Disney owns you all, and me too, and Treasure Planet sits at the top of Disney Movies That Own Even Harder. And come ON, you can't expect nothing to happen to a good-looking kid trapped on a ship full of pirates and only two women to come out unscathed. Disney has a dark side, you know it to be true.

Beta'd by Her Mightyawesomesauceness, Digital Skitty. :D


Jim Hawkins is a rebellious boy, but he's not stupid. He's pretty sure there's a better reason that his mother doesn't want him flying off into space than just because it's dangerous. He's been in more dangerous situations before.

He overhears his mother speaking to Dr. Doppler in a worried undertone about the crew that was hired, but he doesn't really understand a lot of the words she uses, so he disregards it.


Jim doesn't like a lot of things about Silver when he first meets him. He doesn't like how easy it is for the man to turn his arm into a weapon. He doesn't like the way that Silver always takes a moment to think when asked questions regarding how he got here or Jim's home planet. He doesn't like how enormous the man is compared to him- he bets Silver's jacket is big enough to fit six or seven of him inside it comfortably.

He really doesn't like the way Silver feels the need to loom over him in order to get his point across.

Mostly, though, he doesn't like Silver's eye, which seems to be able to shine right through him and everything.

This thought crosses his mind, and he decides he's being paranoid.


Jim can feel eyes on him as he gracefully swings around in the rigging, barely controlling his excitement at finally having free reign on a magnificent ship like this.

He's careful to keep his balance, worming his way back towards the deck, slipping between the gaps in the ropes like it's the easiest thing in the world. And it is, to him, one who's been flying through tiny cracks in the walls of cliffs on a solar surfer for at least seven years now.

One of the crew members crawls up to him when he leaps back to the safety of the deck, and he's sort of expecting or maybe just hoping for the other to compliment him on how expertly he navigates in the rigging.

Instead, a sharp-nailed finger runs over his extremeties, and a deep, scratchy voice growls out, "You're quite a flexible one, aren't you?"

He's left shivering and feeling that something's a little bit off on this ship.


He shouldn't have teased him, is all Jim thinks as he's slammed against the mast, one of the bug-man's claws pinning him effortlessly, the other caressing his neck. The disgusting alien's huge eyes are bright, brighter than they were a moment ago, and he sees some sort of greenish-yellow liquid gushing into his mouth. Fantastic. Now I'm gonna be a fucking appetizer for a man-spider.

He shudders as the spider-creature-man creeps a few steps closer, all of his legs trapping Jim in, and he taunts him in that hair-raising hissing voice. He feels like such a weakling, they can all push him around like it's nothing here, and maybe he should have been working on his strength rather than his agility all those years.

Jim's eyes flicker downwards for a split second. There's a plate of what he supposes could either be skin or some type of shell on the bug-man's abdomen that's lighter in colour than the rest of his black underside. It's quivering slightly, like something's trying to break out, or maybe like it's... excited.

Jim decides he wants the bug-man to hurry up and kill him and eat him, because he's not sure what will happen if it's dragged out much longer.

As he faces Silver later, he puts on a show of being indignant to mask the still-present primal fear he's feeling.


Jim tries to avoid eavesdropping after that. Sometimes, though, it seems like the crew is trying to get him to listen in, just to get Scroop angry again, perhaps.

Of course, this conclusion makes him try even harder to mind his own business- even on the rare occasion his name is mentioned.

It makes it obscenely difficult when they discuss him as they swing from the hammocks all around him.

He's been tossing and turning, trying to shut out the voices around him, all but knocking himself to the floor with how agitated he is. Then, he notices the whispers getting quieter, and he can't help it, he's curious, especially after withholding all his curiousity for the past week or so.

The average person falls asleep in seven minutes. So he won't seem suspicious if he suddenly calms down now.

Jim stretches slowly, settling into his hammock as comfortably as he can, and perking his ears to catch the murmured conversation.

"...so fleshy and helpless, why do we even have one wit' us?"

He's enraptured. Whoever the speaker is, they have his full attention now.

"Ya, dey don't even haff any claws or big teeth, dey should haff been viped out by now." Even after more than a month with these (people? animals? creatures?) otherworlders, he has trouble making his way around their strange accents. He wonders if it's a trait of their respective species, or just because they're spacers.

He hears a rustling, and cracks one eye open to find the source. The tentacled one is motioning for the others to move in closer, and they all lean in as far as possible without falling themselves.

"It's easy t' kill them, t' be sure. But wanna know why de other species let 'em stay 'round?"

A shiver of movement as they all nod excitedly.

"Humans... just look at 'em. Smooth skin, thick, soft hair, expressive eyes, and if ye look at 'em in a state of undress..."

A warning bell goes off in Jim's brain, and he has to keep from wrapping the thin blanket around himself as tightly as possible.

"...seems like their bodies are made to be held, they even got a little dip right in the middle." The man grins, arm-tentacles flexing. "They're t' best species if ye want a bed partner, I'm told."

Jim hides a shiver of fear and disgust as the cyclops thing lets his mouth gape even wider than normal, puddles of thick saliva gathering at an alarming rate.

The fat one grins as well. "So, dey be like leetle whores, then?" His puny eyes flicker over towards Jim.

The one with the twenty-odd eyes- is his name Onus? Opus? Jim can't remember- shakes his head. "No... but they're intensely loyal, I've heard, and very willing to please."

The group shares a bout of raucous laughter, and Jim, unable to handle it anymore, hides his head under his pillow and curls up tightly. The laughter gets louder, and he hears someone sneer, "Nighty night, cabin boy."

He's only imagining those fingers creeping up on him hours afterward, there's nobody really there. Asses, the lot of them.


There are times when Jim wishes he was a girl. It's not something he's ever wished before he stepped on this ship, and it's not because he has a desire to be pretty or feminine or any of those things the creepy gender-switchers back on Montressor were always obsessing over.

He just figures that if he had been born a girl, he'd get a cabin seperated from the brutes in the main one, and a break from all the leering stares aimed at him when he gets dressed in the morning.

He tries to figure what the chances are of the Captain letting him room with Delbert instead, and decides he'd better not get his hopes up.


Jim is eternally greatful that Silver sees fit to keep him tucked securely between his mechanical arm and the main mast as they're being pulled into the gigantic black hole, but he's also rather confused, because he doesn't feel as safe as he thinks he should.

He wonders offhandedly, as they're propelled back out to safety, if he's the only one who notices that Silver's forearm is as big around as his own torso. He finds himself hoping the other hasn't even given it a second thought.


The Captain pulls him aside one evening, and he's surprised at the genuine concern in her eyes.

"Ah... Mr. Hawkins. There's a quick matter I'd like to discuss with you."

He glances around. Great, what the hell am I supposed to have done this time. "...yeah- uh, yes, ma'am?"

Captain Amelia's ears lower the tiniest bit, and her nose wrinkles as well. "I, er, just wanted to make sure... you haven't... had any trouble with the crew of late, have you, Mr. Hawkins?"

He's unsure of her meaning, but he doubts her definition of trouble is the same as his.

"No, ma'am, they've been... uh... friendlier than I thought." He forces himself to keep his tone polite and calm, despite the fact that he's screaming inside to tell her about every stare, every shove that held its contact a bit too long, every drawing out of the phrase cabin boy that he's had to endure on the voyage.

She sighs, then straightens up. "Very well. You may return to your duties, Mr. Hawkins."

He shrugs and turns around, shuffling back towards the kitchen that's filled with the remains of their last meal.

He doesn't notice how she keeps a careful eye on his gait, and sends narrow-eyed glares at any of the crew members who are near.


It seems like Silver and everybody likes to grab his shirt when they're angry with him. In a few ways, he supposes a tight shirt would only further his problem, but he's not really all that comfortable with how easy it is for them to reveal his skin when they feel like it.


He's already nervous enough when he gets trapped in the purp barrel, afraid he'll be pulled out and put at the crew's mercy. It's quite obvious they're discussing something private, something they don't want the Captain to know. Jim's a direct line back to Delbert and the Captain, and if they find him listening in... he doesn't want to consider the methods they'll employ to keep him quiet.

He almost stops breathing when he hears the escalating voices, and is jolted off balance as someone crashes into the barrel. He calms himself, pointing out that if they didn't see him come in, they're not going to find him now.

Then, a hideous, prickly red claw lowers into the barrel, and his fear multiplies tenfold. He watched, petrified, as it snaps at the bottom of the barrel. He fumbles for a purp and holds it towards the claw with shaking fingers.

Jim thinks he can feel his heart stop when the claw pauses, its tip rounding the purp and brushing against his finger. He hears Scroop trip a little in his sentence, and the claw slowly, almost gleefully, trails down his arm and caresses his face before withdrawing.

He pets Morph, telling himself it's because the shapeshifter is shaken and not himself.


Jim can't believe that the old 'cook' is still trying to keep him on their side. Like he would ever go back to that rabble of swaggering, dripping, theiving pirates after all the lot of them had put him through.

It also bothers him that Silver is under the impression he can be tempted with riches, though he's not quite sure why.


Even with Silver and the crew keeping a close watch on their hideaway, and no possible method of escape, Jim feels more secure and protected than he has for the whole voyage. He convinces himself it's because he was unknowingly running around with pirates the whole time, and his subconcious had sensed it. Not just because of all the comments and lewd stares he got.


It occurs to Jim as he and B.E.N. are sneaking back onto the Legacy that he hasn't seen Scroop in a while. He remembers the way those heated red claws seemed to love trapping him in various places and fondling him as they threaten to claw his guts out, and prays that the bug was dead, shot or splatted in a messy pile on the planet's surface.

As he's running breathlessly back to the upper deck of the ship, he curses the absentminded robot.

"Cabin boy..."

Scroop looks a lot happier to see him than Jim would prefer.

In the red lighting which is still barely enough for him to see properly, he backs up foolishly, and freezes when he feels a hard, warm body behind him and sees the tips of several pointy limbs coming forward.

He wonders what his chances are of escaping completely unharmed, and judging by the fast, excited hissing he's hearing, those chances are about zero.


Of course Jim doesn't want to give up the secrets of the map, but he sort of wishes, deep down, that Silver would hurry up and ask him to open it for him. He tries his hardest not to make his angry stare turn pleading.

It's damned hard not to when the fat one is slowly sliding his free hand downwards and there's a tentacle creeping up on his other side. He knows nothing really... bad is going to happen to him, of course. Not here. He still doubts he's going to feel clean for a long time afterwards.


Jim can almost taste his freedom from these pirates until Silver clambers onto the boat behind him.

He's not perturbed by the scimitar aimed at his sizeable belly, and as he advances forward, head down but eyes turned upward, Jim can feel that familiar shiver of cold dread slipping down his spine. He's gone and gotten himself trapped again, this time in the corner of a tiny ship hovering above a planet that's combusting and exploding right in front of him.

He shakes and almost drops the sword when his back hits the wheel, and he's sure this is going to be the end, he can already feel Silver's ridiculously powerful metal arm reaching out for him and holding him down just to show it can, and, oh God, Silver's got that look in his eye...

Jim can't stop the rush of crazy relief when he's thrown off the boat towards the fragments of the planet's core.

And, for some inexplicable reason, he still feels compelled to hug Silver like he would his own father when he's effortlessly swung back to safety. Yeah, the bastard would probably get off on- and he kills that thought before it finishes.


He's older now, and a lot more mature, though with not a lot more sense. He was almost compelled to forgive the lot of them, 'specially when you figure they were a bunch of morally corrupt pirates on a ship with almost no women.

He can almost forget about it and not let it bother him.

Then, he goes to bed one evening, and is wrapped in a sheet of comfortable drowsiness when he has a sudden vision of slimy tentacles and arms covered with rolls of fat, skinny bony hands with gnarled black nails and wiggling fleshy pads, stumpy cylindrical fingers and crawling wormlike feelers, pinching claws both prosthetic and organic, all reaching for him with that hated hiss of "C'mere, pretty little cabin boy," and he finds himself damning all pirates to Hell again.


Too sleepy to come up with a witty prod for you lovely people to review, so, um... feedback plz? :3

~The Bad Nut