#Firearms Training and Instruction

[techramonic]

More random info and pictures of the Kerch Polytechnic incident, mainly small details regarding Vlad.

home

His house and room. He grew up in Arshintsevo before moving somewhere else in Kerch, Crimea with his mother after his parents split up. He was living in poverty, since the only direct provider was his mother, who was a nurse and oncologist at a nearby orderly hospital.

ammo and gun training

The ammo he used for the attack. He used birdshot and buckshot pellet bullets. On July 18th 2018, he went to Egida Training Centre to apply for gun training.

Accordining to an interview user Skanderarrent2 posted on reddit, his trainer mentioned that he was skilled in shooting and initially thought that he had experience with firearms:

“Because he spoke very confident, self-collected. I felt that he was more mature in his soul than (an) 18 year old. It felt that he was a young adult, not a teenager, not an 18 year-old because he did everything clearly. Some people are verbose, but he didn’t have extra words, was silent. And he didn’t ask too many questions. I had the impression that he quickly learned, etc. That is, he created the impression of a trained person. The teachers noticed that he shot well, when asked where he learned why he shot so well, the young man replied, ‘I practiced shooting’”

The taining which included 4 hours in theory and 2 hours practice, cost Vlad 4,000 rubles or $62 instead of 6000 or $93. He said he had financial difficulties, and the management gave him a discount. He then subsequently earned a license and bought a gun from Oruzheinik Gun Shop during August of 2018.

purchase history and materials

His purchase history up until the attack and what he had bought and wore during the attack. People speculate that he hand-painted the "ненависть" on his shirt.

handwriting

an assignment he wrote regarding electrical safety. a rough translation of his assignment reads:

“Mapogon or an order defines the boundaries of the workplace, the volume of work performed, the scope of the work, as well as the list of employees who are responsible and perform the work. Unauthorized carrying out of work and white changes in people's permission instructions are strictly prohibited. If the work performed in an electrical installation involves the use of (unintelligible) mechanisms, then 4 technological steps are necessary KAPTAM - according to specially developed software. When performing work on electrical equipment up to 1000 V, the MO should be directly energized. Install fences for nearby live parts to which K work is carried out. accidental contact is possible when performing acidental...”

extra. why he standing like dat?? had to tip a toe

[bits-and-babs]

✰ 𝐊𝐎𝐖𝐓𝐎𝐖 — 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 ‘𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓’ 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘

↳ summary: prompt: “on your knees” — A ‘basics’ training course enforced on Task Force 141 after a failed mission causes Simon Riley to lose his cool.

↳ pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!Reader (Delta)

↳ [1k] content: mentions of injury and violence, oral (m receiving), exhibitionism, rough oral, hair pulling (so inevitably mentions of hair, length not specified), Dacryphilia, swallowing. Ghost is a big massive slut and so am I.

ghost masterlist [coming soon] I| main masterlist |I join taglist

Attempting to get a prolific and deadly team of elite soldiers to engage in a ‘basic self-defence’ training course must have been the most perilous and mortal task Laswell had undertaken in her twenty-year career. You have no doubt that she had already prepped for the uproar it would cause amongst Task Force 414; ‘you’re actin’ like we’re amateurs, Laswell,’ and ‘It’s not as though we’ve stopped missiles or anything.’

The grumbles of the men behind you indicate that they’d been unsuccessful in convincing Laswell that the training program was gratuitous, all looking as though Captain Price dragged them by their ears. 

“Ghost, Delta. You’re up first,” he grumbles, his lack of enthusiasm almost comical. Despite the complaints, you couldn’t exactly condemn Laswell for her enforcement. Alejandro’s ribs had cracked wide open when thrown off the roof of a building, caught off guard by a narco he hadn’t seen obscured by the shadows. Ribs L3 to L8 had snapped, L5 managing to pierce through the soft flesh of the Colonel’s lung and rendering him utterly defenceless as the mission descended into chaos.

It goes without saying that Laswell had dressed the unit down to your socks when you returned, Ghost hauling the wheezing Alejandro over his shoulders and into the rendezvous vehicle. 

The insulting level of competence that the demonstration requires notwithstanding, Simon steps forward into the makeshift ring, the virtually impossible size of his soles barely making a sound as he walks across the floor. Under Price’s watchful gaze, you’re hot on Ghost’s heels. 

It’s a simple task. Simon just has to dispatch you. 

Ominously fixed on your face, the skull mask’s obsidian eyes do little to obscure the amber of Simon’s irises in the daylight. He’s gazing fixedly at you, readying himself and widening his stance for the demonstration. The prop pistol in his hand is near comical given the brutality those giant hands had enacted; though, you can’t help but think that someone as savagely efficient as Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley would still, somehow, find a way to annihilate you with the plastic munitions. 

“On your knees!” Ghost barks out, his booming, gritty voice startling you despite your anticipation. You barely have time to react to the onslaught of motion, your temporary enemy pressing the barrel of his makeshift firearm into your temple with a bruising force. 

Per Price’s instructions, you sink slowly to your knees, hands raised and palms flat to show your lack of armament. The barrel of the plastic G18 lets up against the pulpy skin of your temple, an aching sensation settling into the flesh it had compressed. When you lift your eyes to Ghost, however, you feel as though he’s pistol-whipped you across the face. 

Lieutenant Riley’s honey eyes ooze with arousal, something dangerous flitting through the black pools of his pupils. Blown wide, they bore down at you, betraying his stoic composure.

Battering against your ribcage, your heart rate picks up under his stare. Blood rushes to your face, heating it as you gaze up at your captor through your lashes. 

You hear Ghost’s shaky exhale from his nose rattle against the plastic of his mask. 

                                        ✰

Dragging his fingers through your hair, Ghost’s gloves fingerprints massage your scalp as you kneel perfectly still, his hot, ridiculously large cock balanced on the flat of your tongue. His chest heaves quietly, winding strands of your hair around his digits before curling them upwards into a tight fist. 

“Deep breath, love,” he rumbles before pushing his hips forward. He clasps your chin with his free hand, keeping your mouth wide open for him as he drags the length of his throbbing cock across your tongue and down your throat. 

It’s impossible not to— you gag around him, eyes watering slightly as the blunt head of his cock notches at your throat walls. His nostrils flare, golden eyes beaming in the fluorescent lighting of the hallway.

You barely get a chance to inhale as he’d ordered, using his grip on your hair to yank your head forward onto his dick. You moan loudly, warning a tight squeeze of your strands that cause your hair follicles to strain under the pressure— a warning. 

Ghost’s breathing falters slightly as he sets a brutal, punishing rhythm. However, it doesn’t take you long to establish a breathing pattern of your own against his rapid strokes, inhaling every time he slips out of the confines of your fluttering throat. 

“Fuckk~” he groans, eyes settled on you like a cross-hair as you make an effort to hollow your cheekbones around his ridiculous girth, eyelashes wet with tears. “You belong on your knees. Looking at me like th—shit — like that in front of the whole unit.”

You’d like to ask him what he means, but he rocks forwards again with a significant snap of his hips that bumps the back of your throat in a bruising collision. Retches threaten to spill from your lips, but his width fills your throat, and Ghost relishes in the constriction around his cock with a growl. 

“Yes,” he urges, teeth clenched behind the midnight black balaclava, “Yes, just like that, Christ!”

Ignoring all urges from your body to expel his intrusion in your throat, you swallow around him. It shakes a loud groan from his lungs, the lecherous sound ricocheting off the walls like he’d just shot a pistol. 

“You naughty fuckin’ girl,” he chastises you, punishing you by amping up the impossible pace of his rocking hips until tears begin to spill down your cheeks. It only appears to spur him further, a loud, rumbling groan drenching his words, “They’re gonna fuckin’ hear us—“

Moaning in agreement, you nod your head. It’s only slight; you can’t manage much more than a subtle tip forward of your chin. The vibrations seem to rock down his length to his balls because they pull up tight suddenly, and he’s wheezing out a haggard “Delta!’”

He spurts down your throat, coats the insides of your cheek, dribbles down your chin and drips to the floor. There’s so much of him, and you swallow down as much as you can as he leans back against the wall, winded as though an assailant had just punched him in the gut. 

Basics lesson number one: Ghost likes you on your knees. 

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[waywardxwords]

The Fix - Epilogue

Summary: Everyone has a past, but yours seemed to haunt you. You've tried to move forward with a normal life, but the day comes when that's not possible anymore. When Sheriff Beau Arlen enters your life, you're certain he is going to judge you just like everyone else in town does. But something about Beau is different.

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings: Slight language, nothing serious. Fluff!

“Mama! Emily said she’d help me build a snowman. Can I go?” Bailey tugged on her mittens and her winter hat, knowing your instructions before braving the bitter air. 

A small laugh tumbled through your lips as you nodded. “Hold on, let me zip you up,” you set down your mug of tea and knelt in front of her before you grasped the metal zipper. “You remember the rules?” You prompted her. 

“Stay close where you can see,” she recited with a proud grin. 

“Good,” you kissed her cheek and nodded towards the door with approval. She bolted past you with a quick, ‘Thanks, Mama!’ over her shoulder. 

You pulled yourself back to your feet and reached for your own winter coat. After you were prepared for the bitter December wind, you grabbed your mug and headed out to the porch to greet Beau as he walked up the path. 

He ruffled Bailey’s hat a bit as she hurried past, but stopped her to straighten it out so it would cover her ears. 

“Hey, handsome,” you chimed from the front door. His gaze found yours and a wide smile pulled across his lips. 

“Hiya, darlin’,” he crooned. 

It had been two months since Jackson had been arrested and made a deal with the FBI. He was still in FBI custody, but that hadn’t brought you much peace. 

Beau had gone out immediately and purchased trail cameras for every corner of your home, and out on the property as well. He had also insisted you practice firearm training (though you had to admit, it was hard at first but you didn’t mind the closeness to Beau that came along with it). 

Beau ended up crashing at your house nine times out of ten. He said it was safer, and he wouldn’t sleep well if he wasn’t there. You thought back to the first night Beau ended up in your bed. 

“It’s late, darlin’,” Beau had glanced at the watch on his wrist as he stifled a yawn. His eyes were hazy and reddened. 

Your teeth found the inside of your bottom lip as you processed the thoughts that drifted through your brain. “I know, I just like talking to you.”

A chuckle fell from his lips. “I like talkin’ to you, too. But we both need sleep.” He had stood and started to gather the pillows and blankets you had grabbed for his make-shift bed on your sofa. 

“You can’t possibly get good sleep out here on the couch,” you toyed with the idea—it was like putting out a bone and seeing if he would take it. His eyes landed on you and he watched you closely. 

“Do you have a guest bedroom you haven’t told me about?” Damn, he was really going to make you work for it. Heat had risen in your cheeks and you stumbled over some ‘uh's’ and there was an ‘um’ in there, somewhere. Beau chuckled again. “Are you askin’ me to sleep in your bed, darlin’?” The gruffness of his voice made your entire body shiver. 

After a brief pause, your voice was almost a whisper. “Would you want to sleep in my bed, Beau?”

A smile pulled at the corners of his lips. “I’d like that, if you’d like that, too,” his tone matched yours. 

“What’re you thinkin’ about, darlin’?” Beau’s drawl interrupted your memories as you both sat in rocking chairs watching your daughters build a snowman. Your eyes found his and you smiled. 

“Just how we’ve gotten here. If you had told me this would be my life two months ago, I wouldn’t have believed you,” the cold air stung your eyes as tears had formed. With a glove covered hand, you quickly reached up to push them away. 

Beau had somehow gotten used to your emotions, but he still watched you carefully. “Are you happy? With life, and how things are, I mean?” He asked carefully. 

“Beau Arlen, you should absolutely know the answer to that,” you reached out to brush the side of his face. “I have truly never been happier.” You paused as he reached out to hold your hand in his. “Are you happy? I know we were kinda thrown into this world we’re living in…it’s not necessarily something you signed up for.”

He leaned towards you and you felt his lips against yours. “Darlin’,” he breathed. “I would sign up for this life with you and Bailey every day over again.” You kissed him once more. Beau pulled back for a moment and shuffled through his coat pocket as you heard the buzz from his vibrating cell phone. “One sec, sweetheart.” He pushed the phone to his ear as he answered. “Sheriff Arlen,” he said–the sweetness to his tone dissipated. 

In the two months you had been with Beau, you found it hard to ignore his work calls. Most of the time he got a call to assist with a car accident, or maybe a wellness check on an elderly neighbor. But you could never be certain–you always held your breath in case he got the call; the one where you would find out that Jackson was being released.

Beau stood from his spot on the rocking chair and began to pace, that was your first sign that this was a more serious call. And then his eyes landed on you. When he realized you were studying him, he looked away almost instantly. This call was most certainly about you–or about Jackson, rather.

“Alright, that’s good,” he spoke carefully as he paced. “What’s that mean for…for uh, for the victims?” His eyes wanted to look at you but he couldn’t just yet. You tried to stay calmly seated on the rocking chair, but no longer could. You stood to your feet and glanced back at Emily and Bailey, as if looking away for a second would bring harm to one of them. After a much longer pause than you thought necessary, Beau’s feet stopped pacing and he stood with his back to you. “You’re kiddin’ me,” he breathed. You couldn’t tell yet if that was good or bad–you assumed bad. “Well, damn.” His breath fogged around him and there was a slight chuckle to his words and tone. A chuckle? You wanted to scream out and ask him what that meant, but you knew you had to be calm.

He turned back to look at you again, this time a wide smile on his lips. “Ya know what, Matt Donahue?” Beau’s grin practically touched his ears, and now you had confirmation this call was about your case, as Matt was the FBI agent working it. “You’re not a son-of-a-bitch after all…” he trailed off with a laugh as he stepped towards you. The phone was still pressed to his ear as he listened. “Yeah, yeah, I hope I never see you again, too.” He laughed. “But hey, thanks…thanks a lot.”

He pulled the phone away and ended the call.

“My heart feels like it’s about to explode, please tell me what’s happening,” you breathed as Beau gripped your hands in his just as he stood before you.

“They caught the last drug boss, he’s in the FBI’s custody as we speak,” Beau started. You wanted to urge him to continue.

“So Jackson gets released?” Your heart had already sunk down the confines of your rib cage and into the pit of your stomach; you couldn’t understand how Beau was excited about this.

Beau shook his head from side to side, a gleam of happiness in his eyes. “When the FBI made this deal with Jackson, they had only charged him with kidnapping, felony gun possession and drug trafficking. They didn’t charge him with attempted murder of a law enforcement officer.” He began to explain. You weren’t following. “So the deal was only good for the charges he faced at the time. And just now, the DA charged him with attempted murder of a law enforcement officer. He can’t make a deal on that.” 

Beau waited a minute for it to set in. “So…he’s not getting released?” The words were soft but he heard them.

“He’s not gettin’ released,” Beau confirmed with a smile. You blinked as you processed. “It’s a little bit of a shady practice, but for once, I don’t feel bad about it. We’ll get to prosecute him here in Big Sky. We can’t bring up anything he made a deal on, but attempted on a LEO is a big deal. Dependin’ on if they can charge him with first or second, we’re lookin’ at a minimum of thirty years in prison, sweetheart.”

It felt like you might fall over as your knees weakened. Beau seemed to recognize that as he led you back to the rocking chair. After blinking a few more times, your gaze found Emily and Bailey laughing in the snow as they tied a scarf just below their snowman’s head. The feeling of Beau’s calloused fingertips on your cheek brought you back into the moment.

“Hey,” he breathed with a smile, and for a second, you thought you saw his eyes glaze over. “He’s never gonna hurt you again. He’s never gonna be near Bailey again. This seals it.”

You finally managed to speak. “I, uh, I guess you can go home now.” You laughed half-heartedly as you sniffled–partially from the cold but mostly from the emotion that had overcome you at that point.

“I’d really like to be here, with you and Bailey. If that’s alright with you…” his voice warmed your chest as he spoke, but all you could muster was a nod to refrain from sobbing.

Beau pulled you tightly to his chest and you held on as if your life depended on it; and in that moment, it felt like it did.

That night, after Bailey had gone to bed, Beau had turned on the radio to an old FM station that played smooth jazz and alternative rock, two sounds that neither of you hardly ever listened to. But when the soft piano started to play, he held his hand out for you to take.

You couldn’t help but laugh–while you hadn’t shared the reason for your excitement with Bailey or Emily, the two of you had relished in the feeling together. You could see it in the way you looked at each other all night over dinner, or the way Beau had built a pillow fort with Bailey after Emily headed out to meet a friend at the movie theater, and in the way he had pulled you to him before you put Bailey to bed and kissed you like everything was right in the world.

And now you felt it in the way his left hand held your right, and his other hand found the small of your back. Your head moved to his shoulder and found comfort in the crook of his neck as the two of you slow-danced in the middle of your kitchen to the soft sounds you finally recognized as Coldplay.

“Coldplay? Really?” You practically snorted as you pulled your head from his shoulder.

“Shh,” he hushed you playfully. “It’s a good song, alright?”

“Mr. Arlen, I didn’t think you listened to anything that didn’t have a banjo in the background–or foreground, for that matter,” you laughed. You had done a lot of that this evening–laugh, that is. 

“Alright, alright,” he grumbled. “You gonna let me spin you around this kitchen? I can always put somethin’ with a banjo on…” he threatened.

“No, no,” you quickly hushed with a giggle. “I’ll shut up…”

He returned his focus to spinning you around the kitchen, just as promised. Every time he pulled you back to his chest, his lips left a gentle kiss on your hairline.

You couldn’t help but watch him as you listened to the lyrics. Before you could be too overcome with emotion, your lips found his. When you had met Beau Arlen, you were two partially broken people. And somehow, someway–you had managed to put yourselves back together, and you were grateful for this new beginning.

Lights will guide you home And ignite your bones And I will try to fix you.

AHH, okay - so - I apologize. I realize it is not Wednesday, lol. I really, really struggled with this epilogue. I actually ended up wiping the entire thing on Wednesday and re-writing it because I just wasn't happy with it. I hope this wraps everything up nicely with a pretty bow for you.

I really struggled with the whole "let's be sneaky and screw Jackson on a deal" thing, because honesty and integrity are really important to me. But then I remembered how shitty of a human Jackson is (as a reminder: he beat his wife on the regular, he was trafficking drugs that kill people every day, he shot MO [one of the most beloved deputies with a kind heart and soul], kidnapped his kid, held Beau and his ex-wife at gun point, etc.) and decided to run with it. I hope you don't hate it?

Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU to all of you for reading, reblogging, liking and commenting on this series. It has really brought me so much joy to read what you all think and over the last month or so. While this is the end of the series, I hope to come back with some one shots associated with these characters in the future.

And with that, this series is COMPLETE!

*Song is "Fix You" by Coldplay

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[fortheloveofwonderland]

Midnight | Chapter 17 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - Luke arrives in Crested Butte and meets some locals. Spencer has his own problems to deal with.

Pairing - unsub! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | very eventual happy ending

Warnings - drinking, brief mentions of sex, swearing, bribery, false allegations, sexual abuse. WC - 5.8k

Chapter 17 - Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

You didn’t remember much about returning to the cabin last night as upon arriving back in Butte you and Spencer had indulged in one two many drinks at The Eldo before finally stumbling home well after midnight. 

Judging by the fact your body was sore and you were naked, you’d probably had sex more than once and your head was throbbing when you opened your eyes, but you felt at peace. 

Spencer stirred next to you, pulling you closer to his body and kissing your messy hair. 

“I swore I’d never drink that much again.” He grumbled. 

“I feel like I’ve been hit by a freight train.” You agreed. 

“I think that was more my fault than the alcohol. I’m fairly certain we had sex at least five times. And from memory it got pretty rough.” He pulled you even closer. 

“Worth it.” You smiled sleepily, resting your head on his chest. “I feel like shit, but I also feel on top of the fucking world.”

“Hmm, me too.” He agreed, nuzzling his face against your head. 

“Don’t get excited, I don’t think my body can handle anymore sex right now.” 

“Trust me when I say I don’t even think I have the energy to get it up.” He chuckled. 

“That is music to my ears right now.” You giggled. 

“Give it time, I’m sure there’s only so long I can lay next to a beautiful, naked woman before it happens of its own accord.” 

“Fair enough.” You giggled again. “I can handle that. But I never want to drink again in my life.” 

“Agreed.” Spencer exhaled before adding. “You know, until next time.” 

You snuggled into him, wrapping your arm around his waist and slinging one leg over his. In that moment you felt invincible. 

***

McGill’s Diner on Elk Avenue had a traffic camera positioned between the ground and first floor windows, capturing every car that passed by. It was the same camera that had witnessed the little blue Nissan purchased by Andrew Burnett in Franklin County, Virginia, drive up and down the street multiple times over the last week. 

With no better place to start, Luke parked up at the curb and headed inside. He was under strict instructions from Prentiss that he was to not treat this like a federal investigation, they had no idea what they were dealing with and they didn’t want to alert the townsfolk to FBI presence. He was simply a concerned friend. 

To stave off temptation, he left his creds in the hire vehicle he’d driven the forty minutes from Gunnison-Crested Butte Regional Airport. He did however keep his firearm visible in his holster on his hip. 

A little bell chimed above the door as he entered the diner. It was late enough that the breakfast rush was over and early enough for the lunchtime crowd not to have surfaced yet so it was reasonably quiet. There was an older couple in a booth over the back and a younger man and woman sitting at the counter. 

Luke made his way over to where a guy around your age was fixing a pot of coffee behind the counter. He looked up when he heard Luke approached and offered him a friendly smile. He wore a green flannel shirt over a black tee which had some kind of stain down it. 

“Hi there,” he put down the coffee pot and gave Luke his full attention. “Can I get you a table?” 

“No, thanks. I’m actually looking for some people. My friends, I think they might be here.” Luke dove straight in. 

“Sure, I might be able to help. Most people come through here even if they're just in town for a day or two. Our coffee is pretty good.” 

“Is this your place?” 

“No, my dads.” The man wiped his hand on his jeans before extending it towards Luke. “Jesse McGill.”

“Luke Alvez.” Luke shook his hand. “So like I said, I’m looking for my friends. Rose and Andrew Burnett. I can show you pictures if you like?” 

“No, that’s ok.” Jesse rolled his lip between his teeth. “I know them. Well, I know her better than him, never really spoken to him but I’ve seen him around.” 

“They still in town?” Luke asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Uh, I guess so. Haven’t seen them for a few days so I can’t be sure. People come and go, you know? This place is a bit of a tourist trap.” Jesse shrugged.

“A ski resort isn’t much of a tourist trap in spring time.” Luke narrowed his eyes on Jesse, feeling as though the man was hiding something from him. “You know where they’re staying?”

Jesse straightened his back, running a hand through his thick beard while he contemplated how to answer that. Luke could tell he knew exactly where they were staying but for whatever reason, didn’t want to share the information. He knew all it would take to get it out of him would be to flash his FBI badge, but of course Prentiss had ordered him not to.

Jesse was mulling over what you’d told him the other night about Rose not being your real name and not really being married and now a stranger had shown up looking for you, that couldn’t be good.  

Something happened and we had to leave our jobs, our homes, that’s what you’d said to him. Were you running from someone, someone like this man in front of him? He didn’t want to risk your safety or betray your trust. He didn’t get a good vibe from this Luke Alvez character.

“No, sorry I don’t.” He shrugged again. “Like I say, haven’t seen them in a few days, they may have already left town.”

Luke wasn’t buying any of this. Jesse knew exactly where you and Spencer were but he wasn’t going to tell Luke. Why, Luke didn’t know, but without his FBI creds to back him up he knew he wasn’t going to get much further. Maybe he’d reassess, call Prentiss and tell her that no one was talking to him and he needed some authority on his side. 

“Well, you also said most people come through here right? So I’ll take that table now and a cup of that coffee and I’ll wait.” Luke smiled smugly at him and subtly put his hands on his hips to draw attention to his firearm. 

Jesse glanced down at it and the fear he’d felt for your safety only doubled. What the hell kind of trouble were you in and how could he alert you to it without arousing suspicion? For now he nodded, motioning Luke towards a table and following him over with the pot of coffee. He left him alone after that but kept a watchful eye over the stranger in his diner.

Luke pulled out his phone and texted Prentiss to let her know that he’d arrived in the Butte but hadn’t had much luck yet. He sipped the coffee, which he couldn’t deny was pretty incredible and stared at the door as if it would magically open and you would stroll in. 

He was only sitting there for about a minute before a young girl with bright red hair who had been sitting at the counter slid into the booth opposite him. She had a curious look in her large green eyes as she leant on the table with her elbows.

“I know Andrew Burnett pretty well.” She cut to the chase.

“Really?” Luke cocked his eyebrow at her. 

“We hooked up a few times.” She shrugged, her words causing Luke to pull a face.

“You and S…Andrew?” 

“Yep.” 

“How old are you?” Luke’s brow furrowed heavily, thinking there was no way Spencer would sleep with this girl. 

“Twenty seven.” She sat straight and puffed out her chest but Luke’s disbelieving look caused her to huff. “Fine, I’m twenty two.” 

“Yeah, uh, no offence but I’m fairly certain he wouldn’t sleep with a twenty two year old.” Luke clucked. 

“Well, he did. More than once.” She smirked smugly. “I promised I wouldn’t say anything because of his little wifey, but he couldn’t keep his hands off of me.” 

“Wifey as in Rose?” 

“Uh huh, between you and me she seems kinda like a stick in the mud.” 

“That stick in the mud is my friend.” Luke scowled at her. 

“Don’t get me wrong, he’s no better. She might be boring but he has some anger issues.” She picked at one of her nails.

“Anger issues?” Luke frowned, it wasn’t the first time someone had inferred that about Spencer recently.

“Yep. I think he controls Rose, she always seems a little timid round him. And then there was the time he practically threw me against a wall.” 

“He…are you sure?” Luke was frowning so hard he felt a headache pinching at his temples. 

“Yeah that’s not the kind of thing you forget. He couldn’t keep it up, tried to blame me for it. So I told him he probably couldn’t keep it up because he was old…no offence.” 

“None taken.” Luke pulled a face.

“Anyway so he just freaks, gets me up against the wall and yells in my face and I swear he’s going to hurt me.” She finished with a shake of her head.

“Did he?” 

“No, but I think he wanted to.” 

Luke pulled out his phone and got up a photograph of Spencer which he turned to show the girl. 

“Is this the man you’re talking about?” 

“Yep, that’s him.” She nodded. “You say you know him, you must know what he’s like.” 

“Yeah, see that’s the thing, I don’t know him to be an angry or violent man. So what I’m wondering is maybe you had a little crush on him and he rebuffed you and so you’re making up stories to tarnish him and make yourself feel better.” Luke picked up the coffee mug and lifted it to his lips.

“I’m not five.” She spat. “I know what happened. I was just trying to help but if you don’t need-”

“Ok, Mary, that’s enough now.” She was cut off by a hand on her shoulder and she looked up to see Jesse standing over her. “You can leave now.”

She rolled her eyes and huffed, sliding out of the booth and sulking away. Jesse soon took her place, sitting down opposite Luke and exhaling through his nose.

“Look, I don’t make a habit of agreeing with her, but I think she might be telling you the truth.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Rose told me something bad happened to them and that she had get away and when you strolled in here looking for them, I thought maybe you were the something bad, you know?” 

Luke nodded slowly, sitting forward in his seat. 

“But you don’t think so now?” Luke narrowed his eyes on Jesse. 

“No.” Jesse shook his head. “You’re a cop right? Shoulda noticed that before, you scream law enforcement.”

“FBI.” Luke whispered so no one else would hear. “I’m not here on official capacity though, I worked with Y/N and Spencer, they’re my friends and I really am just trying to find them.” 

“Y/N and Spencer?” Jesse frowned. “She told me Rose wasn’t her real name but she wouldn’t tell me what it was. They’re FBI?” 

“They were, until a while ago when they just skipped down.” Luke ran his fingers through his hair, knowing he shouldn’t be telling Jesse any of this. “You said you thought that kid was telling the truth? Why?” 

Jesse exhaled again, looking sceptically at Luke as though he still wasn’t sure he trusted him. He ran his fingers through his beard and pulled a face that Luke couldn’t place.

“When I first met Rose…Y/N, she told me her “husband” was a drunken bully. I got the impression she was scared of him. I asked her if he hurt her and she said no but she did say that he had a temper. He’s a skinny dude but there’s something about him that makes me think he wouldn’t hesitate in kicking someone’s ass. He doesn’t strike me as stable, if that makes sense.” Jesse looked uncomfortable sharing this information, like he was betraying you in doing so.

“It makes absolutely zero sense, but if you knew Spencer Reid, it wouldn't make sense to you either.” Luke shook his head.

“I’m scared for her.” Jesse admitted, leaning on the table and lowering his voice to barely a whisper. “They’re staying on Gothic Avenue, big cabin right at the end. Come out of here and go straight up 4th, take the second right onto Gothic. Keep going for about a half mile and it's the big one on the corner right before the large rec.” 

“You did the right thing.” Luke smiled at him, reaching into his pocket and subtly sliding his card across the table which Jesse quickly took. “If you see either of them, please call me.”

“Sure.” Jesse nodded, soon sliding out of his chair and walking away.

Luke downed the rest of the coffee and got to his feet, making quick work of getting outside and back into his hired car and following Jesse’s instructions, drove towards the Gothic Avenue cabin. 

But he wasn’t the only one on that particular mission and he didn’t notice the redhead following him outside and heading the same way on foot. 

***

It was just before lunch time, after some extremely lazy sex that you finally dragged yourself out of bed, your hunger getting the better of you. But you soon came to find the cupboards were empty. 

Spencer bribed you with sexual favours you probably would have gotten anyway, to go down to Scout’s as he physically couldn’t prise himself away from the bed. Reluctantly you’d agreed, taking a quick shower to wash the stench of sex off of you before dressing and heading outside. 

You got about a third of the way down Gothic Avenue when you suddenly felt as though you were being watched. The hairs on the back of your neck stood to attention and you felt something was wrong in your gut. You picked up your pace, partially wishing you’d had the forethought to bring the Colt with you. 

Just before you made it to 4th Street a hand clamped down on your shoulder. You were trained for this. You knew exactly what to do. 

Without even so much as taking a breath, you spun quickly on your heels and sent your fist flying into the face of your potential attacker. They stumbled backwards with a loud groan of pain, hands flying to where you’d just punched them in the nose.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N!” He yelped, glaring at you as he held his nose. 

You stared at the man you’d hit wide eyed as the air felt like it escaped your lungs. 

“L-Luke?” You stuttered, wobbling on your feet. “What the fuck are you doing here?” 

“Nice to see you too.” He grumbled. “I should have known better than to sneak up on you.” 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You repeated. 

“Where’s Spencer?” He let go of his nose and dropped his hands to his sides.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” You didn’t miss a beat.

“Sorry, I meant Andrew. Andrew Burnett, your husband.” He nodded his head towards the wedding band. 

“Goddamnit.” You growled, pinching the bridge of your nose. “How did you find us?” 

“We’re profilers, Y/N. Come on.” He rolled his eyes. “Garcia found Reid’s car. We tracked you to a used car lot and the car you bought with Spencer’s fake licence. We put out an APB on the Nissan and found it had been picked up on cameras in this town several times.” 

“Are the rest of the team here?” You folded your arms across your chest.

“No, just me. We’re shorthanded, remember?” 

“Good. You need to leave, you have no idea what you’ve walked into.” 

“Y/N,” he softened, stepping towards you. “Has Spencer done something? Has he threatened you?” 

“What? Why would you think that?” You scoffed.

“I spoke to some people in town and they seem to think he’s this violent, angry man.” 

“Who told you that?” You frowned at him. 

“That doesn’t matter. You need to tell me what’s going on. You understand that this looks bad, right?” Luke pleaded with you. 

“We just wanted to get away. Spencer’s been struggling since prison and I was feeling stifled at the BAU. So we decided it might be a good idea to just get away from it all for a while.” You tried to insist but you knew Luke wasn’t buying it.

“I might believe that if it wasn’t for the burner phones and fake IDs and burnt out cars.” He spat. “You were an FBI agent for a long time, you know what that looks like, don’t you?” 

It looks like two criminals on the run. It looks exactly like what it is.

“What are you implying, Luke?” You frowned heavily at him.

“If Spencer has done something, to you or to anyone else, you can tell me, Y/N. You can tell me anything.” He looked deep into your eyes and you felt for a brief moment that bond between the two of you. 

You could tell him anything, you knew that much. Luke Alvez had done nothing but stick by your side through everything and you knew this would be no different. 

You reached up and fiddled with the rose gold heart pendant around your neck. Did you love Spencer enough to protect him from this? Or was this finally your way out? 

***

Spencer threw the pillow over his head and groaned deeply as a heavy knock sounded on the front door. The alcohol from last night that still seemed to be drowning his brain cells meant it felt like whoever was knocking was doing so directly against his skull. 

His plan had been not to leave this bed all day. His drive to and from South Dakota plus an exuberant amount of sex had drained his energy and the scotch he’d consumed left him feeling dizzy. 

The knock came again, followed in quick succession by the doorbell. Whoever it was clearly didn’t plan to go away easily. He groaned, his head spinning as he forced himself out of the comfort of the plush bed. His eyes were blurry and made trying to find any semblance of clothes almost impossible. 

As a third knock sounded he managed to locate his boxers and stumbled trying to put them on. His legs wobbled frantically as he slowly crept from the bedroom and down the stairs. 

His stomach lurched as he walked and he briefly thought he might throw up but thankfully it passed. He continued through the living room towards the door as the doorbell rang once more.

“Jeez. Alright I’m coming.” He belched rather unceremoniously. “Jesus I’m still drunk.” 

He threw open the door, keeping hold of it to help steady himself. He blinked a few times against the bright red assault of colour on his retinas before focusing on her face. He groaned, suddenly wishing he’d made an effort to put more clothes on and that he wasn’t standing here in just his boxers with her on his front porch.

“Fucking hell, what do you want?” He leant against the door jamb, not trusting his wobbly legs to stand unaided. 

“Well that’s just rude.” Mary smirked at him and there was something menacing to it. “I just want to talk.” 

“We have nothing to talk about.” He stood back up, moving to close the door in her face only in his state she was faster and she shoved her hands against the wood to stop it from closing. 

“Oh I think we have a lot to talk about.” Her smirk grew. “Why don’t you invite me in, Spencer Reid?”

***

“You can tell me anything.” Luke repeated when you were silent for some time. 

You rolled your eyes and scoffed.

“Oh please, Spencer couldn’t hurt a fly and you know it.” You shook your head. 

“So he didn’t give you those bruises on your neck?” Luke looked quietly smug. 

You unfolded your arms and one of your hands went to your throat. You’d gotten used to them being there if truth be told and didn’t think much of them most of the time. 

“It’s not what it looks like.” You brushed your fingers over the bruises.

“Oh really? Because to me it looks like he tried to strangle you.” Luke hissed.

“Fucking christ, Alvez,” you spat back, grinding your teeth furiously. “You really want me to stand here and tell you I like it when he puts his hand around my throat when he fucks me?” 

You swore you saw the exact moment Luke’s heart shattered in his chest. His eyes softened and he stumbled backwards, his mouth falling open as a pain washed across his face. You instantly regretted your harsh choice of words but it was too late. 

“You’re…you’re sleeping with him?” He couldn’t hide the upset from his voice despite how hard he tried. 

“Yeah.” You nodded. “We’re, uh, together I guess.” 

“You are aware he’s sleeping with some young redhead, right?” Spencer spat. 

“What? How do you know about Mary?” You glared at him. 

“I met her! She told me that Spencer got aggressive with her when he couldn’t get it up. I didn’t believe her at first but then that McGill guy said you’d told him that your “husband” was a bully.” Luke sounded exasperated. 

“You talked to Jesse?” You spat. “Luke, you had no right! You had no right to follow us here in the first place. We’re happy here, just let it go.” 

“Happy? Happy?” He scoffed, stepping towards you. “You’ve got a fucking trail of bruises around your neck and I’m starting to think they aren’t the only ones.” 

Before you could reply, Luke was grabbing one of your hands and pushing the sleeve of the pink wool sweater up your arm revealing more finger shaped bruises circling your wrist. 

“Goddamnit, conejito, really? You’re happy? You’re happy being abused?” He dropped your arm and stepped back, sadly shaking his head. 

“It’s not abuse, jeez. We like rough sex Luke, so what?” 

“Oh my god, please stop talking about you and Reid’s sex life.” 

“Are you jealous?” You scowled at him. “Are you jealous because he’s got all you ever wanted?” 

He frowned at you, looking at you like he didn’t recognise you anymore, like he was standing in front of a stranger. He took a step back, shaking his head in disappointment. 

“Maybe once this is what I wanted, yeah. But you aren’t the same person anymore, are you? You’re not my conejito.” He rolled his lip between his teeth. 

“I was never your conejito, Luke.” You spat. “You need to leave, you shouldn’t be here.” 

“I’m not going anywhere until you explain to me what’s going on. What has Spencer done? What are you scared of, Y/N?” Luke begged.

“Spencer has done nothing but love me! We wanted a fresh start, away from the BAU and all the bullshit. I don’t need you anymore Luke, I don’t need you protecting me. Let me go, for the love of god just let me go!” You raised your voice. 

“I think something happened,” he stepped closer to you. “I think Spencer did something really bad and you’re covering for him because you’re scared. You don’t need to be scared, Y/N. Just tell me what he’s done and I can help you.” 

He reached for you but you slapped his hand away. 

“Don’t touch me. Spencer has done nothing wrong, Jesus just because you’re an FBI agent doesn’t mean you always have to think like one. Sometimes the simplest explanation is the right one. And in this case it’s as simple as we wanted to get away and we knew we’d never be able to do that as Y/N Y/L/N and Spencer Reid.” You growled at him, your back well and truly up. 

“You’re lying.” He bit back. “I know you better than you know yourself and I know when you’re lying. We’re the best goddamn profilers in the world and I swear to you, Y/N, we will find out what he’s done and we will come for him. Don’t let yourself become collateral damage.” 

“Burden of proof.” You shrugged, a wry smile on your face. You remembered so well having a conversation with Spencer in his apartment about the same subject not so long ago. “You say you’re the best goddamn profiliers in the world, but so are me and Spencer. And if, hypothetically, he'd done something, do you really think he’d leave behind any evidence?” 

“You could save yourself a lot of trouble if you just tell me what I need to know.” Luke continued to plead with you. 

“You need to know nothing, except for the fact Spencer and I love each other and we are in this together until the bitter end. So why don’t you hop back on the jet and leave us the fuck alone.” You spat so venomously that Luke was actually a little scared of you. 

“You’ve changed.” He shook his head sadly. 

“And you never will.” You pushed past him on the sidewalk, deciding to forgo Scout’s in lieu of going home. 

Your blood was boiling in your veins as you marched back towards the cabin, furious at the BAU for tracking you down, angry at Luke for coming all the way out here. 

But it was only the beginning. 

***

“What do you want from me?” Spencer sat on the couch while Mary stood over him, wishing he weren’t still tipsy and clouded by last night's scotch. 

“I want to know why two FBI agents are hiding out in our town using fake names.” She folded her arms across her chest. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He tried to insist but he wasn’t able to control his facial expressions the way he normally would. 

“Does the name Luke Alvez mean anything to you?” She scrutinised him and Spencer fought with his expression not to give anything anyway but the scotch was in control.

“No.” He shook his head, swallowing thickly.

“Hmm, I don’t believe you.” She spoke in a sickly sweet tone. “Because I met him and he seems pretty convinced that you and Rose…or should I say Y/N are FBI agents who just dropped their whole lives and ran off without a trace.” 

She met Luke? Luke is here? Why the fuck is Luke here? What the hell is happening? 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He folded his arms across his bare chest. 

“Let’s try this again,” she came closer to him. “And I swear to god if you’re not honest with me…”

“What? You'll do what?” He scoffed at her. 

“I’ll tell everyone the truth about who you are.” She shrugged.

“And you think they’d believe you?” He chuckled. “You think they will believe a story as convoluted as this? Sweetheart, they will think you’re crazy.” 

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Mary shrugged. “Fine, I’ll tell everyone I know that you sexually assaulted me.” 

Spencer stared at her in utter horror of what she was saying but she looked nothing by smug. His heart started hammering so hard in his chest he felt even sicker than he already had done. He searched for a sign she was bluffing but saw none. 

He was taken back to an interrogation room at a woman’s correctional facility. He could see her so clearly in front of him, Cat Adams telling him she was pregnant with his child. He could hear her wicked voice in his ears. 

I had Lindsey dose you in Mexico. You lost time. And I gave her very specific instructions to get you in the mood. 

“W-what?” He stammered. “That’s not the kind of thing you lie about.” 

“Tell me the truth then.” She shrugged. 

“I’m not telling you shit.” He shook his head, pushing himself up to his wobbly legs. 

“Well then, I guess I’ll go. Who should I start by telling? My dad? My brothers?” She started towards the door but Spencer quickly moved and grabbed her roughly by the wrist, somehow able not to fall flat on his face. 

“Listen you little bitch,” he shook her by her arm, growling in her face. “Do you have any idea how many people are actually assaulted every day? How many don’t report it because they’re scared they won’t be believed? And you want to use their real pain for your own sick gain?”

“You know you’re not helping yourself right? If you bruise me it’ll only make my story seem more believable.” She glanced at his hand on her wrist and he quickly let her go. “And don’t think I haven’t seen the bruises on your lovely wife. I’m sure she would back up my story.” 

“The only story she would back up is the one where you’re a desperate little whore who shamelessly wanted to fuck a man you perceived to married.” He snapped at her. 

“Well I guess we’ll see won’t we? Who’s going to believe the strange out of towner over the young, innocent girl.” She pouted. 

Stop being the boy who cried rape, Spencie. It’s not a good look. 

“What do you want? Why do you care who I really am? Fine, if it’s going to shut you up, yes, my name is Spencer Reid. I was an FBI agent and so was Y/N. We changed our names and left town. Why do you even care?” He sighed in exasperation. 

“I guess FBI agents make pretty good money, right?” She mused and Spencer felt his stomach coil into knots at the insinuation.

“That’s what this is about? You want money?” He scoffed.

“I told you I want out of this town. I work three jobs and I am nowhere close to having enough. Finding out your little secret is the best thing that could have happened to me. So if you don’t give me what I want, I will disgrace the former FBI agent Spencer Reid and tell everyone that you raped me. Ten grand should do it.” Her smirk grew tenfold and Spencer felt the anger rising throughout his whole body. 

But his brain was still clouded in a thick fog of alcohol. If he’d been at full capacity he would have easily been able to figure a way out of this, but right now all he could think of was killing Mary. The only problem with that was his guns and hunting knife were upstairs.

He could strangle her to death, feeling as she took her last breath. But he knew better, even in his state, that killing someone close to home would only come back to bite him in the ass. He’d been so careful up until now and he couldn’t ruin everything because of this stupid bitch. There had to be another way.

Mary was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, much like he was. He’d tricked everyone in this town into thinking he was just the mild mannered Andrew Burnett here with his wife to escape the big city. But in reality he was a violent killer, an injustice collector of sorts. Maybe Mary was his karma and now was his time to pay up. 

“Let’s just talk about this, please?” He begged her, eyes flickering somewhere off to the side as he sensed a movement by the kitchen. 

“No, no more talking.” She shook her head, clearly not noticing he was distracted. “You pay me now or I will go straight to the cops.” 

If she heard the sound of the gun being cocked, it was too late. And then suddenly the reverberation of a single gunshot filled the room and the bullet pierced straight through the back of Mary’s head, exiting between her eyes and continuing into the wall next to the front door.

The last sound Mary made was a small gasp as she collapsed on the floor in a pool of her own blood at Spencer’s feet. The shock was written all across his face as he looked up at you, still holding the smoking gun in your hand. 

You tucked it in your waistband and strolled closer to Spencer whose mouth was hanging open and wide eyes glared at you in a stupor. 

“W-what did you…? Why did you?” He croaked out as you stepped closer, not a single hint of remorse in your eyes. 

“Karma’s a bitch.” You shrugged simply. “And so was she.” 

Hahaha, this is about you.

Beware, beware, be sceptical,

Of their smiles, their smiles of plated gold.

Deceit so natural,

But a wolf in sheep's clothing is more than a warning.

Baa baa, black sheep, have you any soul?

No sir, by the way, what the hell are morals?

Jack be nimble, Jack be quick,

Jill's a little whore, and her alibis are dirty tricks.

So could you,

Tell me how you're sleeping easy,

How you're only thinking of yourself.

Show me how you justify,

Telling all your lies like second nature.

Listen, mark my words, one day (one day),

You will pay, you will pay.

Karma's gonna come collect your debt.

Aware, aware, you stalk your prey,

With criminal mentality.

You sink your teeth into the people you depend on,

Infecting everyone, you're quite the problem.

Fee-fi-fo-fum, you better run and hide,

I smell the blood of a petty little coward.

Jack be lethal, Jack be slick,

Jill will leave you lonely, dying in a filthy ditch.

So could you,

Tell me how you're sleeping easy,

How you're only thinking of yourself.

Show me how you justify,

Telling all your lies like second nature.

Listen, mark my words, one day (one day),

You will pay, you will pay.

Karma's gonna come collect your debt.

Maybe you'll change,

Abandon all your wicked ways,

Make amends and start anew again.

Maybe you'll see,

All the wrongs you did to me,

And start all over, start all over again.

Who am I kidding?

Now, let's not get overzealous here,

You've always been a huge piece of shit.

If I could kill you, I would,

But it's frowned upon in all fifty states.

Having said that, burn in hell, yeah.

Oh, oh, oh.

So tell me how you're sleeping easy,

How you're only thinking of yourself.

Show me how you justify,

Telling all your lies like second nature.

Listen, mark my words, one day (one day),

You will pay, you will pay.

Karma's gonna come collect your debt.

Karma's gonna come collect your debt.

Karma's gonna come collect your debt.

@bubblebuttwade @jay-2s-world @daddy-dotcom

[mymreaderlibrary]

Maybe it's just cause I'm replaying Dying Light but with Cod zombies being a thing I'm thinking about the TF141 in an apocalypse type scenario. Just a blurb idk if I’ll do anything with this.

Gonna lean heavily into the story of Dying Light here because I love it. Note that mc/ reader takes a combined role of Bracken, Jade, and Kyle C. That being said there is no Bracken, Jade, or Kyle in this universe and Rahim is reader’s younger brother.

[TF141 x male reader, no relationship (yet), zombies, death and gore, ramblings/ lore skimming]

[Length: 1,480 words]

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The 141 are given a private mission to infiltrate the city of Harran and hunt down a terrorist residing in the area. He's stolen highly sensitive documents and is threatening to have them released through an informant if something happens to him. A standard deal where the task force is concerned however Harran itself is the dangerous part of the mission.

A disease has ravaged the city, being the first documented case of what is now known as the Harran Virus. It is a strain of rabies that zombifies any of those infected, making them instinctively hunt down other warm blooded creatures to spread. The city has been completely quarantined and the virus has not gotten outside of it yet, but this also makes the area a cesspool, concentrated with death and disease. Reports say there are no living (or at least non infected) residents remaining aside from the terrorist group which have holed themselves in an unknown location. Because of this a strike has been permitted to raze Harran in hopes of destroying the virus or at the least any violent infected. A counteractive medicine is in development with its prototype being given to the task force in case of emergency, however there is no solid solution beyond massacring infected. It's not pretty work but the world can't risk this disease breaking out.

The 141 are given specialized equipment, thick gear, loads of medical equipment, and a collection of high end firearms. The team are air dropped into the lower city and instructed to start their search immediately.

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The sun is already beginning to set by the time they land. It would almost be pretty if it weren’t for all the viscera in the streets creating a sour rotten stench. Both Gaz and Soap wretch but do their best to push through, keeping their eyes peeled for any signs of life. It doesn’t take long for them to find hostiles except to their surprise it’s not infected. Instead a group of well armed thugs attempt to corner them. They’re all carrying machetes and nail bats, some with masks while others have paint creating three jagged stripes across their face. Ghost notes their lack of firearms as odd but chalks it up to lacking proper equipment (even if their body armor told otherwise).

Regardless it goes about as well as you expect for the thugs against such well trained soldiers, however hell breaks loose when Soap decides to fire his pistol. A banshee like scream is heard from across the street and their attackers scatter without hesitation, even leaving behind their wounded. Quickly a horde of infected begin rushing towards the task force, mouths gaped wide and moaning. The zombies they were told of were slow and bumbling but these were ravenous. They ran, yelled wildly, clawed at the 141 with a fervor, and with each shot of the team's firearms another horde would soon follow. It was clear they were overwhelmed and the fear that the mission was over before it even began quickly hit. A pained hiss sounded from Ghost as a zombie managed to pull off his glove and bite into the calloused flesh of his hand. Another slammed Gaz onto the pavement and began chewing into his shoulder. Price and Soap just barely threw off their friend's attackers but the assault only continued.

As another infected went to claw at Price's face the zombie's head flew clean off. The corpse flopped down to the side, convulsing wildly, but unable to keep attacking. A group of young men and women, wearing uniforms unlike the thugs from before, began dragging the team out from the horde. They threw firecrackers over their shoulders and onto the street, catching the infected's focus and separating their numbers. A man in particular seemed to be leading the 141's saviors, giving quiet orders through hand signals to his comrades.

They got a solid distance before the same man began looking them over for injuries in a building. The lowered visibility from the growing dark made it difficult but not impossible. Gaz and Ghost were the only ones bitten meanwhile Soap and Price were scraped from their scuffle with the thugs. Despite the bites being small they bled heavily and the two men had already broken out into sweats. Shaking violently Gaz’s legs buckled and he began to cry out in pain. Ghost faired no better his eyes looking dazed and unfocused as he could only hiss out panicked breaths. Gaz's pain seemed to recapture the attention of the infected outside as banging began on the door of their refuge. A young woman went to barricade the entry but the vicious sound persisted. A fist broke through the wood and scratched at the woman's eye but she didn't falter, using her back to block the entry.

In the commotion Price recalled the prototype medicine he had been given by their contractor and quickly pulled out two small syringes. Their rescuers gave them an odd look before the leader snatched it out of his hands and injected both men without question. It took a moment for the medicine to take effect but the pair began to go lax, heartbeats slowing to a normal pace. However they were still too weak to stand and the door was beginning to buckle. The woman barricading it was grabbed and dragged out into the dark street by the vicious creatures. The rescue leader tried to pull her out but it was too late.

With a pained look in his eye the leader commanded the remaining men and women to take the 141 back to "The Tower" while he distracted the zombies away from them. He left no room for argument and they were whisked away quickly from the regrowing horde. The now nearly black streets greeting them as they ran, carrying their fallen comrades.

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The journey to this tower, which turned out to be an apartment complex covered in UV lights, took a lot of climbing but eventually they were welcomed through the front gates. Or well, welcomed was an overstatement, it was more like begrudgingly let through after some convincing from their rescuers. The guards at the door glared at the men and Price could hear them scoffing about their missing leader and how “Rahim is gonna be pissed”. Seems that man wasn't just a leader to those runners but to this tower as a whole. And well if that wasn't a way to instantly ruin your reputation.

They were transferred to the medical ward where Gaz and Ghost stayed, far too out of it to get out of their cots. It was honestly quiet odd seeing the two laying dazed and pale. While the medicine seemed to have some sort of effect, there was no saying for how long. It was still only a prototype.

Soap and Price on the other hand could leave after getting bandaged, only suffering superficial wounds. They were instructed to rest, guided to some rooms a floor below where they saw several civilian types. Men, women, children... a mother in the corner cradling her crying baby trying to convince him to go back to sleep. A father sitting beside his two daughters resting on a cot covered by a thin sheet. A teen boy sitting alone, curled up on a chair shaking. Life. Something they were told didn't exist down here outside of terrorists.

One day on and the mission was already a mess, two soldiers down, emergency meds already in use, a whole community of civilians discovered, a possible ally MIA, and they had not an ounce of info to show for it. Sleeping after that just didn't feel right but the two men supposed there was nothing they could do as the tower was locked until morning. If the screams and yowls of dead were anything to go off of, it sounded like the infected were more active in the night. Who knew if this tower’s leader was even alive out there amongst the savage undead.

It took what felt like a year for the sun to rise again but just as daylight cusped the window Price could hear commotion downstairs. Cheers, shouts, panicked calls for a medic. As him and Soap peered onto the floor above they spotted that same leader from before now being dragged in to the medical ward from the stairs. Blood trailed behind him, his arms littered with cuts, bruises, and bites, but he was conscious and attempting to walk. A thick stream of red pooled from his temple down his chin and for a split second his gaze caught Price. His eyes were near unreadable, murky like Ghost's but still alert enough to be aware of what was going on. He seemed almost satisfied seeing the captain alive and well but quickly was taken away to be bandaged.

This mission was already hell.

[sonic-gallery]

Another World Ogiri September 2023 [What are Rouge and Omega doing...? ]

★Example

I was told that my apology was 30% insufficient.

Two characters appear every month in surprising outfits and situations! Let's enjoy Ogiri together with illustrations that will make your imagination run wild!

This time, Rouge, who is working on ikebana in a dignified kimono, and Omega, who is wearing a hakama, are appearing, looking on with awe! What is Rouge's purpose in arranging steel flowers beautifully?

What kind of lines or narration would you use?

You can style it based on the atmosphere and world view of the two of you in the game, or you can create a bold arrangement! In the example, I'm having a hard time figuring out how to express the very unique instructions...but it's OK to use such free-spirited jokes!

Please enjoy it and tweet with the tag "#Isekai Ogiri" on Twitter (X) ♪

We will introduce the good ones in a reply from Sonic's official Twitter (X) account.

We are looking forward to your fun Ogiri posts!

Act9: “Just like me”

...Once upon a time in the Warring States era.

An evil light emitted by a sinister iron ark that flew from the sky. What bursts forth from the red-purple light is the ``Karakurihana'', an iron ayakashi.

The sharp leaves cut through armor, and the buds of fiery flowers sprinkle hellfire... The folk grasses of the world are terrified by the raging Karakuri flowers.

The only person who can control the turmoil of Karakurihana is the most honorable and powerful warrior...his name is Omega.

The founder, Omega, found ``beauty'' in the life of a flower that single-mindedly seeks a deadly fight, and gave it life as a mechanical samurai.The founder, Omega, named it ``Senka.''

This is the beginning of the ``Omega style of Senkado'', where Senka compete against each other and the winner is considered to be the true beauty.

And the time is modern...

Omega-style Senka Arrangement boasts a history of hundreds of years.

Due to the severity of the training, not a single disciple has yet appeared... Among the many disciples is an up-and-coming bat beauty, Rouge the Bat. ....?

＜＜Dogagagaga! >>

"That's it! It's a violation to have three layers of heavy weapons!"

``Senkado begins with every human being, and there is no violation or foul play on the battlefield.''

Rouge's Senka can do nothing against the rain of bullets fired from Omega's Senka.

Omega's Senka is overwhelming as it continues its onslaught with an abundance of firearm-type contraption flowers. With a final blow of the sharp leaf, Rouge's Senka is cut in two. The winner was decided easily.

Rouge's Senkado begins and ends with beauty.

Dressed in a gorgeous kimono herself, she gives instructions to Senka one after another and fights brilliantly as one human flower, so that her clothes don't wear out in the slightest after the match. That's her style.

Now, among the Omega-style disciples, there was no one who could compete with Rouge, but all they could do was scatter their flowers and leaves in front of Omega... Today's practice match also had a disastrous result.

Perhaps unable to see Rouge depressed, Omega pulls out a pair of scissors that emit a strong glow from his pocket.

"Disclose mission rewards"

"that's......!"

It is the ``Vajra Stone Flower Scissors'' that are awarded only to those who have passed on.

Rouge's real goal is to obtain these scissors. This was the driving force behind all her efforts.

The sparkle of the large diamond on the handle...how beautiful. I can't help but sigh.

"Be even more diligent!"

Rouge regained her energy for a moment when she saw the rare treasure, but Omega's words brought her back to reality and her shoulders slumped again.

......A trudging walk home in the twilight.

Every day of training, I have put in an unprecedented amount of effort for the sake of scissors... Even though I keep running, the goal is still getting farther and farther away. Rouge let out a huge sigh of despair, but suddenly stopped as she felt something strange.

Yes, right now, I'm very unconventional. What are you so serious about?

She stared up at the moon for a few seconds or minutes... Rouge let out a short sigh and smiled mischievously.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to have it in a beautiful way, just like me?”

A few moments later. On a different note, there is Kougyokuen, a fabric made of mechanical flowers that was once built by sealing off the place where the ark from heaven crashed.

There, Omega was seen firing heavy weapons and cutting down the flowers, and Rouge was supporting him.

＜＜Zugagagagaga...! >>

Kougyokuen is not just a ``karakuri flower production area''. It is also an isolation facility that confines the ferocious Karakurihana, and requires periodic ``thinning.''

In exchange for her help, Rouge was allowed to see the scissors kept in the back again. The purpose is nothing more than a preview of storage security.

"Incineration! Cutting down! Karakuri flowers are eliminated!"

As Omega knocks down the attacking Karakurihana one after another, Rouge can't help but smile when she sees his Senkadou.

And we arrived at the innermost part of Kogyokuen...

There, the coveted pair of scissors was enshrined in a covered but wind-swept gazebo, shining brightly.

An overwhelming presence that does not fade even in the dark. The blade, which is transparent like ice, diffuses the slightest light and shines in rainbow colors. When Rouge instinctively reaches for the scissors that are left unprotected...

Hidden Senka placed on both sides of the scissors are activated! In an instant, the ivy grew and covered the scissors.

"Protected by strict security"

“Hmm.”

Rouge looked impressed, but from her point of view, this kind of security was playing tricks on children. It seemed like it would be easy to break through. Even on her way home after leaving Omega, Rouge continues to walk with her, grinning. Enough security checks already. At that moment when I thought, "She's already going to sneak in tonight..."

This time, the hardships I had gone through and the frustration of losing to Omega were now welling up in my heart.

"...Hmph"

It's not my style to keep losing and get upset.

I want scissors and I want to win against Omega. As a greedy person, I can't give up on either!

What should I do...

Rouge suddenly looked up at the sky and noticed that the Karakuri flowers that Omega had decimated by gunfire were dancing lightly in the sky. Karakurihana is a flying type that is considered unsuitable for Senka, who fights directly across from her...

At that moment, Rouge murmurs, ``It's surprisingly easy to fly,'' and has a great inspiration.

"...This is it!"

Rouge grabbed one and headed home excitedly.

On the day of the Kaiden exam. In the center of Kogyokuen, the innermost part of the dojo at the foot of the ancient "Ark" ruins...

In a magnificent hall with 12 tatami mats and 300 tatami mats, Rouge and Omega were solemnly and fiercely living out their Senka. and......

＜＜Boooo~! >>

The sound of a conch shell signals the start of the match.

＜＜Bushuuuuu! >>

At the very beginning of the opening, Rouge's Senka releases smokescreen seeds and obstructs visibility! At the same time, take a defensive stance and prepare for Omega's onslaught.

"Smoke screen jamming detected. No problems."

Omega's Senka pays no heed to this and rains down suppression fire from the sky.

＜＜Dogadogadoga! >>

Rouge's Senka endures through the smoke screen, but is definitely exhausted. But...the moment the smoke cleared, Omega was shocked by the sight before her eyes.

There were two Senka of Rouge...one of them was holding the "Vajra Stone Flower Scissors" high in the sky.

“Soreha!?”

"Security at Kougyokuen is for personal use only... You read that right! The treasure is Itadaki♪"

At the very beginning of the episode, Rouge separated Senka under the cover of that smoke screen, and instructed her clones using flying Karakurihana to steal the scissors.

"Rekai, fun...!"

Omega blinks at the unexpected event. An instant love was born there.

＜＜Gakkiin! >>

Rouge's Senka's powerful blow pierces Omega's Senka's vital point, inflicting a fatal wound.

"Unacceptable! Violation of match regulations! Foul!"

"Oh? Once the match started, there were no violations or fouls, right?"

Immediately after that, her two Senka flew with leaves and merged in the air. If you hold the scissors in the upper position, you will be able to capture Omega's Senka within range.

"Do whatever you want and get everything you want...! That's my Omega style!"

The next thing Omega saw was Rouge's dignified straight sitting position staring at the battlefield with an undisturbed demeanor... Rouge's Senka with her back cutting Omega's Senka in two with a single blow of her scissors. It was a brave figure.

＜＜---Kin! >>

"...Stunning."

A quiet dojo. ...A new kind of "beauty" was born here.

"Rouge, license pass and pass."

"I did it! I have to come! I like Iemoto who understand what I'm talking about♪"

Rouge plays like a little girl with scissors and a license letter in hand. The scissors had been stolen during a match, but now they were purely hers.

However, after achieving her dream, Rouge also realized that there was no longer any reason for her to stay here.

"Well, I don't care about titles or anything like that...If I get what I'm getting, I'll be too happy to go to such a seedy dojo."

Rouge muttered that and started walking away, but as if reading her thoughts, Omega took something out of her pocket.

"Second mission reward. Red stone flower scissors..."

The fiery shine of the ruby ​​captivated Rouge's heart... She quickly turned around and instantly approached Omega, saying:

"...Tell me the details."

The "Legendary Seven Scissors" passed down in the Omega style.

Rouge, the new master teacher, took on the responsibility of sealing Kougyokuen, and while she and Omega sometimes struggled, they continued to improve each other's beauty until they had all the scissors in their hands... ..

This is the beginning of the golden age of Omega-style Senkado.

"Following the red ball..."

"The Senka battle was fun, Tails! Rouge and Omega were so cool! They have to be like that!"

Sonic was in a good mood as he watched the unexpected match from behind the bushes in Kogyokuen. Tails, who loves mecha, will also follow.

"That's right, Sonic! By the way, 'Karakurihana' seems to be a strange version of Eggman's mecha, but how does it understand its creator's orders? ...And more importantly... ...!”

Realizing an important fact, Tails returns to his serious expression and shows Sonic the readings on the energy detector in his hand.

"Look! This energy reaction. This energy wavelength...is the aftermath of the Phantom Ruby's energy!"

...``Phantom Ruby''.

It is a mysterious stone that has the power to influence the brains of living things, implant a powerful virtual reality, and twist the world. It was lost after the previous battle with Eggman's army and was supposed to have disappeared from this world...

"Energy is being emitted from this botanical garden in all directions. I'm sure there will be such a huge reaction in the aftermath all over the world...I mean..."

Sonic jumped up and landed on the Ark in the center of Kogyokuen, then grinned and continued:

"This ark is the epicenter of the incident...is that so?"

An ominous wind blows through, rustling the leaves of the contraption flower beneath their feet, and Tails, who was already investigating inside the ark, continues.

"Yeah! This ark was also a strange transformation of Eggman's battleship! I found a part that looked like a capacitor, but it had a powerful energy reaction left behind. I'm sure it was activated during the previous battle. I think the Phantom Ruby's energy was still being charged...I 'm sure Eggman made the most of it in some way!

Tails excitedly raises his head all at once. But, but..., I thought, my shoulders slumped again.

“However, this situation that is currently occurring in the world is a little different from virtual reality, and there is no way such a disparate situation could occur with a single activation... There are still so many things I don't understand.Hmm, sorry. ......”

Tails crouched down with his head in his hands.

Sonic couldn't help but feel tired, thinking that he had gotten used to sitting down so his skirt wouldn't get dirty, but when he jumped down from the top of the ark and sat next to Tails, he patted him on the shoulder and cheered him up with a smile. Masu.

"What are you talking about, Tails? It's like you know everything now!"

"...!?"

"The fact that this is ground zero means that the opposite side of the planet from here is the least affected by the energy, right? If Eggman isn't here, then shouldn't he be on that side?"

"......a!"

"If you don't understand anything else, just ask Eggman himself!"

"Oh, that's right...! I'm sorry, I'm alone and depressed again..."

"No problem, Tails! I wouldn't know anything without you. I'm counting on you!"

With that said, Sonic quickly stood up and clicked his heels, and Tails also hurriedly got ready. Why is it that I always feel happy when I'm with Sonic?

I'm sure this incident will be resolved successfully...

Confidence that rises up even though there is no solid basis for it. Tails' expression was no longer gloomy as he enthusiastically started running after Sonic.

"Now wait, Eggman! No matter where you're hiding, I won't let you escape!"

[sillymaxing]

Idk what to call my AU, but here are some character descriptions and hcs.

CW: mentioned war, mentioned torture, mentioned suicidal ideation, imprisonment, isolation.

General

When the main 4 were living together, Tord was 25, Edd was 25, Tom was 24, and Matt was 23.

Tord moved away when he turned 26

And then 3 years later he comes back, now 28.

And within a month, He is kicked out cause all of the events in The End.

The invasion happens a year later. When Tord had time to regroup.

Tord

Doesn’t show his face. He wears a very silly red armored mask.

5’8

He’s an inventor, engineer, scientist. This man is SO smart.

He knew about Tom’s Monster form for a while. Even before he moved out. He just didn’t say anything.

More focused on work than romance or even friendship.

Absolutely no restraint or hesitation on the battlefield.

Very much addicted to smoking. It’s to the point where he claims he can’t think straight if he doesn’t smoke.

Really wishes Edd and Tom were just random people instead of old friends, because now he feels guilt and remorse hurting them.

Paul is like an older brother figure to him.

Patryck is someone Tord met when he moved away originally. They totally met at the gym.

Paul

In this AU, Paul is actually a HUGE behind the scenes guy.

The Red Army was his idea originally.

In fact, he was going to be the leader.

But he met Tord, and saw CRAZY potential.

Convinced Tord to move away and train underneath him.

Listen, this man has like maxed out charisma. Convinced this little red guy to leave his entire life behind.

Tord is the face of the Red Army, and the one making most of the decisions. Paul is like his advisor.

Didn’t actually like Patryck at the start, but they work as fine coworkers. They can get along pretty well now.

Paul is 5’10

In his early 40s

Patryck

Patryck was a regular dude going to college and studying Supply Chain Management and Information Systems.

This guy is a businessman through and through.

Tord tried to convince him to join the Red Army, but Patryck insisted that he finish college first.

And he DID!! But during college, Patryck would train with Paul and Tord. He learned how to handle melee weapons, firearms, etc.

In his early 30s.

5’11

He really likes video games. Keeps a Nintendo Switch in his room at the Red Army base.

Really wants to grow out his hair, but Paul and Tord have instructed that it can’t be longer than shoulder length due to safety precautions.

Normally has his hair in a ponytail or man bun.

Tom

Okay so Tom’s monster form is like 20 feet tall.

While in his monster form, he isn’t really conscious.

He can kinda control when he turns into his full monster form, but can’t control when he turns back human.

Has this half human half monster form? But it varies. The more monster-like he is, the more foggy his brain gets.

REALLY bad suicidal ideation. He tries to remain strong and tough, but after about a year of being in a lab, it starts to eat away at him.

5’10

The most notable traits of his monster form are razor-sharp claws, teeth, a spiky tail, horns, and purple literally everywhere.

He isn’t allowed to talk to Edd. Isn’t even informed that Edd is captured.

Ever since experiments started, Tom’s craving proteins a lot more, and eats a lot more food in general, since he has to maintain his monster form for longer.

Once Tom starts cooperating, he gets little rewards! Like being able to talk to Matt, extra rest time, comfortable clothes, longer showers, even gets to go outside sometimes.

Edd

Oh boy.

When Edd abandoned Matt, he ran to start the Resistance.

Edd REALLY misses Tom. Regrets not staying around for him.

REALLY good with melee weapons.

Unmatched rage towards Tord. Towards any Red Army soldier. And now that Matt joined the Red Army, only proving Edd right, he now has unmatched rage for Matt.

If Edd and Tom were actually able to talk to each other, they would plan their escape.

Like actually HATES Tord. Hates him more than anything.

5’9

Really misses how things used to be.

Regrets ever letting Tord back in their home.

He feels like all of this is his fault, and that he could’ve prevented it.

Constantly replaying his past in his head, thinking about what he could’ve done differently.

Stays in an isolated cell after his capture. Only a handful of soldiers are allowed to interact with him.

Tord keeps him painfully updated on Resistance survivors that have joined the Red Army since his capture.

Matt

First of all, he’s 6’2.

He isn’t imprisoned for that long compared to Tom and Edd. He’s only in a cell for like 2ish months before being let out. This is mainly because he gave up fighting about a month in, but Tord needed to make sure Red Army actually had Matt’s loyalty, and it wasn’t just a lie.

Matt went from the cell straight into duties, becoming an official member of the Red Army.

Matt works as the supply manager?? Idk the right name for it, but he tracks food and water supply. He��s Patryck’s assistant too.

Matt takes on a few other duties here and there. He doesn’t do anything battlefield related.

Matt is also tasked with showing new recruits around the main base.

He has a room right next to Tord’s.

Sneaks away to bring Tom food or to just talk with him.

[dunefeather]

Unacceptable

Paul Atreides x F!Trainer!Reader

Content : trainer/student, noncon kiss, angst.

Summary : After a series of training sessions with Paul to teach him how to fight properly, he acts in a way that is going to have serious consequences.

What you heard was right, Paul learned quick. For a young man living in such a protective environment he could adapt almost immediately and had an excellent ability to analyze and process information. After a few hours of training he already seemed infinitely more at ease with melee weapons and the slight awkwardness of the first lessons vanished.

"Strike twice," you instructed.

He obeyed, never questioning your orders. You could tell he was getting tired and that the lesson should get shortened soon but you appreciated how resilient he was. It changed from most of the powerful families you got the opportunity to serve. Leto Atreides and Lady Jessica seemed to be truly deserving your respect on the way they raised him. That fact in particular relaxed your mind about Arrakis. You took the best decision of your life by following this House to this desperate but oh so precious fireball.

"Alright. Stop there." "What ? But I've barely started ?"

You warned him with a quick stern look making shut his mouth before examining your own blade with your back turned to the heir. It definitely needed to get sharpened. What would you look like with such a useless weapon if the Fremens decided to attack Paul ?

"I know. But you sound tired. I need your mind to be as awake and alert as it can be. We stop the practice there and we'll do a little theory for next time."

After wiping the sweat off his forehead he followed you silently to a table surrounded by two chairs face to face. Your confident footsteps brought you to your destination faster, but you had to acknowledge that he still had some decent stamina for somebody debuting the serious phase.

"Fight with bare hands," you stated while showing him his chair. "I do understand its importance," he replied with some hesitation, "but am I going to learn it with you or will Gurney be there as well ?" "Why would you want him to be there and not me ?"

Your dry question made him feel clearly uncomfortable as he shifted on his chair without adverting his eyes.

"I would feel guilty if I had to it with a woman. To punch you or hurt you in any way." "As touching and nice that sounds, that precise point is a massive flaw. Female spies exist. Female assassins exist. Some poison, some stab, some punch, some break necks, some use firearms, some manipulate. I won't get too much into details but for example I got formed to know most of those techniques. The day a Fremen - or any female wanting your death or the one of your family - stabs the Duke, will you politely ask her to stop it ?"

That thought woke something up in Paul, something catching your interest. He seemed suddenly more focused and determined, as if ready to fight right now.

"I will do what is needed," he answered almost aggressively. "Good. But you have to start from somewhere. I want you to be as effective as possible. You need to be aware of your surroundings at all time as we've seen already. No matter if the people surrounding you are men or women. I know we tend not to pay much attention to women in these circumstances - even I sometimes - but don't let them fool you. Get accustomed to this possibility that one day you'll maybe have to do it. And don't feel guilty about it. It can make a serious difference between life and death."

Lessons after lessons, he improved and not only in his fighting skills. Obviously he blocked your attacks more easily after the fifth lesson but his confidence also reached a new peak - even making him involved proactively. Whenever you asked him to give new ideas, to ask questions, he sounded eager to learn. In some way, to please. This was how you managed to get a grip on his attention. Paul needed clear indications and would advance by himself from there. Instead of most of the men and women you had instructed who worked strictly on orders and discipline, this young man also required praises to boost his confidence. You had to explain more, to find an angle that echoed in him. His family constituted a useful tool for this part of your job.

"So, let's imagine me trying to stab you there."

With a sudden motion of your wrist the blade almost reached Paul's neck, the shield protecting him activating right before you could actually injure him. He barely shifted, and you recognized some defiance in his hazel eyes, some disdain even. You liked it, he had the right attitude as long as he didn't let his newly found confidence get on his path.

"What would you do," you asked sternly. "I don't know." He stated. "You don't ?"

What you hadn't anticipated was the sudden kick in your leg that made you flinch. Fortunately you recovered fast enough to block his attack but lost your knife. Your experience on the battlefield soon brought you all the advantage you needed and after a few blows you chuckled at his distressed groan as he landed on his back against the floor. Paul got the reflex to try to get up but was nowhere near as fast as you to stop you from straddling him, your knife back in your hand and close to his throat.

"Interesting choice," you acknowledged as he panted. "Was it good ?" "I admit you got me. Not sure it would work with an actual assassin though. But congratulations."

Despite the obvious discomfort he was in with your weight over him and the thick layer of sweat trapping his curls on his forehead, he flashed a large smile. A second of silence later you got up, cracking your ankles that into some weird angle in your actions unknowingly to you. No need for him to know he almost injured you, he would feel conflicted between pride and guilt for the rest of his days.

"Where have you learned that," the heir asked. "Fight ?"

He shook his head before standing before you, his hand busy getting some damp hair out of his sight as he looked down at you with a respect you finally got used to coming from him.

"I meant… the way you counterattacked before straddling your opponents. I guess it must not work in every cases. Only… only when you don't fight against people that are heavier and stronger than you, or that wear armors." "Well it's something I learned like any other soldier and we keep on training like others even after getting promoted. It's basic really. But you are right when you say it's not always possible. Even if I managed to push Duncan over I doubt I could slit his throat open. He'd deserve it sometimes but don't tell him."

He chuckled as you tapped his chest once in a rare playful gesture. It felt good to release some tension when there was no need for any, only for focus. After all the bound you created with Paul after only a few lessons sounded pretty encouraging.

"Do you think I learn fast enough?" "Paul. What did I say about your insecurities?"

The young Atreides mumbled something, clearly embarrassed by your question.

"I know I partially create that pressure on myself but I can't stop thinking that I should always learn faster. You are an excellent tutor and I would never thank you enough for your help, but what if the problem was me?"

The simplicity of his compliment warmed your heart but you did your best to hide your smile. No need to become his friend, it would break that dynamic between you.

"There is no problem there. You are a great student there. Also I got echoes that you pay more attention to your surroundings now, even during your free time. It's good to know. You are young and you need to learn well before learning quick. And in your case, you do both. You can't demand for more when you can't do more." "Do you really think so?"

A fake slap made him step back, his hand grabbing your wrist firmly and even tugging on you to make you lose your balance. Shocked, he turned himself into a statue with an open mouth as you sent him a mischievous grin.

"See? You trust me and yet you are able to react quick enough to stop an attack. Don't underestimate your skills. Keep on training them. It's like muscles."

The weird atmosphere settling in made your grin drop and for once you were a little slow to anticipate his actions, but the second you felt his nose brushing against yours you opened your eyes wide. You felt the Atreides heir lock his lips to yours, a relieved sigh leaving his before leaving a sloppy kiss. You jolted backwards under his terrified gaze as your wrath found its way out of your body with a moderately restrained punch in his shoulder that almost made him hiccup.

"What were you even thinking idiot?" "I-I'm sorry I don't know what happened," he stuttered with fear and shame written all over his face. "Get out of here, end of the session. No question, no word, nothing. Get out."

In less than ten seconds he was out, grabbing his clothes without changing in the nearby room and a blind hasted bowing in your direction on his way to the door. You couldn't believe it. On the same night you stood in the Duke's office, sitting before his desk as he stared at you with a curious expression.

"But I thought you wanted to confront him about this idea and it was a great argument" he started. "I did. But the thing is… he doesn't feel comfortable with the idea of having to injure a woman badly. I do think that Gurney or Duncan would be better for the next lessons. I managed to create some trust between us but he gets stuck."

The Duke's gaze didn't falter as you could feel his attempt to find out something. Maybe the slight edge in your voice as you did your best not to give the son away to his father. No matter the outcome you doubted it would be beneficial on this planet where everyone and everything wanted their death.

"Are you sure you want it," he asked.

After a short hesitation marked by your eyes lowering for a few seconds, you answered.

"It's necessary for his own good."

Leto narrowed his eyes and sat up, his elbows on the desk as he rested his bearded chin on the back of his hands.

"Is there anything you want to tell me?" "Nothing sir." "Have you received any pressure from Fremens?" "No sir. I simply try to do my best to help your son." "Is there something involving the Harkonnens?" "No sir. As I said it's only a question of well-being for your son." "Are you sure of that or are you trying to convince yourself? It doesn't sound like you to repeat your arguments in such a way."

Humiliation made you tear up as you lowered your head. The Duke stood up as somebody knocks gently on his door. Wordlessly, he rested a hand on your shoulder to apply a slight pressure before telling the person to come in.

"Paul? Is everything alright?"

The worried question made you turn your head. It was never good to hear Leto Atreides worried about something and certainly not about his son. He had all the rights to sound like it however as you witnessed the young face turning pale as a ghost when he saw you. The heir straightened his stance.

"Uh… no Father. I'm alright. I wanted to talk to you but I can wait." "Is this about your training?"

The son gulped down audibly before nodding. The Duke couldn't decide who to watch and instead chose to close the door and interrogate the both of you with a stern glare.

"What is going on with you two? I am being serious there, if you received threats you have to tell me."

A quick attempt to open your mouth without letting your nausea win later, you let Paul speak.

"I kissed her without her consent during our last lesson."

It was more a breathless squeal that actual words, but it received the deadliest glare Leto could launch, to the point where you lowered your head and felt your whole body straightening up as you expected a powerful slap.

"What did you say my son," asked the Duke between his gritted teeth. "I kissed her without her consent."

Paul sounded about to get sick, and in a way you couldn't blame him. Feeling his fear was one thing, but having to witness the absolute bitterness in his father's voice felt terrible. Knowing his love for his family it felt like the world crumbled under his feet, even more than for you after the assault.

"What have you done," the father asked with even more disgust. "I kissed her without her consent Father." "By the gods. Is that true?"

Guessing this question asked in disbelief was directed to you, you nodded. Today was the first time you heard Leto swear out loud but the most disturbing was the unruly rage behind it.

"What do you think you are to act like that, Paul," he snarled, "when could you think that there would be no consequences to your actions?" "I don't know Father, I don't know what happened I…" "Please do not tell the same lies that all the ones that have done that and even worse repeat over and over again. Don't play that game with me young man." "I don't know I felt it would… I don't know we were training and I… I don't know how to explain myself there is nothing that can excuse my actions." "Exactly."

You jolted as Paul suddenly appeared before you, standing as you remained sat after his father pushed him unceremoniously towards you. He gestured towards you without adverting his eyes from his son who chose to kneel before you and lower his head.

"I apologize for what I've done to you. I know you won't accept my words, I needed you to hear them. I accept the sanctions that are going to be decided, whether they come from you or my father."

Speechless, you blinked a few times to force yourself to anchor to the real word instead of the weird dizziness that started to put your muscles into a bizarre slumber you didn't expect.

"I…"

You turned to the Duke that softened his face a little once turned towards you. Your dry throat wouldn't let any precise word out.

"I accept your apology but I demand a tutor change as well as a favor: if this happen once more I want you to get sanctioned severely." "It will be done," started the Duke, "you can count on me personally as well as on his mother."

Paul got paler as if this was even possible at this point and right after he dared to look up at his father, the latter nodded as a warning and wide open eyes.

"I do guarantee you that your mother is going to hear about it tonight Paul. And you will be there when this happens, and all the next times as well."

-- - -

Thank you for reading! It's different from what I usually write but I hope you appreciated it in some way. Please comment and reblog if you liked it ! ☺️

[yujo-nishimura]

The Escape - Part 17

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - Part 16

On the third night of your ongoing journey, slumber is abruptly shattered by the sound of cannonfire. The piercing noise reverberates through the ship, accompanied by the urgent cries and tumultuous activity on deck. Swiftly, you rise from your bed, seizing the sword that Buggy has finally granted you permission to carry, and hasten towards the source of the commotion. 

As you emerge onto the deck, the vast expanse of the starry night sky serves as a backdrop for the ominous sight before you. Five marine ships loom on the horizon, steadily closing in on your vessel. 

The whole deck is in a hurry to get the cannons ready, Buggy is standing on the second level of the ship's deck, giving orders. “We should flashily greet them with a Buggy ball!” He laughs and orders his men to prepare these special explosive balls for the marine ships. 

With urgency coursing through your veins, you hasten towards Mohji, gripping your sword tightly, prepared to defend the ship should the marines manage to get on board. The canons stand poised, their barrels trained on the approaching marine vessels, ready for confrontation. Buggy, sensing the tension in the air, instructs his crew to exercise patience, recognizing the need for the ships to draw closer for maximum impact.

Buggy's excitement becomes contagious, fueling your own anticipation. The prospect of witnessing the devastating power of these unique cannonballs fills you with a sense of exhilaration.

"Fire!" Buggys voice rings out, cutting through the stillness of the night. In an instant, the air is shattered by the deafening boom of an explosion. Two marine ships approaching you from the front are hit and the explosion is just outrageous. The intensity of the battle forces you to squeeze your eyes shut, shielding yourself from the blinding impact of the clash, you hear screams of the marine soldiers dropping into the sea like flies. 

However, as you survey the unfolding scene, your heart sinks. The three remaining marine ships have closed in perilously close proximity, rendering it too risky to unleash the powerful explosive cannonballs upon them. The potential for collateral damage to your own ship is too great. “Get ready to defend the ship!” Buggy yells and everyone is drawing their weapons, ready to defend themselves from the invading marines. 

In a blink of an eye, the marines have maneuvered their ships to surround yours, effectively boxing you in. With calculated precision, they begin their invasion, launching simultaneous attacks from both the left and right sides. The air is filled with the resounding battle cry of the crew, a collective roar of determination that echoes through the chaos.

The deck transforms into a battleground as a fierce and bloody fight ensues. Swords clash, firearms roar, and the sound of bodies colliding fills the air as each member of the crew fights with unmatched ferocity and resilience. You finally have the chance to show your fighting skills, next to Mohji you both attack a group of marines running towards you, inflicting deep wounds upon your adversaries. Adrenaline rushes through you as you are able to take out one marine after another. As you made your way to the forecastle deck and you managed to throw three marines overboard you suddenly felt a sharp pain in your arm, unable to move any further. A rope has suddenly taken hold of you, so tight, that you feel it is cutting right into your skin. 

As you turn around you can see a marine woman, long blonde hair, round glasses, her face showing determination to capture you. From the coat this marine lady is wearing she looks like a Lieutenant Commander. Perplexed by how swiftly she had maneuvered the rope around your arm, you had no time to dwell on it. Instinctively, you chose to defend yourself, launching an attack with your free fist. Yet, in that very moment, to your astonishment, another rope lashed out towards you, emanating directly from her hands. This time the rope is tied tightly around your hip and waist, making it impossible for you to move. You lose balance and fall over. 

“Dammit… Do you have devil fruit powers?”, you lay on the floor and you speak to the shoes of this Lieutenant commander, rather than being able to look in her face. 

“I have been searching for you, Y/n! So it was right what the marines told me in Loguetown. You are with the Buggy pirates after all!” 

“Who are you? How do you know my name?”, you spit these words out in disgust. Her voice laced with superiority makes you feel sick to your stomach. 

“You don't know me yet, but rest assured, the world government knows who you are, Y/n…!” 

She tightens the ropes and you scream in pain, the ropes cutting into your flesh. 

“You will be coming with us for interrogation. Letting someone dangerous like you walk around freely is something the World Government cannot afford…” 

The marine lady jerks you up to your feet, the ropes tightening around your body, you gasping for air. You feel dizzy, not knowing how long you can stand against her any longer. To your relief you can see Buggy sprinting now towards her from behind, giving her a sharp blow on her head, rendering her unconscious in a second. 

Immediately the ropes loosen and you can breathe again, with a gasp of air you sink to your knees. Your captain reaches towards you with his detached arms, he sees you are too weak to fight, and he catches you before you fall on your face. He then jumps on the knocked out marine, not caring that she is a woman but giving her some more beatings to the face in a rage fit which even scares you. “It's okay, Buggy. She is unconscious. Let's throw her back on her ship…!”, you slowly get up, trying to stop your captain. He realizes now what he is doing, stopping immediately in movement and looking at you with a scared face. 

“I am sorry. I thought.. she was hurting you.” You fail to say anything, with the little power you have left you heave her up, throwing her back on the ship of the marines which is almost empty now. Somehow you have no power to kill the Lieutenant, knowing she could become a threat to you later you still think the wisest decision now was just getting rid of her. 

The marines are almost all defeated, you can see half of the Buggy pirates entering their ships, trying to plunder and steal what the government officials carry with them. Cabaji brings back a big treasure chest and Mohji carries two bags of provisions to the Buggy pirates kitchen. You sink down on your knees again, breathing heavily, trying to catch your breath from the fight. 

Buggy, who is ordering his men around, makes sure that everyone is back on the pirate ship, before the three now empty Marine ships are abandoned in the dark night. You smile satisfied. You really belonged to a group of pirates who were able to defend themselves. 

[nilsavatar]

DAY 27 - ANAL

Parings: Lo'ak x Fem!Omatikaya

Genre/Warnings: NSFW/MDNI +18, no use of Y/N, straight to SMUT, committed relationship, P in V, P in A, ANAL, fingering, praising, cursing, dirty talk, double stimulation/penetration, soft-dom Lo'ak (Lo'ak is a little insecure), oral (both receiving), 69, edging, chocking. All characters are AGED-UP.

Word Count: 4k

Masterlist - Request a fic

“Harder,” was all that came out of her mouth in the form of a litany. Her brain had completely locked onto that need. Moans interspersed with soft pleas and a few expletives here and there. The man behind her laughed. The rumble of his taunt vibrated down her spine as his hands molded her hips until they anchored on her firm buttocks, which slammed dryly against his belly. “Like this?” he murmured in her ear, earning confirming sighs each time he penetrated her sharply, and his palms held her more firmly.

Aywanin always adored Lo'ak to touch her butt, whether he clung to it possessively or as a simple cuddle. She loved the contact of his hands so much, feeling the warmth of his wide palms gathering her ass cheeks almost entirely, his strong fingers sinking into her soft flesh, that she sought it out at every chance. The extra finger a perfect addition that made her feel even more connected to his body.

Whether it was in the laziness of an afternoon nap or during a hot night, Aywanin swayed her hips ever more insistently, until the guy grabbed her rear just the way she liked it. He, though he didn't skimp on jibes and teasing, nor on getting lost in watching that cute little ass twirl a second too long for sheer amusement, never refused a good squeeze. With a beaming smile, his beautiful teeth sticking out in his lower lip at the exact instant his digits pressed, somewhere between mocking and smug.

There was, however, a saying of the Sky People that had spread among the Omatikaya over the years, and of which Lo'ak would soon teach her its real meaning. One of the many influences that had become part of everyday life, thanks to their close relationships with scientists. As well as nurtured by a not-so-Na'vi Olo'eyktan who, try as he might, retained remnants of the Jarhead Clan's Jakesuli. His human past would pop up at the oddest times, normally when he could not express his emotions to the best of his ability — especially those of irritation. Usually when he wanted to give his children a warning that they were crossing the line, that it would be smart not to test him further.

She remembered very well the day when, as kids, Lo'ak became more obstinate than usual, more petulant, insisting his father absolutely showed him how to use a rifle.

“Why not?” He repeated. “You taught Tarsem and the others. To Neteyam you are teaching it,” accused venomously. Jake gripped his nose between thumb and forefinger, tightening his eyelids and sighing audibly. An onset of migraine drew circles in his skull. “They are older, have completed their training, and are about to face Iknimaya. Learning how to shoot is one more thing that could come in handy against the RDA.” “Neteyam has not completed it, though. And he's only a year older than me,” he mumbled with an increasingly wrinkled expression that forced his father to restrain himself from laughing. In his own way, Lo'ak could be really adorable as a child.

It was no secret that Neteyam was precocious, a prodigy. Diligent and hardworking from a very early age. And surely being the olo’eyktan’s firstborn — or more precisely the only man who knew how to use alien weaponry — brought with it advantages. Few would find out in the future.  Truth be told, firearms were much more dangerous than traditional weapons, unpredictable, and Jake didn't have enough eyes to make sure no one got hurt. He couldn't supervise one son to follow his instructions to the letter, and in the process treat the other so that he wouldn’t accidentally kill himself. The other was Lo’ak, of course. Too curious, too impulsive, too— too much everything. He was exhausting. One child at a time, he told himself, that way he could do it.

“Neteyam has mastered archery.” “I don't like archery. I want to fight like you!”

Lo'ak's human side could be so imperious at times, painful even. He resembled his father so much that it was almost a hardship for the man, aware of his own flaws and past mistakes. Aware that it wasn’t the Na'vi way. Not the Omatikaya way. As tolerant as they were and inclined to integrate what was useful from humans into their way of life, they would not be so open-minded as to accept a Na'vi who tended to be too terrestrial. Jake Sully was an exception. He knew it very well. A human who had the heart of a Na'vi.

But a Na'vi with a human soul? it was another story altogether.

As much as he was hailed, the last thing Toruk Makto hoped for was to be taken as a role model by his children. His sons in particular.

“Son,” the tone was warning, as well as his look, "Don't poke the bear when it's hungry.”

Aywanin wasn’t sure what exactly a bear was (probably a large animal if she was supposed to be afraid of its hunger), but never has the idiom been more fitting than in this situation.

Lo’ak was hungry. A hunger whetted for too long.

He was on his knees, the soft grass tickling his shins. In front of him, Aywanin arranged in one of the most vulnerable positions possible. On all fours and at his total mercy. Negative note? He couldn't enjoy the sight of her face as she writhed with each thrust, but that wasn't so important. He knew her to the point that he could visualize her yerik eyes dimpled with pleasure, her mouth parted in the most strangled of whimpers. Read her through the tightness with which she anchored herself to the ground, the stiffness of her back as it grew more and more acute. Grinning to himself, his canines cutting his lower lip, the boy massaged her bottom. From time to time he would throw weak spanks, just to hear her moan in surprise, there, where he then squeezed so hard to bruise.

Rolling his thumbs absently, he spread her buttocks more apart and straightened just enough to carefully admire his handiwork. A grunt escaped him in watching as his cock disappeared and appeared, sucked deeper and deeper into her welcoming warmth.

She was close, he could feel it.

“Oh baby, if only you could see yourself. Such a sight.” Another spanking, another cry. “Yes, like that. Shit, I should have taken the camera.” Aywanin chuckled. It wasn’t the first time Lo'ak had such outbursts, and she'd never hidden that the idea of watching herself being taken like that turned her on as well. “Next time, yantu. When we can take our sweet time.” “You're right, we'll do it when no one can disturb us. Though I don't mind these nighttime escapades in the forest.” “I had no doubt.” “Love this ass,” he said, angling himself just enough to slam the tip right up against her clit, earning a sequence of mewls that were like a song in his ears. She was so close, he thought smugly. “Fits perfectly in my hands.” In uttering that last sentence, he opened her cheeks even wider, and, unintentionally, his thumb went to graze her opening. Aywanin's head suddenly snapped back, nearly embedding itself in her shoulders, and an unexpected groan rose gutturally from her throat. As if the air had been kicked out of her lungs all at once. “What was that?” Lo'ak was equally shocked, although the answer had already formulated itself in his lust-fogged mind. “Does my girl like to be touched here?” he asked rhetorically, caressing that unexplored entrance with a little more intention.

The young woman's reaction was gold. She likes it, all right!

Her back curved almost to the breaking point, pushing her rear up so high that by a whisker she didn’t shove it right in his face. Her beautiful visage contemplating the starry sky with wide eyes and lips parted in a mute scream. However, of the idyllic celestial vault, she couldn't actually see anything, since her vision had gone completely blank.

“Aww look at you. Want me to play with it? Want my finger in your cute little butt?” Aywanin didn’t respond, there was no need nor did she have the time or the strength, as her mate encircled her torso with his arm and lifted her up until she was molded along his chest. With her face turned to his own, he pushed that same thumb past her lips. “Suck, sevin. Show me how much you want me to fingerfuck your hole.”

The greed with which she obeyed was unparalleled; it was borderline scandalous the excitement in her giant eyes. The pupils so dilated they obscured the topaz irises entirely, were it not for an infinitesimal colored circle outlining them. She was unrecognizable, and, for a moment, Lo'ak feared he was going to release under the intensity of her gaze. Just at the idea of how much Aywanin longed to be violated, stripped of that last layer of innocence.  Desire that seemed to destabilize her herself, for never would she anticipate experiencing it. It was so sensual, so damn hot that it reset his ability to think straight. His only thought now was to break through that last barrier, to breach it like a battering ram knocking down enemy lines. He had to conquer new territory, to claim by painting it with his seed. She giggled deliriously against his finger, her teeth lightly scratching it. A gentle trill, the echo of his ego in realizing he had said it out loud. “That should be enough,” with a languid kiss, he slid between her buttocks and pushed. He felt a beginning of resistance but soon his thumb found itself enveloped by hot walls as if crushed by slow coils. She gasped against his mouth. He gave her a smile full of love that was somewhat out of tune with the circumstances. So domestic yet out of the ordinary. Aywanin's sweet face had this effect: it reminded him how lucky he was.

It was strange to be in there. Familiar but unusual. Her flesh was much warmer, searing, the texture richer but not as supple. And it was tight. Really tight. It barely contained his finger with ease, inserting a second now was out of the question. How was he going to possess her without hurting her? Masturbation alone wouldn’t have been enough to make her...hospitable. But bringing her pain was not an option. As well as letting go. Not when Aywanin was so freakin' well-disposed that she almost seemed to be in heat. If there was one trait of himself he was proud of, it was that he never gave up. Lo'ak te Suli Tsyeyk'itan, for better or worse, never threw in the towel. He certainly wouldn’t start now.

A whimper rose from the girl's ached throat. “I know, baby, it will pass now. Be patient, I need to stretch you a bit more.” “Your fingers are too big.” “Never been a problem so far.” He kissed her temple suppressing a laugh, before whispering softly, “Mind to help me? Touch your clit for me, yawne. Will mask the discomfort.” His lips traced the contour of her shoulder, the hollow of her neck; alternating sloppy kisses with bites he drew the line of her jaw up to her ear. With the tip of his tongue, he titillated her lobe, while her slender index began to rub in a steady, circular motion over the knot of nerves, and her expression seemed to relax. And not only that. “You're doing great.” “It's dry, Lo,” she moaned.

Therein lay the problem. It wasn’t an area that enjoyed consistent natural lubrication, and what little saliva he had collected on his finger was nowhere near enough. Lubricant. He needed a lubricant. Needless to say, they didn’t have one available, and even knowing the plants suitable for the task, it still took its time to extract the liquid. But then a light bulb went on for him. The cry that left the girl's lips was clearly one of dissent, however feeble. It sounded like an irritated demand for an explanation. Why the hell stop now that she was getting the hang of it?

Lo'ak sat down on his ankles carrying her down with him, a confused look well evident on her pretty, purpled face. “Don't ask questions,” he said, dragging her on top of him as he lay on the grass turf. The peach-round butt a palm away, inviting like a ripe fruit that begs you to bite into it. And that was what he did. He tasted the left cheek, then the right one, sinking just enough to leave the dental arch mark there. Two broad pairs of crescents on the otherwise smooth surface. Then, he rubbed his nose along the line of demarcation and inhaled sharply. The scent of her skin smelled more intense and suffocating there, in that hidden spot. Of bath oils and flowers; a sweet, incensed note that mingled with the enveloping aroma of her arousal, to the point of stunning him. Like an insect attracted to pollen. His dick twitched a little as his brain registered the primal call of her body. With no hesitation, he dipped his face and gave controlled kitten licks, as if to feel the ground.

“Ma'Lo'ak!” she shouted completely caught off guard. With his intact fingers, he unceremoniously penetrated her core, up to the last knuckle. This took away her ability to speak, too much was the stimulation. In terrifyingly slow movements he began to stimulate her, while his tongue soaked her rectum with saliva. Each time the tip teased her a little deeply, Aywanin gave him the most beautiful of choked sobs. The high, pitch voice constricted by exhausted vocal cords. Gradually her arousal pooled at the base and flowed onto his hand, sliding down in viscous trails that ran down his forearm to his elbow and dripped heavily onto his chest. Her breathing was labored and her body was all trembling.

Just one very small detail was missing.

“Baby.” No response. “Babe.” Nothing, and he almost burst out laughing. He was preparing her so well, she already had no idea where she was nor her name. The only thing she was still able to do in that altered state of intense desire was to cast him a look that was anything but lucid. The sole sign that she was still listening to him. Kinda. “I know you're on the edge, yawne, but I need you back.” With a goliardic sway of his hips, he showed her the area of interest, “Need lubrication here, too. You know, for later,” he cast her an allusive glance. The girl's smile was a whole story. Tipsy and intoxicated. Her slender, tiny hand picked up his member rather boldly, beginning to grope it as slowly as Lo'ak had just treated her earlier. 

Payback. 

He was about to complain about it, when the words died in his throat; Aywanin had grabbed his sack, and was now massaging it gently. A soft sigh escaped his parted lips, suddenly feeling weak, as if drained of any energy. The uncertainty in his breathing did not go unnoticed, for it trembled on contact with her sensitive skin. In turn, Aywanin faltered at that unexpected vibration, but she giggled all the same, proud of her actions. Of having caused him the very reaction she was anticipating. That was one of his weaknesses, Aywanin knew all too well, and she continually took advantage of it.

Lo’ak was such a nuisance, he needed to be put back in his place from time to time. Why not have a little fun in the meantime? Feeling in a teasing mood more than usual? She shushed him by groping his nuts. Being too dominant for her liking? She licked and kissed them lightly until he begged her to suck him off.

Exactly as he was doing right now.

His hands settled vehemently on her waist, squeezing them now at the limit of sufferance, and his eyes implanted firmly in hers. She snorted playfully, before blowing on his prickly erection. For a moment, she could have sworn she saw him blush at her unexpected resourcefulness. She decided to make him suffer a little longer, fumbling as she very slowly ran her tongue over his cock, then traversing its full length and winging over it again, giving him a soft pleasure that forced him to bite his inner-cheek to tame a moan. 

“Aywa, pl-please…” Well, if you ask so nicely, she thought.

Her tongue swirled around the glans, down the thick base, caressing any veins, grazing every crevice. He gasped with every inch of flesh struck, his pretty dick already glistening of spit and precum. She hollowed her cheeks, descending on calmly and sensually, but the boy huffed in frustration. A fluty grin was painted on her face as she slumped on his belly. In a steady pace, she bobbed her head alongside his shaft, taking as much as she could down her throat without gagging, while palming his balls firmly. Lo’ak’s breathing became erratic. His head fell on the cushiony grass beneath and he squinted his lids. He didn’t speak. He couldn’t. It was always a good sign when Lo’ak stopped babbling. It meant his pleasure was beyond measure. Poor boy, he’d been neglected ’til now.

The sequence was repeated for a long time, going deeper and deeper with each turn, causing increasingly uncontrollable lews and, sometimes, obscene whimpers from his windpipe. Suddenly, a strange tremor flooded Lo'ak's lower abdomen, and immediately she realized he was about to reach his climax. He gently pulled out his manhood, and turned Aywanin on her back, escorting her to the ground as if she was made of glass. He repositioned himself on top of her, holding her torso high enough to line up with her tight entrance. Holding her by one thigh, he felt her stiffen under his grip, and this caused him to face her again, losing himself in those eyes. Glossy as honey candy, haunted by lust mixed with fear. If possible, with that light her eyes looked even more orange and large. “Are you sure?” She nodded, ready to welcome him. She wanted to feel him. Wanted him to release himself inside her. Wanted to be one with him in a way she had never experienced before, and that scared her a little. Yet, in an electrifying way. She spread her leg apart, lifting her pelvis a little, giving Lo'ak a chance to lie on top of her — to embrace her. He caressed the shin he was holding up and placed a delicate kiss on her knee, “Everything will be all right,” he reassured her. And, despite the agitation harbored in her was immense, she found the courage to smile in a tacit invitation to continue.

“Tell me if I hurt you.” The first sensation, as the tip pushed in gently, wasn’t fulfillment but pain. The burning that Aywanin felt, as it teased her orifice to widen, was less intense than she had imagined, though, thanks to his finger keeping her clit excited, awakening the nerve endings within it just enough to dull the ache. As Lo’ak made space for himself, she noticed the hot epidermis wrapped itself around the cooler one of his. A tear escaped from the corner of her eye nonetheless; a salty drop that her boyfriend wiped away with a kiss. “Forgive me, ma yantu.” “It's all right,” she lied, not to restrain him. Lo'ak began to give her gentle thrusts that gradually became quicker and drier as she got used to his intrusion. “Fuck, so fucking tight.” With both hands he anchored himself to her femurs and thrust all the way in, in one fluid motion that went straight to a spot Aywanin didn't even know she had. A whine ripped through the air, the first in a long series that gradually, in rhythm with her lover's strikes, mutated from subdued ache to the most violent and visceral pleasure, becoming almost pornographic to hear, but which did nothing more than give Lo'ak the charge to continue his ministration.

She lifted her torso, placed her palms on the ground and hoisted herself forward, encircling her calves behind his back to give him no way to pull away, then captured his face with both hands, her thumbs grazing his earlobes, the rest of her fingers attached to the nape of his neck, and rested her forehead against his own. “You like it?” he asked her hesitantly, almost afraid to hear the answer. Her thumbs took to caressing his cheekbones in circular touches, dusting away a few briny drops wedged between his lashes. Finally, one of them came down to his lovely lips and she parted them, kissing him passionately. “Of course I like it.” Aywanin smiled against his mouth and started to sway her pelvis, slowly, back and forth on his shaft. The boy brought his palms up to cup her fleshy buttocks and squeeze her hips, laced his arms around her, wrapping her in a tender hug that didn't quite match the boiling circumstances they were in, but which she adored. She loved that sweetness in their relationship, stuffed with just the right amount of passion that, in all honesty, with Lo'ak was impossible to miss.

With his fingers hooked in her flesh, he took a deep breath, running out of air from the eagerness of their connection, and drew his forehead over her shoulder, looking as if he were on the verge of tears. “Yantu?” Aywanin felt her trapeze getting wet, partly from teardrops, partly from the wet kisses and bites that Lo'ak left there as he spoke, the grip on her back growing firmer and more possessive. “S-so good. You feel so damn good.” He lifted his head from the crook of her neck and pinned her down with that ravenous gaze of his; golden irises flickering as wind-shifted leaves. He grabbed her throat and squeezed it, making Aywanin, who had never stopped slow dancing on his lap, wince, her sockets squinted with surprise and a hint of electrifying fear. She was about to say his name when he tightened his fingers around her throat and moaned into her mouth as he burned her with a kiss. His tongue slipped between her teeth, moving in a mad dance against her writhing there. The grip around her neck was tight, his hand and his kiss choking her at the same time. When he let go, Lo'ak's face hovered over hers, letting her savor the fresh scent of his breath. The girl began to call his name as if in a trance, now that pleasure had finally flooded her like a hot shower. “What you need, love?” “E-empty. I feel empty.” “Empty?” He had never filled her more. “Yes, here,” she pointed to her pussy. Selfish naughty girl. Lo'ak's smile was devilish, “Then touch yourself, sevin. If it’s that unbearable, show me how much you miss my cock there.” Her own fingers inched so deep and with such relish that she earned a low mouble of approval above her. “Just like that, baby girl. Geez, look how your tiny little fingers are fucking yourself while I fuck your cute ass.” An immense heat expanded throughout her body. Her head became light; as if it had suddenly turned into a bubble and was floating away. A bubble that would burst shortly thereafter, showering her with awareness as she felt that initial warmth concentrate all in the innermost part of her abdomen. “L-lo'ak.” “Yeah, 'm close too. Just hold it a lil bit more f’me. Damn, you'll push me out, if you keep squeezing like that! Too much!” The double stimulation went to her mind, erasing what little lucidity remained, and the last trace of pain turned finally to enjoyment. They reached their peak together, as his nuanced voice murmured her name, “I love you so fuckin' much. You are truly all mine now,” her lover said, slumping down on top of her, devoid of any strength.

Now Aywanin was really all his.

Special thanks to @pandoraslxna for the prompt!

[darkmaga-retard]

18 September 2024 by Larry C. Johnson 

Israel has been warned and its leaders apparently have decided to ignore those warnings. Madness! I have trained and worked with Israelis — not a lot — and learned that many of their military and intelligence leadership excel in arrogance and hubris. When I conduct firearms training courses for US citizens, the single most important characteristic is attitude. I can teach knowledge and skills, but if the student has a know-it-all attitude, the instruction is a waste of time. That is Israel — bad attitude. And the poor attitude translates into lack of knowledge and limited skills and reckless risk taking.

A group of Washington Post reporters provided the latest update about Israeli intentions:

Top Israeli officials who met with a senior White House adviser warned that military action will be needed to allow thousands of residents to go back to their homes along Israel’s northern border with Lebanon. Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu told Amos Hochstein, who was in Israel on Monday to try to de-escalate tensions between Israel and Hezbollah, that Israel appreciated U.S. support but would ultimately “do what is necessary to safeguard its security and return the residents of the north securely to their homes,” according to a statement from Netanyahu’s office. In an early Tuesday announcement, Israel’s security cabinet also said it updated its war objectives to include “returning the residents of the north securely to their homes,” signaling an expansion of official aims that originally focused on eliminating Hamas and returning the hostages taken on Oct. 7.

It’s important to understand what this means. In order to secure northern Israel, the Israeli Occupation Force (IOF) will have to invade southern Lebanon and expel Hezbollah. Let that sink in. The very same Israeli force that has failed to quell the uprising in Gaza after 11 months of slaughtering civilians on an unprecedented scale in the history of Israel, now is going to venture into southern Lebanon, where Hezbollah has erected enormous, inter connected lines of defense.

[stellawolfe30]

!!!please read if you live in florida!!!

aaaaannnd im boutta be out of a job soon.

"welcome to florida where woke goes to die"

MORE LIKE WHERE INTELLIGENCE GOES TO FUCKING DIE.

if you didn't know. Ron DeSantis that idiot. just signed into law that any dumbass with a gun can carry a concealed loaded gun WITHOUT A PERMIT. WITHOUT ANY PREVIOUS EXPERIENCE OR ANY OTHER SHIT LIKE THAT.

So let me tell you something that i know as someone who works (i will be quitting as soon as possible) at a gun range/store.

To carry a concealed carry license you had to prove to an instructer that you undersand the laws regarding concealed carry and that you understand how to safely and correctly handle a firearm. despite floridas very flimsy gun laws this at least ensured that people knew what they were doing.

that will be gone July 1st

He did this, just the other day. No media channels covered it, he didn't announce it. that low-life piece of shit did this behind closed doors because he knows how dangerous this is and he's claiming its for "our protection"

ive see the kind of idiots that can get guns. I've seen them up close and personal. Ive stood in front of them as they pulled a loaded gun from their bag. ive seen them try t get into the concealed carry class without ever having touched a gun before. ive seen them try to buy one without knowing how to handle it safely. ive seen the kind of idiots that can own and buy a gun for a mere 300 bucks. sometimes lower if there's a sale.

"but backround checks-" dont do shit. like i said...ive seen the kind of idiots that can own firearms and thats not even counting how many dangerous people are going to be allowed to carry guns into public spaces without any license because its legal now.

I dont know what the best thing is to do, but please be aware of this. Im begging you no matter where you are please reblog this because Ron desantis is trying to hide this from as many people as possible.

Please reblog this to share this information to as many people as possible and to stay safe everyone!

Ron dedumbass wants us not to know, he wants to keep us oblivious so theres no uproar. spread this news!

[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

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[mariacallous]

Since the start of Moscow’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, the Russian authorities have begun integrating ideological and military-themed lessons into school curricula. However, their plans for the upcoming academic year are even more drastic. Children will receive instruction in combat training and learn how to use grenade launchers and automatic weapons, all as part of the required school curriculum. The Russian government has radically revised the list of social sciences, replacing them with militarized or ideological equivalents. Now, instead of economics and law, students will study “traditional values” and the “Russian world.” The independent outlet Holod explained Russia’s new educational model. Meduza shares an abridged version in English.

Russia's educational landscape has experienced significant shifts since the start of the full-scale war. In September 2022, schools across the country rolled out a new class called “Important Conversations,” a state-designed, “patriotic” lesson series meant to bring students’ spiritual and moral values in line with the Russian Federation’s National Security Strategy.

A year later, the Russian authorities supplemented this ideological teaching with military instruction. In addition to things like fire safety and first aid, students began learning “basic military training” in their “Fundamentals of Life Safety” classes. In 10th grade, they learn about the workings of the Kalashnikov assault rifle and “information-psychological warfare.”

Now, the Kremlin is looking to further expand ideological and military teaching in schools. From September 2024, “Fundamentals of Life Safety” will be replaced by something called “Fundamentals of Homeland Security and Defense.” (While related amendments to federal education law were made in July 2023, the program was only officially registered with the Justice Ministry on February 29, 2024.)

A child today, a soldier tomorrow

“Fundamentals of Homeland Security and Defense” (FHSD) is approved for students as young as those in fifth grade, but from eighth grade, the course is mandatory. Among other things, eighth and ninth graders will be taught about the tactical and technical characteristics of the Dragunov sniper rifle, the RPG-7 handheld anti-tank grenade launcher, the Kalashnikov assault rifle, and various hand grenades. Students will also study drill training, general military regulations, “the essence and importance of military discipline,” and “the essence of unified command.”

Instructors are tasked with fostering specific “personal results” in students by the program’s conclusion, including “a responsible attitude toward fulfilling one’s constitutional duty of defending the Fatherland” and “an understanding of the significance of the military oath.”

By ninth grade, students are expected to master skills such as putting on equipment and body armor, “assessing the risks of violating military discipline,” and performing drill exercises. Over the two following years, the program goes even deeper. Tenth and 11th graders will learn the basics of combined arms combat, how to set up a combat unit’s position, and how to use more modern firearms such as the MP-443 Grach pistol and the AK-12 assault rifle.

The FHSD program has between 136 and 238 lessons, depending on the grade level at which it’s introduced. Since schools can independently decide how many hours to allocate for each unit (there are still traditional topics such as disaster preparedness and response), this could add dozens of military lessons to those already required in the “basic military training” block. As a result, a significant portion of the school curriculum will focus on military training and preparing future soldiers for combat. 

The Russian authorities plan to tap “special military operation” veterans to help teach the new subject, according to First Deputy Education Minister Alexander Bugaev, who said the ex-soldiers will fill an “invaluable niche [in schools by transferring] their personal experience.”

These veterans will be prepared for their new teaching career at the Vertex Center for Military Patriotic Education at Russia’s Federal State University of Education. After just 36 hours of training, a former soldier can get a document certifying them to teach in schools. In addition to retraining war participants as teachers, the center will organize military games for children. Officially, the university’s vice rector, Alexey Ryabtsev, heads the program, but the actual work is likely to fall to his deputy, Pyotr Ishkov, who served as deputy education minister of the self-proclaimed “Luhansk People’s Republic” in 2022. However, details about the center itself and its educational programs remain scarce. 

Integrated ideology

Russian schools are also set to make big changes to core classes. Russia’s Education Ministry has already drafted a law that would replace social studies in sixth through eighth grade with something called “Our Region’s History.” While social studies will still be taught in high school, many Russians leave school after ninth grade to go to trade schools.

Less than half of the topics covered in “Our Region’s History” will actually touch on local history because the course is meant to incorporate topics from an existing discipline, “Fundamentals of the Spiritual and Moral Culture of the Russian Peoples.”

Course topics include: “The Traditional Family,” “Risks and Threats to the Spiritual and Moral Culture of Russia,” “The Russian World,” “Russian Language — the Basis of Russian Culture,” “Spiritual and Moral Values of the Russian People,” “Unity of Values in Russia’s Religions,” “Heroes of the Armed Forces,” and “The Citizen’s Duty to Society.”

Students will still have separate “Important Conversations” classes, but now state ideology will also be integrated into and dispersed across regular subjects.

Previously, ideological subjects could be mostly ignored. While they might influence awards at school, they didn’t have an impact on college admissions. Now that ideology has been added to the core school curriculum, though, related topics will be included on Russia’s college aptitude test, the Unified State Exam (EGE).

Students planning to take the history EGE are now required to know the reasons for “The Revival of the Russian Federation as a World Power,” “The Reunification of Crimea with Russia,” and “The Special Military Operation in Ukraine.” In 2023, only Russia’s annexation of Crimea was included.

In 2024, the list of topics students should know for the EGE in social studies includes things like “The Spiritual Values of Russian Society,” and “The Russian Federation’s State Policy to Counter Extremism.” Neither of these topics was on the exam last year.

[numbugwritingblog]

Welcome to the New Realm! (Chapter 4)

Previous Chapter

Index

---

04/05/2018

Ah, the potion of waking.

While it cannot stave off sleep indefinitely, it’s more than a suitable option when you only need to stall sleep for one extra day.

Jett knew it was the last potion he was provided for a reason, so that Grace could at least afford him the chance to relax from the radio. Indeed he drank it all down at once, giving Grace a distinctly casual kiss on the cheek before teleporting off.

Indeed, Jett knew that Grace would not be offended by that like most people would, that was as usual of a goodbye as they ever gave.

Trailing a finger along his bag, checking that he had all of his potions at the ready Speed, Strength, Echolocation, Tracking, Reverse Injuries, Invisibility, Teleport Sense, Reverse Injuries…

Yep, check.

Oh?

There’s a potion of Crustacean Strength, too. He was not going to get up close against Scythe, but he supposed it’s there if he needs it.

Finally, he checked his spare ammo and emergency vials of arcane energy - he still did not understand how any mage can do that yet alone Grace, he’s tried to store arcane energy like that and kept accidentally casting spells.

All good.

So Jett began walking forwards towards where he can tell Scythe’s presence is. The short but uneventful walk was quickly stopped as his echolocation picked up two people, with something in their hands - presumably guns by the way they were carrying it and their posture. “Halt! Identify yourself!”

Jett stopped as instructed, waiting patiently. “General, another intruder is present.”

Even behind his sunglasses, his raised eyebrow was barely visible to them. “Are the other intruders one who speaks like an animal and another who’s been described as pale? I’m here to stop them.”

“Stay right there!” Soldiers alerted.

Well cooperation’s out of the question now. Bullets could be a threat to him, but with his potions readied up hitting him in a vital area is an unrealistic problem. Still though, best to avoid conflict.

“Sure, I’ll wait right here. You don’t mind if I take a drink, right?”

“I guess that’s fine…”

Good. Jett trailed the potions carefully, selecting the potion of invisibility and drinking it right down. He could feel his body - skin, internals, even his eyes - shifting and morphing to match the changes made by the potion.

Light no longer reflected off of him (nor his clothes, after the New Realm experimented with the spell for about 300 years - he would’ve hated the idea of stripping entirely just to use this), instantly rendering him invisible.

“Open fire!”

Jett leapt right past them before they could even pull the trigger, leaving the two of them shooting at nothing.

Being invisible also meant being blinded, but that didn’t mean anything to someone who was already blind.

But it did mean that Jett had to be far more stealthy from here on, largely relying on foreign sounds for his echolocation to avoid giving himself away.

Not that he was particularly worried, he’s trained in invisible stealth precisely as one of the few mages who could utilise it without drawback, and that’s with the New Realm knowing that it’s realistically possible. No, his only concern was how his targets would deal with him.

Afterall, he knew Valentine’s speciality…

---

This treasure hunt was nearing its end.

Valentine made no attempt at stealth - she didn’t need to with her bodyguards and her magic combined - instead casually walking forth with Scythe in the front. Trailing right behind was an absolutely massive lizard, carrying a large, two-handed axe in one hand.

Her excitement at being so close contrasted with his dull expression, despite doing everything he could to guard the rear end.

Not that there was much need. Scythe’s magic was a perfect counter to firearms, most soldiers only getting a single shot before she reflects it into a vital organ and striking them dead immediately.

Indeed, these ten guards in the hallway in front of them were technically the greatest threat they’ve faced so far.

Yet eleven bullets was all it took to incapacitate them, and Scythe took the moment to slice into each and every one, the rapid necrosis doing the job of killing them.

“It would be more efficient to let them live,” the lizard at the back spoke up, his helpful words in direct contrast to the venom in his voice.

“Thoroughness is of the utmost importance until we find the Final Spell. A living soldier could serve as a distraction or even speak on their strange devices to destroy it.” Besides the cruelty behind killing everyone they came across, Valentine had no reaction to any of it, besides one. “Besides, none of them are of any value to us alive. This is their punishment for daring to oppose us while they’re as weak as they are.”

The lizard let out a low growl, glaring directly at Valentine, gripping his weapon.

Valentine stopped, prompting Scythe to stall in kind. She turned to the lizard, grinning wide. “Well, Winter Tundra, you wish to oppose me?”

The lizard, codenamed Winter Tundra, let out a low growl in response, gripping his weapon - the posture making it clear he was quite capable of wielding this two-handed weapon with one hand. Then he ceased, anger fading away as he lowered his stance.

“Good boy.”

Anger flared back up, Tundra swung his weapon without a moment’s hesitation towards Valentine! Nobody demeans him like that!

The weapon passed through Valentine like she wasn’t there, before she approached him and flung a pin-point “needle” - one that was pure black as it pulled in nearby light - which pierced through Tundra and knocked him down onto his hands and knees.

Effortlessly defeating him, she put a foot on top of his head. As she looked down to him she grinned wide. “What are you?”

Tundra growled in a low tone.

“Say it.”

He hated this with every single fibre of his body, and yet he could not disobey. “... I’m a good boy.” Just the words sickened him.

“No, you’re a naughty boy, thinking you stood a chance against me. Remember that for next time.”

Tundra growled once more, and yet stayed still. Even as Valentine put her foot off of his head he remained still.

Valentine let out a small chuckle. A chuckle that instantly stopped. “Did you really think I wouldn’t be able to hear you, Jett?”

Silence - and yet all three of them could tell, getting into position. The fact that Scythe and the lizard man were both staring at him told Jett that they had trained in fighting while blinded, exactly as he had assumed. There was no point in hiding from them.

“I don’t know who you are, but there’s very few people who know my real name, I’ve made sure of it. Scythe, reduce it by one.”

Forgot who he was? Jett reached for his gun, and the auto-aim flicked his arm right out to aim right at Valentine. “You really don’t remember me? Because I’ve never forgotten you…” It took him a moment to focus, his aim flickering over to Scythe instead.

Scythe walked past Valentine and Tundra, and yet she did not leap in yet. This witch hunter has fought her twice, and lived both of them. It’s likely that he was already expecting her to act hyper-aggressive, and so she wouldn’t be able to overwhelm him.

Jett fired out a single shot and dodged the incoming reflection easily. He did not approach nor retreat, however. When both of them could teleport, such movements only mattered from moment to moment.

It was then Scythe teleported, Jett’s automatic aim flicking right behind him - forcing the lurcher to awkwardly twist his body just to avoid injuring himself - a moment that allowed her to strike into him with her scythe, immediately kicking him away towards Valentine.

A free victory on a silver platter, and yet Valentine did nothing.

As such Jett could heal himself up quickly with one of his healing potions. Then he got back up to his feet, swinging at Valentine.

As he swung through, she briefly vanished from his echolocation before promptly reforming. With that alone he could tell that she was either teleporting or becoming non-solid.

Scythe charged in at the attack on Valentine, hissing loudly.

Jett leapt away from the attack, landing on the ground before unloading his entire clip at once. Every shot at him he had to avoid, but he jumped ahead in the way of Valentine and her silent enforcer.

They went through Valentine, like Jett had predicted. But they struck the lizard well and truly, but then he heard the shells land on the ground.

Winter Tundra was not harmed by the barrage of bullets.

That could be bad.

Growling, he lifted up a weapon to attack, only to be stopped by Valentine raising her hand. “Stand aside, Winter Tundra.”

Jett ducked underneath Valentine’s swing, swinging his gun into her with enough force to send her colliding with the roof. He leapt up to finish the blow, only for Scythe to teleport away once more.

Jett collided against the roof before launching off just as easily, landing on his feet. He launched towards one wall in this hallway, and then the other, and then back to the first one, each leap sending him closer to Scythe.

She swung her scythe to defend herself, Jett leaping onto the side of it, pushing himself off the inner end of the blade to punch her in the face.

But even with the impact Scythe was not mindless, lifting the scythe just enough to cut to his arm. “Dammit,” Jett muttered, shuffling into his bag for another potion.

She knew it was another healing potion, and so without wasting a beat she thrust straight into the glass container.

She only realised her mistake once the glass bottle shattered. Jett dropped the already empty potion before it even collided, as instead his hand swung down to catch the wooden stafflike part of the scythe and pulled it in with all of his force.

His kick to the face was enough to forcibly drop her grip on it, and he quickly dropped his gun to have a free hand in order to bring out an actual healing potion, uncorking it with his teeth as he drank it down.

Before Scythe could get close Jett swung it 180 so that the blade end faced her. This wasn’t good, but she has had her blade stolen from her before. She can-

“That’s enough.”

Scythe immediately backed away, glaring at Jett - and at her own weapon.

“I’m impressed, Deadeye.” Immediately, Jett knew what that meant. “Your recruitment shall begin now.”

He had only one option.

He threw the scythe directly at Tundra, prompting the giant lizard man to defend himself while Scythe simultaneously dashed in to grab her weapon.

Jett then teleported straight to one of the dead soldiers, rapidly feeling for the speaker and gripping it tightly. “Destroy the final spell! It should be an old parchment with unknown-!”

He was knocked off of his feet from an attack by Valentine, flung across the hallway until he collided with the opposite wall. “If you’re lucky they won’t destroy it before I’m done with you!” Valentine hissed out as she formed more “needles” in the small gaps between her fingers, each one held aloft purely by her magic. Even she didn’t want to touch them.

Jett coughed, grinning wide despite the attack that sent him tumbling. “Clock’s ticking, then.”

Valentine wordlessly glared at the still-invisible Jett. Walking towards him. She was furious, and her silence alone told Jett just how much.

And yet…

“Winter Tundra, you handle recruitment. Scythe, search for any leads to the Final Spell. With any luck I’ll have everything I need by the day’s end.”

Jett slowly got to his feet, grinning wide in the knowledge that his plan worked, quickly teleporting behind Valentine and Scythe to ensure neither of them would strike him as they passed by.

Then his grin faded.

Everything she needed? No, that meant…!

Jett jumped back to avoid a heavy swing of the axe, feeling a cold chill spread out as he dashed away.

Tundra lifted one hand from his axe, swinging it out to flick out a bitter spray of ice cold water at Jett.

Contact instantly made him start shivering, hypothermia was suddenly a concern when it wasn’t moments ago. “Grr…”

Krios then lifted an arm up, the cold water around Jett instantly freezing into ice and leaving him trapped in place. “You’re lucky that she wanted you recruited, otherwise I’d have frozen you on the spot. Actually…”

He paused, thinking through what he was saying.

“... No. No, you’re not lucky at all. Death is better than this.”

Jett needed to get out of here!

He needed to save Grace and-!

If he just teleported to them, Tundra is going to follow and then him and this mystery foe will just team up…

Jett needed to go somewhere else.

He lifted his arm to cast a teleport spell.

Only for his arm to freeze. He let a sharp inhale at the sudden sting of the chilled ice, unable to break free.

Tundra let out a huff as he finished the spell, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, but I cannot let you escape this… ‘recruitment’.” His gruff tone softened up the last word, and - even though Jett wouldn’t be able to see it - he looked at Jett with soft eyes, the harshness he had for Valentine replaced with sympathy.

Jett grunted again, gripping his gun with his free hand. Immediately he pulled the trigger, letting the auto-aim take complete control as it harshly flicked his arm towards himself, a single bullet flying out to hit the icy shell trapping his arm.

The arm holding the gun was frozen in response. But it was what Jett needed.

With his hand free of the frozen ice, it meant his hand was completely dry.

He reached down to his belt of potions, pulling out one before Tundra could freeze the rest and downing it immediately, so frantic that some spilled over his lips and he even coughed up a bit that threatened to go into his lungs.

Tundra pulled his axe out of the ground, charging at Jett to swing down on him again.

Deliberately avoiding lethal strikes, he swung into Jett’s gun arm, making the lurcher yell out in pain.

And he continued yelling, his good arm starting to shake.

“It’s futile,” Tundra said softly, kneeling. “The only choice I can give you is to go whole or to go with broken bones.”

Jett continued to yell out in pain, something growing across his arm. Hard, inflexible, brown. It shattered the ice covering his arm, layer by layer, as it slowly took shape. His arm had grown far larger, resembling that of a crustacean like a crab or scorpion.

Jett let out a small chuckle, his teeth still bared to keep himself through the pain. “Alright then. Let’s break some bones.”

His only hope was that he’d be able to get to Grace and Sal in time.

---

Scythe wasn’t even checking which doors were locked and which weren’t. Just one quick slice at the hinges was all it took to send each of the doors to drop down and fall over - no matter whether they were reinforced or not.

Those who so much as raised a weapon at Scythe met a grisly, painful death. But those who weren’t a threat weren’t treated as such.

To an outsider observer it might appear that Scythe was wildly trashing each room she was visiting, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. She was searching. Searching for what will have text from a New Realm language on it.

Room after room.

Kill after kill.

Document after document.

She came up empty.

This next room didn’t even have anyone armed. These scientists backed up and hid in a corner, one brandishing a pipe as a makeshift weapon. They were all in a corner, they weren’t a threat.

As usual Scythe pulled into the drawers, tossing out paper after paper - giving them only a quick glance to confirm what type of language they were using.

Nothing.

She was about to leave when she saw that there was a potted plant on the bench, from a casual glance it looked healthy, but Scythe knew it was in need of something. She should continue on her mission.

But…

Valentine never said she couldn’t water this plant, if she was quick about it.

She approached the potted plant without a noise, raising a hand. She gently placed a finger on it, purposefully weak magic surging through it.

Then she knew what was missing. She raised her hand and cast a small spell to pull in the vapour from the air, which condensed enough to fall into the potted plant all at once.

Satisfied with watering the plant, she continued on.

---

Valentine was far more focused.

She wanted the final spell, and she wanted it bad. She knew that she would find it eventually, the vision she was told meant that the odds were in her favour, but that same vision said she would die by the very witch hunter that was in this base.

It didn’t make sense. She was going to add him to her allyship, he shouldn’t have been a threat to her. Maybe she should have committed to recruitment…

No. No, securing the final spell is more important than getting him out of the way. She just needs to find another way of dealing with this threat.

Right now, her only threat was these military idiots destroying the paper before she could reach it. They’d be throwing away unimaginable potential if they did that. They might even stand a chance against her if these Old Realmers learnt the spell’s secrets.

Destroying it only benefits people who will not help them.

A locked door. Valentine focused on the aura of light absorption she had around herself, expanding it until it covered the other end of the door - and making the area within colder as a direct side-effect.

She dropped her internal thoughts entirely, quantum spells require the utmost concentration…

And she casted it, so now she stood on the other side. “Surrender or die.”

Gunshots, so typical. Valentine stood still, her focus on the quantum disentanglement, letting the bullets harmlessly pass through her atoms.

“So you choose death.”

She condensed matter down, so much so that the light bent around it was barely visible as a pitch black needle, which she “flung” out to the idiot that tried shooting at her.

Unlike her recruits, who were useful alive, this one died instantly as the needle pierced through their vitals, the wound so small that even a mage like her could not see it without magnification.

But she didn’t stop at the one. One of them attacked her, so they must all die.

Needle after needle after needle.

None of them stood a chance.

Once every living person was a dead corpse, Valentine waltzed on into the room. Out of her own shadow, she could see that this was for organising files. If the search didn’t have its own dedicated room, this is a likely candidate.

She opened up the first box, sorting through the papers within.

Results of examination on subject Cirillo- pass.

Results of examination on subject Sánchez- not interested.

Test subject acquired, begin preliminary tests on super soldier project- like these Old Realmers could make anything worthy of being called “super” without magic.

As Valentine searched deeper and deeper, her mind was free to think about the future once more.

She doesn’t know who Jett is, but that name is too familiar to her. It can’t be deja vu, she must have met him before… Especially since he seems to already know her name. Someone who met her and lived to tell the tale…

It doesn’t make sense. He’s a Witch Hunter, so he can’t be some Old Realmer she’s all too happy to ignore. But he clearly knows to search for missing witches in the Old Realm, and she has yet to hear of a Witch Hunter who seriously entertained the thought.

Is he a former witch she crossed paths with? Maybe he turned himself in to avoid the death penalty?

She was about to dismiss the thought, only for something far more important to come to her attention.

New Realm text.

Her eyes were glued to the old parchment as she effortlessly read what this military could not translate.

[translation available at the bottom of the page]

To whomever hath discovered mine final letter.

I has't discovered a spell that is truly horrifying. Its benefits seemeth innocuous at first, but from mine analysis of the spell effects, overuse within a population wilt guarantee the end of all life on the New Realm within 1 year. coequal if 't be true I convinced mine peers of this fact, they’ll just resort to casting this spell in the Fusty Realm and doom those folk to the same fate.

The Fusty Realm might beest filled with fools who want the true glory of us mages, but I still cannot sitteth content with either realm coming to an end. I must destroy all traces of the spell.

I must, and yet can I calleth myself a true wizard if 't be true I doth not preserve the knowledge that I findeth? I cannot betray mine true calling. The only compromise I can bethink of is to hide hence mine knowledge. I has't hath found somewhere secluded to hide hence the instructions on casting the Final Spell, and - just like whither this letter wilt end up - t is within the Fusty Realm.

If 't be true thee art a mage like I, I has't but only one request. Please doth not alloweth the knowledge of this spell falleth into the hands of anyone else.

Teiwaz, the most powerful wizard of New Realm Year 307.

This is a real letter. It fit with everything she knew, even matched Teiwaz’s handwriting. This letter was telling her exactly where the Final Spell was hidden, and it’s the real deal.

And yet.

Yet this stupid egg hunt had just been extended by another step! Why every single time it looked like she was finished there’s just another arbitrary obstacle in the way! It made her want to just-!

No, no, remember the vision. This is good news. Jett’s most likely to kill her once she actually finds the Final Spell. This means that she has longer to prepare for the inevitable. This is… good news.

Frustrating news. But good news.

Now let’s hope her new recruits are ready.

---

Translation of Teiwaz’s letter:

To whomever has discovered my final letter.

I have discovered a spell that is truly horrifying. Its benefits seem innocuous at first, but from my analysis of the spell effects, overuse within a population will guarantee the end of all life on the New Realm within 10 years. Even if I convinced my peers of this fact, they’ll just resort to casting this spell in the Old Realm and doom them to the same fate.

The Old Realm might be filled with fools who lack the true glory of us mages, but I still cannot sit content with either realm coming to an end. I must destroy all traces of the spell.

I must, and yet can I call myself a true wizard if I do not preserve the knowledge that I find? I cannot betray my true calling. The only compromise I can think of is to hide away my knowledge. I have found somewhere secluded to hide away the instructions on casting the Final Spell, and - just like where this letter will end up - it is within the Old Realm.

If you are a mage like I, I have but only one request. Please do not let the knowledge of this spell fall into the hands of anyone else.

Teiwaz, the most powerful wizard of New Realm Year 307.

---

Vote for the next chapter here!

[aggressivelyaverage21]

Once A Rookie Chapter 19: Philippians 4:9

Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.

Beatrice has a hard conversation with Shannon. Shannon does her best to tread carefully but the mistery of Beatrice's pain remains. Mary takes a crack at it with her own meathods.

It would be another day. Another day pressing forward and trying to learn. Trying to be better. And today was yet another shooting lesson with Mary. Something that didn’t really go well last time. It left Beatrice frustrated with herself, with her struggle to just relax like Mary prompted over and over. Left her feeling exposed for being so hard on herself that Mary had taken notice. 

It was something about the older woman Beatrice hadn’t quite figured out yet. She was tough. Hard sometimes even. Very snarky, almost to the point of being abrasive. But somehow that part was fun. That part seemed normal, friendly even. It was when things shifted toward something more emotional that made Beatrice uneasy, like there was something so wrong with her that it had Mary breaking her normal to accommodate. 

A mortifying thought really. 

To need to be accommodated. 

So, it wasn’t exactly something Beatrice was excited to get out of bed for. Especially not when Mary knocked on her door asking if she was ready before Beatrice could make her way down to breakfast. “Come on Kid, long morning ahead of us.” Mary passed her a steaming cup of coffee as she offered a somewhat apologetic smile. 

It was the earliest Beatrice had gotten up since the trials, not that she’d been sleeping the day away but she had at least appreciated not needing to be out of bed before it was fully light out. 

“Mary, why are we doing this?” Beatrice paused at the edge of the armory while Mary filled up a bag for them and pointed Beatrice in the direction of things she wanted to take as well. 

“I’m teaching you to shoot.” 

“You already taught me to shoot.” 

Beatrice wasn’t really sure where the rebuttal was coming from. She could always use more instruction. She was far from comfortable with the weapon, and only mildly confident in her ability to nail a target. Mary was one of the best in the Order when it came to firearms and Beatrice should be grateful for her vested interest in teaching her. 

However, her discomfort with the weapon left her feeling at least a little hesitant to actually work on it. It had been the only thing she hadn’t come out of training ranked number one in. It had actually been Abigail who bested her in that arena. 

“You’re coming back into the field with us soon.” 

Could that news have been broken a little better? Sure. Did Mary really have the patience for it? No. There were rumors about them being sent to handle a group of people causing problems in the valley. People who the priest thought were likely possessed. It could get violent and she needed to make sure Beatrice was at least able to protect herself. “I taught you to shoot a target. While standing. With your weapon already drawn. That’s not going to happen in real life.” 

“I…” Gwen, and Mary had already taught their class to move and shoot. It would have been irresponsible for them not to, given the order’s purpose and why that had such intense training anyway. Beatrice just wasn’t sure that she was ready for the training to move into something past that into reality. She didn’t want to kill. That’s not why she joined the order. “So we will be doing movement drills then?” 

“So many questions.” Mary sighed as she finished packing the bag up, zipping it closed with authority. Shannon had been urging her to fine tune Beatrice’s technique ever since Mother Superion floated the idea of taking Beatrice out for an assignment like this if the occasion arose. It wasn’t bad by any means but repetition was key, just like it was with anything else. 

Shooting had become a sort of meditation for Mary, and watching Beatrice struggle to find a calm about her in the last few weeks had the pair of warriors willing to try just about anything. Shannon had been emphasizing meditation and stretching, somewhat under the guise of getting Beatrice to recover from the insane demand of the trials. When that wasn’t working she’d walked Beatrice through a few forms with the Bo. Then when that wasn’t working Shannon had caved and taught Beatrice how to throw knives. 

When Shannon was getting a little weary of how to help ease the kid’s worry, Mary had stepped in. She wrapped Shannon up in one of her famous hugs, running her hand up and down the warrior’s spine as she offered to take a crack at it. Shooting always helped her clear her head, and Mary hoped that maybe the repetition would be good for Beatrice as well– after the lesson she had in mind of course. Maybe some insight from someone not Shannon , would help her settle back in, give her some reassurance that Shannon wasn’t the only one who had her back. 

They hoped at least. 

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