#put one of their posters up in my bunk

[whohasfourthumbsand]

+ In light of passing my exams— and maybe as a means to convince me to sign their contract— my academy gave me wayyy more resources to play with. I have yet to actually print this frame for GR, but here's what we got planned;

-- IPS-N Vlad @ LL6 --

[ LICENSES ]

IPS-N Vlad 2, IPS-N Blackbeard 1, HA Genghis 2, IPS-N Caliban 1

[ CORE BONUSES ]

Titanomachy Mesh, Overpower Caliber

[ TALENTS ]

Technophile 3, Nuclear Cavalier 3, Combined Arms 2, Duelist 1

[ STATS ]

HULL:3 AGI:1 SYS:0 ENGI:4

STRUCTURE:4 HP:17 ARMOR:2

STRESS:4 HEATCAP:10 REPAIR:5

TECH ATK:-2 LIMITED:+2

SPD:4 EVA:9 EDEF:8 SENSE:5 SAVE:14

[ WEAPONS ]

Integrated: Fuel Rod Gun

FLEX MOUNT: Impaler Nailgun

MAIN MOUNT: Impaler Nailgun

HEAVY MOUNT: Impact Lance (Supermassive Mod) // Overpower Caliber

[ SYSTEMS ]

Caltrop Launcher, Synthetic Muscle Netting, Explosive Vents, Auto-Cooler, Enlightenment-Class NHP

+ I haven't gotten much time on the field yet, if you can't tell, so— I'm always open to suggestions.

[rottenaero]

What if Steve got kicked out of his parent’s house after season 2?

He was already on thin ice after s1, with the beers and his fight with Jonathan, but after he got into ANOTHER fight with Billy they’re just kinda like, ‘pack your shit and leave’

And after a few weeks of living out of his car in the school parking lot, Eddie notices him after Hellfire and just kinda like, offers his house as a place to stay.

Of course Steve is like, ‘nah, ill be fine’ because he doesn’t want to freeload, but Eddie is absolutely not having it and convinces him that he wouldn’t be, and that he can pay him and do chores and shit if he really feels that bad about it.

Then Steve just starts living with him, of course there are rules, don’t invite people over, don’t talk about Eddie’s business, and don’t talk about the shit in his room.

The rest is the standard criteria, don’t bring animals in, don’t burn the house down, blah blah blah.

Course Wayne is a bit mad about this random guy with the last name Harrington at first, but the guy makes him coffee before he leaves for work, and is willing to put on a goddamn sailor costume to pay help pay the rent, so eventually they become acquaintances.

Eventually turning into the two watching sports on the tv and laughing at Eddies antics.

Thing is, during this whole thing, no one knows they live together. Dustin and the party don’t get much more than i moved out with a friend after the first time they ask to hang out at his house, and Hellfire just knows he has a roommate, not that its Steve, because all his shit is in the living room and hes always working when they’re over.

One day, mid-lunch, they decide to hang out at Eddie’s after school and he's all cool with it but is like ‘wait, my roommates off, let me go ask them if its okay’ and they're like ‘sure, okay, I wonder who it is?’

Then he waltzes straight up to Steve Harrington, who’s sitting by Nancy and Jonathan, and asks.

“Hellfires coming over afterschool, you good with that?”

“Yeah sure, do whatever, its your damn house, I can get out your hair if you want?”

“Nah nah, its all good, want you to meet ‘em anyway. Hey hey, wanna sit with us today?”

“Sure.”

Then Eddie heads back to the now silent Hellfire table (actually the whole cafeteria is a little silent) and sits down in his seat, Steve sitting in the empty one next to him.

Hellfire is absolutely confused, not just because Steve lives with him, but because of the very talked upon rumors about Eddie being gay, and how very true they were, and the fact that as a former-king, Steve should know that.

Steve however, seems very unconcerned with those rumors because for as close as Eddie keeps getting to him, even holding his bicep at some point, he acts very chill and relaxed, even leaning into him at some points.

Hellfire eventually calm down, and go to his house after school, and around 10 they decide to just stay the night. Eddie gives them a thumbs up, and turns to Steve.

“You’re bunking with me tonight.”

“Cool.”

Gareth starts panicking because there is a very obvious pride flag above one of his posters and he may not have seen it before and Eddie is so getting beaten up.

Except none of that happens. They wake up early that morning and Steve starts getting ready for work, and is about to leave when he turns to Eddie with a smirk.

“What, no goodbye kiss? Too dorky to do in-front of you friends?” And Eddie strolls right past the flabbergasted Hellfire and plants one on his temple.

“Goodbye o-great-king-of-assholery!”

Gareth quite literally chokes.

(What makes this even better? They’re not even dating, thats just Steve-being-Steve)

Part 2

Ao3

[munsonkitten]

They say it’s for his own good. Because he’s dangerous. But Steve doesn’t feel any more dangerous than he did before this whole mess. Like, seriously, he could kill literal monsters with nothing more than a bat covered in rusty nails. He doesn’t feel any more dangerous now than he did when he hit Billy Hargrove with a fucking car or when he held back in all the fights he’s ever lost. Because he could kill fucking monsters. He wasn’t gonna find out if he was capable of killing teenage boys too.

He sees Eddie sometimes.

Eddie looks dangerous, but then he always has. Even if he never was. He always had that look to him, with his leather and chains and heavy boots. Dangerous in a good way.

Now he looks bloodthirsty.

Well, ha, Steve thinks. That’s because he is.

Steve is too, but he doesn’t think that’s grounds for imprisonment. He doesn’t think that’s grounds for being held hostage in the newly reopened and renovated Hawkins Lab.

They say it’s because he’s dangerous, but if that’s the case then they should’ve locked him up years ago. They should’ve seen what was wrong with him back when he was that asshole popular kid at Hawkins High.

Every time he sees Eddie these days it’s when they’re being shoved down hallways. They have Eddie in a mask to prevent biting. Some clear plastic thing that shows his snarling face as he’s pushed. His teeth are sharp and pointed, and he has this wild look in his eyes. There’s blood inside the mask more often than not. Whether it’s someone else’s every time, or if it’s Eddie’s, Steve never really knows. A mix of both, most likely.

They make eye contact and Steve tries to tell him they’ll get out of this mess, and Eddie looks back at him like he wants to believe him, but just can’t.

Steve doesn’t blame him. He’s lost track of how long they’ve been here. He stopped counting after six months, after the lines he carved into his wall with a sharp fingernail — talon, really — became too numerous to hide behind the one pin-up girl poster they gave him for good behavior after the second week.

Weird reward, if you ask Steve. The orderly that put it up for him smirked, said something about tissues in the cabinet in the corner of his room, and then left without another word.

Really fucking weird.

The head scientist comes into Steve’s room. Steve can’t remember his name. Matthews or Mathson or… Something. Doesn’t matter. Not like Steve really needs to know. He’s just called The Doctor and that’s that.

“According to our records, today’s a very special day, indeed. Happy birthday, Steven,” he says, looking down at Steve’s chart.

So it’s February fourteenth… But —

“How old am I?” Steve asks.

“Twenty-two,” the doctor answers.

Twenty two… Which means it’s 1988. Steve’s been here over a year and a half, since June ‘86 when they took him in the dead of night. Things had been weird before that. He’d been having cravings, and Eddie came back from the dead, clawed his way out of the Upside Down all by himself. He came back different, but still the same Eddie that Steve had mourned.

Twenty two years old and he doesn’t even remember turning twenty one.

“Since it’s your birthday,” the doctor continues. “We decided you deserve a reward for being so cooperative during your stay. Something you choose yourself, anything you want — within reason, mind you. Don’t ask to get out of here because that won't be happening. But if we can get it for you, it’s yours to keep.”

“Eddie,” Steve blurts out. “I want Eddie. I want him moved into my cell permanently. Get us bunk beds or some shit.”

“Ah, yes, well,” the doctor sighs. “Mr Munson is quite….”

“Dangerous? Insane? I can keep him in check,” Steve says quickly. “Look, we were friends before all of this and now we’re in the same boat. I understand him. If you want to get through to him, do this for me and I can help.”

None of that is true, of course. He’s not gonna make Eddie do shit, and he really doesn’t think he could if he wanted to. He’s wild, a little more monster than Steve is. It probably has something to do with being stuck in the Upside Down after he died. Different, but still Eddie.

Steve doesn’t blame him for the trouble he’s been causing. He’s seen it firsthand only a couple of times, but sometimes his doctors go missing and never come back. Sometimes they’re covered in blood when they come to see him after being with Eddie.

It’s not hard to guess what happens there.

“We’ll try it,” the doctor says. “But I can’t imagine why that’s what you want.”

He writes something down on his clipboard, clicks his pen with a sigh, and stands.

“I will see what we can do.”

And then he‘s gone.

Steve waits two days. Two days where no one comes to see him, to poke him with needles or flash lights in his eyes. He’s delivered his meals through the slot in his door, but that’s all that happens. He drinks the blood they give him. Animal today, he knows. They switch it up on him, and he’s found he can tell the difference easily now. It’s not the same as human, but it does the job.

It keeps him alive. It keeps him from wanting to tear himself limb from limb because of hunger and thirst. There’s still an itch in his throat and a nagging in the back of his mind saying he’s not satisfied, but it’s better than nothing.

On the second day, he’s told to stand against the back wall, and he complies easily. Complying means rewards — it means he doesn’t get hurt. The first few days he was here he was uncooperative and they beat him. It was too much like being in the Russian bunker beneath Starcourt again.

So he stopped fighting back. He stopped spitting and hissing, he stopped trying to sink his teeth into anything he could reach. And in turn he got rewards. He’s given more time outside his room, more time to sit in a room with a rainbow around the walls and a bunch of old children’s toys.

He knows he’s at Hawkins Lab. He can feel it, can feel something in the back of his head that tells him his family is close. His real family — Robin and Nancy and Dustin and everyone else. He knows he’s in Hawkins Lab and he can’t help but wonder if El lived in the same room as him, if she pushed around the same Hot Wheels car he does when he’s bored.

He stands in his room now, and it’s really a cell, but he doesn’t like to call it that, and he watches as two men carry his bed out. Two more come in with bunk beds that look like two of the regular beds welded together — thin metal frames with thin mattresses. Straight out of a prison.

The doctor comes into the room and he’s carrying a box in his arms. Steve can’t see what’s inside it, but he thinks they might be the few personal belongings Eddie has. The box gets set on the bottom bunk. An orderly comes in with a pile of extra blankets and two pillows. Those get set on the beds, too.

They all leave without a word, but Steve knows he won’t be alone for much longer. He knows that they’re going to get Eddie to him, and soon enough, they’re both going to be able to escape. Together.

Steve doesn’t know how long he sits there on the bottom bunk, but it’s a while. He only spares a single glance into the box, and he sees a spare hospital gown, and some clean underwear inside it. There’s a book sitting on top, tattered and splattered with blood. At least Eddie has that, Steve supposes.

The heavy metal door to Steve’s room opens and Eddie is shoved in, snarling and snapping at the guard behind him, holding his hands in shackles behind his back. They have heavy wool mittens on him, his plastic mask covering the bottom half of his face. Steve’s surprised they don’t just put him in a straitjacket and throw him into a padded room.

They make eye contact, Eddie’s formerly chocolate brown eyes now deep red. His hair is pulled back into a ponytail and shows his slightly pointed ears. Steve’s look the same, and his eyes are still mostly brown, but he can see the red swirling around inside them during the few occasions he can look in the mirror.

Eddie sniffs the air through his mask, bares his teeth. Steve can see the blood in his mouth through the clear plastic.

Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. What if Eddie hurts him too? What if he’s… What if he’s not Eddie anymore? If the last bits of his humanity have drained out of him, if he’s been forced to let the monster inside take full control… Steve doesn’t know what he’ll do.

I’d let the monster take me, too, he thinks, and then immediately regrets it. He doesn’t want to be that, and in his head he’s holding a snarling beast back with wrought iron bars, in a cell not too different from the one his physical body stands in. He’s gotten this far. It would be a waste to not even try.

The guard leaves Eddie where he stands, still cuffed, and backs away to the door. He slams it shut and locks it, then slides open the food slot. Eddie growls, jerks at his cuffs, trying to get free.

“Munson!” the guard barks. “Back up against the door.”

Eddie backs up until he’s against the door and Steve hears the key unlocking the cuffs around Eddie’s wrists.

The mittens come off next, and both things get pulled through the slot. The guard quickly slides it shut. Eddie is free from his restraints, and now he and Steve are alone.

Read more on AO3

[allyheart707]

1 Year Comic Collab - PART 2

<- Part One

THANK YOU to everyone who has joined this collab and everyone else who has stuck with me through this year of my comic! I am so so so thankful for all of you guys! This comic has gotten me out of my comfort zone, helped me find friends, and taught me SO much about art and animation. I would NOT have stuck with it so long if it wasn't for all of your support. <3 <3 <3

A special thank you to @bambiraptorx who helped A TON in setting up the ID's for this comic, @kitmay05 who helped with advice and writing the extra IDs that were left unfinished, @cupkatwarrior9 who also helped a ton with advice and IDs, and @nootdhoodle who created and modded my discord server for me!!

Credits in order top to bottom: @kitmay05. @rainyraisin, @averagetmntfan (line art) & @cosmocafe (color), @flour-consumer, @dianagj-art , @3mutantsinatrenchcoat , @chaos-potat , @irequirealobotomy , @koolaidashley , @risebabyx2 , @clown-froggi , @riseleon , @beetleviolet , @karonkar , @brightonstudios , @cupkatwarrior9 , @bambiraptorx , @fxliciq-a , @truths33k3r4 , and last but not least, @nootdhoodle

[ID: Panel 21- Carol sitting in the middle of a bunk bed, Mikey cuddled up close arms and legs wrapped around Carol. Donnie sitting to the side getting head pats from Carol. She is saying, "once upon a time...". Both boys' tails are wagging.

Panel 22- Huginn hovering in the air saying, "there was a great warrior." Leo tucked in looking so excited he's sparkling. Muninn floats nearby also looking exited.

Panel 23- Heishi lying in his bed. He is so excited that his eyes are shining stars and his mouth is agape. Hugin off screen says "He could beat anyone or anything with just his hands!!"

Panel 24- A digital drawing of Huginn with his arms and wings spread, though part of his body isn't in the frame. He has a happy expression on his face and his mouth is widely opened. His text bubble says "And every time he won, he would give the crowd a big smile and shout-". The drawing is watermarked by flour-consumer.

Panel 25- Hugin and Munin fly behind Heishi, the three are throwing their fists to the air cheering "Hot Soup!" image watermarked by dianagj-art.

Panel 26- Transitions to Raph bedroom which is decorated with glow in the dark stars and movie posters. On a red bed sits Raph who is excitedly listening to his father tell him the story off screen "But more importantly, he was very good looking."

Panel 27- Raph, sitting on his bed, looks disappointed. Splinter is off screen but a speach bubble with his face in it shows that he is laughing at his sons reaction.

Panel 28- Splinter’s ears drop and his face falls into a frown, sitting on the rug beside Raphael’s bed. Raphael, laying on the bed, looks confused and concerned. The room is colorful, with childish toys and posters, and the blanket and rug are red, his color. It is watermarked with “irequirealobotomy” in purple text.

Panel 29- Splinter looking away with a sad expression saying "Then one day... they dissapearred without a trace". The background is a gradient from orange to purple.

Panel 30- Mikey, Carol and Donnie sit on Donnie’s bed. Mikey holds his stuffed bunny George and Carol’s arm as his tail wags. Donnie throws his arms in the air. “What? But… where did he go?! You can’t just disappear…” He squints in deep thought his hand now at his face. “Can you? Maybe…” He points his finger as his eyes light up with ideas. “Maybe he is being hidden, like us! Or-” Watermarked risebabyx2 in the bottom corner.

Panel 31- Mikey and Donnie, sitting on Donnie’s bed. Donnie with a worried expression, mumbling until interrupted by Mikey who excitedly asks; “Do you think we will ever meet him!?” The image is watermarked by clown-froggi.

Panel 32- Carol looking away from Mikey and Donnie somberly, fiddling with her hands. Image is marked on the top left with RiseLeon.

Panel 33- Mikey sitting hugging his legs on the bed. His pink rabbit, George, hugged close. Carol sitting next to him, putting his head, saying "one day, I hope you can do anything you put your mind to." Donnie sitting on her other side looking slightly sullen. Water marked with purpleviolet at the top middle.

Panel 34- Carol tucking in Donnie while Mikey sits beside her. All are smiling. Image is watermarked by Karonkar.

Panel 35- Carol tucking in Mikey on the top bunk bed. Mikey is smiling as he snuggles his stuffed bunny. Carol smiles and pulls the cover over him. Image is watermarked by brightonstudios.

Panel 36- Carol stands in the doorway, facing the dark hall outside. Her hand rests against the edge of the frame. She is looking back over her shoulder, smiling fondly. She is saying "Goodnight, boys." Image is marked at the bottom right by CupKatWarrior9

Panel 37- Mikey sleeps on his stomach, George next to his hand. His blanket mostly covers his legs and the bottom of his shell, with one foot sticking out. Watermarked Bambiraptorx.

Panel 38- Donnie sleeping peacefully in his bed, mouth slightly open.

Panel 39- Heishi asleep in his bed, blankets tightly wrapped around him with a smile on his face. Signed MD in the bottom right.

Panel 40- Raph is asleep in his bed with an arm above his head. Light from the open door illuminates a portion of the room while the rest of it is shadowed. End ID.]

[fuctacles]

Henderson's older brother is kinda fine :/ [Part II]

me: I'll write a blurb and nothing else popular demand: *slides into my DMs* [Part I] [Part III]

They finished Eddie's assignment that first day but Dustin invited him over again the next week. He told him to bring whatever homework he has, and they can brainstorm it together.

This time Eddie braced himself as he approached the door, expecting to run into the older brother again. But to his surprise, Dustin was the one to open the door. 

"They left you unsupervised?" He raised his eyebrows as he stepped past his friend.

Dustin rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful.

"Very funny. Steve had the morning shift today, but he should be back for dinner."

"Ah, the things we could get up to until then," Eddie's eyes sparkled with mischief but Dustin slapped him in the stomach with the strength of a dwarf.

"Yeah, like helping you graduate."

"Oof," Eddie winced, twisting away from his deceitfully powerful hands. "You're no fun, Henderson. Where is your adventurous spirit?"

"At the DnD table, duh."

"Touché."

So Eddie put on his mom-charming pants (they worked the best when no actual moms were involved, just like all his other pants) and did not go looting around his friend's house. Instead, he spread his latest assignments on Dustin's bed, claiming it as his territory for the time being. Dustin worked on his own stuff at his desk, like a civilized human being. Barf.

An hour of relative silence had passed before Dustin set down whatever he was doing and turned in his chair.

"I think you're like Lucas."

It took Eddie a moment to even process the words. He looked up to find his younger friend propped up on his elbow and staring at him.

"Huh?"

"I think you might be like Lucas," he repeated with his customary eye roll.

Eddie thought about the sporty jock-wannabe Sinclair, scrunching his nose.

"How?"

Dustin seemed pleased to be asked that as he sat up eagerly to proceed with his reasoning. Which were for sure very scientific and not pulled out of his ass. Eddie braced himself for an impromptu lecture.

"His grades dropped when he got his own room. But he aced all his tests when it was being painted, and he had to bunk with Erica for a few days. So, we made an experiment and whenever he would study or do homework with someone else in the room, it got better results than when he worked alone," he paused, eyeing his friend. "Are you following?"

Eddie clicked his tongue.

"What I'm following is you used your friend as a test subject."

The boy threw his hands in the air in the way that always made Eddie grin. The kid was so delightfully dramatic.

"For his benefit. And now for yours!"

Eddie huffed in thought, simultaneously hopeful to find a solution for his skittery brain and irritated it might have been that easy this whole time. 

"So I just need a study buddy?" he asked, scrunching his nose.

"Yep," Dustin grinned at him. "I know your uncle isn't home most of the time, but you're welcome here whenever you need to work on something."

Eddie mulled that thought in his head, weighing pros and cons and asking his gut how it felt about it. His gut likes the food in Henderson's house though, so it might be a bit biased.

"You know what, Henderson? I just might take you up on that."

As if on cue, the front door opened and closed, the sound of keys dropping in the bowl following.

"Dustin?"

"Up here!" Dustin hollered and if Eddie was a lesser man, with shittier taste in music, it might have damaged his earbuds. But they were honed in by the sweet tones of metal, therefore a screeching teenager was not enough to break them at this point.

"Oh, hi Eddie!" Steve was standing in the doorway, slightly out of breath and hair not as magnificent as Eddie got used to seeing, a poster boy from a hairspray commercial no more. Ah, what capitalism does to people.

"Your hair looks sad," he observed with a slight tilt of his head.

"Uh," the guy raised his hand to his hair, pulling at the flat fringe self-consciously. "Well, sorry I didn't have the energy to doll myself back up after 8 hours of customer service."

Eddie snorted.

“Doll yourself up? Who says that?”

“I do,” Steve huffed, crossing his arms but the reddening apples of his cheeks betrayed his embarrassment. Good. What grown-ass man refers to himself as a doll? Even one looking like an animated Ken. But that would be dark magic, which Eddie of course doesn't condone.

“I think Robin started it,” Dustin offered, unhelpfully. “She was trying to bully him, but it backfired because he actually likes it.” He made a disgusted face.

“Hey!”

“A doll, Steve? That’s kinda gay,” Eddie shook his head feigning disappointment. Instead of morphing into irritation though, Steve’s face hardened, and suddenly he remembered his nerdy friend’s brother was actually a jock. Former, reformed, doesn't matter. Abs were abs.

“Yeah? And what’s wrong with that?” he asked, eyes set on Eddie, unblinking.

He took a quick glance around the room. The window was open, but it was the first floor and Gareth would kill him if he broke as much as a finger again. So he dusted off the little matchbox of courage that was left somewhere inside him, and offered:

“Uh, nothing? Gays are cool. Dolls are cute. All is good.” He stretched his lips in the best attempt at a smile he could muster right now.

Steve still has not blinked, which was starting to stress Eddie out. Were his eyes always this piercing? He was staring for too long, could match their exact shade to one of the trees surrounding the trailer park by now, but was too afraid to look away. If he showed weakness, he might get chewed alive, spat out and stomped on, for a good measure.

“Good,” Steve said finally, and Eddie could breathe again. “We don’t badmouth gays in this household.”

“We don’t,” Dustin nodded feverishly, eager to get his brother out of the room. This indeed seemed to appease him, as he finally unclenched his jaw, uncrossed his arms and rapped his knuckles against the door frame.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower and start on the dinner. You stayin’?” he asked, eyes back on Eddie, who was paralyzed enough, that Dustin had to swoop in and answer for him.

“Yep, he’s staying.”

“‘Kay,” Steve slapped the door frame, suddenly smiling again, and closed the door. If not for the slow breeze from the open window, Eddie would be already dead in the vacuum-sealed room, because he surely took away all the oxygen on his way out.

He scooted on the bed to face Dustin, who was about to open a book and start reading like whatever had just happened hadn’t just happened.

“Soo, is Steve…?”

Dustin looked at him. Eddie looked at him back.

“Is Steve what?” Dustin prodded, in that annoyed tone of his.

Eddie was a wordsmith, he could write and lead campaigns, produce not-half-bad lyrics and lie his way out of trouble. Usually. He got this.

He opened his mouth. Frowned. He did not get this.

“Gay?” he asked quietly.

“Pshhh, no,” Dustin waved his hand. “He’s a ladies' man.”

“Right, yeah,” Eddie nodded like the bobbing head figurine on his uncle’s dashboard. “Then why…”

Dustin shrugged, the unhelpful bastard.

“I think his father is a homophobe? And Steve was kind of a jerk a few years back, he’s trying to be better now. Overcompensating a bit, if you ask me but eh,” he shrugged again. The helpfulest kid in Hawkins. Baby Henderson opened his book, closing the topic, so Eddie fell back on the bed, taking a well-needed break from his study break.

Normally, when the topic of gays was brought up, it was unpleasant and long-winded, full of exchanged opinions, usually hateful ones. Here, the Hendersons were treating it like small talk, not the can of worms that just opened in Eddie’s stomach. Okay, gross. They would crawl around, who knows in which direction? And the can itself? So many sharp edges, so unsanitary.

Needless to say, it wasn’t something Eddie would forget about quickly like they seemed to expect him to.

Alas, he was Dustin’s study-guest, so the kid gave him five minutes to ponder on the worms crawling inside him, before slapping the side of his head with a book to get him back on track. He wouldn’t even let him out on a leak pass until he showed he was done with the chapter he started.

Finally free for a second, Eddie left the bathroom but instead of returning to Dustin’s room, he was lured downstairs by the atrocious sounds of ABBA. Was ABBA gay? He was going to overthink everything now, wasn’t he? Honestly, the whole pop genre felt gay. Metal, that was manly as fuck. Very heterosexual.

For a second he stood in the kitchen’s door frame watching the older Henderson sway his hips around in a yellow apron. It would be almost endearing if the music didn’t make his brain try to collapse on itself. 

He quickly approached the radio and slammed the pause button to save the poor man from further eardrum damage.

“What is this?” he asked when Steve turned to face him.

“Uh. The radio?” he frowned, the poor guy having no idea what he was saying. The top 40 made him delirious.

“What was the radio playing?” Eddie asked in his most condescending tone, eyebrows raised.

“.... ABBA?”

Eddie scoffed.

“I’ll bring you some real music, hang on a second.” And he was gone, on a quest to educate the masses. “Masses” being one Steve Henderson, but as an older brother and Dustin’s role model he had a duty to uphold and Eddie was generous enough to help him out.

He ran out to his car and rummaged through his cassettes, wondering which one was most appropriate for a cooking background. Not a thing he would practice himself, but metalheads eat too, sometimes, so it couldn't be such a farfetched concept. Right?

Eventually, he dumped an armful of tapes on the counter, grinning at Steve wildly.

“One of them has to work for…” he waved a hand in the general direction of chopped-up vegetables. “Whatever it is you’re doing.”

“I will not believe you haven't cooked before.”

Eddie only shrugged at that and popped the first tape of choice into the player. Steve frowned at the tunes but wisely didn't object.

“Since you’re making yourself comfortable in my kitchen, why don’t you help me out a bit?”

“Ah, I’d love to, but there’s this solo I just have to-” he broke into an elaborate air guitar, imitating the riffs from memory while banging his head. He couldn’t see Steve’s face, but he was undoubtedly impressed. Eddie looked metal as fuck. He was super cool, super manly.

“I thought you were just taking a dump but then, guess what? I hear Iron Maiden from the kitchen!”

What wasn’t cool, was being scolded by a fourteen-year-old.

“Got lured by the sweet tunes, huh, big guy?”

“Dustin please, take him away from me.”

Dustin looked between the older boys, one maniacally jumping around, the other wielding a knife and a carrot. He considered his chances and favorable outcomes.

“If we switch to Metallica I’ll help with cooking,” he offered, to which Steve shrugged and Eddie gleefully switched the tapes.

He jumped around, watching the two Hendersons work together and to his absolute terror, he felt a teeny tiny desire to join in. Thankfully, his pride was still hidden beneath a half-dead tree.

He circled them like a curious cat, getting closer and closer, until his face almost squished against Steve’s arm, still dutifully chopping.

“What are we making?”

“We,” Steve accentuated, jostling the intruder's head. “Are making baked vegetables. You are jumping around like a lunatic.”

Eddie gasped.

“I am providing entertainment!”

“Can you provide the baking pan?” Dustin asked dryly. “It’s in the oven.”

“Only if it means I get to taste the fruits of my hard work.”

“You don’t have to help us to get dinner.” Steve bumped his shoulder with a roll of his eyes. “But, helpers get an extra cookie.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so?”

Eddie was truly a genius. He got to help out his fake little brother and his older brother without outwardly asking to be included! And to think he failed senior year twice.

“Go do your nerdy things, I’ll call you when it’s done,” Steve wiped his hands on a towel, food in the oven and the timer set. Dustin was more than happy to leave, and was first to run up the stairs. Eddie was about to follow but a light tug on his shirt stopped him. He turned around, confused, only to be met with Steve pressing a finger to his lips, which, more confusion.

Not easing his grasp, he pulled him back into the kitchen and opened one of the cupboards, where he grabbed a jar and popped it open, releasing a mouthwatering aroma.

“One,” he ordered, and without having to be told twice, Eddie reached in to find a chocolate chip cookie.

“You trying to poison me?” he asked, even if his tongue was one slip away from tasting the treat.

“I would never put poison in my baking,” Steve made a face like the mere suggestion offended him. Eddie raised his eyebrows. 

“You made this?”

“Fucking- Eat it before Dustin comes looking for you. I’m trying to be nice.” Steve gritted his teeth, putting the jar back away.

Eddie felt a little bad for pushing him, but only a little. He finally put the cookie in his mouth and took a bite.

Holy shit.

“This is so fucking good!” he mumbled, crumbs flying everywhere, which earned him a disgusted expression.

“Good thing I haven’t swept yet,” Steve murmured, looking at the floor with disdain. “Now scram. Don’t show up until dinner.”

“Yes, sir!” Eddie saluted, crumbs dripping, and ran away, before Steve’s deadly kitchen rag could reach his butt.

User tags: @i-have-three-feelings @mblogs @awkwardgravity1 @imacowboy3 [Steddie masterpost] [Ao3] [ko-fi]

[mwolf0epsilon]

The 501st Gang Meet their 105th Counterparts

A prequel to my last post

Rex, staring uneasily at the fully kitted captain Carno who is just silently staring at him: ...Uh, welcome aboard. I'm sure you'll feel right at home with the 501st and, should you need anything, we're more than willing to accomodate. Carno, continuing to stare menacingly before finally speaking up in a raspy and very hushed tone: I don't like your face. Rex: Wh-- Carno, shoving past him rudely: Stay out of my way, Blondie. I don't need some flashy Jedi's pet putting a spotlight on me. Rex, starting to think this might not be as easy as the briefing made it sound: Oh boy...

-

James, looking Jesse up and down while playing with his braid: So, is like, the tat supposed to be some kinda statement, or are you just really into licking boots? Jesse, pausing: I... Excuse me?! -staring at James wide-eyed- James: Oooh, it's a statement isn't it? Dang boy, they should slap you on a poster. Every battalion needs a show fathier, I guess! Jesse, glaring: I don't like you. James: Feeling's mutual. This ship ain't big enough for two token pretty boys. Jesse: No, no it isn't.

-

Hardcase, excitedly showing Clearcut around while talking like a ship running a click per second: Clearcut, allowing Hardcase to drag him around while sort of tuning him out and only picking up on vital pieces of information like emergency hallways, weapons storage and other such things: Hardcase: You don't talk much do ya? That's fine I'll talk for the both of us! Clearcut: By all means, carry on. Hardcase, happily carrying on: I can tell we're both gonna get along really well. Clearcut: I agree.

-

Kix, staring at Bon who's been shaking and on the verge of tears since arriving: Bon, staring back at Kix with very wet eyes while holding a fully stocked medkit in hand: I get to use this on anyone who comes in here? Kix, blinking: ... Yes. This is the medbay after all. Bon: And I'm allowed to treat them? I'm allowed? Kix, feeling a little uneasy: Yes...? Bon, openly crying now: This is the happiest day of my life... Kix, incredibly uncomfortable: Ah...

-

Echo & Fives, having a stare down with Wallflower & Nowt: Wallflower & Nowt, staring back at Fives and Echo with an impassive and a smug look respectively: Fives, opens up his mouth to say something: Nowt: Bitch. Wallflower, turning to slap his brother across the face: Captain said to put a sock in it. Nowt: The captain can suck it! If it wasn't for me he wouldn't know half the kark the others get up to when he's not looking! Wallflower: Karkin' snitch! Fives, closing his mouth and looking at Echo: Echo, nodding at Fives as both of them slowly back away from the now furiously arguing Jenga Twins:

-

Tup, sitting on the floor wrapped in a thin blanket because he was kicked out of his bunk and had his belongings taken: Can I at least have my brush back? Lobo, tossing him a pair of scissors instead: No amount of brushing will make that rat's nest look any less like osik. Tup, narrowly avoiding getting hit by the scissors and now standing up angrily: I'm gonna knock your teeth out. Lobo, equally angry: I'm gonna make you eat your own hair. Tup & Lobo launch themselves at each other and proceed to start a fight:

-

Dogma, a little overwhelmed as Caprichoso pulls him along while he's supposed to be the one giving him a tour of the ship: Caprichoso, wide-eyed and extremely excited about everything he's seen so far: Wow! You 501st lot have EVERYTHING! Good eats, tons of new gear up for grabs, full training room setup, clean showers, clean barracks, fully stocked medbay... Your Jedi spoil you so good! You must be the greatest troopers ever! Dogma: I... I wouldn't say they spoil us... That'd be a sign of unfair favoritism and would go against the no fraternization rules. And while the 501st certainly has a degree of great competency among many of the GAR's forces, those things you've listed are all requirements that were put forward to the Republic since the beginning of the army's first year of deployment. An ill-prepared and ill-equipment battalion wouldn't serve properly. Caprichoso: I know what you mean. But our general didn't see it that way. Thought we could push ourselves to be better without extra help... But eh! Who cares? The blighter is dead an' buried while we're here now! Gosh... You think your medic could give me a once over? Or or or, maybe we could hit the mess? Or uh! A shower yeah! I haven't had a shower in two weeks... My armour's getting more rank than I am ehehe! Get it? Dogma, moving slightly away from Caprichoso out of mild disgust: I, yes, a hot shower and a hot meal, then I can continue giving you the to-- Caprichoso: YOU GUYS GET HOT WATER?! I LOVE IT HERE ALREADY! -hugging Dogma tightly- We are gonna be such great friends! Dogma, eyes watering at the intense stench of B.O as well as the bone crushing hug of the rather clingy trooper: Stars have mercy...

[ladywaffles]

16 + icemav for the drunken confession prompts!!!

okay so this one kinda ran away from me, oops! thank you for playing <3

"This is not a dream, I think. In my dreams, we're usually kissing."

send me a pairing and a number!

It lasts sixteen months.

They run out the clock as best as they can, and then they put overtime on the clock and run that down too.

But Ice has always wanted, and then wanted more, and TOPGUN was only ever a stop on the way to the top for him.

He understood that going in; their time was limited. Maverick has never shied away from a challenge, though, especially one that Iceman placed in front of him.

Create a life that makes Iceman want to stop, for him. Make a place that Iceman won’t want to leave, when the time comes.

(It will be many years down the line when he finds out, but Maverick was almost successful in his attempt. It is only the decades they have behind them, spent together, that stops this from hurting.)

So Ice’s time at TOPGUN comes to an end. It’s almost a joke, really; Maverick’s track record of relationships in Miramar is oh-for-two. Charlie had packed off for D.C. before Ice rotated back stateside. Maverick was too burned by the experience to even think about approaching Ice in any way that hinted of romance.

Sixteen months of flying circles around hotshot flyboys with Ice on his wing, the wide expanse of the Pacific stretching out in front of him. He really couldn’t hope for anything better. He only wishes he had more time.

They spend their last night of freedom—Ice’s second-to-last night onshore—on a pub crawl that Mav will be feeling in the morning. He won’t regret it, but even as he matches Ice shot for shot, because Ice is an all-American poster boy but he hates beer more than anything, Maverick wants to slow down and take in these last memories of Ice at his side. They serve at the pleasure of the Navy, and only God knows when the brass will smile on them and send down orders to reunite Maverick Mitchell and the Iceman, the only fighter pilots on active duty to score air-to-air kills since the end of the Vietnam War.

They close out a bar on the other side of town, and then because it’s Ice’s last night and Ice gets what he wants, no matter how stupid Maverick thinks it might be, they end up on a picnic bench in some park, looking up at the admittedly bright stars.

“Do you ever miss it?” Ice asks.

“Hmm?” Maverick’s head is still fuzzy, his cheeks still warm with all the alcohol rushing through his body.

“The stars,” Ice says, staring up. “When you’re here, don’t you miss it? When you were out on the Enterprise. I swear I used to go up on deck every night just to look at the stars.”

Maverick shrugs. “They’re mostly the same, no matter where you go. Maybe if I crossed the line and the constellations changed, I’d care more, but stars are stars.”

“Huh.”

“Do you?” Maverick turns to look at Ice, who seems to be tracing out lines in his mind, vectors towards true north, or maybe the outline of Cygnus.

“Yeah. Where I grew up, the light pollution was so bad, you could barely make out the North Star. The city was just too bright. The first time I was on a carrier, and I saw the stars, what they actually looked like… Man, Slider must’ve thought I was dumb, walking around with my mouth gaping open like a fish. Nearly ate shit when we were heading back to bunk because my head was in the clouds, I hit the knee-knockers. He didn’t let that one go for weeks.”

“At least you’ll get to see them again,” Maverick tells him.

Stay, his heart begs him to say. Stay here, with me. I’m not the starry night sky, but can’t I be enough? Please, let me be enough to keep you.

“Yeah,” Ice muses. “I almost wish I could take you with me.”

“What?” Maverick lets out a shaky laugh.

Ice smiles, that small little thing that he does whenever he’s amused, the one that Maverick learned to look for early on. A blink-and-you-miss it grin, a glimpse into the real man behind the Iceman.

“What? Was it not obvious? You need me to say it out loud?”

“I don’t—”

“I’m gonna miss you, Mitchell,” Ice says easily. He doesn’t look in Maverick’s direction, even as he continues. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do out there without you on my wing. It’s been so long since I— since I flew without you right there, annoying me over the radio. What am I gonna do without you chattering in my ear?”

“I’m sure you’ll find another flyboy out there to talk your ear off,” Maverick replies, falling into the banter. It’s not what he expected from Ice, but maybe the alcohol had more of an effect on Ice than he thought it did.

“I would stay here, if I could,” Ice admits.

You can! Maverick wants to cry. You can stay here! Fly with me! Stay with me!

“I’m gonna be a tough act to follow,” he says instead.

“You sure are,” Ice agrees.

“You can’t stay here if you want that promotion, though. That’s what you want.”

“What I want,” Ice repeats. “You know, these last few weeks, I wanted nothing more than this.”

Ice looks at him now, a blush on his cheeks from the chill bite of the midnight air and the alcohol coursing through his veins.

Maverick furrows his brow. “This?”

“Just sitting here, taking a moment to enjoy your company. Don’t let it get to your head, Mitchell, I’m still the better pilot, but you’re a good man. Everyone’s wanted something from me these last few weeks, and I was worried I wouldn’t get a chance to say it.”

Maverick cracks a grin. “You were thinking about me?”

Ice groans. “Of course that’s what you latch onto.”

“Iceman, thinking about little ol’ me!” Maverick jumps up and yells it out to the world, teasing Ice. It’s the only way he can think to make it hurt a little less, that it took Ice this long to say anything. “I win!”

“This isn’t what I was dreaming of,” Ice deadpans.

Maverick turns to him, breathless. That… changes things. “You were dreaming of me?” He sits back down next to Ice, a little closer than before. Their knees are knocking together.

Ice stares down at the ground, focusing on the grass with deadly intent.

“Yes. Yeah,” he breathes out.

“And is this like your dream?” Maverick asks gently. “Is this the dream you wanted?”

“This is not a dream, I think,” Ice answers in a soft voice. “In my dreams, by now, we’re usually kissing.”

And Ice looks up at him, his heart fully bared and placed in Maverick’s hands, his eyes full of hope and fear in equal measures, and Maverick aches.

“I would’ve said something sooner,” Ice continues, “But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to risk it. It took me all night to work up the courage to say something, and all that alcohol to pry it from my own damn self, but the only thing I’ve wanted to do all night is just say it and take you back to mine, so I could have you, just for the one night—”

Maverick cuts him off with a hand on his jaw. He can feel the flush in Ice’s cheeks, the hot blush that rises to his skin. “Ice, it’s okay,” he says.

And slowly, so Ice knows that it’s coming, so Ice can stop him if he wants to (even though that might break Maverick’s heart, and maybe Ice’s too, if he’s understanding this right), Maverick presses his lips to Ice’s. He feels the hot puff of Ice’s sigh against his lips, then the hard tug of Ice’s hands on his hips as he deepens the kiss.

Maverick willingly follows where Ice leads him, because his wingman has never led him astray. He ends up straddled across Ice’s lap, hanging on desperately as Ice kisses him with a passion he’s never felt from anyone else.

It’s only when he can’t breathe anymore that he stops, leaning his forehead against Ice’s, his weight falling back on his haunches. Ice’s hands steady him as they breathe together, big, heaving sighs like they’d just done the thousand-yard dash.

Stay, Maverick’s heart chants. Stay with me, don’t leave. Ask me to go with you, and I will. Just say the words.

“You have to go,” Maverick says sadly. He’s sobering up faster than he ever has before, realizing that there are a scant few hours left between now and when Ice goes back to sea.

“I have to go,” Ice repeats. He presses a light kiss to Maverick’s lips.

I’m sorry.

“I’ll be here,” he says.

Come back to me. I can’t lose you too.

Maverick kisses him again, and again, and again, to drive the point home.

“I’ll come back,” Ice replies, understanding.

The timer on Ice’s last day has already started ticking. Maverick is surprised more than anything when Ice drives them back to his housing, seven hours after they first set out on their pub crawl, and opens the passenger door for Maverick. He leads him into his bedroom and holds him for the rest of the night, falling asleep just as the sun starts to peek through the blinds.

Maverick doesn’t want to let go, but he won’t stop Ice. He commits Ice to memory as best he can, and when the time comes, he kisses Ice hard, pouring sixteen months of wanting and desire and love into it.

Ice meets him with the same fervor, the same built-up emotion flowing out of him, a mirror image of his own feelings reflected back to him.

They’re wingmen, after all.

[thefreakymunson]

Anywhere But Here (Eddie Munson x reader)

SUMMARY: You've taken on a new manager shift as the tour manager for a up and coming band named Corroded Coffin. What you didn't expect was a whirlwind of events to happen after that or for their lead singer to be so attractive. A/N: This will be a slowburn and I'm excited for you all to read it!! READ PART 2 HERE

You looked up at the tour bus and sighed softly, gripping your luggage a bit tighter. It seemed too loom in the distance as you walked closer to it, knowing you needed to just get it over with. What’s the worst that could happen when you’re stuck traveling on a bus with four other men? You were screwed out of your own accommodations, which was usually a private bus that traveled behind the band. You weren’t told about the lack of a second bus until an hour before you were all set to leave. You hadn’t even ever met this band before.

Corroded Coffin, a new heavy metal band from Indiana. Young kids just starting off their music careers after the success of their debut album, Anywhere But Here, which sold nearly over 500,000 copies in its first week. You had been given a run down of them. They were all in their mid-twenties and wild by the promotional poster you had been printing off nearly all week. Two of them were pretty cute but you knew better than to ever dare get involved with your work.

Just as you were about to open the door, it swung open, hitting you in the chest and knocking you backwards a bit and causing you to drop your bag. You looked up in shock, seeing the same shocked expression on the mans face who was walking down the steps.

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” He said, rushing down the three steps quicker to help you pick up your bag, “Didn’t realize how heavy that door was.”

“Its fine,” you laughed softly, “Guess I learned my lesson not to stand so close.”

You got a good look at the guy when he stood up straight, nearly towering over you. He was from the band. The one with the longer hair who has giving himself devil horns, his tongue sticking out. The cute one.

“Where you coming on the bus?” He asked, brows furrowed in confusion as if he was wondering why you were standing so close.

“Yeah. I’m the tour manager.” You nodded.

“Shit,” he snorted, “Day one and I’m already abusing my manager.”

“I won’t hold it against you,” you gave him a small smile.

“Thank god,” he smirked, “I’m Eddie.”

“Y/N,” you said, stretching your hand out. He grasped it in both of his much larger ones and shook it, “Thank you for assaulting me on the first day. It’s nice to get that out of the way.”

He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his mouth as he looked down at you, a bright smile spreading across his face. He dropped your hand and stepped back, opening the door for you. You reached for your heavy bag but he tutt’d you and lifted them over his shoulder easily.

“Least I could do after nearly knocking you out, right?” He remarked as he followed you up the steps.

“Where is everyone?” You asked, noticing the bus was completely empty.

“They ran out to get some supplies for the trip,” Eddie nodded, “Food and shit like that...important things.”

“It wasn’t stocked already?” You turned to look at him, “Man...they really dropped the ball this time around. Usually, the bus is fully stocked for everyone.”

“Beer and condoms,” Eddie nodded but didn’t dare make eye contact with you, “They didn’t come stocked...that’s what they went after.”

“Ah. The real important things,” you laughed.

You chose a bunk at random and pushed the curtain back, stepping back to let him sit your bags down.

“They normally give me another travel option but for some reason, they couldn’t get another RV.” You shrugged.

“I figured they’d put someone on the bus with us to make sure we’re behaving.”

“I don’t know what they were thinking but like don’t worry, I usually just keep to myself anyway until we’re stopped.”

“Where’s the fun in keeping to yourself?” He smirked as he leaned against the bunks on the opposite side, “You’re apart of the band now, hm?”

You laughed and turned to look at him, his face half visible by the lighting from the seating area. His long hair tumbled over his shoulders, arms crossed over a tank-top covered chest. Multiple tattoos decorated his arms. He had the look. He was going to be a big hit with the ladies. You’d done enough tours to know women went crazy for men like him...for good reason.

He gave you another small smile before he turned and walked out of the bunks, taking a deep breath. You were beautiful...one of the most beautiful girls he had seen in awhile. There was no way he was going to get through this tour without making an idiot out of himself.

When the rest of the guys got back, you had thankfully already gotten your bottom bunk set up. You were thumbing through a book when you heard the boisterous voices and heavy footsteps coming back through to the bunks.

“Bottom left bunk is taken,” you heard Eddie’s voice.

“By who?”

“Tour manager,” he said.

“We got a babysitter!?”

“Gareth…” Eddie sighed just as you were opening your curtain and peeking your head out.

“Hello,” you said as you crawled out of the small space.

“A girl at that!?”

“Jesus christ,” Eddie snorted, shaking his head as he walked back into the front area.

You introduced yourself to them individually, learning their names were Gareth, Jeff, and another one they all lovingly referred to as “Freak.” The bus driver arrived and things sort of settled down a bit, most of the guys in sitting in the front lounge watching a movie.

The first day was always the slowest. It was the farthest distance to travel, the longest night, everything was a little awkward still. You were in your bunk, lost in a book for about three hours when you heard the first few strings of your favorite song being played from the back lounge.

You had learned Eddie was the guitarist and singer. His voice was strong, thick, and sent goosebumps down your skin when you first heard it. But that was on a cassette with a band backing him.

Acoustically, his voice was raspier and dreamy, a comforting sound that you found yourself leaning closer to the opening to get a better hearing. He was barely stroking the strings and his singing had turned to humming. Something pulled you from your space and before you could truly stop yourself, your feet were walking the very short distance to the back of the bus where you cracked the door open.

He was stooped over the guitar that rested in his lap, his chin resting on the body as he lazily strummed along to whatever was going on inside of his mind. Cigarette smoke swirled around him, filling the room in the acrid scent. His long brown hair was pulled into a low bun and you had realized only then that he was shirtless.

The bus hit a bump, jostling the door open even wider, and Eddie’s eyes popped open to see who was spying on him.

“Shit, did I wake you up?” He sighed, “Sorry if so.”

“No, not at all. I was reading actually.” You gave him a small smile as you walked into the lounge and closed the door behind you, “I heard my favorite song.”

“Didn’t take you for a L.A Guns girl.”

“Yeah, well, don’t judge a book by its cover, hm?” You gave him a small smile, “I think everyone else is asleep in the front.”

“Yeah, probably so. They could sleep through storms...and I’ve personally seen Jeff sleep through Gareth hammering the shit out of the drums so it doesn’t shock me.” He said, picking up his cigarette that was resting on the lip of the ashtray.

“You don’t sleep much either, hm?”

“What gave you that idea?” He smirked, “But no...not enough at least.”

“Good. I was scared I was going to be alone most of the traveling time. I hate trying to be quiet when everyone else is asleep.”

He sat the guitar down on its stand and leaned back, running his hands over his face as he groaned softly. His stomach contracted as he stretched and you noticed a few tattoos adorning his chest, and as your eyes trailed down, you could see the small happy trail peeking up over his boxers. There was something oddly sexy about this guy. You knew better than to ever mix business with pleasure. You felt yourself blushing and forced your eyes away from him as you curled your legs underneath you.

“This is your first tour completely, hm?” You asked, eyes daring to flick over to him before looking back down at your fingers. He was staring daggers at you.

“Outside of the small ones we’d do around Indiana, yeah.” He nodded, “First time in a bus, too...this is so much better than the van.”

“You nervous at all?”

“Always get a little preshow jitters,” he nodded, “But nothing drastic. That’ll probably change tomorrow night. We’ve never played a sold out show.”

“Ah, you’re going to do great.” You waved your hand dismissively, “The girls are going to be crazy.”

“Yeah right,” he snorted, “We’d be lucky to even have one girl there, I’m sure.”

“Are you insane?” You laughed, “Chicks dig band members and you’re four great looking guys.”

His head dropped to the side, his eyes locking on yours as if to say “Seriously?” in their own silent ways.

“I’m being serious. I’ve toured with big bands and smaller bands than you. I’ve seen girls try and break into hotels and into the bus. They steal things so make sure you lock any and all valuables up if you bring any girls back to the bus.” You nodded, “First nights are always the quietest but after that first show...you’re going to have girls hanging off of you.”

“That’s the thing though,” he said as he quickly licked his lips, “I just love music...I’m not in it for the groupies or whatever...I just want to play my songs and hangout with my friends afterwards, ya know? I don’t...I don’t like a lot of people in my space. I’d much rather everything just be mellow like this...until show time, of course. Maybe I’m weird but...I’m not really in this for the famous side. I don’t really want to be famous...i just want to be heard.”

“That’s not weird at all. It’s honestly refreshing. I toured with Motley Crue last year for a short stint and all they thought about was sex and drugs...I never got any rest.” You snorted, resting your chin on your knee as you hugged your legs tighter to you.

“I don’t think you’re going to have to worry about us bringing anything like that on here,” he snorted, “Now...we may play DnD every once in awhile.”

“DnD?”

“Dungeons and Dragons,” he smirked, “Nerd shit.”

“I’ve always wanted to learn to play that,” your eyes widened, “I was always too intimidated to learn in high school..”

“Intimidated?” He smirked, “By the geeks?”

“By everyone,” you laughed, “Didn’t make friends easy.”

“Where you shy?” He grinned over at you.

“Maybe a bit,” you laughed, looking up at him through your lashes, “What about you?”

“I was hated,” he laughed, “There was a whole spill that happened...bunch of bullshit honestly, but...got over it, ya know?”

“How old are you? It said in your files but to be honest, I didn’t really read over everything.”

“Twenty-six,” he nodded, “Just turned twenty-six.”

“Same here,” you nodded, “Well, it’s my birthday soon.”

“When?”

“Next Wednesday,” you shrugged, “Usually spend it by myself.”

The bus hit another bump in the road and the two of you braced yourselves against the couch as everything swayed. He groaned and closed his eyes, the familiar nauseated feeling hitting him like it did earlier.

“Carsick?” You scrunched your nose.

“Horribly,” he buffed.

“Come here.” You said as you stood up and walked back into the bunk area. You reached in for your bags and pulled out a small pill bottle for anti-nausea. You weren’t expecting him to be so close when you turned around, but you bumped into him and gasped slightly.

“Sorry...didn’t mean to scare you,” he said softly as he took the pill from your hand. You watched as he swallowed it with the beer he had been nursing earlier before the bus hit another bump yet again except this time, you didn’t mind. It knocked the both of you flush against each other, causing him to pin you back against the wall. You reached out to grab him, your hands falling to his waist as he caught himself on the paneling.

“Jesus,” you huffed, looking up at him as he steadied himself, “You okay?”

“Mhm,” he grimaced, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you said with a soft smile, “It gets easier the longer you’re on a bus like this...but maybe I should report the driver.”

He laughed and watched as you sat down into your bunk and put the bottle back up.

“Think I’m going to head to bed,” Eddie said, “You good?”

“Yeah,” you gave him a small smile, “See ya in the morning. Rest up for that big day tomorrow.”

[renthefox]

What makes Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi canon even though there's no vocal confirmation or a kiss on the mouth?

{BECAUSE I NEED MY SANITY AFTER FOLLOWING S2}

First of all, for whoever doesn't know, it's illegal to show gay "sexual practices" in China. As a result, the creators, even if they wanted, they are restrained by laws. It has to be expressed as strong subtext.

First of all, we have the name of the series itself, where "shiguang" means time and is created by taking our boys' names and compounding them into one: Cheng XiaoSHI + Lu GUANG. It's obviously also related to their front shop cover business as photographers, but this is what one would also call this pairing ship.

Secondly, as I've noted in previous post, the posters show them with yin & yang colours. But even the clothes used in the doghua imply their relationship is something more; CXS's bomber jacket combines both yellow/orange (his signature colours from the promos) and blue (LG's signature colour). Doesn't it have the same vibes like a girlfriend wearing her boyfriend's shirt?

Thirdly, in the chibi show, LG is a cat and CXS is a dog. I'm not Chinese, so I'm not 100% sure on this one, but many cultures will associate cats with femme fatales or with female characteristics, while dogs with masculinity as guards. In Japan, that's an actual gay lingo, with neko being the "bottom" partner, not to mention similar manga depictions in BL manga and doujinshi.

Fourthly, we are granted a short where our two protagonists are entangled in red string, while playing string ladder. Red string is a very prominent symbol for fated lovers in East Asia.

Last but not least, can we all acknowledge the "irony" of them being roommates? This has become such a meme, especially withing historical context, that I doubt it's not intended. As for the bunk beds, they're a matter of lack ofspace and money, not to mention the concept of "saving face".

Anything else comes directly from the dialogue or parallel scenes and the characters' interactions. See below.

In ep2, s1, the scene is most likely a reference to Lady and the Trump, where the couple shares a plate of pasta and somehow end up being connected by a single noodle. We don't really see the boys eating, but the arrangement is the same, and CXS even names the dish the "male dormitory's bowl" much like the women had named theirs the "female dormitory's bowl". And the ladies, not married until their early 40s, starting a business together, using ingredients of emotional significance to each other... they are definitely together as an item.

I think this one is pretty straightforward. They almost had a fur baby together.

In another chibi episode, LG and CXS are meant to fight one another as training, and both are unwilling to badmouth each other as a fight starter. Even the immature CXS, who one would guess could be the guy to make a laundry list of complaints, uses his own flaws and secrets to provoke LG. And by the way, two things are revealed: a) CXS basically confessed through a fake account, and b) LG protected CXS, putting the blame for breaking the cups on himself.

I don't know about you, but this sounds so very gay flirting to me.

The personal space these two share is very tight many times, beyond just friends who care for each other or shy people who feel embarrassed by admitting what they like in their "friend".

I don't know that many male friends who would rub against each other in an effort to charm the other into persuassion...

[crimson-chaser]

Not SOZED, but its coming soon

im just putting this here because those "td headcanons" or "totaldramahcs" dont really respond to most of my asks, and you normally reply to all of the asks ive sent so far

this is what i think Mike and the alters room would look like in headspace

Mikes is just a replica of his irl room, the one we see in his audition tape. but the rewards that he got due to Svetlana and the framed pictures that were ( implied ) to be taken by Manitoba are changed into posters of his favourite music singers, actors, etc. But he does have some school awards that he still has in his room from like old school spellings bees or winning in sports day all by himself without the help of the alters ( not chester, hed break his hip on the long jump )

Svetlana is minimalistic but massive, biggest bedroom in the house, probably because she also has bars she can swing on and mats she can do her gymnastic stuff on. One of her walls is also just filled of rewards that she earned in real life but manifested ( I hope I worded that right ) into headspace for her room.

Chester definietly has one of those old man rooms, no need to explain, just search up stereotypical elderly man bedroom and youll get what i mean.

Vitos room is nothing special really, personally I see his room as the same room as Billys room from Stranger Things. I think Vito wouldve watched Stranger Things with Anne Maria when it was first trending and he doesnt like Billy at all, but he though his room was cool.

Also personally, I think Mal and Manitoba would share a room. I have no idea why, I just like the "roomates being polar opposites" trate ( not. a. ship. I see Mal and Manitoba as father-son ) For the shared room I think theyd have a bunk bed, but the bottom bunk is too smal for Manitoba but so is the top bunk ( Mal joked about Manitoba being too heavy to hold the top bunk, they all took it seriously (( addition, i think Manitoba is super fucking tall, like 6-7 foot atleast )) )

for singular room, just give Mal a more modern version of Ravens room from Teen Titans Go and give Manitoba Jasmines room but more plain.

- SOZED anon, Louie

I could defo see this, i like this head canon! :3

[whohasfourthumbsand]

Greeting and hail! It's Angel, from MSMC.

Slipshod was browsing your tags and noticed something that I believe merits further discussion, so I decided to reach out here rather than clogging up a post intended for useful build tips.

You said you had a MSMC poster hung up by your bunk? Where in RA's name did you manage to acquire one of those?

...no, seriously, I'm asking. If the marketing team finds out we have unlicensed merchandise circulating out there somewhere, they're gonna pitch a fit (and probably send me out with a stack of officially-licensed MSMC merch to hand out as part of my PR duties, as well as a few cease-and-desist notices from our legal teams).

Out of curiosity, though - what's on it? I can't imagine we have too much actual merch out there, outside of the usual mech decals and uniform patches our pilots receive upon signing on with us for a term. (I certainly hope Marketing hasn't gone behind our backs and made merch of the 796th as the "official faces of MSMC" or something dumb like that - we already get enough flak from our fellow squads as "Heaven's PR Department". Besides, none of us consented to that at any point! That'd be an explicit breach of our PR contract!)

-- Angel

+ Oh, no, I hope I didn't scare you guys, making you think I like, bought something. I have a little collection of 'posters' around my sleeping quarters with all sorts of things, like starmaps, ship blueprints, printed logs from interesting events, etcetera. I added a print out of the MSMC logo to my board not too long ago, and I guess I got a little too used to referring to my cutouts as 'posters' after bantering with my friends for so long. I know you all only recently put your faces on the Omninet— If they were already plastered on some PR poster, I'd be surprised and a little impressed.

+ Though, uhm— do you guys offer official merchandise? Asking for a friend.

[levi-venn]

The First Toothpick

Chapter 2: "Misfire"

Gen Fic - Mentor/Protege

Characters: Cad Bane, Crosshair (the kid), Tech.

Summary: Cad Bane teaches Crosshair how to be a sniper. The kid picks up some other habits as a result.

Chapter Summary: Crosshair can handle his first jump to hyperspace...until he can't.

Available on AO3 here

Chapters: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 |

Crosshair knelt beside his bunk, packing his bag quietly.

The bag had actually been packed for months now. It was a standard bug-out bag filled with provisions, jumpsuits, a short-range comm set, and a first aid kit. Still, he moved the contents around. Checking and rechecking the inventory list. Drawing it out for as long as it took for Fett to look for him.

Behind him Hunter and Wrecker threw each other to the ground on the training mat, punching and tickling each other, challenging the other to say “I surrender” first. Half the time this game ends in exhaustion and no victor…or tears from Wrecker and Hunter relenting to calm him down. 

Pulling out a small box hidden at the foot of his bunk, Crosshair looked through his Max Reebo discs, deciding which ones to bring. Would he have time to listen to music? It calmed him down during the worst storms on Kamino. Where was he going? Would it be loud? Would it be bright?

Am I being punished?

“Where are you going?” Said a clipped Core World accent that his brother, Tech, had been practicing for weeks.

Crosshair didn’t turn around. “Out.”

“That…is evident,” Tech huffed, kneeling beside Crosshair. “Don’t take the discs. If you break them, they’ll be gone forever. It was hard enough smuggling them in.”

Crosshair put the discs away, and instead pulled out a small, torn poster of Figrin D'an And The Modal Nodes. Written in silver marker were the words: “To Crosshair, the best sniper  - Figrin D’an”. Tech said the personalized autograph was authentic, but Crosshair recognized Tech’s handwriting when he saw it, the too-neat s’s, the perfectly circular o’s. 

It was his prized possession.

He refolded the poster and tucked it into his pocket.

“They’re sending me away to train with a bounty hunter.”

“Well, that sounds exciting.”

Crosshair grunted quietly. 

“Is it not exciting?” Tech pressed.

Crosshair recounted his ration bars.

“Crosshair?” Tech asked. 

“Don’t call me that.”

“Well I’m not using what the Regs call you. It’s not accurate.”

“Yeah?” Crosshair snarled, defensively. “I knew your eyesight was bad, but even you saw how shitty I did in the last test. I dropped my rifle! It fell thirty meters and blasted a hole through the scoreboard.” 

Tech flinched a little at the eyesight comment. Crosshair flinched, too.

“My sight isn’t the issue and your name isn’t ‘Misfire’. Mistakes happen. Everyone makes them.”

“Not Regs, apparently. Just me. I’m the reason they call us the Bad Batch.”

“That isn’t true. They call us that because…” Tech frowned as if searching for an adequate answer. The longer he stalled the worse Crosshair felt. “...Jealousy for one,” Tech said, finally. “ And I heard on some planets people say ‘bad’ when they mean ‘good’. ‘Badassery’ is a word I’ve heard the seasoned clones say many times.”

“You’re making that up.”

Tech tugged at his new goggles magnifying his eyes three fold. “I never make up fun facts, you know this.”

Crosshair didn’t answer right away.

He didn’t trust his voice not to crack.

Blinking away tears was second nature to Crosshair, especially recently with the slew of mistakes he’d been making. He blinked rapidly at Tech, then threw his arms around him in a gruff hug. “Take care of yourself while I’m gone. Don’t let Wrecker push you around. If he gets too rough, tell Hunter.”

“I can fight my own battles,” Tech huffed. “...But I’ll miss you too.”

The door slid open and Crosshair immediately let his brother go. 

“Let’s go, CT-9904,” Fett said. 

Crosshair gave Tech a gentle punch on the arm. “See you soon,” he lied. He had no idea when he’d be back. Maybe months or years . 

What if I never see him again?

“What? Crosshair’s leaving?” Hunter asked, voice muffled through the headlock Wrecker trapped him in. 

Crosshair walked out behind Fett, clutching the straps of his bug-out bag and sniper rifle tightly. He didn’t look back.

“Where’s he goin’?” Wrecker asked as the door closed behind him.

It was hard not to stare at the blue alien walking alongside him. His eyes were perfectly round glowing bulbs set behind mean, narrow slit eyelids. He had no nose, his lips were thin and grim, fangs razor sharp, and his brow was one long ridge that raised and lowered dramatically with his mood. The left ridge raised at Crosshair. 

“What’s the matter, kid? Never seen a Duros before?”

Crosshair looked away. A Duros. He committed this to memory so he could tell Tech all about him when he got back. 

If I come back…

The docking platform’s doors opened and suddenly the Duros was the second most interesting thing Crosshair had seen that day.

Ship designs were an important part of Crosshair’s daily studies, mostly how to take them down in a dogfight. He’s seen hundreds of ships in his lessons. He’s never seen any ship like this. It reminded him of the scorpions of Tatooine, the engine raised like a threatening stinger, wings spread like they’d sprout claws to grab unsuspecting prey.

He almost smiled.

The Duros must have noticed. “Welcome to the Justifier , kid.” 

The ramp came down and Crosshair all but ran inside. His squad had been in simulation pods, but only Reg cadets were allowed trips on dropships. Hunter said they’d have plenty of time to fly in ships later, one day they’d have a ship of their own. For special missions. Crosshair remained skeptical. Hunter said a lot of things.

If Tech were here, he’d probably tell Crosshair exactly what kind of ship it was, the specs inside, how quickly it can prep a jump to hyperspace, the brand of the main compressor and what year it was made.

“Have a seat and strap in. Make yourself comfy, but not too comfy. This here’s temporary lodgings until we get to the ranch.”

Ranch? What’s a ranch?  

Crosshair said nothing. 

Cad hit the control panel and the ramp shrank back into the ship’s belly, the door sliding shut. Crosshair thought - too late - to take one last look at Kamino before it was gone. By the time he turned around, the door was shut. That was it. No goodbyes. 

There was a small puddle at his feet where the cool, crisp rain had collected. 

He put the toe of his boot in it.

It rippled.

“Strap in, kid. This ol’ girl gets a’might bumpy at Jump. Don’t reckon Jango’ll pay me if you’re a splatter on the wall.”

There were four seats in the common area with proper straps. Crosshair climbed into the largest one. There were claw marks on the edges of the armrest. 

“That’s Bossk’s chair,” Cad said, grabbing the buckles and straps, handing them to Crosshair. “He ate the last person who tried to steal his spot.”

Crosshair snorted. 

Cad wasn’t laughing. 

Crosshair’s face fell. 

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell him who sat here last,” Cad sneered. 

While Crosshair strapped himself in, Cad watched, as if to make sure he did it properly. It was a four strap system that fastened to a disc over his chest. The disc was new, but the straps looked ancient. They didn’t fit crisply like they did in the simulation pods.

“Need help?”

“I know how to secure straps,” Crosshair said, irritably.

“Yeah? All I see are fumbling fingers. Hurry up, before the storm pushes us off the platform.”

Crosshair rolled his eyes, his vision hitting a snag when he noticed the chair across from him was covered in small cuts, the leather melted as if assaulted by a vibroblade. “A.S. Wuz Here.” was carved in the chair back.

“Who is A.S.?” Crosshair asked, securing the fourth strap after a bit of adjusting. It popped out as soon as he let go.

Cad knelt down and batted Crosshair’s hand away, securing each strap then tightening them until Crosshair felt like he was part of the chair. “That’d be Aurra Sing. Be thankful Jango asked me to train you and not her. She hates kids.”

Crosshair raised a skeptical eyebrow. “And you like them?”

“No. Not really.”

“Me neither,” Crosshair said, thinking of the Regs whispering and snickering at him whenever he walked by.

Cad snorted or maybe scoffed. It was hard to tell. “Well, we’re gonna get along just fine then.” He tilted his hat up, his glowing red eyes seemed to give off a menacing heat, or maybe Crosshair was just nervous. 

I want to make people nervous like this. With just a look. A mean look. 

“I got two rules on this ship: Stay out of the cockpit. Stay out of my quarters. Everywhere else is fair game. Follow that n’ we’ll get along fine. Break a rule, you get a trip to the airlock. Sound good?” 

Authority figures often threatened him and his brothers with punishment whenever they broke a rule, but this was the first time Crosshair actually believed an adult would follow through on a threat. 

He nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Don’t sir me. Bane’s fine.”

Was Fett the only person allowed to call him “Cad”?

Crosshair decided not to ask.

“Yes, Bane,” Crosshair said.

Seemingly pleased, Bane gave a final tug to Crosshair’s straps and stood up. “Brace yourself.”

Brace himself? What did that mean? Panic was starting to sink into his bones. He had never been on a ship before. He had never been in hyperspace before. The clone troopers had armor for a reason when flying their ships. The g-forces could kill them without it. And Crosshair was in a jumpsuit. He wouldn’t get armor until he graduated to adulthood. 

He shut his eyes as the ship started to hum and whirr all around him.

Tech wouldn’t panic. 

Tech would adjust those new goggles of his.

What would Tech say?

Probably say something snarky like…“Obviously, you don’t need armor if Cad Bane is wearing clothes pulled directly out of a ‘Fistful of Credits’ holodrama.”

It made him feel better…

…for all of five seconds. 

There was a high-pitched squeal like a broken valachord, the pressure hitting his chest like Wrecker was sitting on it. 

Two Wreckers maybe…

…three…

Dark space clouded his vision.

I’m fine. Tech would be fine. I’m going to be f-

He passed out.

“Another black eye?” Tech asked, not looking up from his datapad. 

“Same eye, just more black,” Crosshair sneered, climbing past his own bunk and onto Tech’s. “What’re you reading?”

“Who hit you?” 

“Does it matter? Regs are all the same.”

“Hmm,” Tech flicked the holoprojector mode on and a planet, infected with an uninterrupted mass of buildings, floated in front of them. “I’m studying ecumenopolises.”

“What are they?”

“City-planets. Denon, Coruscant, Axxila, they cleared away the natural history of the planet making way for cities built upwards, the height depending on the population growth and class systems in place. Oftentimes the lower-income citizens are relegated to the lower levels of the city, or sent to the hemisphere opposite of the wealthier sectors. Weather patterns on these planets are regulated and usually temperate. 

“Looks loud,” Crosshair said, not really understanding what he meant. 

“Does it? Hmm…” Tech never made fun of Crosshair’s short, blunt statements, always considering each word carefully. Crosshair felt heard around his brother, even when he didn’t think anyone was listening. “That makes sense. Your eyes are designed to be sharper than most clones. As a sniper it’s an imperative feature. The bright flashes of lightning are too much for you. ‘Loud’ is a poetic way of looking at this planet. Yes, these cities are loud, especially Coruscant with many reflective solar-powered surfaces on their buildings. I’d hate to be stuck in traffic at dawn or dusk. I can only assume they have polarized shields for their speeders.”

Crosshair gingerly touched his cheek. It was swelling up. “Think we’ll see Coruscant one day?”

“I’m counting on it. It’s the heart of the Republic.” Tech looked up at Crosshair, brow knitting. “If Coruscant turns out to be too loud, tell me. I can construct polarized lenses for you until you grow used to it.”

Crosshair rested his chin on Tech’s shoulder, watching the planets cycle by. “Thanks, Tech.”

“Kid?”

Five more minutes, Techie…

“Hey, kid. Wake up.”

Wake Wrecker up first...

There was a click and a sudden relief of pressure on his chest. Crosshair snapped awake with a gasp, muscles tensing, his hand reaching for his sniper rifle’s strap which…wasn’t there. 

When his vision cleared, two glowing eyes stared at him under a furrowed brow. Bane was sneering again. “Welcome back. Y’know, Jango coulda warned me you’ve never made a jump to hyperspace before.”

“I’ve been in sssimulations,” Crosshair hissed. 

Bane shoved a water bottle into Crosshair’s hands then plopped himself into Aurra Sing’s chair, leaning back. He rested his boot on his ankle, slouching like a holodrama blasterslinger.

Crosshair slouched too…but his legs were too short to pull off the same position.

“Drink.”

Crosshair did, not realizing how thirsty he was until the cold water hit his throat. It’s never cold in the facility. Everything is room temperature. Even the food.

“Guess they don’t add artificial G-forces to the sims, huh? I reckon, this old ship’ll probably hit ya harder than any government-issued starfighter would.”

“It’s no big deal,” Crosshair hissed again, his irritation showing through with the small impediment.

Bane tilted his head, amusement spreading across those thin lips. Somehow, the expression wasn’t as infuriating as the sneers the Regs threw at him. It felt…knowing. Maybe this was a normal reaction to someone’s first hyperspace jump.

“We’ll be on Dantooine in a couple of hours.”

Crosshair perked up. A location. Dantooine. It sounded familiar.

“Is that a…” Crosshair frowned. “An…Acutetopolis?”

By Bane’s blank stare, Crosshair knew he pronounced the damn word wrong. “Nevermind.”

“A what?” Bane asked, brow ridge raised.

Crosshair felt his ears grow hot with answer. “I sssaid nevermind.”

“Starsdamn, kid, you really give up too easy. You wanna know somethin’, just ask again.”

“Is it a city-planet?” Crosshair tried again.

“Ah, an ecumenopolis,” Bane said. “And no. It ain’t. The opposite actually. We’re goin’ to one of my old hideout for yer training. Somewhere you can get a real lesson of what life’s like outside yer little sterile world. By the time we’re done, you’ll be able to snipe shit off a fly’s back.”

Crosshair was a little disappointed it wasn’t a city-planet, but then again Tech hadn’t made him his special goggles yet. And with the promise of being a better sniper? Maybe this wasn’t a punishment after all.

He took another sip of water. 

“So…” Bane reached into his belt and pulled out a toothpick, popping it into his mouth. “You've never been off-planet, but you know about ecumenopolises. What else did they teach ya about the galaxy at large?”

“That’s classified,” Crosshair responded automatically.

“Ya sound like yer old man.”

“My what?”

“Yer dad. Jango Fett.”

“We don’t have parents. I’m a copy of Fett. Engineered to be an elite sniper.”

Bane snorted a laugh. “Well ain't that some rote kraytspit.”

Crosshair wished Tech could tell him what “rote” meant. He stayed quiet.

“So is that why you look like that? Why you sound like that?”

Even the Regs had asked him why his voice was modulated. Someone said he sounded like a rabid rattlesnake. It wasn’t supposed to be a compliment, but Crosshair took it as one. “I’m engineered to be quiet. So I’m quiet.”

“Can’t call out for help then?”

“We have comms.”

“What if you need to shout, though?”

“My blaster rifle shouts for me.”

“Heh,” Bane cracked a smile. “Got an answer for everythin’, huh?”

Crosshair didn’t answer that.

“You ever meet Boba?”

“Who?”

“So…Jango keeps his precious little son away from the soldiers. Figures…”

“I’m not just a solider, that’s what the Regs are,” Crosshair snarled. “I’m in an elite squad. I’m built to be spec…special .” It was a shitty time for his voice to crack, but Crosshair hated that word. “Special”. 

But it’s the word the trainers used. It’s the word the scientists used. If he wasn't Special, he was a failure.

Bane dropped his leg and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. He noticed that slip-up too. “Special, huh? Best of the best?”

“Look out, here comes Misfire.”

All the Reg cadets hit the deck, then rolled over laughing.

“It’s just what they tell me.” Crosshair murmured.

“So ya don’t think yer all that special?” Bane asked.

“The bad batch! Why do they look like that? Why does he hiss like that? Were their tubes cracked? Bet they don’t last past year five.”

Crosshair shrugged, clutching the empty water bottle now. He picked at the label.

“That’s yer problem, kid. Ya lack conviction. No spine. Too embarrassed to ask about city-planets because you fucked up a mouthful of a word like ‘ecumenopolis’, ya get frazzled seein’ droids swarmin’ yer bell tower. Bet your head’s tellin’ ya all sorts of things. A whole heap of voices cloggin’ up your focus. Or maybe it’s not your voice…maybe it's the other kiddos? They got nicknames for ya, kid?”

“My name’s not kid,” Crosshair growled, the bottle crinkling in his grip.

“Oooh,” Bane sneered. “There’s a lil bite to your bark. Alright, fine, but I ain’t callin’ ya by a bunch of numbers. What’d ya wanna be called?”

“Crosshair? Nah, you’re Misfire. And that’s because “Shaky Sniper” is too long.”“We could call him Shaky.”

The whole table erupted in laughter.

Crosshair stopped at the table. He handed his milk to Tech. He calmly placed his sandwich and apple on the table, then tested the weight of the tray.

Satisfied, he slammed the tray into the laughing Regs’ faces. One, two, three Regs fell off the bench seat to the ground. The fourth Reg ran away reporting to the Lieutenant on duty. 

The sight of Regs crying usually cheered Crosshair up, but he was branded “Misfire” now. 

No one was going to see him differently.

“CT-9904,” he tried. 

“Nope. 'Kid' it is,” Cad said, standing up. “Get some rest. Find somethin’ to eat. Soon as we land we’re gonna be up to our eyeballs in fabools. Better be ready.”

What’s a fabool?

Crosshair opened his mouth…could hear Regs laughing at the hiss in his voice...then shut his mouth again.

“Fuck’s sake, kid, stop bein’ yellabellied and ask me.”

“What’s a fabool?”

Bane sneered. “You’ll see.” And with that he climbed up the ladder towards the cockpit, shutting the hatch behind him.

Crosshair grumbled. “Cheeky prick.”

Whatever a fabool was, he hated was gonna hate it. 

And I’m not yellabellied either , Crosshair thought. Whatever that means.

[atinytokki]

My Way

viii. The Voyage

The first night in his new bunk was everything Hongjoong imagined it would be.

It could’ve been dirty, crowded, and doused in pungent scent and he wouldn’t have minded. Despite bustling crewmen and the pitch of the Stardust, he was consumed by an overwhelming sense of peace in the chaos. It was his own little corner of heaven.

He’d been hard at work helping the other crewmen to raise anchor and position the sails, and after a hearty supper full of introductions and recounted tales, he had found his way to the berth, guided by candlelight, and climbed into his hammock.

It was his hammock in a way that his four poster bed back in Jangwon Hall wasn’t his. He didn’t just exist in it, it meant something to him. Whether a different sailor took up that hammock a few months hence didn’t matter in the slightest, it was his for the moment and he was going to enjoy it.

For now that simply meant laying back and tracing the ceiling boards with his gaze, listening to the faint echo of the ship’s groaning as it cut through water, and resisting the pull of sleep that threatened to drag him away.

Hongjoong watched the men around him prepare for the night, some reading, some smoking, a couple conversing quietly, and still more shedding their boots and climbing into bed. The deckhand in the hammock closest rolled onto his side and motioned towards the candlestick.

“Best put that light out now, lad,” he instructed, no-nonsense but not unkind. “Or else pass it off to the night shift.”

Satisfied that he wouldn’t miss anything important in the darkness, Hongjoong leaned forward and blew it out, settling in with a blanket. Somewhere, a deckhand was already snoring.

“Goodnight,” Hongjoong whispered, imagining it to be Mingi.

He rolled over and closed his eyes.

The shrill blast of the boatswain’s whistle at the forenoon watch came as quite a shock after such a pleasant night.

Rushing out of bed and into his clothes, Hongjoong joined the others in his shift under the supervision of the Stardust’s boatswain, Minseob.

Commands and manual labour were no stranger to the boy from Jangwon Hall, but he didn’t mind being ordered around here, a place of freedom where he was more than a cog in the machine, where the riches flowed as soon as they were plundered. This was what he had been preparing for.

It was one thing to learn the ropes, it was another entirely to do the work— training the body in life at sea.

Working alongside him were a variety of older men. Some looked the part of a pirate; burly, tattooed and reeking of liquor, but most appeared to be regular sailors.

Even Minseob retained the bearings of a naval officer and, aside from his eclectic accessorising, stuck to his ways where order was concerned.

The break for lunch was sufficient to rest Hongjoong well enough for another shift if he was needed but Maddox found him belowdecks and informed him he had been summoned.

“To the wardroom. Come on now,” he chuckled when Hongjoong hesitated in surprise. “You’re meant to be cabin boy after all.”

The officers were eating together, though some had already finished and were playing a board game of some type with the extra time.

Sailing Master Jihan had spread out some charts on his corner of the table and was engaged in a conversation with Eden that paused upon Hongjoong’s entrance.

The captain looked up from his work at his protégé and pulled out a chair next to him, welcoming the boy to sit.

Obliging, Hongjoong was soon lit up with excitement as a variety of firearms were placed in front of him to chose from by Jonghoon, Master-At-Arms.

“But I’ve already got mine— well, your old one,” Hongjoong reminded Eden shyly.

“A pirate should have a minimum of two loaded pistols on or within reach of his person at all times,” the pirate responded vehemently. “You don’t want to be caught reloading in a close quarters fight.”

It made sense considering how long it could take to reload a gun in his experience.

“Do you think there will be a fight on this journey?” Hongjoong asked, careful not to sound too worried if it was the case. He could handle it, he was sure.

Eden glanced at Jihan again, who spread his hands, admitting uncertainty. “Perhaps,” the captain settled on. “Navy presence near the archipelago has increased lately, and we are headed south first after all.”

Hongjoong nodded and turned back to the selection in front of him. A shiny pistol was calling his name, so he picked it up and inspected it as he had been taught, ensuring all the parts were clean and well functioning. If the other officers had qualms about this strange boy handling their spare weapons so casually, they did not raise them. It seemed the men trusted their captain.

“Combat training isn’t over, though I’ll be busy day in and day out,” Eden went on, after approving Hongjoong’s choice of weapon. “Go with Babylon to help in the galley for now, and I’ll meet you tonight on the quarterdeck to practice.”

Hongjoong followed orders promptly, stowing the gun before collecting any remaining dishes from the crew and bringing them to the galley to wash.

The action was familiar to him, as he’d laboured in the kitchens of Jangwon more than a few times, but the galley window swung open and let in a sea air that made the entire experience a good deal more pleasant than being in that stuffy hall.

The cook himself sidled up to help dry the cleaned bowls and cutlery, looming with his tall stature and keeping a curious eye on their newest recruit.

“I understand you begged to come aboard with us,” Babylon reported. “Did you realise you asked for the worst job on the ship?”

Hongjoong snorted and passed the man a plate. That wasn’t a problem. “I’ll climb the ranks.”

“Oh, are you quite sure?” Babylon let out a chuckle. “You’ll need a ship of your own to go from cabin boy to captain.”

“Then I can build one,” Hongjoong answered, just as sure. He flicked some soap bubbles into the air mindlessly.

“Does Eden teach you that sort of thing?” The surgeon questioned him, watching the bubbles float away. Two of them popped against the wall but one made it out the window.

“Ship anatomy, cartography, astronomy, strategy, knot-tying, self-defense— all kinds of things,” Hongjoong listed, barely brushing the surface.

“Then I do believe you have the makings of a well-rounded pirate,” Babylon complimented indulgently, offering the boy a towel to wipe his hands when the washing was done. “Although you are missing a few things.”

“Like what?” Hongjoong crossed his arms and gave the man a challenging glare.

A twinkle grew in Babylon’s eye. “Have you ever shot a cannon?”

That was how Hongjoong found himself under the tutelage of Master Gunner Soomin for the rest of the day, bearing witness to a demonstration in the power of the Stardust’s cannons.

It was exhilarating and made for his most exciting lesson by far, but his ears were ringing through supper and when he arrived on the quarterdeck for scheduled practice with Eden, he was still fairly disoriented.

Thanks as well to the darkness of the moonless night and the chill wind that was blowing from the north, Hongjoong took more beatings than he handed out during their sparring session, frustrating himself immensely.

“You must become impervious to your environment, Hongjoong,” Eden scolded lightly, scraping him with the sword when he failed to dodge yet again and widening the hole in his blouse. “There are no city lights to help you here at sea. If your night vision is truly this abysmal, you’ll struggle to see an enemy sneak up on you.”

Gritting his teeth, Hongjoong parried the next blow and returned with one of his own, overreaching and struggling to maintain his balance. With a sigh, Eden merely nudged him with his sword hilt and sent him tumbling back over the rail to hit the main deck hard on his tailbone.

Groaning, Hongjoong picked himself up gingerly, observing the way the sailor on watch duty snorted and shook his head in amusement.

“I’m just not at my best today,” he muttered by way of an excuse, holding his head in his hands. It must be the pressure of so many people to impress.

“Then you had better find your best and never lose it again,” Eden’s voice answered, and Hongjoong glanced up to see him descending from the quarterdeck, sword sheathed.

“It’s about consistency,” he went on. “You’ve beaten me before and if you give your all, you can do so again. But the day your form isn’t at its best could be the day the Navy knocks on your door. And then you’d better hope they give you a chance.”

Hongjoong pursed his lips, riled up. “Give me his watch,” he demanded, pointing towards the clueless sailor on duty without a glance in his direction.

For his part, Eden looked pleasantly surprised. “What for?”

“I’ll show you I can handle it. Let me take the night shift.”

The pirate tilted his head in thought for a moment before agreeing and dismissing the now gleeful sailor to his berth.

“It’s four hours,” he reminded his apprentice, careful not to let his concern show but giving himself away with his hesitation.

“I know,” Hongjoong countered confidently. “I learned all the protocol. I can even take the wheel so we don’t spend the night anchored.”

“Very well,” Eden turned to head back to his cabin. “I’ll check on you halfway through.”

Hongjoong cracked a knowing smile. If the objective was weathering the elements, that was just what he would do. It was all a mental game anyway, he reasoned, he could stand the discomfort to prove a point.

He deserved to be here and he would earn his place every day if he had to.

The air was clear and the waves quiet in their lapping at the hull, reminding him very much of his family fishing days what felt like long ago now, back when he had been naïve to the dangers of the sea.

He watched the distant cliffs pass by and calculated in his head how far from Panhang they must have sailed by now. Surely his plan to navigate overnight would save them a great deal of time.

Every once in awhile the wind increased from behind, filling the sails until they became taut against their ropes and ruffling Hongjoong’s clothes. He felt the holes poked in his shirt more and more as the temperature dropped.

It was still winter on the northern coast after all, and that ushering wind was likely an arctic one.

Shivering and growing numb but determined not to give in, Hongjoong flexed his hands where they gripped the wheel and forced himself to focus. All he had to do was maintain their course, and if his legs gave out, so be it.

The sound of the door to the captain’s cabin creaking open distracted him for a moment, and the protégé turned to see his master approaching from inside with a blanket, slinging it wordlessly over his shoulders.

Hongjoong gladly accepted it but flashed the pirate a suspicious glance at his timing.

“Hyung, were you watching from inside this whole time?”

“W-What?” Eden coughed out, truly at a loss for words yet again due to this boy and his dropping of formalities. “Of course not, I merely noticed the chill. It looks as if it may snow.”

Hongjoong lifted his gaze to the cloudy sky and hummed in agreement, turning again to the starboard side for his last view of the cliffs. The last view of his old fishing grounds. He wondered what his parents would think if they saw him now. Maybe they were watching from somewhere unreachable.

After a moment of silence, Eden took note of the way he craned his neck for a final glimpse and asked him about it.

“What are you searching for out there?”

Hongjoong bit his lip and lowered his head. It felt stupid to try to explain the feelings of nostalgia bubbling inside but he could only picture his parents with this view, a view he’d had every day for most of his childhood.

“I know they’re gone, I saw their bodies. But part of me held on to the hope that they were still out there somewhere, somehow. That I just hadn’t looked hard enough.” He sighed and faced Eden again, continuing, “I know I won’t find them, but I’m looking for them anyway in a manner of speaking.”

The captain forced down a swallow and trained his eyes ahead on nothing in particular, as if afraid even a flinch would shatter his young apprentice.

“It can be dangerous to imagine ghosts in the places you wish to see them,” he whispered solemnly.

Hongjoong frowned. The pirate seemed as if he spoke from experience, seeing the ghosts he spoke of in a scene unfolding before his eyes.

“But…” Eden cleared his throat and shook himself out of his reverie. “Perhaps they are guiding your travels. Just out of view.”

With a nod Hongjoong told him that was how he pictured them now, leading him on his way from the sky.

“I thought the day they died, I died,” he admitted. “I never would’ve guessed I could come back out here one day. Certainly not like this.”

He smiled in appreciation for the trustworthy Stardust that carried him hence and Eden mirrored it, unable to resist.

“Steady on, Hongjoong,” he encouraged, heading back towards the cabin for bed. “Maddox will take the watch after yours.”

“Yessir,” Hongjoong called back, suppressing a giggle. Captain or no, if he could get away with teasing the Dread Pirate, he’d gladly do so.

As usual, Eden had been right and as the night wore on, Hongjoong’s vision did indeed adjust to the darkness. He wrapped the blanket around him to preserve body heat and stave off the cold, so the next problem was the matter of keeping awake.

He entertained himself with quiet singing and reciting random lines and poems he remembered, passing the time as best he could while confined to the quarterdeck.

Just as his four hours came to an end, the clouds dispersed to share the light of the stars.

They were brilliant already, having adjusted his sight, and Hongjoong could only imagine how much brighter they looked to the east with no light of civilisation to hide them.

Maddox’s teasing voice interrupted his thoughts as he joined him on the quarterdeck. “Look at you, standing at the wheel. It’s almost as big as you are.”

“And yet I did not waver!” Hongjoong shot back, insistent. Still, he couldn’t help but show his relief on letting go of the wheel that he was finally able to stretch away the soreness of standing in one place for so long. “Check the charts, we’re still on course.”

Maddox obliged and kept up idle conversation while he checked. “Not biting off more than we can chew, are we?”

“No, just taking on what I know I’m ready for,” Hongjoong replied with a grin. He was nothing if not ambitious for a first time voyager.

The quartermaster was quiet for a moment more before rolling up his chart again and returning a smile to the young pirate. “Fortunately for you, you’re correct,” he affirmed. “We are very much on track. Should I continue on or drop anchor as usual?”

Hongjoong gave the question a bit of thought. “Well, hyung— I mean Captain— didn’t say. But seeing as I don’t want to be finished with my first voyage too soon, I wouldn’t object to dropping anchor. It would give me a chance to capture these stars.”

“Capture them?” Maddox asked, confused.

In lieu of a proper answer, Hongjoong instructed him to wait while he fetched a plain canvas bag from below to demonstrate with.

Thanks to some helpful timing he also took advantage of Minseob’s presence on deck rousing the men to drop anchor to sneak into the boatswain’s lodgings and swipe his paint pots.

“Whose paints are those?” Maddox snorted, skeptical, when Hongjoong returned with his supplies. “Did you steal them just now?”

Hongjoong pulled up a seat and settled in, pretending to be affronted at the accusation. “Well we’re pirates, aren’t we? I thought stealing was part of the job. And it’s not stealing, it’s borrowing. I’ll give them back when I’m done.”

The quartermaster rolled his eyes fondly at the teen and refocused on the task at hand, still curious what the young apprentice was planning.

It was a bit difficult to distinguish from among similar shades of blue and violet, so Hongjoong opened his mouth to ask for a lantern to be brought only to find Maddox already approaching him with one.

“Thanks,” he chirped, positioning the bag on his lap and beginning to slather it in paint to make the background. “It’ll be just as good as carrying charts when I’m finished.”

“The stars?” Maddox asked for confirmation, realising what the aim of this spontaneous art project was. “You’re painting the stars over Panhang.”

Hongjoong hummed an affirmation, deeply concentrated on the act of placing each individual white dot in the correct location.

It took him a great deal of time to ensure his work was correct and precise and yet more time to bring it up to a visual standard with nicely blended colours to represent the sky.

Satisfied at last, two hours later, he drew his final stroke and hung the canvas bag to dry.

“There,” he said in satisfaction, mostly to himself. “Now they’ll always be with me.”

Overhearing this but unwilling to question him about it, Maddox remained at his post for the watch, waiting for Hongjoong to pack up his supplies before reminding him of the hour and nudging him along to bed.

Hongjoong stuck out his tongue in defiance but obeyed gladly, energy finally spent.

He was a pirate in training now, bedtimes were of no consequence.

He’d regret it in the morning, but his temporary guardian Babylon would have mercy and let him sleep in until noon when dishes needed to be washed again.

It was around lunchtime that Hongjoong emerged from the hold, reporting for duty in the galley and catching up on the washing after a quick meal of his own.

Yesterday had given him the chance to quickly get the hang of where things were located, and some of his free time in the afternoon when Babylon was busy with surgeon duties was spent in the food pantry and storage areas taking stock of what ingredients had been brought along on a trip such as this.

When it was time to get back to work, Hongjoong was deemed a cooking hazard after Babylon witnessed his method of frying eggs and relegated to lesser tasks around the galley.

So he sat atop a barrel shucking oysters instead, listening to the man go on about the delicate art of cooking until he grew bored enough to get lost in his own daydreams.

“And you had better stitch up the holes in that shirt, you know,” Babylon was saying when Hongjoong finally tuned back in. “I’m not sure if Eden will allow you ashore with us when we reach Keunhae to buy another.”

“Oh...” Hongjoong sighed, glancing down at the fabric, peppered with small tears that grew bigger the more he moved. It was nice and warm in the galley thanks to the fireplace, but on deck it would only take a slight breeze to send him shivering. “I would if I knew how.”

“You haven’t tried sewing yet?” The cook tutted disapprovingly. “It’s an under-appreciated but very useful pirate skill. There’s always mending to be done, especially on the sails.”

Hongjoong smiled in embarrassment. “I’ve watched my aunts and cousins embroider cushions before. I take it this is not the same thing.”

“Not exactly, but I’m sure they use a variety of stitches that may be useful to you,” Babylon explained, taking the nearest basket of oysters to add to the stew. “Finish that last batch there and find me in the infirmary after supper. It’s as good a time as any to learn.”

As the sun began to set in a spectacular display of colours and the archipelago appeared on the horizon, Hongjoong watched carefully while the pirate mended his shirt and then practiced stitching some scrap by himself late into the night.

Just as Babylon predicted, Maddox dropped in before bed to inform Hongjoong he was to stay with the ship when they anchored, disguised as a generic merchant ship.

The quartermaster then hurried off to see to the docking process, muttering about having to pay the wharfing fee.

Hongjoong didn’t become jealous until the morning when there was much more to see through the little porthole window by his bunk; activity on the docks and a village market just beyond. A flock of geese flew south in formation.

With Eden and the rest of the officers gone, there was only Minseob left to bother from among his friends, so Hongjoong spent the day playing cards with him.

Babylon returned distracted, toting a new purchase with him to his office; a spellbook of the mystic arts.

Hongjoong could manage chores in the galley just fine without him, but when suppertime rolled around he poked his head in the infirmary to ask what he should do.

“Nothing for now, boy,” Babylon shot over his shoulder, still elbow deep in his new book but pushing it to the side and getting to his feet. “I’ll see to the meal, you can go up on deck until the bell.”

The Stardust was leaving port and he was quickly needed to help weigh anchor.

Babylon’s new studying material took up all his free time in the following days, and Hongjoong only saw him at mealtimes for awhile, performing his duties regularly otherwise.

Running from place to place to bring food and drinks to the officers was the best part of being cabin boy for giving Hongjoong the chance to find out what everyone was up to throughout the day. Sometimes it was rigging the sails, sometimes cleaning the cannons, sometimes plotting their course.

Everything Hongjoong had left to learn, he took upon himself to try.

It was one of those afternoons where he sat reading in his hammock while the old pirate beside him napped away his pesky winter fever when the wind changed.

The Stardust had turned east, prowling the shipping lanes for easy prey, and hadn’t yet gotten a bite, and now it seemed something in the air had changed.

In the hammock next to him, the deckhand sat up with a groan and a hacking cough and peered out the window before shaking his head. “A storm’s coming.”

Hongjoong’s stomach dropped and his hands seemed to freeze on hearing his. “Is it?” His voice was little more than a whisper, and the book in his grip became a lifeline. “Are you sure it’s not the aches and pains of your illness?”

“They don’t call me the Weathervane for nothing,” the old pirate muttered gruffly, leaving the room and going up on deck to ensure the captain knew what was headed for them.

At this time of year, surely it was just a bit of rain. Not a typhoon like the kind that blasted through these waters in late summer. Not one like the storm that killed his parents.

For all his bravery in setting out for the sea once more, Hongjoong hadn’t pushed his luck in a storm since that day. Not since he felt the boat crack underneath him and the crash of the waves swallow him whole.

Distantly he could hear the cries of men readying to face down the tempest and retreated further into his bed. They wouldn’t need him on deck, what could he possibly do to help in this paralysed state?

True to the Weathervane’s word, clouds were gathering and speeding toward them at a rapid pace when Hongjoong finally worked up the nerve to go to the porthole window and look. Already the rocking of the ship was harsher than the rhythm he had become accustomed to.

It didn’t take much longer for the crack of thunder to grow louder as wind battered the Stardust and washed torrents of seawater over the sides and down into the hold.

A group of crewmen hurried down with buckets to bail the pooling water, and when it began to gather around his ankles, Hongjoong jumped in to join them.

It was backbreaking work and more than once Hongjoong found himself knocked backwards by the force of a sudden wave, soaked in the rising bilge water and shaking from the cold.

Minseob’s boatswain whistle sounded from above, the tune that summoned the officers and, wondering what their strategy was for safely exiting the storm, Hongjoong paused and considered going up to join them.

Handing his pail to another crewman and peering up through the grating, he watched the heavy rain, flying sideways through the air, and pushed back his fear.

He could do this.

History would not repeat itself.

Shakily, he climbed to the main deck, noticing the officers dispersing from their quick meeting to various stations around the ship. It appeared that some of them were assigned to oversee the working of the pumps, some to continue in the bailing efforts, and others to secure the rigging which was half done.

Eden himself was at the wheel, carefully navigating a veritable minefield of treacherous high waves. Hongjoong moved to the side and held fast to the bulwark, cowering from the storm but carefully watching the captain’s movements.

A scream from above suddenly captured his attention, the snapping of a rope and then the sickening crack of bones as a pirate in the rigging lost his hold, missed his footing, slipped in the rain, and tumbled down to the main deck.

Hongjoong’s heart jumped into his throat at the sight of the man, dead on impact with his limbs splayed in a most unusual way from the force of the fall.

Fearful eyes traced heavenward at the place where he had been securing the sail, the fore upper topsail yard.

He left behind a corner of the buntline which let the sail flap in the wind, needing to be hauled taut. None of the older riggers were able to do it, not with a broken lift rope and the tapering edge too small for them to perch on.

Babylon was rushing to inspect the body, but Hongjoong found himself walking to the shrouds.

He glanced back at Eden for a moment before ascending them. The captain met his eyes and nodded him on.

He had conquered his fear, now he must conquer the sea.

Scampering up the shrouds, Hongjoong met Youngsaeng in the topsails and followed him to the treacherous beam. He had quickly surmised the boy’s purpose there without any verbal indications.

“Are you sure about this?” The master rigger asked, grasping the boy by the shoulder and levelling him with his eyes, dead serious. He didn’t want yet another sailor’s blood on his hands.

Hongjoong nodded wordlessly and began to move on his own. He could do it.

The feeling of the mast shuddering under his hands was so familiar, but he pushed away the memories and willed his limbs to move.

“Help me now,” he whispered into the sky, hoping his parents could hear him from somewhere.

In the battering of the wind, the yard was very unstable, but Hongjoong clung to it with what strength he had and shimmied and reached forward, peering through sheets of rain to see the lines in front of him.

He knew his running rigging by heart, and it took only a few swift motions to fully lash the sail before he could scramble back to safety. A flash of lightning close to the ship made him startle in panic, but he tangled his arms in the shrouds and steadily made his way back down with Youngsaeng’s thanks.

Being the oldest officer aboard, it was probably not the easiest job for the man to distribute his weight properly on the precarious end of one of the smallest yardarms, rope or no rope.

Eden was busy angling the prow to avoid being beaten down by the waves, but signalled Hongjoong up to the quarterdeck when he noticed his reappearance.

“Well done,” he told him simply, as if he wasn’t also straining to maintain the Stardust’s heading. “You are much more powerful than you know.”

Relieved to hear such praise, Hongjoong’s heartbeat returned to a much closer pace to normal and he bowed in acknowledgement before rejoining the work belowdecks.

Though the next hour was not comfortable by any means, the worst had passed, and Hongjoong was satisfied when at last he could empty his bucket for good and curl up in bed with a warm blanket.

By night, the storm had abated to milder rainfall. The next morning, the Stardust entered a fog bank and continued east for the trade winds.

Hongjoong found himself feverish the next morning with a throat so sore he could barely speak and unable to rise to report for work. Embarrassed when Babylon himself came down to the berth to rouse him, he tried to climb up to the galley, but his head pounded and his vision spun.

Seeing the symptoms, Babylon brought the boy instead to the infirmary for a tonic to soothe the illness, one he’d been treating all week as it spread around the lower decks.

“Here’s an ointment for the cough, rub it on your back and chest and sleep here with your head propped up,” he instructed matter-of-factly, offering a blanket and a small bowl of the ointment.

“But hyung, what about the washing?” Hongjoong protested, not very strong of a protestation from him due to his present inability to stand from the bed Babylon was ushering him into.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be taken care of,” the surgeon reassured him, tucking in the blankets himself. “Your only orders for the rest of the week are to recover. I’ll inform the captain.”

Hongjoong meant to quip about what a great deal of power Babylon must have to be able to tell Eden what the orders would be, but began dozing off into a dreamless sleep before the thought fully formed.

He was awoken by the startling bang of a cannon and jumped into a sitting position, his headache hammering into his skull with every pulse beat. In order to find out what was going on, he crept to the main deck, blanket slung around his shoulders, and watched.

It was the man who had fallen from the mast during the storm, with his canvas hammock sewn into a shroud around him, the final stitch poking through his nose as was tradition, being sent to sea with a salute of the guns.

What possessions he must have brought aboard with him went also to the depths, aside from some valuables divided amongst his friends. Hongjoong hadn’t known the man— could only remember seeing him twice really—but it was a somber affair regardless and it spoke volumes to him that these pirates of all people had done what they could to give a stranger in their service the proper respect as he departed this world.

Silently returning to the infirmary, he took the tonic left there for him, struggled to keep it down, and settled in to sleep again when another patient shot him a dirty look. His thoughts kept him up for awhile, swirling around the fallen pirate’s sudden demise, Eden’s respect for the dead, Mingi fishing back in Panhang, and his parents as they’d gone to a watery grave in their final moments.

His dreams returned him to that fateful day, a little over four years ago now, when storm clouds had gathered and the fierce waves which rocked their boat had done so much more damage than they had to the Stardust.

It had stormed in his path yet again even after that night, as if the ocean kept coming back for him. And it kept failing.

In the days that followed, when Hongjoong was well enough to return to his own hammock, he sometimes wondered what was happening back at Jangwon. Was Yubin growing up well? What were his aunts up to today? Had anything interesting happened to his cousins?

They’d all collapse from the shock if they knew what he was doing now.

It was almost midwinter and the Stardust was presently bearing down upon a supply ship, overtaking it with ease and preparing to finally see some action.

Hongjoong geared up with his new weapons and stood by the rail, scaling a rope to see what was happening on the deck of the other ship over the heads of fellow crewmen in his way.

Again, Maddox was the bearer of bad news with orders from Eden that Hongjoong hang back and only cross to the ship when it was secure to help with loading.

But pirates were made for breaking rules, so he hung back until he saw fit to cross the boards to the supply ship, disarming three men himself (all of whom were immobilised by the shock of his apparent age more than anything) before it was officially taken, very proud despite Eden’s muted irritation.

The captain saved his apprentice the inevitable earful about how interacting with anyone outside the Stardust risked unmasking his identity and jeopardised his secrecy from Jangwon and instead fixed him with a warning glare before seeing to the transfer of pilfered goods.

Hongjoong didn’t really care if it meant he had his share of the fun.

The other officers didn’t quite understand the complicated dynamics of his life in the Hall or what being recognised by a civilian trade ship worker could do to him and so predictably were impressed and offered hearty congratulations on his first raid.

Well after the sun had gone down, Hongjoong was knocking on the door to the captain’s cabin and making his way inside with a request. As mere cabin boy, he shouldn't have such easy access to the area but the officers always let him in anyway.

He liked spending time in there, admiring the decor and the organisation and wondering how it might be improved or better suited to his own style.

Maybe some more colour in the windows or better ceiling storage.

Eden was hard at work apparently drawing on one of his maps, marked with his unmistakable bird symbol in the corner.

“What are you writing?” Hongjoong queried, peeking over his hyung’s shoulder.

Eden didn’t budge and didn’t offer any information.

“Nothing.”

And truly despite his pen strokes, the page appeared to be empty. Perhaps something was there in invisible ink. Hongjoong didn’t stop to dwell on it and shot back a quip, “Ah, I see. Very clever.”

He lingered until Eden sighed and looked up, indulging the boy who so clearly required his attention.

“What is it you want?”

“Join us!” Hongjoong proposed with a cheeky smile. “The officers are breaking out the rum in celebration.”

Scoffing, the captain raised an eyebrow at him, asking, “And when did you become an officer?”

“They invited me!” Hongjoong protested, pulling at his hand to get him up from the desk. “Take it up with them.”

Eden found himself dumbfounded again at the boy’s outstanding ability to charm his way into any relationship.

It seemed his men had gone just as soft as he.

“Very well,” he replied, pulling his hand back but giving in knowingly. If Hongjoong and the officers wished it, he had no choice but to make an appearance. "I'll come down when I've finished this."

Hongjoong was learning some of the more obscure sea shanties from Minseob when Eden finally showed his face in the wardroom.

They sang the raucous tunes together rowdily over the first few rounds of drinks and cards and soon Hongjoong had a plethora of melodies filed away in his memory.

He hadn’t sung like this in a long time, loud and carefree with a chorus of men around him. It was fascinating to hear the pirates’ voices, used in the daytime to keep the rhythm of their work alive but now lifting up in simple amusement.

Eden’s tone was softer than expected, and Maddox could reach the highest notes of anyone at the table, but not without prompting a match to see if anyone could beat him.

When the others piled on to tease Youngsaeng for announcing that he was heading out to read, Hongjoong took the opportunity to ask Eden a personal question.

“Hyung, I’ve been wondering about something.”

Eden blinked at him, curious and slightly wary, but said, “Go on.”

“When the Navy caught you and tortured you…” Hongjoong trailed off, biting his lip and wondering belatedly if it was too sensitive a topic before going on, “How could you stand it?”

The pirate downed another drink before answering the question.

“Torture is about control.”

He leaned forward and clasped his hands, explaining the situation as if giving a warning. “The enemy wants to take it from you, but if you refuse to allow them to break your will, you can emerge, scarred, but with the satisfaction that you’ve drowned their plans in silence.”

Hongjoong swallowed and traced the grain of the table with his eyes. He couldn’t easily imagine such a state.

“It must be difficult to endure,” he muttered.

“Until you learn how to distance yourself from your own pain…” Eden trailed off and then drew a long breath, as if giving bad news. “It is.”

Hongjoong tucked the information away for later, hoping he wouldn’t need it. It sounded like a technique best mastered through practice.

“It doesn’t always need to come to torture, though,” the pirate followed up quickly, an attempt at reassurance. “If you’re dealing with multiple officers, there may be another way out. Learn what you can about them, which you can piss off, which you can flatter, which you can bribe, and which you can threaten. In every situation, do what you can to know your enemy.”

Thinking it over for a moment, Hongjoong considered a different approach.

“What about those which you can recruit to your cause?”

Eden cracked a small smile and shook his head knowingly. It was a highly optimistic proposal from the young apprentice, but he couldn’t dismiss it entirely.

“If it is possible to infiltrate Navy power structures to that extent, I haven’t discovered how to do it,” the captain admitted. “Aside from Minseob I guess, which wasn’t entirely my doing.”

Hearing his name, the boatswain clinked glasses with his captain in salute and the rest of the officers ceased their side conversation to join in.

Sailing Master Jihan leaned over from next to Hongjoong and made a sarcastic aside in his direction. “Must be why he’s the only former naval officer aboard. Captain never makes the same mistake twice.”

Aside from Minseob who rolled his eyes in annoyance, the other officers broke out into a slightly drunken laughter.

Master Gunner Soomin piped up from his end with a remark, “I think our Dread Pirate Eden simply hasn’t been able to relax and relate to the more amenable lower ranked soldiers much yet.”

“One of his many regrets,” Babylon hummed in agreement.

“Forgive me if I only want the finest crewing the best pirate ship the world has ever seen!” Eden scoffed, punctuating his exclamation with a swig of rum.

“You and Admiral Kim, goodness,” Maddox tutted in fond amazement. “Two big egos, head to head.”

Head still pointed down in his drink, Eden balked at the mention of the Admiral, eager to draw a distinction between them. “He’s out for money and fame.”

Interested in the topic of the infamous enemy of pirates, Hongjoong caught his mentor’s attention and dug for more. “So, what, he’s jealous? Because you have both? Why doesn’t he just go dig for buried treasure instead?”

“Oh, maybe because he’s barking mad?” Jihan crowed with a jeering laugh that set off the whole table again.

Eden folded his arms and dignified his apprentice with a serious response. “Despite what you may have heard, we don’t typically bury our treasure. Not on purpose anyway.”

The smile fell from Hongjoong’s face. Where was the fun in that?

“Why save your gold for another day when your life could be over tomorrow?” Eden continued, a perfectly good explanation, before hesitating and downing another drink. “Typically.”

Stars lit up in Hongjoong’s eyes at the implication and he lowered his voice to a near whisper to ask, “Typically as in… you’re the exception?”

Eden sighed and rolled his head back to rest on the chair he sat in, eyes snapped shut in defeat. Hongjoong always managed to wrangle the truth out of him somehow.

“Well, it may yet prove to be lucrative in my case, given the Navy’s pursuit, to keep a hidden stash somewhere for myself and any successors,” he carefully divulged. “That’s all I’ll say on the matter.”

By now enough strong drink had been consumed to lower inhibitions and Jihan’s volume was a bit too loud for comfort when he butted in once more asking, “Yonghwan-hyung is it me? Am I the successor—?”

Minseob quickly shot him a glare and a brief scolding for addressing Eden too informally.

“That’s ‘Captain’ to you, Jihan.”

“You let Hongjoong say his name all the time!” The navigator complained just as loudly but sat back in his own chair, yielding.

And it was true, Minseob had been especially lenient on their newest recruit which was entirely out of character.

“Perhaps I trust him more not to go blabbing about it,” the boatswain said with a shrug. “At the very least a codename would be prudent.”

“Oh, please,” Jihan whined, dismissing the idea. “I’m not calling him the Dread Pirate Eden while drinking in the wardroom. You go too far, dear boatswain.”

Hongjoong frowned at this and turned to him in confusion.

“Is that the purpose of a codename?” He asked, slightly embarrassed that he hadn’t known. Like many things the pirates did, he assumed it was just for flair. “I had always thought I’d prefer using my own.”

“Oh, you don’t really have a choice in the matter,” Jihan chuckled. “Pirates attract nicknames. If any old salt has heard of you, you can be sure he’s already nicknamed you. Sailors love to tell stories.”

“Just hope you don’t get something stupid attached to your persona for the rest of your life,” Maddox advised from his side of the table. “Reputation is everything for a pirate.”

“I liked Captain Seongho’s,” Jonghoon interjected brightly, quickly defending his choice when mention of the old disgraced Seongho proved unpopular. “‘The Shark’ is very fitting, his ship was even called the Hammerhead.”

Maddox turned to their captain and sized him up, considering his nickname. “The Dread Pirate is… well, could be worse.”

“Could be better,” Eden mumbled. It was a typical night for him, beset by his joking officers.

The revelry continued until most of the officers had retired for bed and Babylon collected the dishes, leaving them in the galley for tomorrow’s washing.

Before the captain and quartermaster could turn in, however, Hongjoong approached them with a humble request.

“There’s something else I’ve been meaning to ask, a—” He interrupted himself with a dry cough, the last remnant of his earlier bout of sickness. “A favour.”

And that was how he ended up in the captain's cabin with his ears pierced several times over.

Maddox chuckled as he put away the needle he had used, impressed with Hongjoong’s insistence that it didn’t hurt.

“Now we’ve got to give it enough time to heal before we go to Panhang,” Eden pointed out from the seat at his desk. “Or else your guardians could notice it.”

“Unlikely,” Hongjoong responded, a bitter twinge to his voice even while he busied himself with inspecting his new jewellery in the handheld mirror Maddox had offered him. “I keep telling you, they don’t pay that much attention to me.”

“Regardless, it will be safest to lay low for a while after you get back,” the captain insisted with a tone of finality in his voice, barely glancing up from his maps.

Hongjoong’s mood darkened at the mention of the return journey. He didn’t want to think about that just yet.

“Let me live it up here first,” he argued, a tad petulant. It had always worked on the captain before. “That’s the point of my being here, isn’t it?”

Eden’s distracted grunt from the desk as he poured himself another drink from his private stores was answer enough, and Hongjoong grinned at Maddox in triumph.

It was his chance to experience pirate life, after all.

And as he looked at himself in the mirror, he realised he was beginning to look the part. Aside from the piercings, his hair was tousled and growing past his ears, a far cry from the polished appearance he was expected to have at Jangwon. Freckles sprinkled ruddy cheeks, a sign of all his time in the sun lately, and the mischievous smile he was sporting much better suited him than the bleak expression he was used to wearing at the Hall.

The colonies would be his new playground.

Hongjoong was sitting on the main deck with Minseob and Babylon, helping to repair some equipment, when Coral Harbour came into view. The Stardust had opted to bypass Kibo after receiving a tip that a number of navy ships were gathered there. It seemed they wouldn’t be the only pirates undercover for the midwinter festivities.

The lucky seamen without wanted posters of their faces plastered all over the island were permitted to go and celebrate for the night while they were anchored. It would take a bit more disguising for the officers, however, a fact which Babylon seemed to have forgotten as he got to his feet and turned to climb down to the docks.

“I’ll go and secure lodging,” he offered an explanation and climbed over the rail, stopped by Minseob’s panicked shout.

“They’ll recognise you instantly! Send one of the deckhands to do it instead.”

“No they won’t,” rebutted Babylon with a sly smile. Before their eyes, his form began to change into that of another man. His face was becoming warped and aged, and his height changed, shrinking down as if he had hunched his back. Even the clothing he wore was now grey in colour where it had been blue before.

Hongjoong’s jaw dropped and he and Minseob both went speechless.

This was magic of some kind happening right in front of him. Hongjoong had always presumed it to be possible but never so clear, happening plain as day and so fast you could blink and miss it.

If only Mingi could see this now, then all his superstitions would be confirmed.

“Very handy, isn’t it?” Babylon chuckled through this stranger’s face. Even his voice was different, much more than a mere added gruffness.

Hongjoong approached cautiously and reached out a hand to touch him. This was no illusion, it was like another man in the flesh. “Where did you learn it?”

“The spellbook from that village on Keunhae,” Babylon admitted, conjuring a hat for his head and adjusting it to fit properly. “There are a great deal many useful ideas in there. Not just on changing form but other kinds of magic. I’m working on making things disappear. Image how useful that could be! I mean, even the implications of this medically are astounding…”

“Well, carry on then,” Minseob laughed, amazed. “I didn’t know the gift of sorcery could be… developed… like this. We’ll have to consult the Mystic when we travel southwest from here.”

Hongjoong watched Babylon go with excitement, feeling as if an entirely new world was just unlocked for him.

“Did you know about this?” Minseob asked the cabin boy, a glint of delight in his own eye as well.

“No!” Hongjoong laughed, unable to wipe the smile from his face. “But I guess it makes sense now why he’s been so busy recently.”

And the new sorcerer’s work had paid off, for no one was the wiser when he purchased the officers a hallway full of rooms at the nearest inn to the docks and ushered them in under the innkeeper’s nose.

So dedicated was he that, when the others went out to see fireworks set off and dancers and acrobats in the square, Babylon stayed behind to study some more.

Hongjoong watched the festival show with a giddiness he hadn’t felt since he was a little boy. It felt like he was seeing the world for the first time in every new trick and trinket.

He spent a chunk of the money he’d saved up in the marketplace, trying a variety of street foods and buying some silver jewellery for his newly pierced ears. The atmosphere was a bit more chaotic than Panhang, but it had this vibrant quality to it that intrigued him. It was a colony of Jaecho, not at all autonomous but distant from mainland society and structure. Perhaps the further east you travelled, the more lawless and independent the islands became.

If they were all this colourful and animated, he’d gladly explore every one of them.

The festivities lasted late into the night, and by the time the men returned to their lodging, Hongjoong was fully prepared to sleep away his exhaustion.

In the morning, only boring work remained, like restocking the ship and careening the Stardust for repairs. Barnacles must be shed and leaks must be caulked to ensure she could travel at her swiftest, lest those navy ships lurking near Kibo catch up with them on their way to plot out the uncharted islands in the south.

The Mystic’s Island was supposedly located almost halfway between the colonies and the mainland, back the way they had come but southward, approximate in latitude to the Tae peninsula. Due to the large stretches of open ocean around it, and its measurable distance from trade routes, the area was relatively unexplored, hence Eden’s mission to explore the nearby uninhabited islands.

Despite their efforts, the way was blocked barely a few hours after they set out again by the Seabear, a navy ship directly in their path.

“I can handle this,” Babylon quickly offered when the sighting was called. “I’ll disguise myself as a whaling ship captain and you officers can wait below.”

Thinking quickly, Eden agreed to this plan and ordered for the colours to be changed. They had a number of fake flags to fly.

Hongjoong watched out of the corner of his eye while he brought down the flag as instructed and replaced it with a neutral one. The Seabear hadn’t seen them yet, but the closer they drifted, the more likely they would be noticed.

Babylon had altered his appearance yet again, this time to another strange face Hongjoong had never seen. He wondered if Babylon invented these alter egos entirely or if they were based on someone’s likeness.

Remaining nondescript and in the background, he observed Babylon at the helm taking on another character entirely, down to his manner of gesturing. When the Seabear drew close enough for conversation, he spoke with the navy officers for a few moments and then they were again on their way, two ships passing each other.

Despite how easily they had made it through, there was a dark cloud over the sorcerer when he returned to his regular form and work in the galley.

“That was excellent,” Hongjoong complimented from the table where he chopped vegetables, excited after such a risky encounter. It was just the sort of scheme that made pirate life rewarding. “The Stardust can get away with anything with you on board. How did you learn the ability so quickly?”

Ignoring the question, Babylon put his frustration into seasoning the meat, pounding spices into it and mumbling, “Could get away with more if we finished the job.”

“What do you mean?” Hongjoong asked, confused. It had gone off without a hitch, it was the perfect escape.

“We should’ve killed them,” Babylon turned and stared at the boy like it was obvious. “They’re just in our way.”

“I-I didn’t think that was the way of things,” Hongjoong stuttered and his hands stilled. Sure, they were pirates but they didn’t pick fights and murder excessively. “We intimidate and take hostages, taking lives is a last resort—”

“And that’s why we keep running into them,” Babylon cut him off, stone cold. It was tensely quiet for a moment before he continued his cooking. “Because we refuse to eliminate our enemies.”

Hongjoong considered the possibility late into the night. He supposed with Babylon’s new skills the Stardust could go on the offensive and strike anyone who might strike them first. But what would that entail?

Combat with trained soldiers, not unsuspecting merchants.

And, as confident as he was growing, Hongjoong wasn’t ready for that level of fighting yet.

He approached Jonghoon the next day to get in some target practice, and the Master-At-Arms easily obliged. Eden had only been able to oversee Hongjoong’s training personally once or twice since beginning their voyage, and they all knew it would be good for the boy to work with the other officers as well.

Long range shooting wasn’t the easiest for Hongjoong, but the encounter with the Seabear had made him restless and so he took the time required to improve his precision and timing.

Jonghoon helped him with little adjustments here and there until he was consistently accurate.

Some mornings, the pirates who shared quarters with him would take their breakfast on the main deck to watch him shoot a row of bottles off the quarterdeck railing from the other side of the ship.

“Good,” Jonghoon coached him. “Now relo—”

He was interrupted by the bang of the pistol going off again as Hongjoong pulled out his second gun and began firing, no reloading necessary.

The final bottle shattered and Babylon laughed from his place on the starboard side, “I think he was paying attention on his first day.”

The squawk of a great frigatebird lighting on the yard above Hongjoong’s head distracted him from readying a teasing retort, and all of a sudden the pirates were cheering him on to shoot the thing down.

Without hesitating for more than a second, he took his aim. The large bird was just perched there on the mast momentarily, not paying any attention to the people down below.

“Go on!” Babylon hissed through his teeth, just in case it spooked and flew off.

Before it knew what hit it, the frigatebird was blasted out of the sky and fell to the deck. Hongjoong remained still, tensed with his gun trained where the bird had been a moment earlier.

He’d shot it down.

The spectating pirates clapped courteously and went back to their business, aside from Babylon who approached with a satisfied smile.

“They’re a lot like us,” he pointed out when he had the large bird by the scruff of its neck, ensuring that it was dead.

“How do you mean?” Hongjoong asked quietly, holstering his pistol. “I thought frigatebirds couldn’t swim.”

“They can’t,” Babylon agreed. “They’re like us because they’re thieves. They steal food from other birds you know.”

Finally Hongjoong exhaled and cracked a small smile at the surgeon’s humour. It was a bit unsettling to watch the bird die by his own hand.

“First kill?” Babylon asked him knowingly.

He nodded. “With the gun anyway. Fish and shellfish aren’t quite the same as shooting a frigatebird out of the sky. Do you think we can eat it? I’d hate to have killed it for no reason.”

Perhaps in Babylon’s eyes it was a little boy’s innocent affection for the bird talking, but especially from a pirate’s perspective Hongjoong knew the creatures of the sea were travellers there just like them. As meaningful a death as he could afford the bird was the proper way of things.

“It’s a clean wound, I don’t see why not,” came the response, and soon enough Babylon was bringing the bird down to the galley. “I’m sure it tastes just like chicken.”

Jonghoon patted the boy on the back as he turned to collect the broken bottles. “Your speed is excellent,” he complimented over his shoulder.

Pirate life, Hongjoong had discovered, required two important things; deception and speed. The deception was easy to understand, but there were many uses for speed aboard a pirate vessel. Sailing fast, quick thinking, the ability to jump into action with very little information— the list ran on and on.

The Stardust herself was a vessel of speed, known for travelling up to 12 knots in record time and routinely chasing down hulking merchant ships and leaving attackers in the dust.

But there was nothing to be done about attackers on the inside.

Halfway to the nearest island, a pirate disappeared.

Just a few minutes after a sailor reported his bunkmate missing, the Weathervane reported a strange stain of blood on the forecastle where someone appeared to have been standing.

The pirates in the berth were buzzing about the news though the officers remained tight-lipped about their investigation.

It seemed most likely that the missing pirate had jumped overboard, but the theory didn’t explain the bloodstain.

Being cabin boy, Hongjoong had more proximity to the officers than the average sailor, so he did his best to find out any new information while washing the dishes for the day. Babylon had scolded him once before for using too much of their limited water supply, so he was careful to finish quickly but took his time mustering the nerve to ask his question.

“What did you make of the bloodstain, hyung?”

If anyone was sure to have a professional opinion on it, it was the surgeon Babylon. He’d inspected the stain immediately after it was discovered but not deigned to announce his findings.

“Oh, terrible thing, that,” he tutted over his reading. Buried in the spellbook again. “But it could just have easily have been an accident.”

Hongjoong took in a breath to raise his objections, but Babylon suddenly fixed him with a gaze, intense but unreadable.

“Accidents are common at sea. You should know.”

Hongjoong’s mouth snapped shut. The pirate’s comment had hit just too close to home.

“What do you mean by that?” He gritted out, trying not to give himself away by his heavy breathing. A nerve had just been struck and the pirate had no right to be talking about this.

Sighing in annoyance, Babylon clasped his hands. “Very well, I’ll spell it out.”

He enunciated every word in a patronising tone, like Hongjoong should be grateful he was dumbing it down for him. “If he died due to his own stupidity, it’s no one’s fault but his own. Yes, it’s regrettable but that’s what the ocean does. Your parents were no exception.”

Immediately Hongjoong’s eyes filled with tears. What a callous thing to say, even from a pirate.

“What, so it’s normal to just tumble overboard with no explanation?” Hongjoong choked out, anger building inside. “You’re saying he deserved to drown?”

“Not everyone is cut out for it,” Babylon sneered, hardly bothered by the growing tension. “You respect the natural forces of this world or you die. So don’t waste your time being scared.”

Fists clenched until bloody crescent moons broke the skin.

“And if you’re going to cry, do it somewhere else,” Babylon waved a hand dismissively. “I haven’t the patience.”

Hongjoong was already gone, storming outside and climbing up into the sails, finally perching on the very same yard he had carefully traversed during the storm. A fall from that height would kill him, he knew, but he didn’t care at the moment. He just needed somewhere to be alone, somewhere the wind could dry the tears on his face before they were seen.

Here he had thought that after four years of feeling so alone, he had found a home.

But there it was; the tragedy that had ruined his life being used to define him, as a victim. Suddenly he didn’t belong.

How did Babylon even know about his parents? Hongjoong wondered about it as he angrily scrubbed his face. Could Eden have told him? Had it come out over a night like the one they’d had on the way to the colonies, with the officers drunk and carefree? Had everyone laughed? Had they joked about Hongjoong’s fear of the sea?

Babylon’s words seemed like a thinly veiled threat. That the ocean would not hesitate to take the weakest of those who set out on it. The missing pirate, his parents… even Hongjoong.

But he was no weakling, he was a pirate now. He wasn’t afraid of the ocean, he didn’t need to run away, and he wouldn’t cry in front of the men.

Babylon had been so kind and patient before. He’d nursed him back to health himself. He knew firsthand how Hongjoong had grown tougher. Closing his eyes and sighing, he wondered if he really was being too sensitive.

Few things annoyed him like that condescending tone of voice. Hongjoong hated being spoken to like a child.

He wasn’t one anymore. He hadn’t been for years now.

Perhaps it had been a mistake to trust the pirates. What a ridiculous notion, that he could trust thieves and killers. And yet he still wished to be part of their world, their community. To throw away the rules and go with the tides. The Stardust was where he came to chase his dreams.

Looking out at the boundless blue before him, Hongjoong wondered if this had been the frigatebird’s last view, in the seconds before he had shot it down.

It was dangerous but it was also peaceful. An untouchable refuge close to the clouds. From here, he could float away wherever he wished, an escape on the wind.

Still, he couldn’t hide up there forever and as much as he wanted to stay upset when he reappeared for suppertime, Babylon’s changed demeanour calmed him down considerably.

He looked apologetic as he placed a dinner plate in front of Hongjoong for his meal. The portion was a bit bigger than usual.

“Look, I’m sorry I upset you,” the pirate sighed, sitting across from him with his own untouched plate. He’d waited for the cabin boy to come back before starting. “But if you want to live out here—”

“I’ve gotten over it,” Hongjoong interrupted, avoiding eye contact and eating his food with renewed purpose. “Doesn’t matter anyway.”

After a moment of silence, Babylon nodded and began to eat, clearly still lost in thought. “Eden will be tightening his leash on you I suspect. But if he’s trained you well enough… well, you’ll have nothing to fear from falling overboard like that man.”

If that was really what had happened to him.

And as it turned out, three days later, that theory was beginning to look very unlikely. Another pirate went missing. Another stain of blood appeared.

Only this one was splattered over much wider a distance.

“It must have happened in the night,” the Weathervane whispered from his hammock while Hongjoong lay awake listening, unsettled. “Can’t have been an accident or a suicide. It looks like a struggle took place, like the body was dragged up to the forecastle.”

“But who would do such a thing?” Another pirate asked, fear seeping into his voice.

No one could answer.

Candlelit nights of stories, games, and laughter among the men became silent and tense, each one wondering if he would be next. Every time the Stardust creaked, it felt like the sound of a prowling killer.

More murders followed, each with the same evidence but a seemingly random victim, and the investigation quietly continued. Rules were instituted about where and when the pirates could go and a curfew confined them to their berth by dark. The officers rotated the night watches by themselves.

Babylon continued to be irritable, and to work late nights in the infirmary by the light of a single candle. He must’ve been lashing out from the stress of the murder case, Hongjoong reasoned. The surgeon had never looked this busy before, with pages from his books littering the room and shelves stacked with jars of blood he kept for some sort of experiment.

They were one day out from the nearest potential landfall when Hongjoong discovered the truth. It was late afternoon and he was supposed to stay belowdecks while he wasn’t needed in the galley, but he was bored and needed Babylon’s help sewing up a hole in his wool sock.

In accordance with the new regulations, he had to report his whereabouts, so he went up to the main deck first where Maddox was on watch and announced his intentions to find Babylon in the infirmary.

“You want to leave your berth? Not to scare you, Hongjoong, but a killer is at large,” Maddox reminded him sombrely.

“I’m not scared,” Hongjoong defended himself quickly, hoping he sounded more convinced than he felt.

The quartermaster sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “If something were to happen to you—”

Hongjoong jumped in to reassure him, “I can handle myself, hyung. Eden taught me for a reason.”

Maddox shook his head and smiled fondly. The boy just didn’t understand.

“Yonghwan doesn’t take apprentices, he doesn’t train pirates. He’s rarely so open, even with his inner circle,” he explained, placing a hand on the lad’s shoulder. “But you… you’re special, Hongjoong. You changed everything. So don’t do anything rash, please, he’d lose his mind if you got hurt.”

Removing Maddox’s hand and giving it a confident pat, Hongjoong carried on with his business. “I’m flattered, really, but I’ll be fine. It won’t even be long, I’m just asking a question.”

“Straight back to your hammock when you’re done, no detours!” Maddox commanded him, clearly still nervous. The Stardust was bigger than she looked from the outside, and there were plenty of hallways to be trapped in with an unidentified murderer.

The infirmary was dark and quiet when he entered, with a strangely metallic scent that smelled faint, like something had been burning but was now extinguished.

Babylon was at his desk as usual, whispering foreign words to himself that lilted like an incantation. He didn’t look up as Hongjoong entered, so he approached and spoke up to catch his attention.

“I was hoping you could help me with my stockings—”

“Run along,” Babylon cut him off distractedly, glancing at the cabin boy and the socks dangling from his hands before returning to his reading. “I have work to do, ask someone else to babysit you.”

Gritting his teeth, Hongjoong put aside his indignation to bargain with the pirate. “It’s just this one section, hyung. I’ll try to do it myself but if I could show you when I’m done, maybe you can correct it?”

Babylon didn’t answer, but Hongjoong wouldn’t give up that easily, so he took up a seat on an empty examination table and threaded his needle, getting to work on the difficult corner he was stitching.

Irritated after a few minutes that the seam didn’t look right, Hongjoong huffed and sat back, flinching when he pricked himself with the needle by accident.

Sighing at his own clumsiness, he watched the dot of blood begin to collect on the end of his finger.

Babylon was suddenly out of his seat and catching his arm before he could wipe it away. “Don’t,” he said simply, cradling Hongjoong’s finger and watching the blood begin to stain the grooves of his skin red.

Babylon appeared almost fascinated by it.

“Something wrong?” Hongjoong smirked, amused at the surgeon’s weird behaviour, until Babylon neglected a response and turned to rummage around in his supplies.

“What are you doing?” He asked him, the smile dropping from his face. The pirate was looking at a set of knives now and stopped moving to stare at him intently, still entranced.

He looked like he was weighing unknown options in his head, engrossed in some secret Hongjoong didn’t know about.

Uneasiness spread in the pit of his stomach and he rose from the table, slowly moving toward the door. Something was seriously wrong here.

“A necessary evil,” Babylon finally answered, resigned to whatever the voices in his head had told him to do.

Just as Hongjoong tried to make a break for it, he found himself pinned to the wall by the tall sorcerer with lightning speed, both of his hands wrapped around his throat.

Unable even to gasp at the shock of it while his air supply was slowly being cut off, Hongjoong made a number of failed attempts at squirming away, tears building in his eyes as he tried to understand what was happening.

His eyes landed on something on the shelf above the desk, and he realised what had been right in front of him the whole time.

The jars of blood.

It was Babylon.

He intended to bleed him to death and then throw his body overboard to erase the evidence. He was never investigating the murders, it was him all along.

The blood stains all made sense now. He had ambushed his unsuspecting victims, collected their blood, and disposed of them like they were less than human.

“Why?” Hongjoong croaked out through his raw throat. The pressure just kept increasing and suddenly he was fighting for his life, kicking uselessly with his legs while Babylon laughed an empty chuckle and shook his head.

“You couldn’t possibly understand.”

The moment he removed a hand and turned to grab a knife from the set, when his attention was split between his captive and the weapon, Hongjoong ran for it. Pushing Babylon’s arm away, he sprinted through the room and out the door, opening his mouth to scream for help.

Arms were quickly there tackling him to the floor, knocking the wind out of him and restraining his movements.

Footsteps sounded from down the hallway and Hongjoong struggled harder. Someone was coming, someone who could save him.

A kick to the face stopped him from trying to call out again and bought Babylon enough time to open the hatch above and stick his head out.

His only escape was up.

“Maddox!” He called to the quartermaster on duty. “Let me take the watch, I’ve been neglecting mine.”

Hongjoong’s eyes widened and he fought tooth and nail to pry Babylon’s hand from his mouth. Maddox was right there, if only he could get his attention before Babylon sent him away.

“Are you sure?” Maddox called back, completely unaware of the situation just out of view. Hongjoong was trapped right below his eye level, in the corridor. And Babylon’s grip on him was iron.

“Yes, of course,” he suavely reassured the quartermaster, without a hint in his voice of the effort he was expending to conceal his prisoner. “Sorry I’ve been cooped up in the infirmary lately.”

Without argument, Maddox left the deck for the wardroom, and the moment he was gone, Babylon hauled Hongjoong up to the forecastle.

But he needed both hands to drag the boy behind him, finally leaving his mouth uncovered. As he pulled the boy up the steps toward the bowsprit, Hongjoong took his only chance.

“Help!” He yelled hoarsely, praying his voice would reach the other side of the ship where Maddox had been moments earlier. He had to hear, he had to do something or that was it. Retribution would be swift and Hongjoong would be dead.

Dead on a pirate ship without a proper goodbye to anyone.

Mingi would be shattered.

The scream didn’t travel far before Babylon intervened. Receiving a slap to the face for his disobedience, Hongjoong didn’t hear the steps approaching until Maddox’s shout startled him.

“What’s going on here?” He demanded, making his way down from the quarterdeck to investigate.

He had never heard the man so angry.

“Maddox—” Hongjoong cried in relief, trying to crawl back across the ship, but the knife was at his neck in an instant.

It was obvious now who the enemy was. There was no hiding it. Babylon didn’t contrive any excuse, he didn’t change form into the appearance of someone else, he didn’t speak at all. He was caught red handed and there was no explanation good enough for such a betrayal.

The quartermaster shook with rage, unable to come to Hongjoong’s defence.

“Please…” the boy whispered, trembling now as Babylon pulled him up and backed the two of them all the way to the rail. He could slice his throat and spill all the blood he wanted in an instant.

“Captain!” Maddox called sharply, and Eden was outside on the quarterdeck in an instant, followed by the officers who had been with him in his quarters, Jihan and Youngsaeng, who hurried to gather the others when it became clear what was going on.

“Babylon, whatever you’re thinking,” Eden warned darkly, a hand on his holster. He looked straight at the surgeon after a cursory glance at Hongjoong. “Don’t try it.”

“Come any closer and I’ll kill him. It won’t take much,” Babylon delivered the last line haughtily, lifting Hongjoong by the collar of his shirt and shaking him before repositioning the dagger at his throat.

“We can talk about this, Jongmin,” the captain insisted. “Put down the knife.”

He sounded so earnest, so pained to be facing down his own officer. Clearly he thought he could diffuse the situation still, and his eyes pleaded with Babylon to stand down.

“You think I’m bluffing, Captain?” He spat, digging the knife in just above Hongjoong’s collarbone where it began to collect blood. He tried not to whimper but fear had clouded his senses. Distantly, he heard the footsteps of officers climbing up to the main deck. Soomin’s voice gasped from somewhere.

No one could come closer while the knife touched him, slicing a little deeper the more he shook.

Eden whipped out a pistol and trained it on his former friend. “This isn’t you,” he gritted out, fuming.

“You don’t know me!” Babylon roared back, and his voice was loud in Hongjoong’s ears. He screwed his eyes shut and focused on his own shallow breaths. Blood was leaking down in a single stream and soaking his clothes, warm against his icy skin.

“I have a higher purpose now,” Babylon was saying. “And if you stand in my way, you’ll be the first to regret it.”

Eden pursed his lips and flicked off the safety on his gun. His arm continued to hover there, frozen with the inability to finish the job.

Babylon adjusted his grip on the dagger, sticky blood making it harder to grasp, but didn’t move again.

They were at a standstill.

So Hongjoong swung.

Finally he had managed to throw a punch of his own, landing the blow on the side of Babylon’s temple and knocking him back just the right distance to create enough room between his neck and the knife.

There was only one place to go. The very place Babylon had tried to send him.

Overboard.

Before Babylon could recover him, Hongjoong leaned back and somersaulted off the railing, kicking away from the ship and trying to position his feet downwards before he hit the water.

The ocean swallowed him whole without question, and he didn’t fight it at first while he sunk from the momentum of his fall.

Bubbles were foaming up from where he had entered the water, and when finally he could kick his legs and paddle up, they parted so he could meet the surface.

Gasping for air, Hongjoong propelled himself back toward the Stardust, towering above him and moving on at a steady pace.

With a grunt of effort, he followed after, feeling the resistance in the water as the ship’s wake washed him back.

He was being pushed away faster than he could recover his ground, and frustrated sobs punctuated his strokes while he fought back.

It wasn’t working, he was falling behind.

The salty water stung at his neck, but he ignored the pain and swam forward with all the energy he had left, looking up when a shout from the deck drifted down to him.

Minseob was there, and he threw a long rope down that Hongjoong eagerly snatched up, letting himself be pulled along behind and tucking his face down into his shoulder, shielding it from the water that splashed him along the way.

When he drew up to the side and was close enough to climb, he reached a foot out to take his first step, clinging to the rope and walking up the side. Portholes and gunports provided helpful footholds, and soon the officers were pulling him up and helping him over the rail, soaked and shivering from terror.

“Oh, Hongjoong,” Minseob cried in relief, enveloping him in a blanket. He was exhausted, the adrenaline finally starting to wear off, and so he let himself be hugged and cried into the boatswain’s shoulder.

“Yonghwan hyung…” he asked for the captain through hitched breaths, feeling vulnerable even with no sign of Babylon on deck.

“He’s locking Jongmin in the brig,” Youngsaeng explained, a calming hand rubbing the boy’s back.

Where had pirates learned to be soft and comforting like this?

Hongjoong nodded and reached up to rub the tears from his face, meeting eyes with Maddox who dropped to his knees beside him and wiped away the hair that stuck to his forehead.

“Thank you for hearing me,” Hongjoong whispered as loudly as he could through his sore throat, and he let out a sniffle when Maddox rested a hand on his shoulder. It felt so different than it had the first time.

“Thank you for calling,” the quartermaster said gravely. “Honestly, you saved yourself.”

It was frightening but true, Hongjoong realised with a hollow sobriety. His life had almost ended, just like that.

But he had taken a risk and propelled himself to safety. He had proven himself, and Babylon never saw it coming for a second.

The excitement had fizzled out and, when Minseob pulled him to his feet, a tiredness seeped into Hongjoong’s limbs. He was ready for his hammock again.

“Let’s clean you up first,” Eden’s voice broke through the haze and then he was there, carrying Hongjoong to the captain’s cabin and setting him down on the bed, officers trailing behind.

He sent them all out with a quiet command before helping Hongjoong into a change of clothes and bandaging his neck.

The wound had bled considerably but the cut wasn’t too deep, and to his great relief, hadn’t severed any important veins or arteries.

“You did well,” Eden told him when he was dry and safely nestled in the blankets. He said nothing more for awhile, burdened by the knowledge that a man he trusted was a traitor.

Hongjoong could see how much it took for a pirate to trust another. This betrayal was more painful than he could imagine.

“Stay here,” the captain instructed from his desk when the sun began to set and Hongjoong’s restless dozing had still not produced a peaceful sleep. “I won’t be sleeping tonight.”

With that, Eden left the room, likely to question Babylon, and Hongjoong was alone with his thoughts. A shadow by the door told him one of the officers was guarding the room while at the helm, and it was enough security to slowly relax the tension from his shoulders.

It was warmer in the captain’s cabin, which in these tropical waters would typically be stifling, but the chill of his near miss with death clung to him, so Hongjoong clutched the blankets close to him and wiped at the tip of his cold nose.

The golden sunlight began to fade to pink and angled through the windows, playing on the floor in a kaleidoscope of little rainbows projected through the glass.

Hongjoong watched dust particles dance in the sunbeam and let his eyes close when they grew too heavy to stay open.

It was night when he awoke.

Adjusting the blankets, he had rolled over to try to fall asleep again when voices reached his ears from the level below.

“Clearly it was premeditated!” Someone was arguing, Soomin from the sounds of it, and growing more agitated by the second. “The murders took place over more than a single week, Eden. Something like this doesn’t just happen repeatedly.”

They must have been arguing about Babylon, Hongjoong realised. Sitting up from the bed, he considered whether to go down and listen more closely to the officers’ meeting or try to block the conversation out.

It wasn’t his business what happened to Babylon. He just wanted to be far away from the man.

“And I don’t deny that,” Eden admitted, voice somewhat muffled but evidently trying to placate the Master Gunner. “But we all know he started dabbling in magic, why can’t we stop and think for a second what sort of spiritual forces might have been involved in this?”

“Because whatever they may be, he did this himself,” Jonghoon said, insistent. “He made a choice to take blood at the expense of lives. That’s enough information for me.”

Still Eden wasn’t so sure. “There’s something we aren’t understanding here…”

As he trailed off, Hongjoong sighed and slipped out from under the blankets. It wasn’t his business, but he had to know what they would decide concerning Babylon’s fate.

It was too large a question in his mind.

“He was acting strange recently, after he started the shapeshifting,” Youngsaeng was saying before Hongjoong tiptoed from the captain’s cabin and down to the door of the wardroom, listening outside in a crouching position should anyone glance out the window and see him.

Jihan was speaking when he rejoined the conversation.

“I never liked him.”

Minseob groaned and stepped in before the navigator could continue. “No one asked you Jihan. Keep it to yourself for once.”

“You saw his eyes when he had Hongjoong,” Jonghoon reminded the room, voice seemingly directed at Eden. “No regret, no remorse. He knew what he was doing and he meant to do it. To Hongjoong of all people.”

“To think what could have happened,” Youngsaeng shuddered as he considered it aloud. “He was alone with him any number of times.”

Maddox sighed and finally spoke up. “I’m sorry. That… that was my fault, I sent him in there during the lockdown.”

Hongjoong bit his lip anxiously. It really hadn’t been Maddox’s fault. He had insisted he leave the berth himself.

“Don’t put this on yourself, Kyungmoon,” Eden protested. “We both know this is my fault. Hongjoong wouldn’t even be here in the first place if—”

“It’s no one’s fault but Babylon’s,” Minseob broke in firmly. “What’s done is done. The only question is what to do with him now.”

A silence stretched on while the officers thought about the all important question.

“I say we keelhaul the blackguard,” Jihan volunteered an idea and Eden immediately shot it down.

“This is Jongmin we’re talking about! He fought by your side in countless battles against the navy and you won’t even afford him a trial?”

“A traitor who confesses to seven murders and is caught in the act of attempting to commit one more does not require a trial,” Jihan shot back, disgust evident in his voice.  “What would that accomplish?”

Maddox chimed in to remind the captain of his own rules for the ship. “Eden, the penalty here for murdering a crew member has always been death. Jongmin is no exception.”

“I say firing squad,” Soomin suggested. “More dignified than keelhauling but death is what he deserves.”

The sound of Eden collapsing into a chair startled Hongjoong momentarily. His lack of a response spoke volumes. It was just too difficult to sentence someone who had once been your brother to a merciless death, even knowing what he had done.

“Soomin, bring him in here. I’d like to speak with him.”

Hongjoong scrambled out of the way and hid behind the opening door as Soomin followed orders with a sigh.

He could only cling to the shadows when the pirate returned with the prisoner, walking with a blank expression on his face and not bothering to struggle.

There was the sound of a pistol clicking when he entered the room, someone holding a gun to his head while the captain questioned him.

“What were you doing?” He asked harshly, sharp words raising gooseflesh on Hongjoong’s arms as he eavesdropped.

Babylon sounded almost bored with his simple response, “A blood ritual.”

“Why?”

“As preparation for the entrance of the rightful rulers of this world,” Babylon answered, voice rising in volume along with his annoyance. “To expand my powers. To summon my allies.”

“The dark arts have no place on this ship,” Eden replied, his voice still strong but with a hint of fatigue. “You understand the consequences of killing seven men?”

He was still trying to get through to him, reasoning with a madman who knew full well what he had done.

“A mere foretaste of what’s coming. Worthy sacrifices in the name of progress.”

Eden’s sigh betrayed his agony. He longed to show the sorcerer mercy.

“That’s all the proof we need,” Soomin scoffed from his side of the room. “He’s not even trying to make up a decent excuse.”

“And when he escapes with his magic and we find Hongjoong dead in the captain’s cabin next, what then?” Youngsaeng postulated. “We’ll be wishing we’d ended him now. Right now.”

Hongjoong clamped a hand over his mouth to suppress the sharp gasp he’d made from reaching the officer’s ears.

Perhaps he’d been sleeping too soundly after the attempt on his life.

Jihan sounded just as panicked. “He can get out of the cell with his magic?”

“He’s a sorcerer,” Minseob answered him dryly. “We don’t know what he can’t do, so we have to assume he can. It’s a slaughter waiting to happen. He’s a liability we can’t afford.”

Babylon was laughing at their division, their fear over what he could do.

After a moment, the sound died down.

Eden must have been grimly staring the pirate down to shut him up.

Maddox’s voice sounded nearest the door as he begged his captain in a quiet petition, “Yonghwan. Please.”

Hongjoong found himself quietly echoing the plea.

“Jongmin, we will shortly be sighting land. It will be isolated and uninhabited,” Eden announced before finally proclaiming his judgment. “We will maroon you there with no provisions or weapons. I hope you realise you’ve chosen this yourself.”

It was certain death, but not by Eden’s hand. Death by the elements. By the natural forces Babylon so revered.

“Indeed I have,” Babylon responded, and he sounded as if he spoke the words through a wide smile. Arrogantly he went on, “Drop me wherever you like, Captain. But if you won’t provide means to survive, at least let me have my spellbook. A man needs his reading.”

And with no strong objections from the officers, Eden agreed.

What harm could he do, alone on a southern island devoid of resources? Even with the book, he wouldn’t last a week.

Questions more or less answered, Hongjoong crept back to the captain’s cabin and dove under the covers once more.

It was creepy how unapologetic Babylon sounded, how aware and uncaring of his own evil. When he had suggested to kill the soldiers of the Seabear, at least his violence had been directed elsewhere. But now he spoke of sailors on his own ship, under his command, like they were nothing. A means to an end.

Pushing dark forces and otherworldly evils from his mind, Hongjoong tried to sleep again. His stomach was unsettled for a long time and his heart pounded in his ears until at last, he drifted off into dreams.

Morning filtered in through the windows quietly.

Hongjoong was hungry after missing the evening meal yesterday, and the smell of porridge left for him on Eden’s desk was inviting. He wasn’t sure who had made breakfast, but it tasted just about the same as usual and soothed the pain in his throat.

The small hand mirror was there in its drawer, so Hongjoong took it out to inspect the damage Babylon had done.

His cheek was bruised red from the force of the slap, and a small gash scratched the bridge of his nose where he’d been kicked, but most of the damage was concentrated to his neck where a blue handprint wrapped around his throat and the bandage over the knife gash was beginning to leak.

Lacing up his boots, he ventured out onto the deck where business seemed to be going on as usual until Youngsaeng noticed him from the helm.

“Hongjoong, can I get you anything?”

His voice was stronger than it had been before, so clearing his throat, he asked for water and a new bandage.

He insisted on dressing the wound himself and went to keep a lookout in the crow’s nest while the Master Rigger was at the helm for his forenoon watch, winning over Youngsaeng’s protests. He had rested long enough and he wasn’t going to get anymore sleep than he had.

It was windy up in the rigging, and clouds blew overhead, crossing the sun and occasionally casting shadows down on Hongjoong’s perch.

It was the same sky he and Mingi often admired from the beach at Panhang, but so much wider and full of possibilities. Every horizon promised adventure, some thrilling and some dangerous, and he was still in search of it, despite yesterday’s sour taste.

A sound from below alerted him to Eden climbing up to the crow’s nest from beneath, and Hongjoong wondered where he had been for the remainder of the night.

Perhaps in Babylon’s bunk while its owner enjoyed the hospitality of a prison cell.

He didn’t prod the captain with questions when he settled in beside him, gaze pointed ahead while they travelled southwest.

“We’re going to maroon him at the first opportunity,” Eden finally said quietly, informing Hongjoong of the decided punishment he already knew about.

“That doesn’t happen very often, does it?” He replied, hugging his legs and watching Eden’s face for a reaction.

“Typically only in a mutiny. But nothing about this week has been typical.” He glanced at his apprentice with his eyes shining full of regret. “I’m sure this has been a pretty poor trial of pirate life. I’ve always told you I can’t guarantee your safety, but for the threat to come from inside… that was a surprise to me too.”

Hongjoong smiled to assure him and pointed out softly, “It wasn’t all bad. Just this past week, really. And I’m already on the mend.”

He pointed to the bruises on his neck, already a shade lighter than they’d been before bed.

The tension in Eden’s jaw gave away his anger at the sight of pain Babylon had caused.

It was easy to see that he felt guilty over ever allowing his apprentice to become involved in the first place.

“Will you quit?”

Hongjoong immediately shook his head.

“No. I’m committed to this path.” He knew Eden wished more than ever now that he would quit. But the captain didn’t seem surprised when he refused to give up.

Things had gone wrong, but he had never expected life to become perfect. “There’s so much left to do and see,” he reminded Eden, who nodded reluctantly.

“Following the original plan, I would’ve stopped at the Mystic’s island,” he explained when Hongjoong clearly wanted to know about their future travels. “I’d still like to speak with her to learn more about this magic of Babylon’s, but I think it’s time to end this voyage and get you home. That’s the priority.”

Hongjoong sat back with a frown but didn’t protest. He knew there was no arguing with him about it. He’d simply have to enjoy the time he had left.

“I won’t stay there forever, you know.”

Eden glanced at him with a question in his eyes.

“Jangwon Hall, even Panhang,” Hongjoong clarified. “If Babylon escapes somehow, he might come looking for me. He made some comments before that led me to believe he knows a bit too much about my background. He’ll easily figure out where to look.”

Face growing red, and not from the heat of the sun but a tinge of embarrassment, the pirate rubbed the back of his neck and acknowledged his wrongs. As usual, the boy was able to get under his skin with very little noticeable effort.

“I’m sure he conducted some research of his own, but yes, I’ll admit I told the officers a bit about you. Bringing an apprentice on is highly unusual for me, and the circumstances were important to understand. I wouldn’t have said a thing if I hadn’t trusted them all completely. That’s a mistake I won’t make again.”

Hongjoong accepted this and squeezed Eden’s hand for encouragement. He was the Dread Pirate and he probably didn’t need it but what comfort he could give, Hongjoong was compelled to try.

“But you’ll need to replace him,” he remarked, voice soft from the roughness in his throat but also from his own hesitation to bring it up. “Won’t you hire a new surgeon and cook?”

Eden snorted and gave the boy a sideways glance. “You’re thinking of putting your name forward for consideration?”

Exaggerating his act of false modesty, Hongjoong suppressed a smile and said, “Well, I don’t think I have much skill in either of those positions, aside from emergency situations.” The captain barked out a laugh at this and, giggling, Hongjoong continued, “So no, I’ll have to go for something else instead.”

“Good, because you won’t be hired!” Eden exclaimed, yet again in awe of his apprentice. “I know you can’t cook.”

Hongjoong punched him lightly in the arm for the joke and faked a bruised ego for a minute before seeing something on the horizon.

“Is that… land?”

He squinted at the distant shadow, snatching the spyglass out of Eden’s hands before he could use it himself. “It is!” He gasped with excitement. He had sighted land himself, yet another rite of passage. “Land—”

Coughing though his sore throat, Hongjoong realised maybe he’d have to let Eden have this one. “You should probably call it,” he rasped, offering back the spyglass.

Eden took it back with a raised eyebrow and leaned over the side of the crow’s nest, yelling, “Land ho!”

He motioned for Hongjoong to follow him, and together the two descended to the main deck, ready to get on with the business of the day, however grim it may be.

Youngsaeng had heard his captain’s call and quickly sent for Jonghoon and Soomin, who conversed with Eden for a moment and, when they had approached the desert island to an acceptable distance, escorted Babylon to the deck.

Hongjoong avoided the sorcerer’s eyes, loitering near the mainmast and trying to blend in with the crowd. He didn’t want the traitor’s attention on him any longer than it already had been.

Silence fell over the seamen as they witnessed their officer being led outside, restrained.

Confirming their suspicions, Eden positioned himself on the steps to the quarterdeck and gave a speech of explanation.

“Here on the Stardust, we hold to the standards of the pirate code. Each and every one of the officers who serve on this ship, myself included, do so at the pleasure of her crew.”

Hongjoong caught a questioning glance from the Weathervane and returned it with a weak smile. He’d understand soon enough why Eden was emphasising the democratic nature of pirate government.

“As such, the act of murdering seven members of this crew, those we have sworn to protect, is an especially grievous crime,” the captain was going on to say. “After fruitless investigations, officer Lee Jongmin, cook and surgeon whom you all know well as Babylon, was caught in an attempt to kill an eighth victim and confessed to his crimes.”

Gasps went up all around at this revelation, something most of the men hadn’t known about until this moment. One of their own officers, a man whose hands they regularly put their lives in, had betrayed them all in cold blood. And from the looks of his smug face, had done so without remorse.

“Therefore in accordance with our laws at sea and in keeping with the severity of the crime, to respect the lives lost, Babylon is hereby sentenced to death by marooning without provisions,” Eden announced, turning to face the accused and adding quietly, “May your end be swift.”

With no further ceremony, he selected a group of men to help with the longboat and loaded the condemned for his final journey, with nothing more than a spellbook and the shirt on his back. They hurled curses at him as they did so on behalf of their fallen crew members.

Eden rowed by himself, quickly closing the distance between the Stardust and the island, and Babylon turned his back to him, facing the bit of land that would be his resting place.

Hongjoong wandered to the rail with the other curious pirates to get a measure of the area. The terrain was somewhat jagged, with cliffs jutting out above the beach and most of the vegetation growing much higher than the longboat’s landing point.

“He’ll die there,” Jihan said solemnly from beside him, eyes trained on Babylon’s distant figure as he stepped out of the boat and onto the sand. Eden neglected to hand him the customary pistol with a single bullet that was traditionally offered to all marooned pirates and instead gave him his book and set out once more to pull for the Stardust. “But we won’t get to watch.”

“Avast with that sort of talk, the boy is listening,” Minseob scolded the navigator, disapprovingly.

“He’s no ordinary boy,” Jihan defended, smiling brightly at Hongjoong despite the circumstances. “He’s a pirate now.”

Relief flowing through him, Hongjoong beamed back. The officers and the men around them were in agreement.

He belonged.

Over the next few weeks of travel northwest, back to Panhang by way of the archipelago, Hongjoong tried his best to adjust to working with the different crewmen who rotated cooking meals.

Eden had also been keeping a closer eye on him, and Hongjoong didn’t mind his increased presence. It made up for the lack of Babylon, a once regular staple of his typical day aboard.

Mostly thanks to the traitor’s actions, a net loss of nine men over the course of the journey— including the pirate who had fallen in the storm— necessitated a stop in the archipelago to recruit.

Sitting in the infirmary, a room which still sent chills down his spine, and letting the captain remove his bandages, Hongjoong wondered why Eden was also hiring a new cabin boy.

“Do you think I’m a bad pirate?” He asked, downcast despite how excellently his body had healed so far. The bruises were mostly faded and the scar from the dagger wound was a subtly pale pink that blended in, easily concealed by his shirt collar.

“I know you’ll be an excellent one,” Eden admitted patiently, inspecting the boy’s neck and deeming it cured. “That’s what scares me.”

Hongjoong sighed restlessly and kicked his feet back and forth where they hung off the edge of the table. “Then when will I be ready? For another voyage?”

His first expedition was ending too soon, and the thought of getting by without his new friends for however many months until they reappeared was not a happy one.

“You know the answer to that,” Eden chided casually while he went about his business, tidying up the mess he’d made of bandages and ointments. The sickbay area had essentially become communal in the weeks since Babylon’s departure.

“When I’m old enough to leave the Hall?” Hongjoong responded, deadpan. “That’s still a few years away. You’d best hope I don’t forget everything you’ve taught me by then… otherwise you’ll have to keep on that new cabin boy.”

Unable to resist ruffling his apprentice’s hair, Eden opened the door to show him out and quipped back, “Somehow I don’t think that’s possible.”

And so despite his protestations, after many days of high seas and many nights of lively singing, the shore of Panhang became visible once more on a mild night in early spring.

Hongjoong said his goodbyes to the other pirates in his berth and to the officers who had welcomed him so gently, promising to see them again.

Eden insisted they row a significant distance to keep the Stardust out of view, should anyone recognise it.

To Hongjoong it simply meant more time to take in the coastline and chat with Maddox.

“There they are,” he said, gesturing upwards with his head. His hands were busy holding the lantern that lit their way. “The stars I painted when we left the coast.”

“An excellent likeness,” Maddox praised, comparing the painted bag to the patch of sky they could see through sparse clouds.

Hongjoong shook his head in wonderment as he watched them come in and out of view. “So much has happened since I was here last.”

How could the time have flown by?

Eden finally spoke up between grunts as he pulled on the oars, “I’ll admit, I worried for you. The storm, encountering the Navy, Babylon’s betrayal… But you persevered and you’ll do just fine.”

Grinning at this admission, Hongjoong perked up.

“You think I can be a pirate captain myself?”

“Hold on now!” Eden protested, amused. “I mean you’ll do just fine as my cabin boy, don’t get too ahead of yourself.”

Hongjoong childishly put up a hand to halt the pirate’s excuses. “Can’t take it back now.”

Maddox laughed softly and gave his captain a light kick to the shins. “Well done, now you’ve put the idea in his head,” he teased.

Eden returned swiftly with a sarcastic remark, “Oh, it was in his head long before—”

Smile dropping from his face, Maddox shushed him and the mood suddenly darkened. “Hold on, stop the boat,” he cautioned. “Someone’s on the beach.”

A figure stood on the sand, jumping and waving his arms, having just run down from the lighthouse.

“Mingi…”

Maddox was confused.

“Who?”

“Song Mingi,” Hongjoong hurriedly explained. “I know him, he—he’s my friend.”

Captain and quartermaster glanced at each other in some sort of unspoken conversation, a serious air between them.

“He’s seen us,” Eden stated the obvious with a frown.

That was a problem.

Brows furrowed in thought, Hongjoong set the lantern down beside him and interjected, “Wait, let me handle this. I’ll think of something.”

When they’d pulled up almost to the breakers, he said a reluctant goodbye and shouldered his bag, diving into the water and immediately regretting it as the cold waves washed him towards shore.

He had done the best he could, so Hongjoong smiled awkwardly through chattering teeth and waded through shallower water to meet his friend.

Mingi was standoffish in his confusion, and it was all Hongjoong could do to reassure him and swear him to secrecy after letting slip in his indignation that Yonghwan was the one who encouraged him to go back on the water again.

Thankfully, when the pirates in their longboat set out for the Stardust again, he managed to procure a secret from Mingi about his nightly studying, making them even.

The pair sealed their deal with a handshake and invited some levity in the form of more mundane topics of conversation.

Hongjoong had missed Mingi, a fact he couldn’t deny even when it confronted him with their diverging paths.

When they reached the fork in the road, the younger boy would skip away in the direction of his home, the seaside cottage of Hongjoong’s childhood memories, and he would be left to trudge further up the hill to Jangwon Hall and pretend none of this had ever happened.

He’d just have to manage it, he decided while he took a detour to the top of the bluff to watch the Stardust fade into the night.

It had been terrifying at times, but it was an adventure, a peek into another world that offered him a brand new life.

The beauty of every day out there on the sea was so alluring. Brilliant sunsets on the Stardust, colourful fireworks over Coral Harbour, the gentle spray from the deep blue ocean.

What was life without some risk?

He knew firsthand that he had what it took to be a part of it all. So now he was left to bide his time, to close his current chapter. He would lead a secret life with expert duplicity.

The ocean was calling, and he intended to answer.

...

A/N: Wow when I tell you I cried?? I MEAN THAT! I last updated this work in 2021 I think which is inSANE... So much has happened, I finally got over my writer's block and ended my hiatus, you guys got back to back updates here on tumblr, and it was not a fluke guys. This chapter is not a fluke!! I'm not going to disappear because I've been planning this for years and there's so much more to come even in the last 4 chapters of this spinoff, let alone the rest of the series 😭 This chapter is, what, 17.5k??? And that's AFTER I split it??!! That should tell you all you need to know lol

A few quick notes: As always, I will recommend you read or re-read The Windy Road (Mingi's backstory) Chapter viii: Alone in conjunction with this and the next chapter of My Way, it'll make everything hit different, trust me. And if you want another punch to the feels, go read One to All Chapter 3: I Love My Desire and thereabouts for a refresher on that Babylon storyline if you've read the main series before coming here~

ANyway thanks so much if you're a reader who has stuck around and returned to this Treasure universe with me, it means sooo much more than you know, and if you're new, welcome aboard!! and I hope you decide to stay :) Don't forget to comment, reblog, all that good stuff to let me know what you thought and come scream with me about this story on twitter (I refuse to call it x) I know I have more to say, maybe you do too :,D

Thanks crew!!! See you soon <3

← Previous | Masterlist | Next  →

[faraway-sunshine]

The Band Kid Hangout, Part 1 (from the 11th)

Sorry for the delay. I've been feeling crappy from the new dietary tweaks the nutritionist suggested and from being stuck at Mom's office during the day so I've not had much energy.

Anyway, here's the post:

I turned up at Kit’s apartment around 3pm. It’s higher up in the building than mine, and although the floor plan is similar it’s pretty much a mirror image due to being on the other side. It is right next to the fire escape though.

Inside looked a lot more homey instantly compared to my own place, with photos and drawings pinned all over the walls and the wallpaper clearly faded in parts (unlike how my apartment is just painted white everywhere). A man sat on the couch folding laundry and flashed me a smile, though his eyes narrowed in a way that made me stiffen a little. It's likely he was sizing me up.

“Ah, you must be Sunny. The others are in the bedroom, over there.” He nodded to a door on the flip side with a couple stickers of the letter C stuck on. 

Kit’s bedroom had bunk beds on one wall, with a little girl sitting on the top bunk making plastic dinosaurs fight Beanie Babies silently. I also saw a poster for a movie that had a lot of photorealistic fire behind a bunch of oddly animated characters, plenty of SpongeBob merch, and a basketball hoop above the built-in closet.

Everyone else was already there aside from Eddie, sitting in a near circle on a Spider-Man circular rug. Grizz instinctively shuffled a bit and motioned for me to sit between her and Davey, opposite Kit. 

“Sunny! You made it!’

(Rest of the story under the cut)

I nodded shyly, still not quite the same as I was when I'd called them before, not feeling able to speak yet. And even then, on that phone call, I was mostly listening. Seeing them face to face added a lot more pressure fast.

Kit grumbled and checked his watch. “Goddamn, Eddie, surely it doesn't take that long to get the goods!”

My face must have looked confused, because Kit smirked. 

“You’ll see what I mean later. In the meantime, because we can't get to band business until Eddie arrives, we’re gonna warm up. Do you play something? Eddie said he saw you by the string instruments at that poky instrument store by the mall.”

Grizz objected. “It’s not poky! It has charm and character. Certainly more than all those pompous music stores that devote half the floor space to pianos you’re not allowed to test.”

“I’m not saying that it's a bad music store. Simply one that happens to have a small floor space.”

They moved on to some different topic, but I wasn't really listening. I thought back to that store, the wrong one, how I nearly snatched up that violin as if it were my own that I broke so long ago before running out so quickly that I was sure the sales clerks thought I stole something.

I didn't realise I was digging my nails into my arms until I felt another hand rest on my shoulder. It took a second to see it was Davey’s, which snatched away as soon as I looked at him.

“You okay?”

Without saying as such, I know he wasn't asking about my quietness. I pulled my hands away and noticed a very slight amount of something red under one of my nails, quickly rolling my sleeves down to cover it up.

Kit and Grizz caught on too, abandoning their conversation. Kit got up and rummaged through a drawer before tossing me a Slinky. 

“Here, if you’re restless, just play with this. I get it.” And with that, they returned back to their conversation, as if this were an ordinary moment rather than another thing weird and off-putting about me.

I was still pondering this when Eddie finally came bursting in. Everyone jumped at how the door slammed apart from Kit’s sister on the bunk, who didn’t even flinch, and Eddie himself. He carried a plastic bag from Walmart and a grin, before pulling - of all things - a chocolate cream pie in a foil tin under plastic wrap from it.

“Time for shitface, everyone!”

[skyland2703]

Write a scene without any dialogue + World of the Coinless/Pre-Shattered Grid; Sentry Adam & Sentry Skull~

Ah, writing without dialogue. A special treat for me, indeed.

It was a little cardboard carton. It was probably all that Skull had managed to save, and to bring along, when he'd become a Red Sentry. That box had always intrigued Adam, because neither he, nor any other sentry of the entire coinless ranks had ever had a chance to peek into it.

It wasn't that nobody cared for the contents of the box, everyone was curious. But there was something about it, a strange aura of it, and the way Skull was around it, that made everyone respect his privacy, and not go snooping around. Adam imagined it was probably old picture frames, knick knacks from their school days, or maybe something a little more precious than that.

Skull was usually seen sitting with that box after an especially hard day, when things didn't feel all that right; days when Drakkon's assignments to him involved murders of innocents, or reimbursements of loans from people who had way too little money to pay back the principle amount, let alone the interest. Sentries sometimes doubled as debt recovery agents, and since the loans from Drakkon's treasury came at a forty percent interest rate, (which was also less, considering the way Drakkon's greed ran his finances, and something that was there as a reason of Finster arguing with him that nobody would take the loans if he kept it above 50%, no matter how necessary—) it was especially painful, and Skull more or less landed up with the job once in every few weeks. It was extra horrible than the others, such as manning the granaries or guarding the Bastard's royal chambers, as it involved humiliation and harassment of those who were a little too beneath them.

And Skull didn't have the heart for it.

He was especially depressed when he came back from events like this, and Adam, who was usually paired off with Skull on duties like this, saw him taking a shower— which often involved some shenanigans with Adam himself, for some stress relief— and then settling onto the bed in the railway station issue quality blankets, which barely protected any cold at all, and pull up the little cardboard box from under his bed, and turn off the lights.

One day, though, he decided to ask about it. As they settled onto their beds after a relatively less stressful day, Adam on his bunk across a narrow strip of floor from Skull's, and Skull nestled into his blankets, and turned towards Adam, a small melancholy smile on his face. Adam flashed him a big grin, and wondered if he should ask, if that were the right moment to ask such a thing. And seeing that Skull didn't look as haunted today, as he didn't even need to bring up his little box of memories, Adam raised his eyebrows, and wordlessly, pointed towards under Skull's bed. Skull looked down, his eyes following to where Adam's fingers were pointed to, and he realised what the Black Sentry meant.

Skull sat up, tossed his blankets to a side— this was definitely a good day to ask about this— and gestured for Adam to come over, to his bed.

Adam followed, still grinning at his success, and mentally telling his curiosity that it was about to be satisfied. He climbed onto Skull's bed, and sat in front of him, as Skull dragged the little box out. It had, in a terrible handwriting, with a sharpie that had stopped running by the end of it, written "Memories. DO NOT OPEN". Adam chuckled to himself, realising he, and the other sentries, was right, the box did indeed contain mementos from Skull's life.

Skull opened it, and placed it in front of Adam, as if urging him to look at it, and figure out what it contained. Adam dipped a hand in, and came up with a few... were those fairy lights? Little fairy lights, all white and golden. He wondered if Skull would ever have a room of his own, he'd put them up, like a little teenage boy's room. There were posters in there, old bands, My Chemical Romance, Green Day, Lana Del Ray, people he didn't particularly recognise.

Then he dug further, and saw a little snow globe, with a white bearded wizard trapped in it. He eyed it curiously, and Skull, understanding what he was going for, picked it up, and turned it around in his hand, watching Adam's stunned, and childlike reaction to the glitter that, now disturbed, was falling over and around the wizard like snowy magic.

Then there was a little bandana, which Adam felt like belonged to Bulk... it wasn't one that Skull regularly wore himself, it was violet with black stripes, and he felt he'd seen Bulk wearing it a little too many times when they had been in school. There were old polaroid pictures— Kimberly Hart, the Ranger Slayer had had a polaroid camera, back in the day, if he remembered correctly. There were polaroids of Skull and Bulk, and one of Skull in a ridiculous costume that made Adam chuckle slightly. Kimberly used to take pictures of everyone from her camera, and present them to them on their birthdays, it was an adorable tradition, and made for memories that people, including Skull, cherished to this date.

Then there was a little toy robot sitting in one corner of the box, and Adam picked it up. He watched Skull's eyes flick onto the robot, and a sadness filled them immediately. Adam decided it wasn't his place to touch that, and he was just about to put it back in the box, when Skull's hand stopped his, holding the robot in both of their hands, and the Red Sentry's scarred fingers gently turned it over, and under its feet, Adam saw a little sticker sticking in, that read "William Cranston". That made sense.... Billy... that robot had belonged to Billy... but what was it doing with Skull?

He placed the robot respectfully back into the box, and pulled up what looked like a little toy sword— there were two of them, plastic, about the size of his forearm. There were also various other little things, like pirate eye-patches, more bandanas (apparently, they were a thing Skull liked to collect) a bunch of ragged clothes... and a broken spectacle frame.

The spectacle frame was so small. As if it belonged to an eight year old, and it was blue... Adam couldn't imagine who it belonged to, but a part of him said it was the same child to whom the broken robot had belonged to. A part of Adam told him this was the reason why Skull looked at these things when he was sad... he had some memories he liked to relive, and yet, the way the box said 'DO NOT OPEN', there were memories that he didn't want to come to terms with, and were tucked away in the bottom of the box.

The last thing Adam noticed before closing the flaps of the box was an old, torn and forlorn photograph of two six year old boys, one with fluffy black hair, and one with blonde ones. They were both tiny, a little smaller for their ages, and the blonde one wore the exact same spectacles he'd just seen in his hands a few minutes ago. They were both dressed up as pirates, and that one photograph had the words "Skull and Bones" scribbled on it in a child's wobbly handwriting.

Adam understood everything, with that one.

He looked up at Skull, who was smiling at him, reading every expression of Adam's as he dove through Skull's treasure chest. Adam heaved a sigh, and then reached around his own neck, pulling out a little charm he always wore with himself, as a thank you, and as a 'remember me too, would ya?' and handing it to Skull, no words said, but he looked down towards the box, and implied what he had meant.

Skull smiled gratefully, and placing everything back in the box, he gently rested the charm on top of the little toy robot, and tilted his head, and laid back in bed.

That was another memory he'd like to cherish.

[braveclementine]

Part 1

Warnings: None. However, future chapters will contain sexual content so readers that are under the age of 18 may have to skip those chapters (However they are very few so those under the age of 18 can still read a majority of this book. However please keep note of the warnings).

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. Also, all of Severus and Elizabeths' childrens names are mine and mine alone.I also do not condone any copying of this.

SNAPE HOUSEHOLD (PRINCE ESTATE)

🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶

Inside the glorious once-Prince estate, now Snape Household, every living soul was asleep, except for one. Remus slept soundly in his bedroom, ministry papers stacked up on his bedside table, an acceptance letter from Percy Weasley kept open by an inkwell. His owl swooped in through the window at that moment, flying into her cage to sleep after a night of hunting. 

Minerva and Seraphina slept in their shared room, the elder Snapes' bedside table covered with makeup magazines and the products themselves were lined neatly on a vanity across from her bed. Her cat curled up against her side, purring softly and contentedly. Sera was sprawled on her stomach, her hand still holding open the chapter she had fallen asleep reading. 

Elijah Kingsley snored softly, the headphones he had been wearing to listen to classical music to fall asleep askew across his forehead now, and would make his neck sore for the train ride to Hogwarts the following morning. His brother Damon hadn't made it to bed, falling asleep at the desk in the corner of the room, bent over Transfiguration homework he still hadn't finished over the summer. 

Further down the hallway, the head of the household slept on his side, his arm wrapped around his wife. He was fast asleep, his long black hair curtained around his face. He was sleeping peacefully, his dreams meaningless shapes and colours that swirled around his head. His wife on the other hand, had her brow furrowed, delving into less pleasant dreams. 

Carlisle and Hatsuharu slept on their bunk beds that their father had magicked together. Marvel and DC superhero posters lined the walls, paraphernalia scattered on the dresser tops, and action figures littered the floor from where they had been playing with them before bed time. Iron Man had Batman in a choke hold, despite the Iron warrior having blasters. 

Davina mumbled in her sleep in the room that connected to her twin brothers, dreaming about her first day at Hogwarts. She was dreaming of gorgeous centaurs and beautiful, crystal clear lakes to swim in. The feeling of wind whipping through her hair as she flew under the instruction of Madam Hooch and boiled potions under the guidance of Professor Slughorn, whom her parents had had as well. And to see her Aunt Minerva too! And Uncle Neville!

Marinette on the other hand, stared at the ceiling of her bedroom. Her father had let her stick plastic muggle stars to the ceiling, which glowed green in the dark. She had arranged them like constellations, naming each one as she looked at them. 

The stars were the only decorations in her room. Her walls were bare and white, not even lined with wallpaper. Her mother had asked if she wanted the walls painted green when she had been placed in Slytherin two years ago, but she did not want that. 

She hated Hogwarts. She dreaded going back this year for her third term. She thought enviously of Remus and how he was already out of school and in the Ministry. Not that she wanted to be in the ministry either. Whatever she did out of Hogwarts, she would make sure she wasn't in another institution. 

She sat up slowly, looking around. Snowball was curled up in his bed, his tail over his pink nose, the only colour to him besides his amber eyes. 

The house was silent, until she put her feet on the floor, which creaked very softly underneath her. She tiptoed across the room, opening up the door, padding down to the bathroom. Moonlight lit up different spots of the white carpet as it came in through the windows whose curtains had not been drawn. It seemed Haru had forgotten to do so. 

She drew the curtains across the windows now, each one, silently, before closing the bathroom door behind her. 

She listened to the house creak very slightly, but also to the wings of owls as they fluttered in and out of the different rooms. One of them hooted from outside, and she saw Carlisle's new owl flutter onto a branch, meeting a wild owl. 

She closed the curtains there too. 

If only she was like her mother, she thought for a moment. Her mother was successful without going into the ministry. Her mother had been able to do whatever she wanted, could achieve whatever she put her mind to. 

Over the course of only nineteen years, her mother was a successful Auror, part time Quidditch player, inventor of the Werewolf cure potion, Gymnastics coach for a muggle gym, and singer in Lee Jordans' band called M.O.M. Not to mention, she had written a book series which was fantasy fiction to the Muggle world, but nonfiction biography to the Wizard world of being at Hogwarts when she was, but by the point of view of her Uncle, Harry. 

Her mom was a star in so many different categories, it was unbelievable. 

Mari wished she was her mother. Her own person. Powerful. Attractive. Not afraid to stand up for herself. 

All of her other sisters even looked like her to an extent. Minerva and Seraphina both had brown hair and eyes. Davina had black hair like their father, but her mothers' eyes, nose, and even her dimples when she smiled. 

Even her brothers had hints of their mother in them. Remus and Haru both had brown hair, Carlisle had very dark brown hair that almost looked black. Damon had his moms nose and dimples. Elijah Kingsley looked the most like their father, but his eyes were amber instead of black or brown. 

Mari on the other hand looked like her father and only her father. Long black hair, black eyes, with no colour to her cheeks, no dimples, and her fathers nose as well. She had nothing from her mother. 

She left the bathroom but stopped in the hallway when she heard a whimper. At first, she thought it was a cat, but then the whimper sounded again, except it was a cry of pain. The hairs on her arms stood up, her senses completely alert. 

Then, she heard her fathers' voice, "Elizabeth. Darling, wake up you're having a nightmare. . ." 

Severus had awoken to what felt like an earthquake. He had frozen in bed for a second, before realizing that it was only the bed shaking. He sat up slowly, lighting a candle without hand or wand, turning to see that Elizabeth was shaking in bed, tears streaming down her cheeks. 

He let out a sigh of sympathy, wrapping his arms around her. 

Marinette silently ran back to her room, closing the door, sliding underneath the covers. And that was the one reason she didn't want to be her mother: nightmares. 

Severus had pulled Elizabeth into his arms, holding her tightly as she cried and whimpered, unable to rouse her from the nightmares. She whimpered out a name, then and there and Severus sighed, feeling his heart sink. 

That had been, what? 21, 22 years ago? Why was she still thinking about that? Thinking about him?

Elizabeth woke with a start, slowly opening her eyes, finding that she was in her husbands' arms. She snuggled into him, feeling rather content and peaceful as she drifted back to sleep, never knowing that he was awake and watching. 

Severus closed his eyes, falling back to sleep. 

The name she had said, was 'Cedric'.