#Pirates smp fanfic

[floef-likes-everything]

A delicious treat.

// cw: slightly suggestive

A familiar smell reached Martyn over the stale island breeze and led him back to the center of town. He had been minding his own business at home, organizing all the bounty he had accumulated on his last adventure. It had been a rough one, but those were best as those gave him the most treasure and gold to bring back. He never returned empty handed, he couldn’t. He was afraid the Kestrels would let him walk the plank for that.

Now, however, he was on a mission to spend money. He liked spending the gold he’d acquired over his journeys, money had to roll. He’d invest in large ships, in his armor and equipment. He however also bought things just for the pleasure of it, something he was about to do right now.

He came upon the stall with a watering mouth. The delicious treats that were displayed out in the open seemed to lure everyone around in but Martyn managed to get himself to the front of the group of curious townsfolk. There they were, a rare and tasty snack. Only some could understand the true delight of something like that touching your tongue and sliding down your throat.

They came at a cost, but that was something Martyn was very willing to pay. He knew of other Kestrels who did so and while it was a shame he had to share a treasure like this he understood. This snack was hard to resist once you got a taste and Martyn was starving for it. He had been on the high seas for so long. He managed well the first coupe of days, living off that last taste but now he was desperate.

But he was back on the Faction Isles and there was no need to stall this long awaited reunion. There they were, for all and everybody do see but nobody understood them like Martyn did. Nobody appreciated what they could do to your body and wellbeing, it was something so special to receive.

Oh, and of course there were the dumplings in Scotts stand as well.  

[rebootgrimm]

Currently writing my Minecraft Sona into Pirates SMP because why tf not. She’s a Heron. This is just going over the recruitment day

[saltyr3mix]

Hey! i wrote an dsmp x pirates smp au!

its about Ranboo struggling to find out which faction they should join with a slight twist at the end. come check it out!

[mcyt-hc-writing]

I wrote a snippet. Here's the link. It's mostly Cleo and Pearl flirting.

[sharpilu]

HEY SO I FINALLY REMEMBERED TO POST THE SAUSAGE FIC

[stellocchia]

I saved up Pirate!Owen's intro monologue for future reference, so here it is for anyone who wants it:

"Alright, listen closely I'm only going to be saying this once. "Alright, listen closely I'm only going to be saying this once.

Growing up I had all I could ever dream of and more. Money, security, a set life planned so rigid it would make the whale bones of a courtesans corset seem bendy by comparison...

My parents were established traders well renowned for their business, influence, and reach of prospects.

And that meant a life of etiquette training, ballroom practice, and champagne tasting. For the "good of the Family Name". At least it would have if I hadn't set my gaze further afield...

Life is for the living!

And being buttoned up prim and proper and placed in perfected poses is as much as being dead than the gallows.

Anyway, it took me to the ripe old age of twenty to be cut from my inheritance and be estranged from my family all on account of caught being... as the history books would call it; "Really good friends" with the stable master of the estate.

On the night before my parents arranged departure for myself from the household, I snuck into my parents quarters, stole my mothers finer clothes due to my fathers not fitting nearly as well as I would have liked... grabbed whatever jewelry I could get my hands on and fled to the local port.

Blah blah blah you know the story.

Rescued some princes, fled the navy, got into a healthy portion of trouble, and here I am!

The Faction Isles"

[minecraftrelatedrandomness]

u/nightingale_throwaway_0227:

AITA for being born?

My (~28M?) mother died giving birth to me on a rogue ship at sea. For much of my childhood, my father who loved her dearly has blamed me for her death.

I was thrown off the ship for disobeying the captain when I was a teenager (read: I made a friend with the ship's prisoner who was the first person around my age that I interacted with… basically most of my life, and he didn't like that), and have since found a new home and a surrogate family.

However, recently, I came into contact again with a guy (21M) who used to also be on that rogue ship, whose behaviour and attitude reminds me of that captain. We and some others were also recently trapped in a nightmare realm by a couple of evil wizards and I heard some weird whispers that blamed me further and said my parents regretted having me at all. (Don't worry, we all got out.)

All these recent events have been weighing on me, and I'm starting to be afraid that my father and the whispers were right. AITA?

[nekodere07]

PSMP!Scar backstory now on Ao3!!

Few things were referenced/inspired from @vesperionnox @cherrysherin @isjasz (mainly her) amazing fanarts!!

(P.S to jas: if you read this, I just want you to know you have NO idea how long it took me to find your tumblr acc. And no, it didn't occur to me that maybe you have the link in your Twitter profile 😭😭)

[thatbiblob]

A Prince’s Harem - Chapter 18 : Wedding { spoliers !! }

art for A Prince’s Harem by KaiThePoet on ao3

plz go read it !!

[vulcan-bourbon]

writober 2023

day 19 — Insomnia

The full moon, rising on the horizon above the water, cut the dark water surface with its light, creating a rattling lunar path to Sausage's feet

The captain himself was sitting on the pier, rolling up his pants and lowering his bare feet into the night water surface, lazily moving his feet through the water. Next to him, on the sea platform, lay his cloak and hat, folded neatly, as if in his own pirate cabin.

He could spend the night in many places, starting from his own room in the faction house and the cabin of his ship, ending in the bed of his beloved lover. But alas, today Morpheus did not visit him and he had no desire to sleep. The desire to move away from everyone and relax a little alone brought him to the night pier.

He took a deep breath of sea air and with a warm smile on his lips, the man sang a melody, quietly in his own language, reminiscent of a cross between a typical pirate song and a lullaby at the same time. Sausage glanced at the ship's stop in the distance, where Moonwalker, Downseeker, and Tide Hyde were moored, a gentle reminder that the three lovers had recently returned from their voyage. He was sure that Scott was now a little spoon in Martyn's arms. At this thought, the pirate smiles warmly, continuing to sing and leaning back on the pier. Burying his shoulder blades into the wooden boards, he continues to hum the melody, looking in fascination at the scattering of stars in the sky, mentally drawing lines and collecting them into constellations.

Sausage, smiling weakly, exhaled noisily enough to scare away a passing sleepy seagull. No matter what anyone thought, today he certainly didn’t mind insomnia on such a pleasant and sleepless night.

[floef-likes-everything]

Nightingale Adventure

(Based on Apo's lore stream of 28-8)

They hadn’t been sailing for more than an hour when the weather had turned sour. Apo didn’t understand how, because when they left the port there was not a cloud in sight. He liked to think he could predict the weather quite accurately now, but today had proven him wrong. The worst part was that he had decided to board Acho’s ship instead of going on his own, which meant he was just a passenger. Acho knew how to sail and with a good crew of Nightingales there really was nothing to worry about. Still, when the first lightning bolt struck the sea Apo couldn’t help but flinch.

“Lightning scared ya, Apo?” Michaela noticed, a smirk on her face as together they undid the ropes that held the small sail down. With winds like this, they really didn’t need all sails up to keep them going. Will and Graecie were up in the mast, hoisting the sail upwards and fastening it.

“Caught me off guard,” Apo deflected. A little storm didn’t faze him, he’d sailed in too many storms to get scared this easily. “I just hadn’t expected a storm to roll in this suddenly.”

“I agree with that,” she said, trying to wipe the thick hair out of her face as she looked up into the mast, where the other two were working hard to tie the sail down. Acho, from behind the wheel, was shouting out orders to the rest of the crew but Apo couldn’t hear him over the sound of the waves. “I’m happy we went with Acho, their ship is by far one of the best from our fleet. No offence.”

“None taken,” Apo muttered, though he would’ve loved it if they had decided to take his ship and let him be the captain. “Do you really think we are going to run into Aimsey on that island?”

“I hope we do,” Michaela’s expression hardened. From what Apo managed to piece together, Michaela knew Aimsey pretty well. She had told him a little about how their families were very good friends and that that was the reason Michaela had come to the Faction Isles in the first place. She was supposed to stay with them for a while, but due to bad weather she arrived later than expected and at that point disaster had already struck. She was told only snippets for what supposedly happened to Aimsey and today the Nightingales hoped to uncover more of what happened that mysterious night. Apo sometimes still had nightmares about the storm and those nasty, purple tentacles.

“Land ho!” Ros yelled from high up in the crows nest. She was brave staying there with this wind, though Apo assumed she was too scared to climb down at all. She was lovely, truly lovely and a true Nightingale at heart but she wasn’t the best pirate. She had however been determined to go along on this venture. She had been so adamant about it that nobody had dared to tell her no.

Acho gestured for Apo to join them, so he swiftly made his way over to them across the slippery deck. He almost stumbled on the stairs, but managed to keep himself upright to present himself to his friend. Acho had been so stoic this journey, as if they had something to prove. Despite them being new to the faction, they were amongst family. They didn’t have to prove their worth to this crew.

“With the weather like this, I can’t dock safely,” they explained to Apo. “I’ll get as close to the shore as I possibly can, but we’ll have to take the sloop to the docks.”

“But we docked safely in that first storm,” Apo argued. “With an entire fleet, even. Sure, the weather is a bit worse than that night but – “

“I won’t put my ship in jeopardy,” Acho interrupted him, set on their own plan. “We had some very good sailors leading the way, that night. We can’t afford losing this ship, we’ll be marooned.”

“Then why did you ask?” Apo said, confused by what Acho wanted from him.

“To inform you to prepare the sloop,” Acho recovered with just a slight hesitation in their voice. “We’ll drop the anchor here. I’ll gather Ros, Will, Graecie and Michaela. The rest of the crew will stay here.”

Apo opted to not go against his friend again and just do as he was told. Acho was on edge, for good reason in all honesty. They were still a bit weary of Willow, the Nightingale that had just come back from a rather large and long journey. He’d been with the Faction for years already, so he knew how things were run amongst their family. Apo somehow assumed Acho felt threatened by that. They must come from a very demanding environment, but Apo didn’t want to get into business he wasn’t supposed to. If Acho want to tell him about their past, they would.  

So, as Acho gathered the Nightingales that would go to shore, Apo prepared the sloop. It wasn’t much and it would be a hell of a job to get this thing to the island that was just about visible through the rain. It wasn’t particularly far and the waves weren’t nearly as bad as on the open seas, but they would have to work hard to row against the tide. Nightingales were though, however, especially when they said their mind to something. With some struggle and good directional ques from Ros, the six of them managed to get the sloop to the deserted docks. When everybody had set foot on solid land and the wood creaked under their feet, they took a look at the island before them.

Apo could feel his mouth drop. It didn’t look anything like the last time he had been here. The goop was gone, the purple tentacles that had engulfed the small seaside down where either gone or had turned to solid stone. It was deserted, as it had been before and cold wind and rain swept against his face. If only he could be back in their tavern with a keg of ale in his hand near the warm fire. But no, they had to set sail to this wretched place they already knew. They weren’t Herons, who looked to discovery every mystery of the world. They weren’t Kestrels, looking for treasure even in places like this. They certainly weren’t Kite, despite them looking for one now.

“This is not what I remember from being here last time,” Graecie was the first one to break the silence. “Where… why has everything turned to stone?”

“I’ve been here once after Aimsey disappeared,” Acho said, which was yet another piece of information Apo wasn’t aware of. “It was a couple of weeks ago, I think, and by that point the stone was already – wait, did you see that?”

Acho pointed towards the sky and Apo had to pull out his spyglass to even see they were pointing to the top of a mountain. He saw nothing but rain and rocks, so he turned to his friend with slight concern.

“I see nothing,” he stated, though Acho looked as if they’d seen a ghost. “It must’ve been the lightning.”

“No, I swear to the Sun God,” Acho argued. Their white hair was plastered to their face and they squinted to look into the distance, the spyglass on their hip entirely forgotten. “There it is again, take a look!”

They pointed, sprinting forward a few steps until Graecie caught them by the collar. Apo followed the gesture with his eyes, but he still had no idea what Acho was talking about.

“What is it, Acho?” Ros asked, her soft voice barely carrying over the sounds of the storm.

“The purple particles!” Acho argued as they turned around, brushing Gracie off. “I – I’m not crazy!”

“We don’t say you are,” Ros assured them with a weak smile. “But let’s not go running off on our own. We already lost a friend here, we wouldn’t want to lose another.”

Ros was the kindest soul Apo had ever met, and he knew quite some people. Yet, on the entire Faction Isles there wasn’t a person as compassionate as Ros. If Apo had to describe what it was to be a Nightingale, he would pick Ros as an example. She would do anything for her faction, even if that particular thing wasn’t in her skill set. If you asked Ros for help, she would drop everything to come to your aid. She cared for her crew.

“I see it too!” Michaela then yelled, pointing to a wildly different spot Acho had earlier. All six of them turned their heads and now, Apo couldn’t deny it. There was something purple far up the mountain, something small and moving. For a moment he thought of cruppy, that weird little creature Olive had encountered on this very island. It had somehow followed them all the way back to the Faction Isles and it seemed to like it there. Yet, this was different as purple particles seemed to flow in the air, clearly visible despite the darkness and the rain. Mere seconds before it blinked out of existence, Apo swore he saw a pair of eyes.

“Where did it go?” Acho questioned and from that point onward, nobody seemed to keep Ros’ warning in mind. Acho was the first to run away, making their way further into the town looking for a way up into the mountains. Michaela followed in their footsteps with her sword in hand. With two already gone, the four remaining Nightingales had little choice but to follow the crew. Apo fell behind as he tried to pinpoint the location of the strange visage again.

There! He spotted it, near where the rest of the crew had gone of to. Through is spyglass he could take a closer look. He had been right, it was more than just particles! There was a figure amongst the strange magic, a face lined in dark hair and shrouded in purple.

“Aimsey…?” Apo muttered aloud, his voice lost to the rain. The appearance looked like them, but he didn’t remember Aimsey being purple. Had they been here the entire time? Why hadn’t they returned to the Faction Isles?

“Aimsey… were are you going?” Apo yelled it into the wind, but the question didn’t seem to land. As his crew scrambled their way up the mountain, the visage had already moved. Apo got into motion, making his way over the slippery rocks and through the mud, battling to keep his balance. They might not be Herons, but this was a discovery worth chasing after. They had come here so Will and Michaela could witness this island for themselves, but none of them had anticipated a chase like this. Had Apo hoped to find Aimsey here? Sure, but he wanted the Aimsey he knew. They had been very welcoming when he arrived at the Faction Isles despite the reputation of the Kites.

“We should take different routes to this mountain!” at some point, Acho was close enough for Apo to hear them. “Take the left, Apo. We think it’s Aimsey!”

It was good to know Apo wasn’t the only one that thought so. He followed Acho’s instructions without giving it much thought, keeping his eye on what they thought to be Aimsey through his spyglass. It moved fast, way to fast for a regular human. Once he had reached the place it had been earlier, it had moved far away. Air started to burn in his lungs and he didn’t know how much time had passed when he found himself on a muddy shore, all alone and in the dark.

“This isn’t going to work,” he muttered to himself, turning around slowly in hopes to spot his crew. He didn’t, however, so he opted to return to the dock where they had set foot earlier. When he finally arrived, soaked to the bone as he had to wade through waist deep water to get back, he found that others had made the same decision. Acho was waiting alongside Will and Graecie. They, much like Apo, had their hair and clothes stuck to their skin because of the weather.

“Apo!” Will sounded delighted to see Apo. “Have you caught them? Have you caught Aimsey?”

“No,” Apo said, still catching his breath. “Did they look weird to you as well? They looked… purple, despite those weird particles.”

“Something is off about this place,” Graecie confirmed. “We… we didn’t get close enough to them to ask them anything. What concerns me more, where are Ros and Michaela?”

Acho snapped to attention as if he hadn’t noticed they were missing two of their crew members before that. The two must still be on their way to the docks, Apo told himself. Sure, this island hadn’t taken another soul. He wouldn’t believe that.

“I – Let me go look for them,” Acho decided all on their own and before the others could go against it, they had already disappeared into the town. Apo opted to go after them for a moment, but that meant he had to leave Will and Graecie behind on the docks. Acho could fend for himself, Apo considered them to be one of the Nightingales best swordspeople.

“When you told me you’d show me a special place, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” Will said as the rain started to die down. Apo had no idea how long they had been running around the island, chasing Aimsey, but he swore he could see the beginnings of daylight at the horizon.

“Well, we weren’t exactly expecting to run into an adventure quite like this,” Graecie admitted. She pulled her hair together to wring the water out of it, shifting her eyepatch in the process. She quickly put it back into position. “Do you guys think we should tell anybody at the Faction Isles?”

Apo hadn’t even thought about that yet. Was a wild goose chase on this mystic figure really something they wanted? Sure, Apo wanted to know what was happening here but not at the cost of any more lives. Some mysteries where better left uncovered.

“The Herons might be helpful in this endeavor,” Will opted. “They love their mysteries, if I remember correctly. If anybody knows something about this, it must be them.”

He was right, the Herons might just know a thing or two. Maybe the Herons that roamed the Factions Isles right now had never encountered anything like this, but those of old might just have. Apo knew of their vast library with maps and documents. He was happy he didn’t have to add anything to it.

“Michaela, they are here!” Ros turned a corner and suddenly, she and Michaela had made it to the dock. Their sudden appearance startled Apo, though he hoped he had concealed that first reaction good enough. Michaela still had her sword out, gripped tightly at the hilt. There had been a point at which Apo had questioned if she hadn’t been more on her place with the Kites, but she never meant any real harm with her threats. The Kites did, Apo had had enough running ins with them.

“I touched the cloud,” Michaela stuttered and Ros instantly wrapped an arm around her to console her. “I… they were there. They were friendly. The cloud didn’t hurt me.”

Apo couldn’t really string together what she meant by that, but he didn’t dare to ask. She seemed shaken by whatever had happened to her. All that mattered was that both of them had gotten back safely.

“Great, and now Acho is running around looking for the two of you,” Graecie sighed. “He’ll be smart enough to return swiftly, right? – Oh, speak of the devil.”

Acho reappeared on the other side of the dock, but clocked the group quickly enough. They came running towards them, boots splashing on the waterlogged planks and their coat swirling around their legs.

“Is everybody alright?” they asked and Apo couldn’t help but notice he didn’t sound particularly out of breath. That was impressive, in all fairness. “Have you caught the… whatever that was?”

“It’s Aimsey,” Michaela said with confidence. “Or… it looks like them. Something is off with this island, with them, I don’t know! We should do something.”

Apo had never struck Michaela as someone desperate, but she sure sounded like it. Of course she was, she just wanted to safe her friend.

“We should ask the Herons for advice,” Graecie said, repeating her earlier thought. “If anybody has the information, they do.”

“No Herons!” Acho almost yelled, which wasn’t necessary anymore as the storm had settle down just as suddenly as is had appeared. “It – this doesn’t concern them at all. If anything, we should inform the Kites. Aimsey is one of them, after all.”

“I’d rather not talk to the Kites,” Michaela said and a frown appeared on her face. “One of them keeps threatening me he’ll murder me once I set foot off the Isles. Some of them are… a bit wicked. Aimsey was the most reasonable of them. I like the idea of going to the Herons.”

“What about the Kestrels?” Acho continued, clearly not happy with the idea of going to the Herons. “Wasn’t Aimsey quite close with one of them?”

“With Guqqi, you mean?” Apo had to dig deep in his memory to come up with that name. “The one person who also went missing on the same night?”

“We don’t know if she’s missing,” Acho said, though Apo doubted anybody had heard from her since she had taken off with those cloaked fellas. Apo didn’t talk to the Kestrels that much, there was only Martyn he could sometimes have a normal conversation with but the others were just to stuck up with themselves. Apo didn’t think he could ever be that selfish.

“How about we discuss this back at the Faction Isles?” Ros proposed as more light started to spill over the now calmed down ocean. “We should all get a chance of dry clothes, we’ll get sick like this.”

There was a grumbling agreement and in a somewhat awkward silence, the crew returned to the sloop. Apo couldn’t help but wonder why Acho seemed to have such an aversion to talking to the Herons. He thought the Herons to be quite pleasant to be around as long as you didn’t start about their achievements. Once they started their tales, they wouldn’t stop talking no matter what you tried.

As they rowed back to the ship, Apo threw one last glance back at the island. Now, with the light of day creeping in long shadows were cast over the stony structures looking very much like tentacles. All of the stone had been purple once, whatever had happened to it for it to look like this? Apo was afraid they might never know, which in turn would mean there was little chance they would get Aimsey back. Whatever had happened to them, Apo could only pray the thing that did it stayed on that island.   

-------

This was my first time tuning into an Apo lore stream and I might just tune into a bunch more, as I had a blast! Also, I'll protect Ros with my life she is so very dear to me.

(also please to scream at me if I got any pronouns wrong by mistake)

[rebootgrimm]

Have a spoiler because this line brings me joy

[painfullyslowdeliberation]

Just To Watch It Glow - Chapter 3: Prison Pals

Man, who could have guessed that the crate of fireworks was specially ordered by the King and that attempting to steal it would have you thrown in the royal dungeons? Not Etho, who wondered why they were holding ANOTHER festival. Well, he's about to get up close and personal with the answer.

[xoxo-ren-xoxo]

Journal of Impulse S.V., Quartermaster of the Flying Jellie Pirating Vessel: June 18th, Something’s up with the Captain. He’s just been acting off, lately, and I’m not the only one who noticed. I’m glad only Mumbo can read this because I don’t know what he’d do if he found out—but it doesn’t matter. Scar’s different, somehow. It’s putting everyone on edge. I don’t like it. OR: Scar abandons his crew. What happens next is not pleasant.

Just your average survival cannibalism / monster transformation boatem crew with a need for vengeance against pirates SMP scar. nothing to see here.

Also a little bit gay but I promise you it does not go well.

[ayareadsao3]

just why? (i love it)

[thelesbiandeli]

Ink Isn't Just For Maps

Ao3 link here 1,802 words TW for needles, blood, injury and alcoholism! Also Owen has some intrusive thoughts about rotting corpses which some may find gross or disturbing. Stay safe, peeps! Just to preface, this whole concept is about the four pirate factions being called bird names, then the faction members having the wings of their faction tattooed on their backs either when they join, or when they come of age if they were born into that faction!

Martyn hisses in pain at the cool sensation of the needle sliding into his back. He tightens his grip on Sausage’s hand, both of their knuckles turning white. Sausage’s comforting smile looks more like a grimace for a second, before he steadies himself and brushes a strand of golden hair out of Martyn’s face.

“You’re doing great, pájaro dorado, just a few more minutes and we’ll be done.”

Scar brushes his back with a cloth, causing Martyn to yelp in pain. He whispers an apology, before taking a step back to admire his handiwork.

“All done! We’ll need to bandage it for a couple hours, then it’ll be a few weeks until it’s healed up. Before then, you’re not allowed out on the ships. We don’t want to irritate it any more than necessary. Got it?”

Martyn nods sharply, trying as hard as he can to not move his shoulder blades. Scar slips his inks back into his bag, and slings it over his shoulder.

“Well, I’m going to be turning in for the night. Kyle, you know how to wrap these, I’ve left you some stuff. I’ll check up on it again tomorrow, okay?”

He waves goodbye, downs the last sip of his ale, and strolls out of the Kestrel’s tavern. The heavy wooden door slams shut behind him, making Martyn groan. Kyle slips into the seat behind Martyn that Scar was previously perched in, and starts to wrap lengths of bandage around his torso, making sure not to miss any of the newly inked skin. Sausage stretches, and hops up onto the bartop.

“We’re lucky that Scar knows how to do this stuff. We’d usually get Guqqie to do this, but-” He clears his throat, “We’re just lucky that Scar can do this. Real Jack-of-all-trades, he is.”

Oli laughs, and slings his previously discarded coat around his shoulders.

“How about one more drink to end the night? Unless you’re not up to it?”

He glances over at Martyn, who just slides his glass over the table to him.

“You’re on, ponytail.”

—

Owen registers the noise of his tent flap being pushed open, and the creak of the floorboards as someone walks in. He glances up from his book, and smiles at Scott.

“Hey Scott! Whatcha need?”

The ginger man smiles back, and winces slightly as he moves. He pulls his hand away from his side, both his hand and his shirt smeared with blood. Owen yells in surprise, and tosses his book aside.

“Scott! What happened!”

The brunet jumps up and rummages through his cabinet, extracting a medical kit. Scott limps over to Owen’s bed, and collapses onto it.

“I’m sure it looks worse than it is. I got into a bit of a scrap with some Kites on the way home, that’s all. Nothing I haven’t faced before.”

Owen frowns, but starts to inspect the wound. Scott’s fancy shirt is ripped open along his side, crimson staining the tattered edges. From this angle, he can’t see the wound properly, but it sure is bleeding a lot. He winces, and starts getting bandages out of his medical bag.

“Can you take your shirt off for me? I need to take a closer look.”

Scott gasps dramatically, and places a hand on his chest.

“Owen, you sly fox! Take me out to dinner first!”

Owen slaps him over the back of his head, and laughs.

“You know what I meant! Now, I can’t have the first son of the Denholm family bleeding out in my tent because he wouldn’t stop flirting with me.”

Scott sticks his tongue out, and pulls his shirt off over his head, hissing through his teeth as he moves his arms. Owen grabs his flask of water, pours some on a cloth, and starts to wipe away the blood. After a few minutes, there are drops of red-tinted water splattered across the bedsheets and the floor, but the wound is visible. A clean slice across his side, barely grazing his ribs. If it had hit a few centimetres closer to Scott’s torso, he may have suffered a hypovolemic shock and never even made it to the Heron’s base, left bleeding out in some dark section of the woods. His corpse might not be found for days, and when someone did stumble upon it, it would be rotting, ribs exposed by badgers and eyes glassy and col-

Owen shakes his head to get rid of the thought, and pulls out a small brown bottle of disinfectant. Dabbing his cloth into it, he runs it across the cut. Scott yelps, but nods for him to proceed. Through various hissed curses and some very creative insults that Owen will definitely be using when he finds out which Kite caused this injury, the wound is fully disinfected and bound with fresh bandages.

Scott flops face down onto the bed, and groans. The process had started in the late evening, but now his pocket watch reads that it’s nearly midnight. The rest of the Herons will have either gone to bed or drunk themselves into unconsciousness by now. So much for the fun night he had been rushing home for.

Owen hums in confusion, and Scott cranes his head around to look at him.

“What is it? Don’t tell me it’s gotten worse.”

“No, that's not it. I was just wondering about your tattoo.”

Scott chuckles, and rolls over onto his back. He’s so used to the culture of the faction isles that he almost forgot that the new recruits may not know of the strange tradition. It feels almost alien, the concept of a pirate without their faction’s wings spread gracefully across their back and arms.

“It’s just a tradition. It’s kind of stupid, but it stops anyone from defecting to another faction. Hypothetically, at least.”

He thinks back to when he spotted his brother at the factioning, dressed up in the clothes of a Nightingale. Even the idea of defecting seemed impossible until then. Owen either doesn’t notice or brushes off his sudden change of tone, and stretches out so he’s on the bed next to Scott.

“So those are Heron wings?” Scott nods, and Owen continues, “I presume that the other factions have their birds wings, then. When can I get mine?”

“Probably in a couple days. Cleo will do yours for you, she’s the best artist we’ve got. She did mine a couple months after she became a Heron.”

Owen tucks his hands behind his head, and glances over at Scott.

“But you’ve been a Heron your whole life, haven’t you? How come you only got them after they joined?”

“It’s a coming of age tradition for those of us born into it. We can technically join a different faction when we’re old enough to decide, but no one does. It’s looked down on.”

Owen wrinkles his nose and sticks his tongue out, making Scott giggle.

“When I became a pirate, I thought I could get away from all the rules. Turns out you lot have a lot more standards and traditions than I thought.”

“‘You lot’? You’re one of us now! And what, did you just presume we were all a bunch of lousy Kites or self-centred Kestrels?”

Scott grins, and reaches for a pillow to hug into his stomach. Owen chuckles, and waves his hands around meaninglessly in the air.

“Well, that’s what my tutors taught me! And now I can see that that’s not true, obviously.”

“Obviously. I’m clearly much more threatening than a Kite.”

“Are you sure about that? You did scream at the spider El put in front of you at dinner yesterday.”

Scott makes an offended noise, sits up, and pushes his pillow into Owen’s face. The two struggle for a second, before Scott flops back down, this time sprawling out over Owen’s chest.

“Fine, maybe I’m not the most savage pirate there is. But you’ll protect me?”

Owen grins, and runs his hands through Scott’s hair.

“Of course I will. What sort of friend would I be otherwise?”

The two lie in a comfortable silence, and by the end of the hour both are deep in the realms of sleep.

—

Acho lies on his back, staring up at the stars from the topmost branches of the Nightingales tree. They come up here to clear their mind sometimes, and tonight is one of those nights. One of the Kites had pushed him into the harbour, then one of the new Nightingales had spotted the design across his back while he was climbing out the sea, visible through his soaking shirt. And of course they had to question it.

And if someone questions him, he’s always going to start questioning themself. Why did he even leave the Herons in the first place? They had a perfect life, and the expectations put on him should have been a motivation, not a reason to abandon their family. His parents probably hate him, and Scott had given up trying to find him months ago. But that's no one's fault but theirs.

Even now, when they’ve found a comfortable life living among the Nightingales, free to do whatever they want, his legacy is still there, emblazoned on his back and spreading along his upper arms. The longest of the inked primaries graze his elbows, making it hard for them to wear anything with short sleeves. It’s a punishment in a way, how contrasted his own wings are to the rest of his factions, theirs barely reaching their shoulders.

They stare up at the moon, its perfect crescent shining above them. At least that’s one of the predictable things in this world. With a sigh, he swings their legs over the edge of the branch he’s laid on, and slides down into the crown of the tree, wincing slightly as he scrapes the backs of his legs on the bark. There should still be enough drink left at the bar as long as no one’s tried to drink themselves to sleep. That’s his job, thank you very much!

They chuckle slightly at the dark joke, and continue to clamber down the tree. He’s not exactly proud of the habit, but they're not going to be able to get to sleep without some help tonight. Hopping off one of the lowest branches they can be bothered to climb to, he falls the last two metres onto the soft grass and fallen blossoms. Dusting off their trousers, he picks up their blue naval coat from where it lies discarded at the roots of the tree, and slings it over his shoulder. With a slight slump in his shoulders, they begin the short walk back to the centre of the Nightingales base, looking to find a nice comfortable seat at the bar to pass out at for the next eight hours.