue for his newest client.

A Simple Twisted Fate by Cyantific | E | 18125 Global rock star Harry Styles has some time to kill between tour dates and stumbles into a Doncaster tattoo shop with a desire for some new ink. He has a few other desires as well, but those he must keep to himself. Louis Tomlinson, owner of Twisted Fate Tattoos, has seen enough of the tabloids and thinks he knows everything there is to know about this world-famous rock star, and he’s not impressed. Harry may be one of the world's biggest stars known for a lavish lifestyle, crazy parties and entourages of women wherever he goes, but he’s more than just what his image and wild reputation suggests. Things take an interesting turn when Louis finds out he’s been helping satisfy Harry’s voracious pain kink. Bet he'd love to know that not only is Louis a gifted tattoo artist, but an experienced Dom as well. Perhaps they both have something to learn from each other, if only Louis would give Harry a chance. Maybe their paths crossing was more than just a twist of fate, but the universe’s plan all along.

Necessity is the mother of invention by words_of_my_own | E | 87502 Louis is the owner of a couple of tattoo studios that are not for tattooing purposes only. Harry works as a policeofficer and infiltrator, currently on a case that really only should be straight forward. What happens when things aren't what they seem, morals come into play, and when you fall in love with the one person you just shouldn't?

no hand on the reign by tempolarriefics | E | 137051 Then, he sees it. His eyes lock on the tattoo and he sucks in a sharp breath, unable to look away. His brain screeches to a halt, and not just because of the sight that is a half-naked Harry. There, on Harry’s outer arm, is an intricate tattoo of a large ship. A large ship which perfectly complements the compass tattoo hidden on Louis’ own forearm. “It’s that one.” Louis breathes, reaching out a shaky finger to point to the ship on Harry’s left outer arm. “You’re sure?” Harry asks. Louis nods. He’s never been more sure of anything in his life. He has found his soulmate. Or, a twist on a soulmate au where louis is a newly independent tattoo artist and harry just wants his soulmate tattoo removed. Of course, they're soulmates.

[cherryberg]

HI OK I HAD A MOMENT TO THINK ABOUT IT, THIS IS ABOUT YOUR TEN 17776 POST.

i was talking to my bf about it. and he broguht up that ten is 'rude' at points. and that made me think.

people perceive ten's bluntness as her being like. mean or snarky? even though juice's entire intoduction is him insulting nine

like. juice is meaner than ten, ten is just serious.

i think in part because ten is female aligned, people view her bluntness as much *harsher* than it actually is - and since we live in a male focused world, a woman being rude is her worst sin. does that make sense

anyways. ten i love you

god forbid a woman does fuckin' anything, man

for a good chapter or so, i also perceived juice to be rude Because of his introduction, but ten being rude has never been a defining trait of hers to me. definitely blunt and stubborn, yes, but not rude. i partially wonder if how ten writes changes the way she's perceived, properly compared to juice's lax style of speaking ("Juice can do it because he’s European. You and I are NASA, born and bred. We have standards." 20020, Chap 4), and with it making her casual speak stick out like a sore thumb ("… listen, Nine, are you going to keep doing this? Is cross-talk just your … deal? Want to shut up for even a second?" 17776, Chap 1) - but yeah can't forget that, because she is female-aligned, people will probably, unintentionally or not, read her ruder than she is or have it stick to them more that she is rude. that isn't to say she's not not rude - she has her fair share of "Shut up"s ("Shut up. Shut. Up." 17776, Chap 1. "Shut the fuck up." 17776, Chap 13) - but god forbid women be abrasive

the line i brought up in that original post ("He’s the fun one, and by default, I’m the boring one." 20020, Chap 7) makes me nuts. juice is the fun one so BY DEFAULT ten is the boring one, and she knows this. it's so aligned with how people treat her, coupled onto the fact that she is indeed the "girl satellite". and it drives me nuts when people further the wedge on how different juice and ten is because juice is intensely goofy (an example being putting a period before juice dialogue but not for ten, when all have periods before their dialogue in videos - it's just a formatting thing!). especially when nine is the middle ground, and is more open to juice's shenanigans, it emphasises the stricter, more serious light on ten, which might be emphasised further by fans because, by default, she is the boring one

and it's not like ten doesn't have any whimsy herself. she does speeches and has calls with human friends and watches the sun rise, even if it is just a speck, and is great at handling the camera and changes the direction of her text to go up and makes mistakes that kills billions of people and "Yes you do, buddy." and she loved that light bulb and loves people and earth and loves her sibling, who is both older and younger than she is, and loves juice, despite it all. she loves her friends, and she loves football

even in real life, do you know how interesting pioneer 10 is? the first outer planetary mission? to jupiter, no less! there are Real Life Monetary Coins made of her, man - someone get me a 2009 $1 Australian gold coin with a space probe Pioneer 10/11-type on the back please!

i dunno, this is all just ramblings. don't take this as me hating juice, i love that guy. but i also love ten. more people should like ten #women #girl

[caitlinsnicket]

izzy hands sfw headcanons part 3

a/n: part 1 here, part 2 here. theres a lot more under the cut. its huge but i didnt want to make a thousand parts. have a nice meal

he has the habit of blowing things out of proportion, no matter how tiny and insignificant they are. he's dramatic and whiny, even theatrical at times, and something that never fails to get a reaction out of him is when you call it out

maybe he'll be screaming at the crew, saying that they should know how to clean a deck, threatening them with death or a beating, until you ask him what got his panties in a twist

he just stills. completely. no movement, just a frozen izzy in the middle of everyone, expecting his reaction. he just runs a hand thorugh his hair, moves his shoulders around and leaves the place without another word, dissapearing into his cabin

after a little while, you go to him and he's taken his outer clothing off, sitting on the bed and rubing his face with his hands. you go to him and hug him, massaging his shoulders next, caressing his hair until he melts onto you. he's just tired, and when he's tired he's dramatic

although sometimes, he's just dramatic for the sake of it, and then you allow it, entering in his rare shenanigans to humor him

his resigned smiles when you flirt with him are the best thing in the world, it never fails to make your heart flutter inside your chest

he has many different smiles, and as he learns to be more at ease with the crew, they become more frequent and bright. it makes you feel good, tha he's learning to become a functional person again, and that he's allowing other people to witness it

he has a habit of sitting on your lap. in the begining he was reluctant to do so (even though he wanted to), saying that he was no damsel that needed rescuing, but after the firsttime he did it in a tavern, drunk in booze and love, he's surrendered to his desires and now constantly rests on top of you

when you're eating at the table, when you're at stede's cabin, when you're just lounging on deck or having a party, he claims his place on your lap and rests there, his ungloved hand caressing your shoulders and back comfortably

because he gets more used to pda and relaxes more around the crew, he also gets more comfortable with touching them casually, like showing someone how to do a specific knot or teaching them how to fight in a specific way

he gives hugs (rarely and quickly though) and gentle taps on shoulders, ruffles hairs and taps knees. he's taken the role of the resigned father, and even though he'll never admit it, he's very happy to be this figure to everyone

although, sometimes he'll get overwhelmed with feelings and just cuss everyone out in an attempt to stop the ache in his chest. he calls you twat, cocksucker, idiot, and other variations, but there's no real venom behind his words. just a fear of closeness that he clearly doesn't want to feel

when hugging, he begins stiff, barely touching you back, and then suddenly he just melts, nose buried on your neck, his eyes closed and his eyebrows creased, leaning on you to the point he's almost put all his body weight on you

he needs these touches, these cuddles and hugs to recharge after a long day of piracy and ordering around. with the way the capitans act, he might as well be the one in charge, and it wears him out. sometimes all he needs to keep going is for you to pull him to a corner and engulf him with your arms for a while, in complete silence, just so he can ground himself better and feel good enough to go back to work

sometimes when the two of you are kissing, he'll just pull back, his hands on your shoulders, and just look at you for a moment, scanning your face as if to commit it to memory, and then he goes back in, taking your breath away. it's like can't get enough of you

izzy is a conflicted man, and at times, it feels like he's sorry for loving you. like he's apologising for his feelings, like he feels guilty for being devoted to you. "I... love you". he says it as if it's an inconvenience, as if he's trying to warn you that this is happening. like it doesn't need saying, and it's a mistake to actually put it out there

so tell him you love him back, reassure him, make him feel good about loving you, encourage him to put himself out there and he'll learn to see his feelings as a gift, and not as a disease

he often feels that he's not good, that he's an infection and that you shouldn't get too close or you'll get sick too. but when you tell him again all the good things he's done, all the lovely feelings you have for him and how he's entitled to not having good days and being angry, he almost believes it. and for now, that's enough

at first you don't ask him about his scars, thinking it might set him off or make him defensive, but one day he asks about yours, and you tentatively ask him about one on his cheek. he tells you gladly, even cracking a joke or two, and you feel more confident to ask him about it

so one day the two of you are laying in bed and he sits up, getting ready to go on about his days, and you run your fingers on his back scars. the question tingles on the tip of your tongue, but you don't say it. instead, with a soft raspy voice, he questions you. "would you like to know?". and so he tells you all the gruesome details and sad parts, and he doesn't let any of it out

he's scared that you'll see him differently, but you just hug him from behind, kissing his shoulders and the scars you can reach, earning a low chuckle from deep in his chest. you reassure him and pull him back in the bed, keeping him there for a while before you allow him to go to work

when he takes up on wearing feminine, soft clothing, it's a whole thing between the two of you. you steal some stuff from stede, maybe you already had it before joining the crew, and one day after he's taken a bath he sees it and he just puts it on, in an attempt to be sexy and seduce you

but it just shifts something in his brain, he finds out how much he loves soft, delicate fabrics rubbing on his skin, and then he starts stealing your clothes. it sparks an awkward conversation between the two of you, until you just tell him that he can wear your stuff whenever you want, and that you'd like to buy him more delicate stuff

next time you're on land, you buy him more soft stuff, and you decide to take a corset too. you show it to him and say he doesn't have to wear it, but you thought he might like it and so there it is

he just feels so overwhelmed with the care and consideration you have for him that his cheeks get extremely warm, and he almost cries when he tries it on for the first time. he looks absolutely dashing, and he feels like it, and it's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen

he's a little hesitant in wearing these things in front of the crew, but many conversations with you, wee john and jim manage to get him out of his shell and he just flourishes after that. he wears a mix of dresses and leather and soft fabrics and lace and fixes his hair in a way that makes him feel cute and no one respects him less for it. he's still the feared first mate, best swordsman ever known

and after a little while he starts experimenting with makeup, with the help of wee john, and so he starts training on you and he finds out that he's a great artist. he doesn't do it fancy all the time, but in special ocasions he goes overboard and oh boy. it's the brightest he's ever smiled

tell him he deserves soft and beautiful things

he's always worn leather, but now he wears more feminine cuts and special corsets that make his chest puff out even more than normal. it makes you foam at the mouth, and when he really wants to tease people, he gets dressed completely in leather and strings, swaying his hips as he walks away with a smirk

sometimes he'll catch you staring at his tattoos and he wonders what you think about them, if you wonder about the circumstances that originated them, if you'd like him to talk about it. he doesn't ask. he also wonders what kind of tattoo you'd give him, and the idea of having you permanently inked on his skin sends chills down his spine

if you're the same height he likes that you're always at the same level, and it's more likely that he'll give you cheek kisses. if he's taller than you (its possible people), he'll always kiss your forehead, and it gives him a buzz of power that you have to look at him through your eyelashes. if you're taller than him, he'll kiss your chin and tuck his head under it, and he'll swoon at how you look at him from above

slut

praise him constantly, you'll see how good it makes him feel. praise him for the little things and the big things too. he specially likes it when you watch him train and you start praising him for his fighting skills, his strength and his body. he'll finish his training beaming and with a light flush on his cheeks