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Chapter Text

Stede Bonnet was born in Barbados, to a very unkind father.

But that doesn’t matter. 

What matters it’s that it’s 1718, and Stede has been sailing with his crew (And Iggy, who he still considers a necessary pest, but a pest nonetheless) for over a year, without counting the kraken incident. 

He’d like to think of the crew as a family, albeit a bit dysfunctional at times. They all had their quirks, after all, so who was Stede to judge?

(“Do you think he knows?” 

“I dunno. I told him I was the kraken, once, but I think he took it as a metaphor.”

“Useless Fucking Bonnet”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Dizzy.”

“Should we tell him though? I figured he’d find out eventually, but apparently… not. Satan, he’s more oblivious to this than to his own feelings.”

“I don’t know, babe, I think he might be in a bit of shock.”

“That’s true, babe.”

“What if we go one by one? This way he has time to process it.”

“And if he reacts badly?”

“He’s the captain! He wouldn’t react badly!”

“Yeah, Stede is too good.”

“He’s a bitch.”

“A bitch to you, and honestly? You deserve it.”

“I mean, it’s just like when I came out, right? Only, less about gender, more about… you know.”

“Yeah, ok, I think one by one might do it. Who wants to do it first?”

“I thought, I assumed you’d want to go first? Since, oh, you know, you’re involved, and all…”

“I’d… rather not. Not yet.”

“Fair enough.”

“Buttons could go first.”

“Aye, I could, but he already knows about me and my lady Moon.”

“Wait, I thought there was more than that.”

“Nae, just me and my Wife.”

“You’re not a Witch??? We’re not the Witches Three?”

“Nae, I’m afraid not.”

“Child of the Sea?”

“Nay.”

“Oh thank fuck, I did not want you as a brother. No offense.”

“None taken.”

“Ok, so not Buttons, but then who?”

“Fuck, I’ll do it. What’s he gonna do? Throw me overboard?”

“That was months ago.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Babe, you gotta be careful, ok?”

“I will, babe, but it’s just Stede. He wouldn’t do anything.”

“This is going to end up horribly.”

“Have a little faith, Iz.”

“In you bunch of idiots? Never.”)

Chapter Text

Lucius Spriggs crawled out of hell, amongst its burning flames, looking cute as fuck.

He was the first person to board the Revenge, it only seemed fair he was also the first to tell Stede.

In Lucius’s defense, he wasn’t hiding it. He wasn’t hurting anyone either.

Just a bit of touch from you, a quick peck from him, a good old shagging from those two… It was just how he ate. Sure, call him parasitic, but it didn’t really hurt those humans. And he made it worth their time.

To be completely honest, sometimes he forgot he wasn’t human too. 

He’d picked up pick pocketing as a hobby. Something to keep him occupied. He didn’t expect to be good at it, not to get in trouble. 

Who could ever hate him with how pretty he was?

The only reason he joined the Revenge was because Stede just looked a bit pathetic. And because several wives of the men he’d slept with wanted his head on a silver platter. That motivated him too.

Although Lucius thought they should take their anger on their husbands, not on him.

So he helped the man assemble something looking akin to a crew, and he just assumed they wouldn’t last long.

The crew of the Revenge were like a free for all buffet, if Lucius allowed himself to compare his friends to food. There was so much casual touch, so much cuddling during the Captain’s story times, it was a banquet.

Lucius obtained no energy from Pete, but that didn’t make his company any less enjoyable.

And he was good at fucking, too.

Jim locked him in a chest for a few hours–he couldn’t blame them, although he had so hurriedly try to explain he was also keeping secrets and they refused to listen. Knocked him out before he could explain. 

That wasn’t a wonderful experience.

But it was nice, knowing there was someone else in the ship that wasn’t human. Finally, someone who understood the shitty biases against them. And also Olu.

Lucius wasn’t sure what Olu was, and at this point he was too scared to ask.

Pete was a surprise, albeit a good one. It explained a lot of things. Among them, why he was so good at carving.

Lucius loved his new finger, it worked almost as good as his original one.

Who knew demons from hell could still get infections?

Lucius got thrown overboard, and he was still pissed about it. He did not like water. He was a creature of fire and heat, not of salty wet disgusting sea water.

He managed to survive–he’s a bad bitch, you can’t kill him–, and hide in the walls. 

It got boring, living in the woods, watching everyone else be able to talk, and socialize, and touch each other.

It was like watching people have a five course meal in front of you, and you can’t even access a crumble of bread.

He caved in, after five days, sneaking behind Jim to ask them for help. He received a knife to his throat for his trouble, before Jim realized it was him.

They arranged a schedule, Jim, Frenchie and him. Sometimes Fang and Ivan helped. 

It was nothing compared to how things were before, but Lucius survived. And Dizzy Izzy and Blackbeard remained none the wiser.

A few weeks later, Stede came aboard the main deck. Lucius had a wonderful viewing point of all the drama from one of the secret passages.

It was a shit show, to say the least. Highly entertaining. Very dramatic. A few stabbings and many tears.

0/10, would never recommend.

So now, after being wished good luck by the rest of the crew, Lucius made his way to the Captain’s cabin.

He knocked on the door, mostly out of politeness, and didn’t wait for a response to enter. 

Stede was sitting on one of his many fancy armchairs, reading a book. The library had been steadily growing, almost as big as it was before.

“Oh, Lucius, do come on in.” Stede said, grabbing his bookmark to close the book. “Sit down and tell me what the problem is.”

“I was talking with the crew, you know, the usual gossip.” Lucius said, sitting in front of him. “And we came to the conclusion that there was something I needed to tell you.”

“And that something is…?” Stede prompted.

Lucius took a deep breath, and then blurted it out. “I’m a sucubus.”

Stede blinked, confused. “What?”

“I’m a sucubus, a sex demon.” Lucius explained. “I feed on human touch, sexual or not. Thought you ought to know.”

Stede let out a nervous giggle. “Lucius, boy, is this a dare from the crew? A ‘prank’, perhaps?” 

“What– No!” Lucius said. Satan, was this man dense.

Stede shook his head. “A bit unoriginal, if I may add. Out of all the creatures you could pretend to be, a sex demon? That’s a bit too on the nose, isn’t it?”

“It’s not a– what do you mean ‘on the nose’?” Lucius sighed, and without waiting for an answer he walked up to the candle by Stede’s side. “Look, just. Watch this.” 

He placed his hand above the flame, waiting for Stede to catch on.

“Dear boy, you’re gonna hurt yourself!” Stede said, appalled.

Lucius rolled his eyes. “Just watch.”

And then he noticed something was burning.

“Eh… Lucius? Your finger cau–”

“HOLLY SHIT.” Lucius screamed, taking his hand away. “Fuck! No! Come on!” He used Stede’s fancy cushions to stop the flame. “Come on, I loved this finger!”

Once the fire was out, leaving a nasty mark on Stede’s pillows and burning half of Lucius’s finger, Lucius gave a shitty excuse, and saved himself any further embarrassment by leaving the Captain’s quarters. 

He was not running away, it was a strategic retreat.

“Babe.” Lucius called, approaching Pete. He was playing cards with Ivan, Wee John and Jim. Someone was probably cheating. “I need a new finger.”

“What happened?” Pete asked, abandoning the game. Lucius saw Jim and Wee John look at his cards and take the ones they liked. “Did you break it?”

“I might have… burnt it. On accident. Forgetting it was made of wood.” Lucius admitted.

Pete sighed, taking a look at the damage. “So you told the Captain?”

“I tried to!” Lucius said, “But he was so oblivious! He thought it was a joke! A prank!”

“To be fair, we have pulled pranks on him before.” Frenchie said, from where he was tuning his lute. 

The Swede nodded. “Yeah, like when we said we were in Spanish territory to watch him struggle trying to speak Spanish but it was actually Portuguese.” 

“Or when I served him pork and later told him it had been human meat.” Roach said.

“Ok, yeah, point taken.” Lucius said. “But he still doesn’t know. And that might be a problem.”

“Fucking Bonnet being a fucking idiot.” Izzy muttered, from his little corner where he tended to retire to brood and sulk and pout like the lonely little man he was.

“Maybe we need someone with a little bit more of… eccentricity?” Olu proposed. “‘Cause, no offense, but your whole deal is just… a diet difference.”

“And looking badass while walking through fire.” Pete said.

“Badass until you burn your own finger. And your clothes.” Ed pointed out. “Alright, who wants to try next?” He looked around for volunteers. “Izzy?”

“Fuck off.” 

“I’ll take that as a no.” Ed said.

“I’ll do it.” Pete said. “It’s easier to explain, we already had the tale of the wooden boy.” 

There were a few mumbles of agreement through the crew. 

“Yeah, but the wooden boy was guided by a magic cricket, mate.” Frenchie said. “Were you guided by a magic cricket?”

“Well, no, but it doesn’t matter, it’s something he’s familiar with–”

“Did you meet a fairy?” Wee John asked. “Like in the book.”

“Fairies are not like in the book, let me tell you that.” Olu said, laughing. 

“Look, it doesn’t matter, ok?” Pete said. “I’ll just tell him tomorrow, and then convince him Lucius was telling the truth. Easy.”

“Good luck babe.” Lucius said, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He turned to the rest. “Who’s up for cuddles?”

Lucius reveled at the annoyed groan Izzy let out as the crew all gathered in a giant pile of bodies. Stay mad, little man.

Chapter Text

Black Pete was carved out of the finest oak wood by a very talented witch. 

One day, he obtained sentience, stole what he could from said witch, and never turned to look back.

He was not a doll, he didn’t belong behind a glass case.

So he gave himself a name, and went off to see the world. He didn’t last long on land, somehow finding his way to a ship.

He went from ship to ship, never really staying anywhere. He ended in Queen Anne’s for a week, before they left him for dead after a raid.

In their defense, Pete had just lost a foot and gotten stabbed through the chest. Rude. 

He made himself a new foot from the raided ship’s wood, fixed the crack that the sword had created, stole a dinghy and rowed to land. 

And then he met Lucius.

Lucius, somehow, ended up convincing him to join Stede Bonnet’s crew. A few days in to their voyage, and he was planning mutiny. 

Sure, the captain gave them a great pay, and he read them stories, but they weren’t pirates! There was no action! No excitement! 

And the wooden boy in the story was bordering on uncanny valley for Pete. Sure, they were both made of wood, that’s something in common. But Pete was grown up, and he never had any cricket guiding him, nor fairies, nor accidents in which people became donkeys. He just ran away. 

Pete never wished to be a real boy, because if he was a real boy he’d be dead by now. And that would be sad. What kind of pirate dies on his first raid? Not a good one, that’s for sure.

And Pete was going to be a famous pirate one day.

Lucius kissed him, one day, and frowned.

“I don’t understand.” He muttered, tracing his cheek with his fingers. “What are you?”

“What?” Pete had spitted out, because he had never been a man of words.

“I don’t get any energy from you, it’s like, like your skin isn’t even skin!” Lucius said.

“Oh. It’s not.” Pete said. “It’s wood.” He knocked on himself, demonstrating.

Lucius laughed. “Ok. Wait. I guess… that makes sense?” He said, still hugged to him. “You don’t look like wood…”

“I’m very well carved.” Pete said, pressing another kiss to Lucius.

Lucius hummed. “I’m a sucubus, by the way.”

“Neat.” Pete said. He didn’t know what that was. 

“Wait.” Lucius said, as if realizing something. “You mean to tell me I should’ve just imitated you when doing the wooden boy’s voice?”

Pete didn’t dignify that comment with a response. Instead, he kissed Lucius again.

Blackbeard left them stranded in an island. Pete had rehearsed for hours for nothing.

He technically didn’t need food, even if it was more than nice to eat. So he just watched as Roach and Buttons chased the Swede, glad he wasn’t edible.

And then the Captain came back.

They barely fitted all in one small dinghy, but they made it work. They went to a port, stole a ship, ran away before they could be caught. They almost forgot Buttons, in the midst of that chaos.

The Captain claimed they were going back to the Revenge. Back to the crew.

Back to Lucius.

Pete would’ve killed Blackbeard right there and then, kraken or not.

How dare he touch Lucius?

He never got the chance, as he was pulled bellow the ground by Lucius to watch the shitshow go down.

He’d punch Blackbeard in another occasion. 

He made Lucius a new finger before trying to talk to the Captain. 

Pete knocked on the door, waiting for a ‘come in’ to enter. The Captain was looking over navigation maps, trying to understand them. He should probably ask for help.

“Oh, hello Pete.” He said, moving away from the table. “Is there any trouble?”

Pete shrugged. “Not really, just came to tell you something.”

“Oh, really?” Stede said. He walked to the sofas, gesturing to Pete to sit down. “Well, you know you and the crew can tell me anything.”

“Remember the wooden boy story?” Pete said, choosing a pillow filled couch to settle on. “The one with the cricket?”

“Oh, yes, of course!” Stede said, smiling brightly. “It’s a shame it got thrown overboard, but I think we can look for it in the next raid if you liked it so much.” 

“No, that’s not what I–” Pete sighed. Oblivious Captain. “I’m the wooden boy.”

Stede blinked and looked at him. “Well I didn’t know you liked the story that much! I’ll do my best to retrieve it!”

“No, I hated the story.” Pete said, getting frustrated. 

“It’s alright, Pete, it’s completely normal to connect to characters, everyone does it.” Stede assured him. He stood up, going back to his desk. “I’ll tell Lucius to make note of the book, wouldn’t want to forget it next raid.”

“No, I’m made of wood!” Pete explained. He knocked on himself, but Stede was not looking, scribbling something down by the maps. 

“That is… some strange metaphor.” Stede said. “Is it related to ‘knock on wood’?”

Pete was getting a strong urge to mutiny.

“Forget it, Captain.” He said, walking to the exit. “It’s not important.”

He went into the recreation room and sat by Frenchie and Wee John, mumbling to himself.

Frenchie looked at him from his drawing journal. “So… no luck?”

“No!” Pete said. “He thought I was being metaphorical!” 

Wee John let out a little laugh, shaking his head. “Tough luck.”

“It’s alright, babe.” Lucius said, sitting by his side. “The Captain is a bit… dense.”

“Oy!” Edward said, from the other side of the room, ready to defend his lover. 

Izzy scoffed. “I’d use the word ‘stupid’, but who cares.”

“Shut it, or I’ll stop grooming you.” Ed warned.

Izzy rolled his eyes, but kept his mouth shut.

“You do have to give it to us.” Olu said. “Stede can be a bit… scatterbrained.”

Jim nodded. “I bet I could get him to notice.” They said. “Hard not to.”

Everyone hummed in agreement.

“Yeah, it’s been a while since you sang.” Olu mentioned.

“Can you sing again now?” The Swede asked, using his somehow effective puppy dog eyes.

Jim shrugged. “Nah, I’ll save it for later.”

“Oh, come on, mate.” Ivan pleaded. “Just one song.”

Jim considered it for a second. “No, I think I’ll leave it for tomorrow.”

Before the crew could start complaining, The Swede piped up again. “I could sing.” He offered.

“Heck yeah, Frenchie, get the lute.” Roach said.

Frenchie rolled his eyes, but went to grab his instrument.

As the night continued, Pete found it harder to feel upset about the whole ordeal. He cuddled by Lucius and Fang’s side, and enjoyed the show.

Chapter Text

Jim watched as the man approached their father, and how, before their father could even speak, he slitted his throat in one quick movement. 

They don’t remember much after that.

They came back to themselves in the middle of the forest, nowhere near their house. 

And then Nana found them.

Nana taught Jim many things. Bible verses, how to braid their hair, how to throw a knife and catch a prey. Nana taught them they were a powerful being, and that their voice was a weapon.

Nana told them tales of their species as she helped groom their feathers, just as their parents had once done.

But Nana was human, at the end of the day.

They learnt to hide their feathers underneath their coat. How to avoid them puffing out whenever they got angry, or frustrated, or, well, those fun times were hard to come by anyways.

They bid their goodbyes to Nana, and went off to find the cabrón that had murdered their family.

That’s when they met Oluwande.

Oluwande was a strange man, at first. There was something about him, something about his soft voice and his kindness. Jim didn’t want to assume, because what if they were wrong, but they could bet their ass Oluwande wasn’t human.

He wasn’t like them, either. 

But he was easily convinced. So he helped them get a job.  And helped them flee after Jim did what they were trained to do.

The fake beard and nose were almost as annoying as not being able to speak.

But it was enough to get them into Bonnet’s ship without too many questions. And Jim had to reckon, they didn’t entirely dislike being perceived as a dangerous man. It almost fit perfectly. Almost.

Lucius saw them naked. Saw Jim, as they were trying to take out the sweat and dirt that had been accumulating on their feathers for days on end.

So they threw him in a chest, planning on getting rid of him.

That plan didn’t work out.

Turns out, it didn’t even matter, because a few days later everyone else found out.

The gender thing, not the siren one.

And then Blackbeard showed up.

“Are you a mermaid?” One of the idiots they had as a crew mate asked.

Jim was this close to stabbing someone. A mermaid. How dare they. 

“I’m not a fucking mermaid!” They said. Too many people confused mermaids and sirens, it wasn’t even that hard. Mermaids, water, sirens, air. The end. 

The Swede seemed disappointed, and the rest of the idiots gave a few grumbles.

Jim was going to murder this crew.

Getting to mimic voices for a fuckery wasn’t the same as singing, but it was satisfying enough.

“Can you sing for me?” Lucius said, a night when everyone else was asleep. “It’s just– I’ve always wondered…”

“What your deepest desires are?” Jim said. They shook their head. “Doesn’t work like that.”

Lucius took the liberty of scooting closer to them. Putos demonios. “How does it work, then?”

“It’s a skill you gotta hone. Like knives.” Jim said. “And I never had the chance, ‘cause I’ve never met any other siren that wasn’t my family.”

“Oh.” Lucius said. He didn’t ask about the family, thankfully. “So your singing is just… normal singing?”

“I don’t think so. I knew someone who told me that I sounded like angels come from heaven.”

Lucius made a face. “Angels.” He muttered, with disdain. “May I listen to this ‘angelic’ singing?”

Jim shrugged. It’d been a while, and everyone was asleep, so why not?

They hummed out a Spanish lullaby Nana used to sing to them, not really caring that Lucius wouldn’t understand. To them, it sounded just normal. It was their voice, and it came with such a satisfaction. 

When the song ended, they looked at Lucius, expecting some reaction.

Lucius blinked, as if waking up from a trance. “I– Woah. How did you manage that?”

Jim shrugged again. “What did you hear, then?”

“Pete, and Fang, and this one guy from my old town? He had a wonderful voice–and a wonderful ass if I might add. He was the first guy I ever kissed.” Lucius said. “They were just. Singing. Together. It was beautiful.”

Jim smiled. “Good to know it’s not fucking angels all the time.”

Lucius laughed. “Yeah, fuck those. Entitled jerks.”

Frenchie was acting off the next day, and by the time Jim learnt why, everyone in the crew seemed to know why. 

Frenchie had heard them.

It surprised Jim to find out that they didn’t really mind. They just said they were a siren, and everyone else nodded and continued on.

Well, Frenchie asked if they could steal souls, but once they told him they couldn’t, he seemed a lot more calmer about it.

And if a few days later, the crew asked them to sing bellow deck, away from the Captain (who had somehow not noticed anything), well. The Captain had always been a heavy sleeper.

Olu and their Nana were getting along almost too well. 

“Does he know about…?” Their Nana asked.

“Yeah.” Jim said, around mouthfuls of cake. “He’s weird too. Not same kind of weird.”

Nana nodded. “Well, I hope he’s been helping you with your feathers. You gotta take care of those.”

“Nana, I’m not seven, I can take care of them on my own.” Jim said. God, why did Nana have to be like this. In front of Olu, además.

Oluwande, the traitor, only laughed, admitting to have helped a few times.

“What do I sound like to you?” Jim asked Olu.

Olu looked up from tending to the plant they’d stolen in their first raid–if you could even call it a raid. “When you sing? It’s just you. Your voice.”

Jim nodded. They didn’t know what they had been expecting as an answer.

Spanish Jackie invited them over a drink, next to her now dead husband. They talked. It was strangely nice. But Jim had to go.

Back to Olu. Back to the Revenge.

Jim was going to put a knife in between Blackbeard’s eyes. They were going to destroy his eardrums. They were going to make him drown himself.

But they had to take care of Frenchie, with only Fang and Ivan for help (and Dizzy Izzy as the only reason the new crew hadn’t tried anything weird with them,), and Blackbeard was a fucking hijo del mar. So they waited for the right moment to go for the kill, just like Nana had taught them.

Then Lucius appeared, half starved, living in the walls, and Jim had to deal with that too.

They didn’t even get the chance of a fair fight. The Captain beat them to it. 

Jim got to stab the new recruits. They’d been wanting to do that since the first set foot aboard the revenge. 

Peace came back, after a while.

Until they started trying to get Stede to realize that no one in this crew was human.

Jim had a plan. It was an easy one. They just had to sit outside the Captain’s quarters while they knew he was alone, and sing. When he came out, he’d just notice. Hard not to.

To make things better, they took off their coat, letting the feathers peak out their shirt collar and sleeves.

Surely Stede would notice them.

It took half an hour of singing for Stede to come out his cabin.

“Oh, bollocks, just as I go out, the party dies down…” He said, mostly to himself. Then he noticed Jim, sitting by his door. “Jim! What are you doing there, were you waiting for me?”

“Kinda.” Jim admitted. “So you heard the whole crew?”

“Well, yes.” Stede admitted. “Edward in particular was pretty loud, but I believe I heard you as well. Having a good time without me?”

Jim hummed. “No, it was just me singing, Captain.” How had he not noticed the feathers? It was dark outside, but not that dark. There was a full moon, for fuck’s sake.

Stede laughed. “Well, you certainly started quite the concert. I’m sad it’s gone!” He yawned. “I’m going to go search for Ed, get him to sleep at a reasonable hour.”

“No, they weren’t singing, it was only me.” Jim said. “I’m a–”

“Now, we can’t take credit away from the rest of the crew, Jim.” Stede scolded, as if they were a fucking child. “Also, I won’t tell Buttons you’ve fought a seagull, but you should probably throw those feathers overboard before he notices.”

Jim collapsed into their bed, groaning loudly.

“Es tan idiota, Olu. ¿Cómo puede ser alguien tan tonto?” They said, wallowing in pity. “He thought I fought a fucking seagull. He’s. So. Dumb.”

Olu laughed, sitting next to them. “The Captain has… other qualities.”

“He better have, or I’m throwing a knife at him.” Jim said.

“Do you want me to try next?” Olu said. “Fourth time’s the charm?”

“Go ahead.” Jim mumbled. “He won’t fucking notice.” 

“I’ll take my chances.”

Chapter Text

Oluwande was born in a town near the humans. He liked them. They were kind, and funny. 

Until they burnt his village down.

He didn’t really have a name for what he was. They had no need for it, at first. They were them, and the humans were the humans, and that was it.

The humans called them fae, fairies, fay, fair folk, and a collection of other names. No one agreed on the spelling, or if they were real.

Good. Let them fight over it.

The first time he stepped foot on a ship, he expected it to be worse than it was. Out on the ocean, away from the land that fed him, it seemed like torture.

It wasn’t.

It was quite nice, actually. 

And if he ever got homesick, and a plant grew between the planks of the ship, well. He made sure no one else saw.

The Republic of Pirates was smelly, bloody, and filled with drunken sailors and dead bodies. But Oluwande needed a job, after his last ship got burnt to ashes because of some paranoid idiot with a candle.

Spanish Jackie didn’t have as many daily brawls as the other establishments, and the salary was decent. It would have to do, so far.

He knew Jim was different the moment he saw them. It came like second nature to him, being able to tell.

That’s not the reason why he helped them get a job, as one of Jackie’s waiters. 

It was, however, the reason why he helped them run away, hide themselves, and enroll in the first ship they found after they murdered one of Jackie’s favourite husbands.

The first ship they found turned out to be Stede Bonnet’s. 

The man was insane, but the pay was good, and they were away from Spanish Jackie’s wrath. So Olu would push through the second hand embarrassment the man emitted, and try keep the crew from mutinying. He wanted to know what happened to the Wooden Boy, even if Pete hated the story.

The fern that the Captain had stolen was half dead by the time Olu got his hands in it. Olu decided to keep it. It reminded him of home.

Olu tended to forget people couldn’t just. Tell people were different by looking at them.

“Lucius’s a sex demon thingie.” Jim told him, when it was late and they were alone on their room.

“Yeah, I know.”  Olu said, helping them untangle some feathers that were stuck in their coat. “Glad you didn’t kill him, though.”

“You knew?” Jim asked.

Olu hummed. “Yeah, first time I saw him.” He said. “No one in this crew is human. Except the Captain. And Mr. Buttons, I have no idea what he is, but he isn’t normal either.”

Jim laughed. “No me jodas. All of them?” Olu nodded. “What even are they?”

“I dunno.” Olu said. “Something interesting, that’s for sure.”

“This ship is fucking bonkers.” Jim said.

Olu couldn’t agree more.

It took a lot of Olu not to burst out laughing when someone asked Jim if they were a mermaid. Oh, the irony.

“Dude.” Black Pete called him, one day on the deck. He showed him his shoulder, where a small daisy had sprout. “Was this you?”

Olu felt the heat rise to his cheeks. “I am so sorry, I didn’t– Let me just.” He grabbed the little flower, and it wilted, making it easy to pull out. “Sorry about that.”

“Huh.” Pete said, unbothered. “That’s pretty neat.”

“Thank you.” Olu said, throwing the rest of the daisy over board. 

“I liked the flower.” Pete said. “Just, maybe not on me next time?”

Olu laughed. “Yeah, sure, man.”

The Swede got scurvy, but Olu didn’t worry too much. His teeth should grow back, just like sharks’s teeth did. 

Still, they got sent in a futile search of oranges, and he got the chance to meet Jim’s Nana.

The pie was nice.

“I could make it grow.” Olu offered, staring at the dead tree. He was still feeling the aftermath of that almost kiss. “Get it back to its feet.”

“No, let it be.” Jim said. “It’s the way life is.” 

Olu nodded, and stared as his Captain finished his weird scavenger’s hunt. All for a petrified orange.

Jim was gone. Gone to finish what they started after they met.

Olu gave the room up, unable to stand being in it for too long before it was filled with vines that made their way through the wooden planks, threatening to break them. He couldn’t help it.

Frenchie and Wee John took it for themselves, and Olu resigned himself to sleeping with the rest of the crew.

Jim was back.

For a short while, they cuddled, holding each other close, and that was enough.

Of course it couldn’t last.

The Captain killed a man, Olu helped him through it. He wanted to pull a fuckery, Olu helped him go with it. Blackbeard ditched him for Calico Fucking Jack, Olu helped him through it. 

All he got in return was marooned in an island. 

He watched the idiots he had as crew mates chase each other, slightly more heartbroken than before. He could just point out how they really didn’t need desperate measures, food wouldn’t be a problem, although water might be.

And then the Captain showed up in a dinghy. 

How they all fitted in it was a mystery, even though Olu was sure the Swede would be fine swimming behind them. 

Their return to the Revenge was chaos, between the captains shouting at each other, Izzy being a dick, the men that had replaced them starting up a fight and Blackbeard almost causing a storm in the middle of the battle. But Olu didn’t focus on any of that, instead too busy watching Jim.

It’s not that he was scared they’d get hurt–it’s Jim, it’s the opponent the one who’s getting hurt.

Once the last asshole was down, Jim flung themselves to Olu, and they just stood there, for a while. Together.

They settled into a new calm, soon enough. Olu was just glad no one had tried to make him captain again. It was too much responsibility he did not want.

He got their room back from Frenchie and Wee John, despite their protests. Jim and him had to move half the stuff the last crew had put in it, judging them severely as they did so. 

And then Jim made their best attempt at letting the Captain (Stede) know they were a siren, and failed miserably. So Olu guessed it was his time to try.

At this rate, it was going to end up being a bet.

The bets made in this ship almost never got resolved.

“Would you get jealous if I gave Captain Stede flowers?” Olu asked, in the morning. 

Jim choked on their breakfast. “Flowers?”

“Yeah, you know.” Olu said. “To win the bet, nothing romantic.”

“Oh, ok.” Jim said. They frowned a bit. “You never got me flowers, though.”

Olu laughed. “I can get you as many as you want.”

Jim smiled a bit. “Good. I expect a bouquet in our room by this night’s time.”

“As you wish.”

He came into the Captains’s quarters as they were discussing something, probably unimportant, sitting in their fancy bed.

“Oh, Oluwande, what’s wrong?” Stede asked, standing from bed. 

Captain Edward gave him a knowing look, clearly waiting for Stede to be the most oblivious buffoon in the seven seas. 

“Nothing’s wrong, captain.” Olu said. “I just thought you would appreciate these.”

He pulled out the small posy of wild flowers he had made, offering it to him. 

“Oh, Olu, these are lovely!” Stede said, carefully collecting them. “Ed, dear, where did you  put that vase we got in the last raid?”

Ed stood from bed, stretching like a cat. “I’ll go fetch it. Be right back.” He gave Stede a quick kiss, and then while Stede was busy looking at the flowers, mouthed ‘good luck’ at Olu.

Olu held back laughter, shaking his head.

“Where did you get these? They’re so fresh.” Stede asked, once Ed was gone. 

“I made them.” Olu said. “I can make more, if you want.”

“Really?” Stede asked. 

Olu shrugged. “Yeah, it’s easy.” 

Stede beamed. “Wonderful! Wait here, I believe Roach had a few spices he wanted to grow by hand, maybe some medicinal herbs.” Stede handed him the flowers to hold. “With your green thumb, if we stock up next time we’re in port we should be set. We need pots.”

“Wait, that’s not what I–” Olu tried, but Stede was already gone. He sighed.

Captain Edward walked through the door, clearly amused. 

“Here, here.” He said, taking the flowers from him and putting them in a vase. “Before you wilt them out in frustration.”

“How is he so oblivious?” Olu asked.

“I have a theory, actually.” Ed said, placing the vase in their desk. He adjusted it so it was perfectly in the middle. “Stede grew up with all those posh people who were constantly saying stuff that meant other stuff, and doing that passive aggression shit. So he just, assumes everything that he doesn’t understand is a metaphor.”

“That would make sense.” Olu said. “I suppose I’ll try again later.”

Ed laughed. “Nah, mate, you already had your chance.” He patted him in the back. “Let the others try.”

“This has become a bet, hasn’t it?” Olu asked, resigned. 

“Yup.” Ed said. “Winner gets bragging rights.”

“I don’t lose that much, at least.” He sighed again. “I’m gonna wallow in misery with Jim.”

“Enjoy that, I guess.” Ed said.

Jim laughed at his misery. He did not enjoy it.

“Hey.” Lucius called, later in the evening. “Captain told me to give you this. Stede, I mean.” 

He handed him a list, probably of the plants Roach wanted.

Olu stared at it, trying to decipher what it said.

“I take it it didn’t go well, then?” Lucius asked, stepping back.

Olu scoffed. “No, flew right over his head.”

“Yeah, figured.” Lucius said, pointing at Olu’s feet. “Probably want to get rid of those before Izzy Dizzy yells at you about it.”

Grass was growing around him, wild and filled with thistles. Not again.

He pulled his feet out of it, trying to wilt them before anyone noticed.

“Boodhari!” Izzy yelled from across the deck. Damnit. “I told you to quit doing that shit! You’re ruining the planks!”

Olu rolled his eyes, and kneeled to pull out the grass. “A hand?”

“Yeah, fine.” Lucius said. “If this fucks up my back or my hands I’ll blame you.”

Olu shrugged. “Fair enough.”

“So. No more subtleties.” Jim said. “Who wants to go next?”

The crew mumbled among themselves, contemplating their options.

The Swede raised his hand. “I can jump over the railing.” He said. “Would that count?”

There was a murmur of agreement. 

“Yeah, I suppose that would be straight to the point.” Olu said. 

Wee John scoffed. “Something tells me the Captain will miss it somehow.”

“He’s a bit dense, but not that much.” Frenchie said. “Surely, that’s obvious enough, right?”

“I dunno, mate.” Ivan said. “I suppose we’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, then.” Olu said. “Good luck tomorrow.”

The crew echoed the ‘good luck’.

Olu and Jim went back to their room.

There was a bouquet waiting for them.

“Que cursi.” Jim said, smiling.

“Sólo para ti.”

Chapter Text

The Swede was born with a different name, unpronounceable by human people, in the coast of Sweden. 

He lived for most of his early life in the small town he was born in, near a human village of fishermen. He had many siblings, the town treated him well, the food was plenty and life was good. 

Sometimes, he’d go up to the rocks near shore and sing. He wasn’t a siren, he couldn’t make it so humans were enraptured with him, but he didn’t care. It felt good. He liked singing, that’s all that mattered. 

One night, as the Swede made his way back home, singing to himself still, he got caught up in a nest. The more he tried bitting through it, the more tangled up in it he became.

And then he was being pulled up, into the air. Into a boat.

The fishermen quickly realized their mistake.

“Siren!” One of them had shouted, upon seeing him. A young lad, the same age as the Swede.

One of the older men hit him over the head. “That’s a mermaid, idiot.” He started freeing the Swede, and gestured for the lad to come help. “They’re not usually stupid enough to get caught.”

“I’m sorry.” The Swede said, waiting awkwardly. As soon as he was free, he propped himself to jump overboard. “Thank you.”

He jumped back into the ocean. Looking back, the lad had gone after him, staring at him from the edge of the railing, The Swede gave a shy wave, and the lad returned it.

He found him in the beach a few days later. The Swede stared at him from afar, as the lad walked barefooted, picking up shells and pretty stones.

Should he swim up to him? There was no one else near him.

The boy looked up, and spotted him. The Swede let out a flustered shriek, diving back into the ocean.

Later that week, he went on a search for the prettiest shell he could find. And when he found it, he hurried to the beach. The lad wasn’t there, so the Swede left it atop a rock, waiting for him.

He swam away before the other boy could show up.

This pattern continued for a few weeks. He would observe the boy, until he was spotted. Then he panicked and, instead of talking to him like anyone would, he swam away. He’d find something pretty for him, a shell, a shinny rock, pieces of treasure people dropped into the sea, and he’d place it on their rock. 

Sometimes he saw the boy picking it up.

And then the lad started giving things back. 

A flower, a few pretty buttons, a wooden statuette…

And finally, after months of doing this giving and taking of gifts, the Swede got the courage to talk to him.

The lad was sitting at their rock, looking at the horizon. 

“Hello.” The Swede said, barely poking out of the water. 

The boy smiled at him. “Hi.”

There was an awkward silence between the two of them. 

“I liked your gifts.” The Swede said. “They were nice.”

“Yours too.” The boy offered his hand, introducing himself. 

The Swede took it, a bit confused. 

Soon, it became late conversations in the beach, and then early ones on the harbour, and then those few times the boy would swim with the Swede, trying so hard to keep up. 

“I’m gonna be leaving soon.” The boy said. He was a man now, just like the Swede.

“Where?” The Swede asked, trying not to let his voice betray the hurt.

“I’m enrolling in a merchant ship.” The man said. “I’d ask you to swim alongside it, but I think that would be asking for too much.”

“Oh.” The Swede said. “I can just go with you.”

“Nah, mate, they’ll hurt you. They’re not used to merfolk.”

The Swede frowned. “But I can.” He struggled to get up into the wooden planks of the harbour. “Watch.”

The man scrambled to one side, giving him space for him to struggle up to the land. Once he was finally out–after a few minutes, to be honest– the lad spoke.

“Are you going to need help going down…?”

The Swede frowned, concentrating. He’d never done this, but he’d seen so many people do it. Come on, body, listen to him.

Ah, there, a nice pair of legs.

How did you use these?

The man choked on air, stumbling to his feet. 

“Ta-da!” The Swede said, trying to get up. The lad helped him, and he leaned into him. “How does one walk?”

The man let out a near hysterical laugh. “We need to get you some clothes first, friend.”

They enrolled in the merchant ship together. They learnt English together. And while the man learnt quick and did his job well, the Swede struggled with the most basics of tasks.

Somehow, he didn’t get dropped off despite his incompetence.

Years on sea passed, until they parted ways. The man had grown tired of the ocean, after all this time. He wanted to settle down with his lover, and form a family. 

“You know you can come visit anytime you want.” The lad said, as the Swede stood to board a ship. “If you ever need anything, just let me, or my wife know.”

The Swede smiled. “I’ll visit. Enjoy the land.”

“Enjoy the sea.” The man gave him a quick hug, and a pat to the back. “Don’t get thrown overboard.”

“I’ll be fine.”

The sea was a lot more lonely without him.

After a week, the Swede threw himself into the sea, planning to make his way back home.

Home was a lot farther than he had anticipated. The Swede decided to stop at the nearest port, and search a ship that got him closer to his destination.

He boarded the Revenge, not giving it too much thought. 

The captain was eccentric, but he was kind. So were the rest of the crew. 

He’d hoped, for a second, that Jim was also a merfolk. They weren’t, but their voice sounded like the lullabies his mother used to sing to him, so that was alright.

The teeth did grow back, but that didn’t make it any less scary.

Somehow, somewhere along the travels and misadventures, he stopped caring so much of returning home.

He was quite fine here.

Roach and Mr. Buttons chased him for half an hour before he realized he could just. Jump into the water and swim away.

But before he managed to get into the water, the Captain appeared, in a dinghy, ready to solve everything by talking it out as a crew.

Talking out as a crew had to be preceded by a lot of yelling, a few sword fights, and throwing Izzy overboard. (Sadly, they let him back on.)

But in the end, they figured things out. 

The Swede waited, sitting on the railing, for Captain Stede to come out to the deck.

Roach leaned against a barrel, looking at him. He whispered something to Frenchie, who snickered, and said ‘bet’.

Izzy gave them a death glare, because how dare they not be working constantly.

Maybe the Swede should throw Izzy overboard, instead of himself. 

Finally, the Captains came out of their quarters. The Swede smiled, waving at them.

“Captain Stede! Captain Stede, watch!” He said. And, as soon as Stede had his eyes on him, he let himself fall back to the sea.

The Captain gave a very loud scream, and, as the Swede pulled his head out of the water to wave back, he saw him staring down at him. 

“Man overboard!” Stede yelled. “Why are you all standing there?!” He rushed away, and then a ladder fell down to meet the Swede. 

“Captain!” The Swede said, pouting. “Look at me!” 

But the Captain was rambling to someone else, and then Ivan popped his head over the railing.

“Sorry, mate, he’s left to get you dry clothes.” He said. “Also, come back up before he gets a heart attack.” 

The Swede pouted even harder, flicking his tail. But he grabbed the ladder, and allowed himself to be hoisted up.

On the deck, Roach elbowed Frenchie, who groaned and handed him a coin.

“Did I lose the bet?” The Swede asked, not bothering to change his tail to legs yet. 

Ivan shrugged. “Sorry, mate.” 

The Swede reluctantly changed to legs. Ivan patted him on the back.

“You gave Stede quite the fright, though.” Captain Ed said. “He’s gone all mother hen, it’s kinda cute.”

“It’s annoying.” Izzy mumbled under his breath, only to receive a slap over the head from Ed for his trouble. 

The Captain made his way into the deck again, carrying dry clothes. “Swede, never do that again!” He dumped the clothes next to him. “Here you go, put this on, I don’t want you catching a pneumonia.”

No one dared point out that it was usually too hot to catch any kind of cold.

At least the clothes were comfortable.

Chapter Text

Roach died far from the sea, in a forest too deep for most people to venture in.

He stood up from where he lied, and started walking until he reached the end of the woods.

On a good day, he could keep his heart beating, his skin warm, and remember to breathe and blink. Spiders and rats would exist away from him and his kitchen, allowing his company outside of those spaces. Most days were good days.

On bad days, days where he just couldn’t be bothered with pretending, he burrowed himself in the kitchen of the restaurant that had been desperate enough to hire him when he couldn’t even tell them where he came from, and pointed his knives at whoever dared to comment on his cold skin, lack of breathing or unyielding stare, or the spiders in his hair and the rat in his shoulder. Just as long as they didn’t get in contact with the food, it would be fine.

He was good at his job, one of the best, so any complains they might’ve had went unsaid. 

The restaurant went bankrupt, and Roach was left with the money he carried in his pockets, and his knives. 

He didn’t technically need to eat, but the thought of just existing without purpose made him sick.

So he enrolled into he first merchant ship he saw, and hoped no one would be too nosy.

They were too nosy. They threw him overboard, after stabbing him and finding out he hadn’t bothered with bleeding that day.

Swimming up to shore was a pain in the ass, but at least he didn’t get attacked by any sharks.

He was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to regrow parts if a shark decided to take a bite of him. 

It was nice not needing to breathe, at least.

He tried his luck again at sea, and this time, no one said a thing about his oddities. 

And then the ship got raided by pirates, and Roach had to sew his own shoulder back in.

Oh, well,  he could now say he’d survived being raided by the infamous Blackbeard. The dude looked a bit bored by it all, though.

He spent a few months in the Republic of Pirates, cooking and stitching idiots who got into bar brawls up. 

Then Spanish Jackie burnt the bar he worked in down to the ground because of some stupid argument she’d had with the owner, and Roach was left jobless again.

He considered joining Spanish Jackie for a hot second, but the man in charge of her bar was an asshole.

Back into the sea, it was.

He hoped from one ship to another for a while before meeting Stede Bonnet. An eccentric man, but damn did he have the money to buy good food. Roach had more options in this ship than in some restaurants he’d worked in. 

And the Captain gave them a salary and told them nighttime stories.

Sure, he didn’t let him torture the prisoners, but there was plenty of time to wait for him to change his mind about that.

The navy officers hadn’t appreciated his cooking, so Roach was more than eager to maim them. 

All of Roach’s tapas got thrown overboard. That was perhaps what saddened him the most about the situation.

He stitched up the Captain, hoping that if he failed and Stede died, he’d come back like Roach did. The Captain was nice, he deserved it.

The Captain survived, and Blackbeard was a lot nicer than he remembered.

40 oranges for the cake, that’s what the recipe he’d been taught said. It wasn’t his fault the Captain was peckish! He’d just done as he was asked. 

Besides, the Swede’s teeth grew back, it wasn’t as much of a big deal.

Roach made Izzy a sandwich, and then had to watch all his hard work get ruined when the bastard failed to catch it and it fell into the sea.

What a waste of food.

He hoped Izzy starved for a while. He deserved it.

They were in an island in the middle of nowhere, and Roach was bored. So, when he saw the glint in Buttons’s eyes, he went along with it.

Sadly, the Captain interrupted the fun.

Getting back to the Revenge was a nightmare. They had thrown away all the good food supplies! Whoever had been the previous cook, Roach hoped he was now a corpse in the bottom of the ocean, hopefully stabbed in the balls first by Jim.

His kitchen was a mess, it was going to take him days to organize this all.

Izzy stabbed him, once. It was mostly an accident. The fucker kept refusing to eat with the others, and Roach wouldn’t let a crew mate, as much of a bitch as they might be, starve under his watch. What kind of reputation would he have, then?

Of course, he didn’t bother knocking when he made his way to Izzy’s cabin, carrying a tray of food.

Instead of being thanked for his marvelous cooking, he got stabbed for the hideous crime of seeing Izzy without his shirt.

“Rude.” Roach said, and pulled out the knife. He stopped his heart from beating, not wanting to make a mess. “Can I keep this?”

“What the fuck.” Izzy had muttered.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Enjoy your food!” 

Frenchie approached him a few hours before he put his ‘let Stede know you’re not actually alive’ plan on motion. 

“So. What’s your strategy?” He asked, trying to sound casual.

Roach snorted. “Wait and see, like the others.”

“Oh, come on, just let me know.” Frenchie pleaded. “I need to know how you’ll ultimately fail, so I don’t make the same mistakes when it’s my turn.”

“I’m not failing, I have an impeccable plan.” Roach said. “Which I’m not telling you.” 

Frenchie pouted, but Roach ignored him.

The Captain came upon the deck, visibly relieved to see no one trying to jump overboard today.

Well, Roach hated to be the one to burst his bubble, but he had planned more than a little dip into the sea.

“Hey, Captain!” He called. “Stede!” He clarified, as both captains turned to him. 

The Captain made his way towards him, smiling.

“Hello, Roach!” He said. “What is it? Did you remember the names of the other spices you wanted?”

Roach pulled out his knife. “Actually, I did, but I already told Lucius.” He pointed with the knife at Lucius, who was watching from the helm, with a shit eating grin. He’d heard him make a bet earlier that Roach wouldn’t be successful and he was determined to prove him wrong. “This is about another thing.”

“Oh, really?” Stede asked, unperturbed by the waving around of a knife. “What is it, then?”

Roach didn’t have a clever line to say before just stabbing himself, so he didn’t bother thinking up one.

Of course, he didn’t account for Stede to stop him before he did the stabbing. He rushed forward, grabbing his forearm before he could plunge the knife into his stomach. 

“Roach, dear lord, what are you doing?!” Stede asked. “Don’t hurt yourself, for fuck’s sake!”

Stede was stronger than he looked like, and Roach struggled to free his arm. “Captain, it’s fine, just, let go.”

Damnit, Stede wasn’t letting go. Instead, he was prying the knife from his hands, and throwing it away, across the deck. Oh, well, better than into the ocean.

“I will not let you hurt yourself, or so help me–”

“Captain it was a joke!” Roach said. “A prank, ok? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Stede seemed to go from heartbroken to angry to resigned in seconds, before pulling Roach close to him, into an awkward hug. “Never do that kind of stunts again, alright? They’re not funny.”

Roach sighed, patting Stede in the back. “I won’t. Sorry, Captain.”

Well, that was one way to fail at winning this bet.

A few minutes later, finally back in his kitchen, Olu came to him.

“Captain told me to keep an eye on you.” He said, casually. “He’s worried.”

Roach shrugged. “Eh, he’ll get over it once someone knocks some sense into his brain.” He sat by Olu’s side, letting the stew boil. “It’s not like it hurts, or anything.”

“I’m starting to wonder if he’ll ever find out.” Olu said. “At this rate, I’m pretty sure he’s some kind of… anti-magic repellant?”

Roach laughed. “Not so human after all, huh?”

“He feels human to me.” Olu said. “The good kind.”

“I wonder if I was human before becoming…” he gestured vaguely. “This.”

“Wouldn’t be able to tell you, mate.” Olu said. “Probably not, in my opinion.”

“Pity.” Roach said. 

Chapter Text

Frenchie grew up hearing tales of monsters and creatures of the night, from the sailors that would come into town after months of voyage.

Then, he started working for a wealthy French man, and he started hearing of witches.

There was an old woman who was also employed, but no one knew what exactly she did. Every afternoon, once he had finished working, Frenchie went to talk to her.

She told her of magic, and wishes, and luck and witches.

She had an old toad as her constant companion, a green wrinkly thing.

His parents didn’t like him being around her, but Frenchie continued to do so all the same.

“Come boy” She used to say. And then, one day, once he was old enough, “I’m telling you a story that will save your life, boy.”

She started telling him a story, of a young woman in a small village, that learnt the uses of plants to help, that talked to nature and managed to get a response, that cured the sickness of children with little to no effort. The story of a young witch, searching for her familiar. 

It was similar to the many other tales she had told him before. The introduction, the call of magic, the struggle, the resolution. She always had the same formula for her stories, and Frenchie was always enthralled by them. 

But, when she ended, she pressed a finger to Frenchie’s chest and said. “Now you know what to do, boy.”

Frenchie did not know what to do.

Why would he need to find a familiar? He was not a witch.

Was he?

In the stories, a witch was only able to do simple magic, and the amazing stuff would only be unlocked once they’d made a connexion to a familiar. In the story, familiars were out there, looking for a witch of their own, hiding as humans that could change into animals. 

Frenchie hoped that, if he was a witch–which he was pretty sure he wasn’t–, his familiar wouldn’t be a cat. Anything but a cat.

When Frenchie was seventeen, he did his first magic trick.

He’d been trying for months by that time, to recreate the feats he’d heard of in stories. But nothing worked. 

Animals didn’t talk to him, they just hissed and ran away. Plants were just. Plants. Unmoving and uncaring. The wind responded to none of his calls and he felt nothing when the moon was full.

He was starting to think he wasn’t a witch at all.

And then, one night, as he was consoling a new servant–a kid, barely fourteen years old,–who had fallen down the stairs and hurt his wrist, it happened.

“Can you sing for me, please?” The kid had asked.

And Frenchie hadn’t had it in him to deny that, so he pulled out his lute–he’d saved so much for the thing, he wasn’t letting anyone take it–, and sang a little tune.

After that incident, and having to run away from the palace before they imprisoned him for witchcraft, Frenchie decided that the old woman was probably right.

So, he knew what to do.

Step one, find a familiar.

Step two, ??????

Step three, boom. Magic powers. 

Step one was proving to be very complicated.

Something told Frenchie to go to the sea, for some reason, but after three merchant ships, a pirate one, and escaping in a dinghy at night time several times in a row, Frenchie decided he was just unlucky.

Every time he thought he’d found a familiar, they turned out to be something else. A vampire, a werewolf, a very pissed human. Never a familiar. 

It got worse when he joined Stede Bonnet’s crew.

Sure, the man was kind, and he payed well, and they were all probably going to die in their first raid, but that was alright. He was here for a good time, not a long one.

First, it was Jim. Siren. Ok, cool, they weren’t trying to drown anyone, and if he got stabbed, they probably had a good reason to do so. 

Then Olu, fair folk. Frenchie had heard tales of them, of how they stole your names and made deals that always took more than they granted. But Olu was kind, so he supposed he’d have to reevaluate his primary sources.

Lucius, incubus, Pete, made of wood, apparently by a witch? Frenchie had asked more about that, but Pete had no answers. The Swede, mermaid, Roach, undead, Buttons, Buttons.

The Captain was completely human.

So Frenchie was still familiar-less, but at least he felt at home. 

He kept feeling attracted, in a non romantic way, to Wee John. He was just a comfortable presence in his life, ever since they first spoke.

Frenchie talked to him about everything, from his wildest superstitions to his plans to scam the next rich assholes he encountered. John was just easy to be around with.

Blackbeard didn’t plan to kill them. Good. Death wouldn’t suit Frenchie.

He couldn’t help but notice, as their stay continued during days, that they seemed… not entirely human either.

He expected Blackbeard to be a demon, maybe a powerful witch that had made a deal with the devil. He wasn’t. 

And, well, as much as everyone hated Izzy the Spewer, he couldn’t just stand and watch him wearing such a disastrous corset. He and Wee John made it a competition to see who could make the best replacement. Something that didn’t destroy Izzy’s back.

And then, one night after the Captain had gone to sleep, Ivan jumped off the crow’s nest, transformed into a raven, and glided down.

Frenchie was enthralled. So that was what a familiar looked like. 

Of course, before he could even get the idea of asking him if he was looking for a witch, Ivan perched himself in Fang’s shoulder.

Right. He was taken already.

It took Frenchie a few hours of sleep to realize he could ask Fang for help. He was a witch too! Frenchie wasn’t alone, he could get advice, maybe learn some useful magic that actually worked.

So he made his way to were Ivan and Fang stood on deck, and tried to think of the best way to ask for help.

“Are you a witch?” He ended up blurting, throwing all those plans overboard. 

Fang hummed. “Yeah. You too?”

“Well, I mean, I try, but–” Frenchie shrugged. “I dunno, mate, not very good at all that. I barely know a few spells, and I stumbled my way towards finding them.”

“Everyone starts somewhere.” Ivan said. “First time mine tried anything, he almost killed the crew of hypothermia.”

Fang blushed. “You don’t have to say it like that, it was an accident!” He sighed, as Ivan laughed, and turned to Frenchie. “Look, kid, my best advice for this stuff is to sit down with your familiar and just. Feel the magic talk to you, direct you.” He shrugged. “Once you find what you’re good at, it’s mostly intuition and practice. Loads of trials and error.”

“Right, yeah, about that.” Frenchie said. “I don’t really have a familiar?”

Ivan and Fang frowned, looking at each other.

“Are you completely sure about that?” Ivan asked. “Like, we thought you and Wee John…”

“Wee John?” Frenchie asked. “What about him?”

“We thought he was your familiar.” Fang said.

Frenchie rushed into their (new) room, where Wee John was arranging the furniture they’ve gotten from the last raid.

Wee John smiled when he saw him, gesturing to their sitting nook. “How does it look?”

“Perfect, mate” Frenchie said, leaning against the door. “Are you a familiar?” The ‘my’ went unsaid.

Wee John flinched. “Well, yeah, I mean, technically, yeah. I am.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Frenchie said. “Did you not want to–?”

“No, no it’s not that!” John said, cutting him off. “It’s not you, I just. I was scared of telling you.”

“Why?”

“Because, look, just. Don’t panic, ok?” John said. He waited until Frenchie nodded, and then transformed.

Into a calico cat, big and fluffy.

Frenchie felt a brief moment of panic, before remembering. This was Wee John. If he wanted to kill him, or steal his breath, or anything, he’d done so already. John wouldn’t hurt him.

So Frenchie forced himself to move away from the wall, forwards the cat–John, it was John, not an evil cat, just Wee John. He knelt, and slowly reached out to pet him. He was so soft.

Frenchie gave him a small smile, feeling as if he could breathe again. This wasn’t so bad.

“Mate, you’re so cute.” He said. “Can I pick you up?”

John purred, moving his head in the imitation of a nod. So Frenchie scooped him up and lied on bed. 

He fell asleep, and by the time he woke up, John was human again.

Frenchie really couldn’t have gotten himself a better familiar.

He decided to lean into his witchyness a lot during the fuckery. And sure, the green paint was excessive, but he wanted to have fun. And he didn’t feel confident in any of his spells to use them yet. John had been helping him, but it was still a long process.

He fixed Blackbeard’s flag, and then tried to keep himself out of his way. Out of sight, out of mind, and out of the possibility of getting hurt.

God, did he miss John.

“He’s using candles.” Fang told him, leaving the Captain’s quarters. “Good luck.”

“Nah, won’t need it mate, I’ve been practicing this spell since forever” Since neither John nor him wanted to get up from bed to blow out the candles.

Frenchie grabbed his lute and went inside the Captain’s room, ready to win this bet. He technically didn’t need the lute, it just helped him concentrate.

“Oh, hello Frenchie.” Stede said. He stood by the bookshelves, inspecting the tomes “Don’t worry, I’m just choosing the story for today. Any suggestion?”

“Something with magic?” He said, focusing on the candle Stede was holding. Come on, go out.

Stede seemed to consider it. “Well, I have several of those, you’re gonna have to be more specific, dear boy.”

Come on, go out. You can do it. Bye bye fire.

“Something about witches, maybe?” Frenchie said, half of him paying attention to the conversation, half of him trying the same chord several times. This usually worked. Why wasn’t it working? 

“I already read Hansel and Gretel…” Stede mumbled. “Oh, wait!” He crouched to grab a book. “You’re gonna love this one.” 

Why wouldn’t his magic work?

“Come on,” Stede said. “The rest are waiting for us. Maybe you can play before the story?”

“Nah, I’m fine, thanks.” Frenchie said.

Stede shrugged, and then blew out the candle himself.

Damn it.

“I’m a failure of a witch.” Frenchie declared, lying against Wee John.

John stopped purring. “No you’re not.”

“I know how to the stupid spell! But I just! Why didn’t it work?”

Wee John hugged Frenchie closer to him. “Your performance is always worse under pressure.” He said. “You just need practice.”

“I’ve had tons of practice! It’s the dumbest spell ever!” Frenchie deflated, crossing his arms. “Fang makes it look so easy.”

“He’s had years of practice.” John reminded him. “You’ll be as great as him one day.”

Frenchie pouted. “I can’t believe I lost the bet.”

“If I win it, we can share it.” Wee John offered. “Bragging rights for me, and for you.”

“That sounds nice.” Frenchie said. There was a pause. “I still can’t believe I botched the spell, though.”

John sighed. “You’ll do better next time.”

Chapter Text

Wee John knew since he was a kid what he was meant to do. He was made from star dust and earth’s blood, destined to protect someone he loved.

Or at least that’s what his parents said.

His parents always loved to exaggerate things.

He worked in his family’s tailor shop until he was considered old enough to go travel the world. Once they realized the one he was meant to protect wasn’t in the village–he double checked, just in case–, he was sent out to search for them.

Most of the traveling inside cities and ports was done as a cat. It was easier, and required less energy. And people were more likely to be kind to animals than to humans, as experience showed him.

He didn’t mind the strangers that stopped to pet him, but he made a mental note to punch those who tried to kick him away if he ever bumped into them in human form.

It wasn’t until after his first caused explosion, a beautiful mess of fire and smoke, that he realized he was being called into the ocean. 

He hadn’t meant to cause that work of art, but he didn’t regret it.

Some of the ships, he joined as a human, some as a cat.

None of them had who he was looking for. Some of them went up in flames.

Wee John was starting to doubt that he was even meant to go into the ocean, when he came across Stede Bonnet, and decided to join out of a whim.

It wasn’t too long until he noticed that the crew around him wasn’t completely normal, either. He was one of the first to notice, but after a few months, almost everyone was aware of the strange situation they’ve gotten themselves into. 

Except the Captain, who seemed to be too busy trying to learn to be a real pirate and flirting with Blackbeard to notice.

John wasn’t ashamed to admit he spent a lot of time with Frenchie before he even realized he was a witch.

His witch, his brain immediately supplied, but John squashed that thought.

Frenchie hated cats. He was terrified of them. 

John would just have to keep looking, and hope.

The Captain brought up the idea of getting a cat, once. To deal with the vermin in the kitchen.

Of course, he didn’t know Roach had it all covered. Not a single rat or bug would damage any of the boat’s supplies, and Roach would give them the scraps of food that were left over after dinner.

The Captain was also unaware of how deep Frenchie’s fear of cats went.

He dropped the subject soon enough.

Even though he wasn’t his familiar, John couldn’t help but stay close to Frenchie. He blamed it on instincts, and the fact that Frenchie was just so easy to be around to.

Oluwande gave them a room, and they jumped straight into making it comfortable.

John was content with the arrangement they had going on. It was nice, domestic, even.

Then, just as John finished rearranging furniture, Frenchie hurried inside, and asked him if he was a familiar.

Of course he would find out.

He hated the heart broken expression Frenchie got when he admitted that he was, he just hadn’t told him. It wasn’t his fault Wee John was such a coward.

Transforming was easy. He’d done so a million times.

But seeing the way Frenchie recoiled and flinched back made him wish he was any other kind of animal. A dog, Frenchie would love that. Heck, he’d take being a slug over making Frenchie afraid.

But Frenchie approached him, and petted him, and John couldn’t help but purring. And before he could notice, they were asleep together, John made into a ball on top of Frenchie’s chest. 

Things got better after that incident. Frenchie and John often would sit in the ground, with white pages scattered around them, and just talk as Frenchie doodled in the pages, trying to find the way to get his magic to do as he wanted. Sometimes they got distracted, talking of things that weren’t even that important.

Fang and Ivan offered their help once they had things better figured out. Said that you had to first find your footing before learning anything else.

John guessed that made sense, in it’s own weird way.

In John’s opinion, their footing seemed to be in the direction of fire, explosions, and a bit of chaos. He liked it.

Blackbeard left them, in a stupid island, right before the talent show. Couldn’t he have waited for after it happened? John and Frenchie had a great act planned.

John was in an island, surrounded with water, and with no witch in sight. Well, Buttons was there, but he wasn’t a witch, just… odd. 

It was then he wished he was like Ivan, and he could just fly to Frenchie. But no, he was a cat, and cats were horrible swimmers.

God, did he miss Frenchie.

In hindsight, John couldn’t explain why the Swede didn’t follow them swimming, nor why he didn’t turn into a cat to save space in the dinghy.

All in all, they got back to the Revenge, and while the Captains had their rather violent lovers quarrel, he slipped away to find Frenchie.

Frenchie complained all night about his failed spell. He repeated it, multiple times, with the lanterns around them, until someone complained that they were getting in the way of their sleep, and several people agreed.

So if winning this bet was what John had to do to cheer Frenchie up, he would. 

(To be completely honest, he too wanted the bragging rights)

“So. What’s your plan?” Frenchie asked over breakfast, in a better mood already.

“I’m gonna walk in, as a cat,” he explained, mouth full with toast, “and then once he notices me I’ll transform back and I’ll be like ‘surprise!’.” He cleaned himself with the back of his hand, and reached for the morning coffee. “And then he’ll probably faint, ‘cause the Captain’s dramatic like that.”

Frenchie chuckled. “Yeah, he is.” He said, stealing a cookie from the communal plate. “Maybe try make sure he doesn’t get a concussion? Those aren’t fun to deal with.”

“Yeah, I don’t want to get threatened by Roach again.” John said. He frowned. “Nor Captain Ed.”

“Captain Ed would end you, mate.” Frenchie said.

“Not in cat form, right?” John said, before finishing his coffee. 

Frenchie stopped to consider it. He didn’t answer him, only giving him a look.

“Not in cat form. Right?” John pressed. 

Frenchie laughed. “Just be careful, mate.”

Wee John was very careful, making sure the Captain was alone, and that the other Captain was busy bickering with the shitty First Mate (not the weird but cool First Mate, that was Buttons.)

Then, he squared his shoulders, and transformed into a cat.

He pushed the door open, and entered the Captain’s cabin.

Stede was pacing in circles, seemingly thinking something over, and didn’t seem to notice the new presence. John waited for a few seconds, and then meowed. 

Stede let out a startled sound, turning to face the cat. Then, he approached John.

Good, now he could transform back–

Wait, the Captain was picking him up by the scruff of his neck. Hey, no, this is not how it’s supposed to go! 

John tried to wiggle out of his Captain’s hold, but to no avail. Scratching him didn’t seem to affect him, even if John tried his damnedest to tear up his fluffy sleeves.

“I am so sorry, oh, you poor thing.” Stede said, walking to the second wardrobe. “But I can’t just let you roam free in the ship, you’ll terrify poor Frenchie!” He held John even higher in the air as he pulled out a chest. “Sorry, I’ll make sure to bring you some food soon enough!” 

And he placed John inside the chest, and locked it before he could even transform.

John hissed, butting his head against the stupid lid. Nothing. Fuck his life.

This was too small to transform again. At least there was a hole for the key, John didn’t think suffocating would be a death he would choose.

He huffed again, and lied down. This was going to be a long wait, by the looks of it.

Wee John was asleep when the chest opened again. He woke up with a hiss, and then he was pulled out by a gloved hand.

“You dimwitted twat.” Izzy muttered, looking at John with annoyance. He set him on the floor, shoving the chest back deeper into the wardrobe. “You’re lucky your Captain told Edward you were here.”

John transformed, and stretched. “Yeah, well, fuck you too.”

Izzy rolled his eyes, gave him the middle finger and left the room. 

Making his way back to Frenchie, John overheard a conversation between the Captains and the prickly First Mate.

“Took care of your pest for you.” Izzy said.

“Oh?” Stede sounded surprised. “What did you do?”

“Throw it overboard.”

Stede let out an indignant gasp, something sounding akin a ‘how dare you?’. Edward laughed.

“Nah, mate, he’s shitting with ya.” He said. “It’s in Izzy’s room, it’ll be out of the ship by the next port.”

“So?” Frenchie asked. “No bragging rights?” 

John shrugged. “No, not until we have another go around.” He was pretty sure they would get to second turns soon enough. “We can do it together, then. It’d be a lot more easy.”

Frenchie hummed in agreement. “I can start thinking of flashy spells. Any suggestions?”

“Make it go boom.” John said. “The more destructive it is, the harder it is to miss.”

Frenchie nodded, pulling out a paper to scribble a doodle. John peeked over his shoulder, and saw himself, and Frenchie, and an explosion on the background. 

“Like that?” Frenchie asked.

John smiled. “Exactly like that.”

Chapter Text

Fang was fifteen when he met Ivan, in a small coast town his parents had taken him to. 

Once they knew enough on their own, they sneaked out in the middle of the night and joined a merchant ship.

Fang didn’t know how to read, but he liked to say he could read the winds. It was an easy way to explain it. 

Ivan would help him steal navigation charts, and they would spend hours trying to learn everything they could in secret. The first spells they dabbled with were related to wind. Pushing hats off people’s heads, helping Ivan glide up when flying, and, eventually, pushing the ship just by himself.

Sure, none of the captains that sailed with him realized this, but Fang did it all the same. It was good exercise.

Somewhere along the line they ended in a pirate ship, almost by mistake. It wasn’t too different to the other ships they’d been in.

They usually practiced during their watches. Less people that could intrude on them.

Ivan would perch on his shoulder, and Fang would scratch his neck. 

It was peaceful. 

Fang watched the snowflakes dance around his palm, thinking of what to do with this. Wind had been easy, this seemed like something more. Something bigger.

Ivan tried to snatch one of them with his beak. He failed, a cawed indignantly. 

“You like it?” Fang asked.

“Snow!” Ivan croaked, batting his wings. And then, when Fang blew them in his face, he flapped his wings and croaked again. “Dipshit! Dipshit!”

“Who taught you those words?”

Ivan flew off his shoulder, getting back to human form. “You did.” He said.

Fang picked the snow that had stuck to his hair. “As if you didn’t choose what you wanted to learn.”

“I can’t learn a lot, I gotta be selective, mate.” Ivan said, resting against the railing. 

“I would’ve learnt ‘fucker’.” Fang said.

Ivan laughed. He gestured to the now melted snow. “So we’re doing this now?”

“Maybe?” Fang shrugged. “Do you like it?” 

“Yeah, it’s neat. ‘Used to roll down snow piles as a kid.”

Fang snorted, and made a mental note to keep practicing. 

After a month and a half, Fang watched as Ivan gleefully rolled down a small snow pile that would be gone in the morning. He reached the bottom, shook the snow of him, and flew back to the top to go slide back down. 

“Fang. Fang, wake up.” Ivan was shaking him awake, and Fang batted him for the trouble. “I’m serious, wake up.”

And then when the cold registered in Fang’s mind. “Wha– Oh fuck.”

There was snow everywhere. In every single corner of the ship. The sailors around them had started to wake up, shivering and cursing. Some were speaking of witchcraft, or sirens and mermaids.

“Yeah.” Ivan said. He helped him stand up. “Come on, we gotta get it out of the boat before anyone catches a cold.”

As the crew used buckets to throw the snow into the sea, no one noticed how Fang’s hands left a small frozen trail behind them.

They left that ship before suspicion could even fall on them. 

One day, while Ivan and him were looking around a market, Fang found a dog. It was a small fluffy thing, so young and dirty. 

Fang couldn’t help himself. He picked it up, and took him aboard their ship. 

“Mate.” Ivan said, as he watched him approach with an armful of dog. “What’s that?”

“Her name is Sock.” Fang declared. “Wanna pet her?”

Ivan seemed skeptical, but after he passed his hand through her fur, and got licked with enthusiasm, Fang could see him start to get attached as well. 

“I’m not picking up her poops, no matter how cute she is.” Ivan said.

It was years before they started hearing of the infamous Blackbeard. 

One night, after a particularly successful raid, a crew mate started boasting about how scary the man was, and how he was going to join his ship at the first opportunity he saw.

Fang didn’t consider the man’s plan until he heard more stories. Stories about how Blackbeard was always surrounded by smoke, how he couldn’t die, how they’d tried shooting him overboard, only for him to be brought back by the sea itself.

Later that night, when no one but Ivan and Fang were awake, Fang turned to Ivan with a question. 

“I dunno,” Ivan responded. “There’s a chance it’s all exaggerations. You know how rumours are.”

Fang hummed. “Yeah. But still. It’s worth a shot, right?”

Their free time became divided between the usual experimentation–you never finished figuring out what more you could do, in Fang’s opinion–and trying to find out more about these Blackbeard figure.

The more they heard, the more questions they had. 

Finally, they came across the Queen Anne, in a small island where they had stopped to make repairs. 

This was their chance. 

A member of Blackbeard’s crew told them to search for the First Mate, and ask him. He and Blackbeard had gone further into the island, for privacy. 

So, they set out to find them.

And they found them, next to a brook. They almost seemed peaceful, sitting there.

Fang didn’t know why he’d assumed Blackbeard would be the only one different, per se, among the crew. It made sense, if the captain was not human, others like him would preffer sailing under him. It would be safer.

Of course, it didn’t feel safer the moment they were spotted and the First Mate instantly drew his sword on them. He was a scrawny little thing, if you ignored, well, what Fang and Ivan shouldn’t have seen.

After a small scuffle, Blackbeard–Fang assumed he was Blackbeard. He was younger than he expected, but the beard was black and he was menacing all the same.–ordered his First Mate to stand down, and them to explain themselves.

Fang and Ivan were allowed to join with a brief explanation, and a promise to not do ‘any witch shit’ outside of fuckeries.

He didn’t know what fuckeries were, but he’d soon find out.

Ivan went to get their few belongings from the old vessel as Fang climbed aboard the Queen Anne, Sock strutting behind him. 

One of his now crew mates, the same that had informed him where Blackbeard had been, looked at him, and at Sock, and grimaced. “Captain doesn’t allow pets.”

“She’s very well trained.” Fang said, and it was the truth. “I’m sure it won’t be that big of an issue.” 

The man shrugged. “Talk to the Captain, mate. I just warned you.”

So Fang did.

Blackbeard looked at Sock and then handed Fang a gun. “No pets allowed.” He said, casually. “Put it down.”

Fang looked at Sock’s bright eyes. “But, sir–”

“Pets are a burden and a weakness.” Blackbeard said. “Put it down.”

“Safety comes at a cost.” The First Mate–Izzy Hands, as Fang found out later,–had told him, after he came out of the Captain’s cabin. “We can’t allow softness here.” He looked completely normal now, gone was anything that could give him away. Any other time, Fang might’ve wondered if it was painful.

Fang barely directed him anything more than just a look and a nod. He supposed he was right. 

Izzy sighed. “Your friend is waiting for you.” He said, and left to clean up what Fang had done.

Ivan was indeed waiting for him, sitting in a corner of the deck.

He smiled when he saw him, and then frowned. “Hey. What’s wrong?” And, then, when Fang didn’t reply. “Where’s Sock?”

Life on the Queen Anne wasn’t too bad. There was a small comfort in the knowledge that they wouldn’t get thrown overboard. 

And sure, Fang missed Sock everyday, but it got easier. He kept busy, working, learning, and growing to know the crew.

The crew were mostly humans, as far as Fang was aware. He met a few akin to him, but never a witch. The doctor that lasted the longest on board was a vampire, until he got dusted during a raid.

Then, there were the fuckeries. Fang learnt how to cause a condensed snow storm, and Blackbeard patted him on the back, congratulating him.

Fang never forgave Blackbeard. Not fully. But some days, when things were well and most of the human crew were distracted, Blackbeard would drag his First Mate and whoever wanted bellow deck and they would just. Be. Without hiding.

It didn’t happen as often as Fang would’ve liked.

The Revenge was different. It was clear, at first glance, how different they were. Sure, the Captain was, somehow, unaware. But no one was hiding. Not really.

Slowly, Fang found himself relaxing. The longer they’d spend aboard, the happier he felt.

“You’re aware he’s a, you know, right?” Ivan had asked, after Fang had told him about Lucius.

Fang frowned. “Are you jealous?” He teased. “So what if he’s a demon, aren’t witches demonic by nature?”

“We both know that’s myth.” Ivan said. “And I’m not judging, I was just saying. This crew is bonkers.”

“He’s a nice lad.” Fang said, blushing at the memories. “He complimented my cheekbones.”

Ivan chuckled. “Good.” He said. “You got pretty good cheekbones.”

“Oh, stop it.” Fang said, blushing even more.

Ivan, instead of stopping, turned, and flew to perch on the railing in front of him. “Pretty boy!” He croaked, in a voice that resembled Lucius’s. “Pretty pretty boy!”

“You menace.” Fang said. “Go bother Karl.”

There were a few weeks where Fang was afraid they’d lost it all. 

But Bonnet came back, and slowly things were alright again.

Fang had so many ways of win this bet, he decided to let Captain Stede choose.

It was late at night, and as Fang entered the cabin, he found the Captain holding a cup of tea and reading a book.

“Oh, hello Fang.” Stede said, putting aside the book. “Need anything from me?”

“Would you like to see a magic trick, Captain?” Fang asked.

“Oh, magic! I love magic.” Stede said, smiling. He stood up, taking a quick seep of tea. “That reminds me– we never did go with the talent show you guys had planned, did we?”

“No, I think we forgot.” Fang said.

Stede nodded. “Well, I might bring that up tomorrow” he yawned, covering his mouth with his hand. “Excuse me, I’ve been having… trouble sleeping.”

“I know a spell for that.” Fang said. 

“Oh, really?” Stede said, “Roach tried to make me calming tea–” he gestured to his tea cup “–but it doesn’t seem to be working. What do you have in mind?”

“This.” Fang said, holding out his hand in front of his face. Snow danced in the air above it, and, as soon as Fang blew it at his face, Stede fell asleep.

And into the floor.

Right. That. 

And at that exact moment, Captain Ed walked inside.  He stopped, looking at both of them. “Magic sleep?” 

“Magic sleep.”

“With the snow shit?”

“With the snow shit.”

Edward hummed. “Alright, I’ll tell you if he remembers anything in the morning.” 

Fang left his Captain in his endeavor of dragging his other Captain into bed.

In the morning, Fang overheard Stede congratulating Roach on his calming tea.

Ed proved his suspicions right when he approached him later on.

“Doesn’t remember a thing. Sorry mate.”

Fang sighed.

Oh, well, at least he tried. 

Ivan was going to laugh at him.

Chapter Text

Ivan’s hometown consisted mostly of witches, familiars, and those who lived with them. His parents were familiars, his siblings were familiars, he was a familiar.

There was a common misconception that one’s familiar form was always similar to one’s families’s. 

Of course, Ivan, a raven in the midst of many mammals, could prove that wrong. 

He learnt how to fly by observing other birds, who never quite flew away from him. They seemed to know he was one of them, in a way.

Fang came to town when Ivan was barely thirteen. He had come traveling with his parents, and Ivan just knew instantly. He had to talk to him.

“Someone’s found his little witchling.” Ivan’s sister teased, watching as Fang waved his goodbyes and followed his parents into the inn. “Is he a good witch?”

“Not yet. But he will!” Ivan said. “Better than yours!”

His sister rolled her eyes and elbowed him. “Maybe I’ll steal it from you.”

“You can’t.” Ivan said, elbowing back. “You already have a witch! You can’t have two!”

“Who said that?” His sister continued. “I’ll be a familiar with two witches, the most powerful familiar ever.”

Bold words from the person whose’s familiar form was a raccoon. Not exactly intimidating.

A few months later, they stood at port, and Fang waited fifteen minutes as Ivan had to go hugging all his relatives one by one before they could leave. 

“Don’t forget to visit!” His mother shouted, as the boat sailed away. 

Ivan was a fast learner, and before the year ended, he knew how to do most tasks inside the ship. Fang, when it came to magic, was not. 

“You almost threw me overboard!” He complained, pulling a feather out of his hair. It happened sometimes, when he transformed too quickly. 

“I’m sorry!” Fang said, rushing to his side. “I was just trying to push you upwards.”

Ivan couldn’t stay mad at Fang for too long. “It’s fine. A little warning next time?”

He did end up overboard one of those next times. Luckily, no one was watching. 

Ivan did notice it was a pirate ship as they joined the crew. It was a strange change, but the captain was better than the last. 

At least Fang had thrown all of the last captain’s hats into the water. They blamed the wind.

“Ship!” Ivan croaked, and flapped his wings. “Ship! Dipshit! Ship!” 

Fang looked up from where he’d been concentrating, and looked in the direction Ivan was flapping at. “Oh, fuck me.” 

They threw the snow overboard before running to warn the rest of the crew.

Sliding down piles of snow is all fun and games, but waking up to the entirety of the ship encased in snow and ice was not.

Ivan didn’t want to keep Sock at first, but the way she waged her cute little tail, and stared at him with cute little eyes and licked him whenever he gave her the chance… 

The bastard had grown on him to the point where they could just hang out, a raven and a small dog, watching Fang do his thing. 

As long as she didn’t lick him in familiar form. That was disgusting. 

Blackbeard was a rumour of a man, and many speculated of a not-man. Ivan wasn’t a pessimist, but the prospect of a ship whose’s captain was something else than human seemed too good to be true. 

Besides, it was only rumours. Ivan would wait to see for himself to judge him.

The rumours were true, he thought to himself, watching them from a tree. He spent a moment more just observing them, not really listening to the conversation. They were younger than Ivan had expected. 

After a few more seconds, he flew away, back to Fang. 

“They’re over there.” He said. “Come on, let’s go talk to them.”

The First Mate dropped his sword at Blackbeard’s orders. Ivan transformed back, having been ready to scratch their eyes out if needed. It had worked in the past.

“Who are you?” Blackbeard asked. “And what the hell are you, too?”

“Witches.” Ivan said.

“We want to join your crew.” Fang said. “It’s safer than among humans.”

Blackbeard didn’t stop to consider it. He shrugged. “Yeah, sure, welcome in. I guess.” He turned to his First Mate. “What do you think, Iz?”

The First Mate’s wings twitched like Ivan’s did sometimes, when he was nervous.  “Magic is useful enough.” He said, in the end. “No witch shit out of fuckeries, though. We don’t need any more bullshit to deal with.”

Blackbeard smiled. “Great, then.” He gestured towards them to leave. “We’ll see you when we leave port. Just tell the crew I sent you.”

Ivan flew to his old ship, gathered all their things, and went back to the Queen Anne’s. He noted his old crew mate, the one that had boasted about joining, on the deck as well. He was the one that told him where to leave their belongings. 

He waited for Fang in a corner of the deck, watching the rest of the crew. They seemed mostly normal, but then again, so did Blackbeard when they first talked. So did Fang and Ivan most days. 

Fang came to him, after a few minutes. He was supposed to get Sock, but she was nowhere in sight. 

What had happened?

Ivan hadn’t been sure if they’d made the right choice for a few weeks. He even considered telling Fang, and just leaving for another ship. Reputation be damned, the Queen Anne’s wasn’t worth this bullshit.

Then one day, they were woken by the screams of a crew mate. Ivan recognized him as the one that had come with them from their old ship. 

He seemed crazy, yelling about magic and sirens and the devil. He didn’t seem crazy because of that, but because he was yelling it at the First Mate’s face. 

Had Blackbeard not gotten out of his cabin to investigate the yelling, Ivan had a striking suspicion that Izzy would’ve thrown him overboard. Maybe stabbed him first. 

“What’s going on here?” He asked, looking unimpressed. 

The crew mate didn’t stop screaming. “The Devil is in this ship! You are not men, you are demons!”

Izzy rolled his eyes, and Ivan couldn’t empathize more. 

Blackbeard gave out a short humourless laugh. “Yeah, sure. And I’m Lucifer himself.” He dropped the smile. “Cut the paranoia shit, mate.”

“You’re one of them.” The man said, as if this was a sudden revelation. As if they hadn’t seen Blackbeard during the last raid. “You’re a monster.”

The Captain took out his gun, and shot the man in the knee. And, once he was done screaming, he said to the crew. “No more talk of demons. If I hear any more bullshit of the sorts, next bullet will be between the eyes.” He gave Izzy a nod. “Get rid of him.”

Izzy gestured at Ivan and Fang to help him, and they did. The man drowned before he could bleed out. 

Staring out at the ocean, Ivan allowed himself to ask. “What did the fucker see to get this way?”

“The Doctor’s already been told to be more careful or he’s next.” Izzy said. “You two are not in trouble.”

That wasn’t what he had been asking, but it was a small comfort all the same. 

Ivan wasn’t the only bird aboard the Revenge. Well, technically he hadn’t been the only bird on Queen Anne’s, but if you dared call Iz a bird to his face, you’d get a knife for your trouble.

Karl and Olivia, Mr. Buttons introduced them. They were seagulls, slightly bigger than him, and it was sure an image, a raven and a seagull sitting together. Ivan wasn’t able of talking to them, but Buttons was more than willing to translate.

He was a strange man, but not the strangest of them all.

The strangest was perhaps the captain, who wouldn’t realize his crew’s nature even if they told him to his face that he was the only human among them.

Heck, he wouldn’t notice Blackbeard wasn’t human even if he had a tentacle for a dick. 

If those two would ever just kiss already.

So, instead of getting frustrated with the captains’s ineptitude at navigating romantic feelings, Ivan preferred to interact with the rest of the crew.

“Look.” He told Fang one day, pointing at where Frenchie and Wee John were sitting, talking about something inconsequential. “Baby witches.”

“Aw…” Fang cooed. “They’re like us when we were younger.”

“Can’t wait for their first magic disaster.” Ivan said.

Fang rolled his eyes and elbowed him. Deserved. 

The few weeks that lasted Bonnet’s absence were a struggle not to start a mutiny. He wasn’t sure they would succeed, but he was tempted. 

Bonnet came back before Ivan could even voice his ideas to Fang.

Ivan did laugh at Fang’s misfortune. Of course the Captain wouldn’t remember his spell. Of course not. 

Maybe the Captain’s real power was just being oblivious. And not dying. A mix of both.

Or maybe just the fact that he was surrounded by this crew was enough to keep him alive.

“It’s your turn, aye?” Buttons asked, as he saw Ivan join him in the helm. 

“To stir, or for the bet?” Ivan said, petting Olivia. She only let him and Buttons do that.

“Both.” Buttons said.

“Yeah, unless Izzy or Edward suddenly get the impulse to try themselves.” Ivan said. “Or you, I guess.”

Buttons gave him the wheel, stepping back. “Nay, I shall be the last resort.” He said. “Everyone else ought to try first.”

“You don’t have a lot of faith in me, do you?” Ivan asked. 

“In you? Yes.” Buttons said. Then, a dramatic pause. “In the Captain? No.”

Ivan laughed. “Fair enough. Could you tell the Captain to come up here? I have something planned.”

“I wish ye the best of luck.” Buttons said, before going down to talk to the Captain. Olivia took her chance and perched on his head. Somehow, she didn’t fall. Ivan always fell when he tried that with Fang. 

Captain Bonnet came a few minutes later, and only found a raven at the wheel.

He frowned, looking around. “Ivan? Did you leave the wheel unattended?” Then, he muttered to himself. “I thought crows didn’t go so far into the sea…” 

“Pretty boy!” He croaked. No, fuck, that’s not what Ivan had meant to croak. “Dipshit! Dipshit!” Not that! Come on, stupid bird vocal cords, work properly.

Stede took a step back, amused. “I didn’t know crows could talk!” Ivan was a raven, not a crow, thank you very much. “I don’t know whether to feel flattered or insulted, though.”

Of course the Captain would attempt to strike up casual conversation with a bird. “Dipshit! Watch me! Watch me!” 

Finally, the right words. 

Ivan flew down the wheel, transforming back. The Captain screamed, jumping back. 

And falling down the stairs. 

“Oh, fuck.” Ivan said. “You ok, Captain?” 

The Captain didn’t reply. At least he wasn’t bleeding.

“Oh fuck,” Ivan repeated. “Please don’t be dead.”

It was just his luck, that at that moment, Jim walked up to the deck. 

“¿Qué cojones…?” They muttered to themselves, as they approached. “The fuck did you do?” They knelt to check on the Captain.

“Please tell me he’s still alive.” Ivan pleaded. 

“He is.” Jim said. Ivan deflated with relief. Then Jim slapped the Captain. “He’s not waking up, though.”

“Ed’s gonna kill me.” Ivan muttered. 

“Nah, you’ll be fine.” Jim said, “now come on and help me drag him down to Roach’s.”

Izzy saw them carry an unconscious Captain bellow deck, and just gave out the most tired sigh Ivan has ever heard. “I’ll be on helm, making sure you idiots don’t run aground. Again.” He gestured towards Stede. “Don’t get him killed, alright?”

“Well, head wounds tend to bleed a lot, but in my expert’s opinion you should be fine and dandy, Captain.” Roach said. “As long as you don’t have memory problems.”

Stede was sitting in a stool, letting Roach examine his head. Ivan was watching from a few steps away, glad the Captain had finally woken up. And he seemed fine. Mostly fine. The blood had been a bit concerning.

“I don’t remember tripping.” Stede said. “Sorry I gave you such a fright, but I feel fine. Honestly.” 

“Oh thank lord.” Ivan mumbled under his breath. Fang patted him on the back. 

“Well, if you notice anything weird let me know.” Roach said. “And watch where you’re going, Captain.”

“I will, I will.” Stede said, standing to leave. “Gosh, this is embarrassing. Sorry for the fright, everyone.”

He left, and Ivan didn’t know whether to feel annoyed that he hadn’t succeeded, or glad he didn’t have to worry about Ed going for his head.

“Who’s next on the bet list?” Lucius asked, having been watching the whole time.

“You’re just assuming I lost?” Ivan said.

“Yep.” Jim said. “Next one’s either Buttons, Edward, or Izzy.”

Lucius made a face. “I don’t want Dizzy gaining bragging rights. He doesn’t deserve them.”

“Izzy would rather throw himself overboard than partake in the bet.” Fang said, amused. “But Captain Ed is going to force him, anyways. Unless Buttons goes first.”

“Buttons told me he was going to go last.” Ivan said.

“Oh, well.” Lucius muttered. “This better be amusing at least”

Ivan couldn’t agree more.

Chapter Text

Israel Hands was a human. Anyone who dared imply otherwise would be thrown overboard, perhaps with a few stab wounds before that.

Of course, this was a lie. 

Izzy had been telling that lie since he was able of speech. 

Israel was five, standing on his tip toes, and looking out of the window of the living room. There were kids down in the streets, kicking a ball around, joking and laughing. Israel wanted to join them.

But that would imply putting on his bandages and that would make him stiff and uncomfy.

A hand grabbed him by the wings and pulled him back, away from the view. He fell down, and came face to face to his father.

“Foolish twat!” The man said, slamming the window close. “Were you dropped in your head as a child?!”

“I was just watching!” Israel complained. “I didn’t break any rules!”

His father grabbed his face shutting him up. “If I catch you looking out any fucking windows with your fucking wings all in view, I will make sure you never fly, boy.” He pushed him away. “They–” he gestured towards the window. “–would do so much worse than me.”

“I’m sorry.” Israel muttered. “I won’t do it again.”

“You better be.” His father said, then spat on the ground. “Now bind your wings, you don’t want to end up like your mother.”

Israel’s mother made him sit with her once a month, to preen his wings and get rid of dead feathers. Always at night, always when father was asleep. She was quick, too. 

“Mom,” Israel once asked, in a low whisper, when he was ten years old. “What am I?”

His mother’s hands stopped for a second, before returning to her duty. “My angel. That’s what you are.”

Israel scoffed. “Angels have white wings. And they’re pure and untouchable.”

“Well, some angels choose to take the wings of birds they specially like.” His mother explained. 

“Well, then? What bird am I?” Israel asked, almost forgetting to be quiet. 

His mother laughed, and it sounded like the songs of birds outside his window. “You’re my little sparrow.”

“Were you a sparrow too?” Israel said.

He’d seen his mother’s back, once. There were no wings left, just jagged lines going down. They looked painful. 

His mother didn’t reply for a few seconds. “I was a sparrow, too. And I flew high and far.”

Israel could only hope to do the same.

“You’re a growing boy.” His mom said, helping him wrap the bandages around him. “Your wings are just going faster than the rest of you.”

Israel was fifteen, and he had his few belongings in a bag beneath his bed. “I should just cut them off and be done with it.” He muttered. 

“Don’t.” His mother said. “Not yet. You have time, still.” Her hands trembled a bit when she finished with the bandages. “There, put on a shirt and no one will notice.”

He grabbed his shirt, and put it on. Indeed, he looked normal. Even though his wings ached underneath it.

“Mom, why did you marry father?” He asked, instead of what he wanted to ask. Why did they take your wings?

“Your father was a kind man who offered me safety.” His mother told him.

“Yeah, well, he’s a right on dick now.” Israel said.

“Israel!” His mother chastised. “Language!” She hit him with a piece of cloth and he laughed, in short chirps. “Now, really. Your father wasn’t that bad. Besides, you need to learn this sooner rather than later. Safety comes at a cost, and sometimes it’s a husband who might not show how much he loves us.”

“He doesn’t.” Israel said, as if it was an easy thing to say.

His mother sighed. “He just wants what’s best for you.” She patted his shoulder. “Now go along, bring me some bread on your way back home, will you?”

“Yeah, mom, I will.” Israel said.

Then, he retrieved the bag from beneath his bed and left his house for good. 

He’d expected it to be worse. The hiding part. In a ship, filled with men that all slept in the same place, and risking any injury that could reveal his secret to a ship doctor. It seemed near impossible not to get found out.

But Israel was many things, and a pigheaded fool was one of them. 

He slept always with his clothes on, wings wrapped underneath, and he never took his shirt off. He learnt fast and stood out of everyone’s way, specially the captain’s. He blended in.

And, during encounters with pirates, he made sure that anyone who got to close to him would regret it.

His time in the navy was cut short by one Captain Benjamin Hornigold. He’d gotten little choice, join his crew, or die.

Israel liked being alive a lot, thank you very much.

It wasn’t as big of a change to him. Same hiding, more fighting, better captain. Well. The expectations were low, but in the navy they had been dead and buried. 

Some old fool took a look at him and decided he’d be handy with a sword.

He’d regret it, years later, when Israel would cut him down with no remorse during a mutiny.

Of course, before the thought of mutinying even dared appear in Israel’s head, he met Edward.

He was a few years younger than Israel, and only a few inches shorter. He didn’t have a beard yet. His knee hadn’t gotten fucked up yet. 

Instead, he was young and a bit of an idiot.

And yet a complete genius. 

“Hey, Izzy, right?” Edward said, as he approached him one day. He had a faint stubble of a beard starting to grow. 

“It’s Israel.” Israel corrected, mildly annoyed. 

Edward, the prat, made a disgusted face. “Nah. Izzy suits you better.” He said. “Anyways, I need your help.”

“Doing what?” Israel asked.

“I’ve had an idea for the next raid, and I know Hornigold will be a bitch and not let me do it.” Ed said. “So… you have access to the gunpowder, right?”

Izzy sighed. This kid was going to get them all killed.

Fuckeries, that’s what they named them. The stunts that had started with loud booming sounds and contained explosions to confuse the enemy evolved to making them shit their pants so hard, they wouldn’t get a chance to survive.

Hornigold was still a twat, but he seemed content to let Edward and Izzy do their thing, as long as it worked.

One of these days, Izzy was going to throw him overboard. The bastard would deserve it.

Today was not one of those days, however. Today was probably the day Izzy died.

Maybe it sounded a bit exaggerated, but when one has been stabbed through the side–through his wings, too–, one does tend to exaggerate a bit.

This raid was supposed to be easy and fast.

Edward wasn’t the first to notice, but he was probably the only one to care.

He nudged him, “You’re bleeding.”

“No shit.” Izzy said, holding a hand to his side. He needed to get to an empty room and deal with it on his own.

“Where’s the doctor?” Ed asked, looking around.

Izzy pointed to the reddening waves. Ed made a grimace, then shrugged. 

“Come on” he grabbed his arm. “I’ll help you with it.”

“Fuck off.” Izzy said. “I’ll deal with it on my own.”

“And get an infection?” Ed asked. “No thanks, you’re one of the few fuckers in this ship that I like, you’re not allowed to die due to stupid shit.”

He dragged him down to the galley. It was just them. Edward gathered a few rags and a bowl of (probably) clean water. He settled it down in front of Izzy, and made him sit down.

“I’ll take it from here, you can go.” Izzy said, trying to sound casual.

Ed huffed. “In your dreams. Take of your shirt.”

“No, get out, I’ll deal with it myself.” Izzy said.

“Look, Iz, you’re not able of reaching your back, just let me help.” Ed said. “I don’t care that you used to be a girl, ok? I don’t judge.”

Izzy choked on nothing. “The fuck? I’m not a girl, Edward.”

“Yeah, I know that, it’s not what–” Ed sighed. “Look, I don’t care if you have tits, we still need to deal with this shit, you’re loosing blood.”

“I don’t have tits, you twat.” Izzy said. “Why would you even think that.”

“Alright then, if you don’t have boobs, then take off your shirt.” Edward challenged.

This was it. Edward was going to kill him. Well. Better him than Hornigold.

Israel shrugged off his shirt, biting down a wince as it pulled on his wound. He undid the bindings on his wings and, for the first time in months, let them extend and relax.

Ed stared at him for a few seconds, blinking, as his brain processed the information. Izzy had his sword by him, if he tried anything.

Instead of attacking him, Edward looked around the room. “One second, mate.” He said, before going to push a barrel in front of the door. “There. No interruptions.” He looked pleased with himself. “Now let’s see to your bleeding.”

Izzy allowed him to patch him up, hand still by his sword. Not because of Ed, but because anyone could try come in, and he wasn’t sure the barrel would stop them.

After a few moments of silence, Ed finished wrapping the bandages around his torso. “Can I–?”

“Yes, you can touch them.” Izzy said. “Just. To check on the wound, nothing more.”

“Right.” Ed said, grabbing his wing by the upper edge. He was gentle, or as gentle as pirates could be, but Izzy couldn’t help but seize up. No one had touched his wings since his mother. “This might sting.” Ed warned, as if Izzy didn’t know already.

He was quick, at least, in cleaning the wound. It’s not like he could bandage it, anyways.

“All done here.” Ed said, throwing away the bloody rag he’d used to clean it. “Do you need help hiding them again?”

“No.” Israel said. And then, after a beat. “Thank you.”

Edward patted him on the back. “It’s nothing, don’t mention it.”

So Izzy didn’t.

A few weeks later, they were on the crow’s nest. It was during a night watch, and it was quiet and peaceful.

Then, Edward nudged him, and pointed out to the sea. “See that?”

Izzy looked to where he was pointing, squinting. There was something coming out of the water, too small to be a whale, but not with the shape of a ship. A shipwreck? Then it moved, its tentacles pulling out of the water momentarily, and sank again.

“That’s me.” Ed said, eerily calm. “I’m the Kraken.”

It was at that moment, Israel knew, he’d follow him to the end of the world.

They mutinied not long after. Hornigold had been avoiding British navy ships like a coward, so it wasn’t hard to get half the crew to agree to it. 

Izzy stood next to Blackbeard as he proclaimed himself Captain, daring anyone to speak out against him. Then, he griped Izzy’s shoulder, and declared him first mate. 

That was the start of Blackbeard.

There were good days, and there were bad days. Days where the weather was calm, and they sailed quickly and without issue. Days where the storms were almost as bad as Blackbeard’s moods. Days where raids went without issue, and Blackbeard was the one who celebrated the most, and days where they lost half the crew and Blackbeard was too busy celebrating to notice.

The worse days were when Blackbeard wouldn’t get out of his bed, no matter what Izzy said or did. Those days, Izzy picked up the slack, and waited for next morning to get him out of those moods even if it meant dragging him out of it yelling and screaming.

“You said we needed more men, so there you go.” Blackbeard said, as he helped Izzy bind his wings again. “And they have magic. That seems interesting enough.”

“I don’t like magic.” Izzy grumbled. He didn’t like he’d been stupid enough to lower his guard to the point of being found. He was supposed to be better.

Edward tsked. “You don’t like a lot of things, do you?” 

I like you, Izzy thought, but didn’t say.

Then Israel Hands met Stede Fucking Bonnet, and it all went downhill from there.

His crew was a bunch of useless fuckers, openly flaunting how little humanity they had. How the pathetic excuse of a Captain hadn’t noticed yet was a mystery to Izzy. Anyone with a pair of eyes could see it.

But Blackbeard found it exhilarating, so Izzy let him have his fun. He’d get over the Captain, and the crew, eventually. He always did. 

He got over grooming Izzy’s wings quick enough. He had to do it himself these days.

But he didn’t seem to be getting over Bonnet, no matter how much he promised he was planning on killing him. No matter how Izzy offered to do it for him, so he didn’t have to break his clean slate. 

So Israel did what he did best, and lashed out.

Izzy didn’t dwell on his stupid life choices. It had happened, he’d been an idiot, he’d payed the price.

Maybe things would’ve been better if the crew had successfully thrown him overboard. Maybe everyone would be happier if he’d drowned that day.

Sparrows are not good swimmers, as far as Izzy was aware.

But what happened couldn’t be changed, so Izzy kept going, even after Bonnet came back and fixed the mess Iz had made.

He’d expected to be killed, or at least kicked out, but Edward let him stay. 

Edward, not Blackbeard, because Blackbeard was dead. Just like the Kraken.

Well, one Kraken. Izzy sometimes spotted the other one, during night watches.

Izzy would never admit this out loud, but Bonnet somehow managed to be semi decent. The crew learnt some fucking skills–fucking finally–, and they were able to survive, without starving in the process.

Edward went back to dragging him belowdeck to groom his wings. It was better than before, even if the rest of the crew was there to mock him.

Most times they ignored him.

It was fine. He would never say it out loud, but it was fine.

“You gotta tell him, Iz, it’s your turn.” Ed said. Right. The stupid bet.

“I don’t want to win the bet.” Izzy said. He was busy with the rigging, he didn’t need Edward pestering him about Bonnet.

“Mate, wouldn’t it be way nicer to just tell him? Everyone else knows.” Edward insisted. “This way you get to unbind while we’re in open seas. That’d be more comfortable, I bet.”

“Everyone else is not human.” Izzy said. “I don’t want your spoiled boyfriend knowing about me, he already hates me enough.”

“He doesn’t hate you–” Izzy shot him a look. “Well, at least not enough to kill you. And the wings wouldn’t make him hate you any more.”

“Well if you’re so sure of that, why don’t you tell him about yourself, then?” Izzy prodded. Before Ed could reply, he continued. “Oh, I see, it’s so if he turns out to be a bitch, like we all know he will, it will be directed towards me, not towards his darling boyfriend.”

Blackbeard would’ve punched him for that comment. Maybe thrown him overboard and watch him struggle before telling someone to lend him a rope. Maybe even stabbed him, if he was feeling particularly bloody.

Edward looked angry, but all he did was clench his fist, breathe slowly, and unclench it. Damn that Stede Bonnet.

“Look, Iz, just– try? Please? For me?” He asked. “If  you don’t succeed, I promise I’ll be next, I just– I can’t right now. I’m not ready.”

Izzy gritted his teeth. “Fine.” He spat out. “But if he kills me, it’ll be your fault.” 

As if Bonnet could ever overpower him in a fight without cheating.

Israel walked inside Bonnet’s cabin without knocking. He knew Edward was outside, so there was no risk of catching them buggering. Again. 

Bonnet looked up from his book–because of course he was reading instead of doing any kind of work–and his expression immediately soured.

“Israel.” He said. He’d dropped the Iggy nickname a few weeks ago, a strange attempt to be more ‘civil’. “Do you need anything?”

Izzy froze. He felt too aware of the wings neatly folded against his back–Frenchie and Wee John, two of the few useful crew members, had made him a piece of clothing that compressed them without hurting as much. ‘Binder’ they had called it. 

Bonnet kept staring at him, waiting. Izzy just had to say something, take off his shirt and be done with it.

But he couldn’t. Bonnet would kill him, or kick him out, or take them from him.

Or even worse, he might pity him. Oh, poor Iggy, with wings too big and no knowledge of how to fly. He’d ask for a fucking feather, probably.

“If Edward asks, I pulled a strange prank on you.” Izzy said, in the end, because it was better than the alternative. “And when you tried to ask me about it I got cross and stormed off. Got it?”

Stede blinked, confused. “I– yes? Is everything alright, Izzy?”

“Everything’s fucking fine.” Izzy said, and stormed off the Captain’s cabin.

He would rather endure mocking from the crew than this.

“Izzy lost the bet.” He overheard Fang say.

“Oh thank fucking god.” Lucius said, genuinely relieved. “He’d be insufferable with bragging rights.”

So would you, twat, Izzy thought.

He climbed the crow’s nest and decided to ignore the world for a while. 

Fucking Stede Bonnet, and fucking useless twats of a crew.

Chapter Text

Edward Teach was indeed born on a beach.

Perhaps more extraordinarily, at the same time of his birth, a creature deep down in the oceans woke up for the first time in decades.

The days his father was away working and his mother had some time to spare, Edward was brought out to the beach to play and swim.

He picked up shells to present them to his mother, and she kept all of them, hiding them underneath her bed so his father wouldn’t throw them out. He chased seagulls around, watching them fly. They made sand structures–castles, homes, animals… a boat, once– and watched them come apart when the tide got to them.

Edward’s mother taught him how to swim, and since then it was a struggle to keep him away from the water.

One day, as it was getting late, the sun setting over the ocean, Edward saw a shape, in the distance, almost as if it was watching him. 

His mother gave him a spare piece of silk, red as the blood spilt behind closed doors. It was soft, and precious, and all the things Ed would never be able to afford.

He would keep it. They didn’t get soft things, but maybe he could get this one thing.

The night he met the Kraken, his father had been screaming, breath smelling of alcohol, and Edward had scurried away before he hit him twice.

Somehow, he had made his way to the docks. He should’ve been going back, to wait for his mother to call him back inside.

Yet he kept walking until he reached the water. The waves reflected the moonlight in an entrancing way, and Edward wanted to scream.

So he sat at the edge of the water, and tried to breathe.

It was then, when the creature approach. Ed didn’t notice at first, and when he did, he wasn’t afraid.

It wouldn’t hurt him, Edward knew this.

Maybe he should’ve been afraid, if not of the monster, of the fact that he knew exactly what it was feeling and what it wanted. Any reasonable person would’ve run away by now.

So, Ed, naturally, reached out to him.

The Kraken submerged and disappeared before he could even brush it.

It appeared, a few more times, whenever it felt like it. Edward could see it from the beach, but his mother never seemed to spot it. 

They’d been going less and less, lately. His father had lost his job and his mom had been working harder to try make more money. Ed spent most of his days helping in the piers, getting almost nothing in return.

It was only after his father was lying on the docks, the rope around his neck slack and his eyes open and unmoving, that Ed realized his hands were trembling.

He’d stopped feeling them, at some point.

He knew it was watching. It’d been watching the whole time and it’d done nothing. 

The stupid octopus was useless, so Edward had taken matters into his own hands.

And now what? His mother would hate him, they would hang him for this if they found out, he didn’t have anywhere to go. 

Ed hadn’t thought this far.

The water moved by the pier, and the stupid useless Kraken came out. It was sad, and Edward despised the fact that he knew so.

He wanted to spit out some choice words at it, but nothing came out. The Kraken reached out to him, and Edward flinched back. It didn’t attempt to touch him again.

Instead, it grabbed the corpse of his father, and pulled it into the water bellow.

Days later, they still wouldn’t have found the body. Everyone assumed he’d drowned, too drunk to remember how to swim.

The body was never found.

The first boat he boarded was a small merchant ship, with a crew that looked down on him and a Captain that ignored him as long as he didn’t fuck anything up.

So Edward kept to the sides, observing the men around the ship do their duties, and learning.

Edward had always been a fast learner.

His stay on the ship was cut short by none other than Captain Ben Hornigold, who Ed would soon discover to be also a bitch, but at least a competent one, at first.

Hornigold might have been the bigger fucker to ever exist, but he taught Ed some tricks. Not enough to spare his life down the line, but enough to be worth a mention.

The Kraken followed Ed no matter in which ship he was. It was a somewhat comforting sight during night watches. No one else seemed to be able of seeing it.

It took Ed an embarrassing amount of time to realize that whenever he started feeling murderous, or feeling like hiding away in a quiet room and crying to himself, the sky seemed to turn grey and it poured down on the ship relentlessly.

It was only when he was upset, though, proven by the amount of storms and rain he’d had to deal with that interrupted the happy–happy-ish, because how happy can you be in a pirate ship?–days Ed had.

He noted it down, and wondered if he’d ever find out why. If his mother was still alive, he’d ask her, but that was no longer an option.

Edward could probably separate his life in three pieces. Before he met Izzy Hands, after he met that bastard (and before he met Stede), and after he met Stede.

The first time he noticed Izzy was for his plan. He’d had it brewing for weeks, he just needed a little bit of gunpowder and flair. He even had a few of the other crew members on board. 

Edward could’ve asked Hornigold, but that would defeat the whole point of impressing the fucker into giving him a promotion.

So he turned into Israel Hands, and didn’t regret it. For a while.

He named them fuckeries. They consisted of a mix of acting, explosions, and various tactics to make the ship they raided shit their pants.

Sure, some of the explosives didn’t go off as planned, and a lot of the crew treated it as a joke and ruined part of it, but it was a success in the end. Ed would polish the details later.

Hornigold had been mad, for a split second, before barking out a laugh and clapping Edward on the shoulder. ‘Keep up the good work and I’ll let you do that again’ he had said, and Ed hoped he kept his word on that one.

Oh, well, if he didn’t, Ed would do it again anyways.

Getting shot in the stomach was very painful, Ed noted. Getting shot in the stomach, falling overboard and drowning was even worse. 

Probably.

Edward wouldn’t know for sure, for he wasn’t drowning. He was quite fine, actually. In fact, his stomach hurt less, now that he was underwater.

He observed the raid that was still going up above. No one seemed to notice he had fallen off. Good, he could climb back up and get back on to work.

He panicked for a second when something touched him from underneath. Looking down, it was the Kraken. It was pushing him upwards.

“I can swim just fine, jackass” Ed said, or tried to say, since he was underwater, and talking underwater is quite hard.

He climbed up the side of the ship and rejoined the fight.

Later, he would check his stomach, and the only think left would be a new scar to the collection. Even later, he would find out that a swim at the sea would still not fix his fucked up knee.

Another thing to add to the list of questions he would like to ask his mother.

Ed had been fairly certain Izzy was a woman, or had been, at some point.

It was a jump to conclusions, but the guy never took off his shirt, and he was fairly short.

Of course, Edward hadn’t foreseen the second hidden option, that was wings. Beautiful brown wings that Ed wanted to run his hands through and feel the softness.

It got Edward thinking. He wasn’t the only one. He was a whatever, connected to the sea, a child of the sea or however you wanted to call it, and Iz was a bird-man, angel, dude with wings. If Iz existed, and Ed existed, there could be more people like them. Different.

Edward needed to get his hands on his own ship earlier than planned.

The concept of a mutiny, although always present in the back of their minds, wasn’t considered as a possibility until one night, amidst drunk quarreling.

“Fucking hells.” Ed said, after too many cups of rum. “We all know Hornigold is a bastard, what else is new?”

“He’s not going after the British navy.” Someone–Ed was to drunk to bother differentiating people–said. A ‘coward’ was muttered by someone else.

“What if we kill him?” Ed said, his mouth going faster than his brain.

“That’s mutiny.” A bright idiot said.

“So?” Ed said. “I bet we could take him. Ain’t that right, Iz?”

He nudged Izzy, who was half asleep–lightweight–until he replied. “Fucking hells, yes we can mutiny if you want, Ed, but let me fucking sleep now.”

Ed laughed, and gestured to the crew. “Come on, we’re all tired of his shit. Let’s just kill the fucker and be done with it.”

There was a murmur of agreement among the rest. Someone said to leave it for the morning, and Ed was happy to let that happen. He wanted a nap.

Izzy was the one to kill Hornigold in the end. Ed had wanted to do it, at first, but when the moment came he could only stare at the bastard with shaking hands and feel the storm clouds starting to gather.

Israel ripped his throat open, and Hornigold bled out at their feet.

Then, Blackbeard proclaimed himself Captain, and dared anyone to defy him. No one did, so he chose a First Mate and decided to bring some changes to how things were done.

Hornigold had been so fucking boring, man.

It was great during the first years. They perfected Fuckeries, and Blackbeard was the biggest of them all. The crew respected him, and he didn’t have to finish his kills, Izzy had it covered. 

The Kraken barely appeared anymore, but Blackbeard didn’t care. It meant he was doing things right, right?

He got a better crew, one that had people like them. The rest of the crew couldn’t know, but Blackbeard made sure to reunite them bellow decks every once in a while to let them be. He tried to do it regularly, but time was an illusion.

But then things started getting… bland. Sure, Blackbeard was fun, and his reputation preceded him, but what was the point of being Blackbeard if everyone just gave up upon sight?

He tried flying a different flag to trick ships, or going after bigger targets. Izzy argued with him, the bastard thought he was trying to get them killed. He wasn’t! He wasn’t.

Blackbeard just wanted something more. Otherwise he’d spend days in bed, or staring at a wall, simply waiting for the next ship that had the balls to fight him.

And everyday everything was the same, and everyday he fought more with Izzy, and everyday the crew just stared at him with adoration and fear. It was so fucking monotonous.

Ed needed a fucking break.

Blackbeard lied, sinking into the ocean, feeling his skin reattach at his neck. The sword hadn’t gone quite through, but it still hurt like a bitch.

He sighed, and waited for the Kraken to come. It always did, pushing him to the surface.

Blackbeard waited, and waited, until his wound was healed. Not even a scar was left.

And still the Kraken didn’t come.

“So you agree too?” Ed mumbled. “This fucking sucks.”

Blackbeard climbed the side of the ship, scaring the shit out of everyone, including his own crew. He just smiled, and rejoined the fight.

“Never do that fucking trick again.” Izzy told him, later, once they were alone in a secluded clearing. “I thought you fucking died.”

“Not sure if I can do that.” Blackbeard said, passing his fingers through Izzy’s wings, pulling out the dead feathers. They should do this more often, but Izzy was becoming more of a bitch with every passing day. 

“You better not.” Izzy threatened.

A crow flied over their heads, watching them.

“Huh. I didn’t know crows were native to this island.” Ed muttered.

“What the fuck are you on about now?”

One day, Izzy came back talking about some idiot aristocrat who was trying to be a pirate, the Gentleman Pirate, and Blackbeard thought ‘now that’s something new’.

The rest is history.

This ship was fucking bonkers. Two chandeliers?? Replacing the gunpowder for marmalade? Bookshelves? The crew was bonkers, too, none of them human–Blackbeard had purposely looked for the most non-human crew posible, but  even he never had the nonhumans be the majority–, and sure, they were a bit weird around him, but it was fine. 

And the Captain.

Stede Bonnet was the most insane man Blackbeard had met in a while. He had a secret auxiliary closet! 

Edward could see the allure of all the things he had. The fancy clothes, the nice food, all the things he never thought he’d get.

Maybe it wasn’t too late for Blackbeard to retire…

 Ok, there had been a slight change of plans.

Blackbeard couldn’t kill this man. He couldn’t let Izzy kill him, either.

Edward was screwed.

“You wear fine things well” Stede had told him, once, after causing an entire ship to go up in flames with a mere few words.

As he retired for the night, Ed caught the sight of the Kraken, with the full moon illuminating it, watching him. Stede didn’t seem to have noticed.
Oh, well, nobody’s perfect.

“Fuck off.” He mumbled, as if the Kraken could hear him. Maybe it did. Who knows. Ed didn’t.

During one of the most panicked inducing moments of his life, as the fake tentacle slammed against the side of the ship, Edward was convinced the Kraken was coming to finish the job and end him for once.

After all the times the sea had helped Ed, it was only a matter of time until it asked for something in return.

Only it wasn’t, and Ed ended up in a bathtub, sobbing his eyes out, and telling Stede–oblivious beautiful Stede fucking Bonnet–about the night he killed his father.

He was the Kraken, and the Kraken was him.

But Stede didn’t run away, or expect him to be the monster Izzy wanted him to be. 

He didn’t have to be the Kraken anymore.

Fucking Izzy. Why did he have to ruin shit.

Of course, Ed supposed he had to blame himself too.

But mostly he blamed Jack. What a fucking asshole, always bringing the worse in him.

At least no one died.

Except the bird. The bird died. It was very sad.

He waited until the sun was raising, before realizing Stede wasn’t coming. Edward was alone.

The Kraken stared at him, as close to the coast as he could. Fucking hells, the last thing Ed needed now was its fucking pity.

So he rowed to the Revenge, and burrowed himself in the Captain’s quarters. They were his, now, since Bonnet had so graciously decided to leave him. 

Ed was hanging off a thread for a day or so. It was… not good. It reminded him of those long days staring at the ceiling and wishing something, anything, would change.
And then Izzy–Ed had forgotten he was there, thought for a moment he had actually gotten thrown overboard–came, and they argued.

Fine. So Izzy wanted Blackbeard back? Fine.

He’d give Iz and the Kraken what they fucking wanted.

The Kraken disappeared, after a while. After Blackbeard threw Lucius overboard and chopped off Izzy’s toe, he didn’t see it again.

He pretended it didn’t bother him, just as he pretended Iz wasn’t limping, or that he didn’t notice the boy scurrying along the ship’s secret passages, or he didn’t see the glares Jiménez sent his way, or that the constant rain and storm nights were just the weather acting up.

It didn’t fucking matter, none of it fucking mattered.

“I did what you wanted.” He said, one night, with a bottle of Stede fucking Bonnet’s fancy whisky in hand. “I became you!” He shouted, at the empty sea. “Come back you bloody bastard! I did what you wanted!”

He threw the empty bottle overboard and watched it sink.

“I did what you wanted.”

It started to rain again.

Stede came back. The Kraken, right behind him, watched over the horizon as they reunited.

Ed didn’t fully remember what they said, that day. It was one hell of a storm, and they fought, then yelled at each other and then cried. He hadn’t realized the rest of the crew were fighting the new recruits until it was over, and he looked around to find a bunch of dead and unconscious pirates. Stede told them to throw them overboard, and so they did.

Meanwhile, Ed and Stede burrowed themselves in the Captain’s quarters and talked. A lot. Explanations were given, apologies accepted, and confessions made.

And Edward could feel the Kraken, out in the waters, finally happy. 

Things weren’t fixed immediately. He apologized to the crew, but they were still upset. He promised to get Stede his books back, and he assured him it was fine, but Ed caught him staring longingly at the bookshelves.

Edward really did have a lot of things to unfuck, didn’t he?

Little by little, they’d be ok.

He knocked on Iz’s door, instead of barreling though as he used to do when they were younger.

“What is it?” Came Izzy’s voice, clearly annoyed.

“It’s me, mate.” Ed said, entering. He closed the door.

Izzy looked at him for a second, and then continued with what he had been doing. Picking his few belongings and depositing them in a sack.

“We’re stopping in Nassau in a few hours.” Iz said. “I’ll be out of your sight by then.”

Edward made a face. “Iz, what happened to us?” He asked.

“I’m not sure what you mean, Captain.” Izzy said.

“Come on, man.” Ed said. “We used to be friends. What happened to that?”

“Bonnet fucking happened.” Izzy said. He hadn’t stopped moving, still folding out his clothes and trying to fit everything in the stupid bag. 

“It was before that.” Ed said. “We both know that.”

“Fine.” Izzy spat out. “Fine, it was before Bonnet, so what? We changed, and I fucked up. I’m leaving now, you can have your stupid happy ever after with your stupid boyfriend in fucking peace.”

“Alright.” Ed said, sighing. “I won’t keep you here if you don’t want to. I’m just–. I came to apologize.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” Izzy said.

“Iz, I fucking amputat–”

“Don’t apologize for that.” Iz said, cutting him off. “I deserved that.” And he said it with such conviction, too.

It made Ed a bit sick to the stomach. “Izzy, what the fuck, no you did not–”

“I sold you out to the fucking British, Ed! I betrayed you for– for what? Safety?” Iz yelled, finally forgoing his stupid sack. “I betrayed my captain, I deserved whatever you gave me and more.”

“Fucking hell.” Edward muttered, once Izzy stopped screaming. “That’s not how it works.”

“It’s how it’s always worked.” Iz said, no longer screaming. He looked tired.

Edward felt tired too. “Things change. You said it, we’ve changed. We can change again.”

“Fine.” Izzy gritted out. “I’ll stay in this fucking ship. Happy?”

“Yeah.” Ed said, “Now, come on, it’s story telling time and you’re participating too.”

“The fuck I am.” Iz said, but Ed was already dragging him out to the deck. 

And now it was Ed’s turn to try win the bet.

Should be easy. Right?

He looked over to the silhouette of the Kraken, watching from far away, and sighed.

“Yes, asshole, I’ll tell him.” He muttered, mostly to himself. When had he started talking to it as if it could hear him? Could it even hear him? “Now fuck off.”

The Kraken did not, in fact, fuck off.

So, instead, Ed walked up to the helm, where Stede was staring out into the sea, in the opposite direction of the Kraken. 

“Hey.” He called, setting next to him.

Stede smiled at him. “Hello, darling.” He leaned a bit into him, “It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?”

Edward looked out to the sea, and the shining stars and the moon. It was almost as beautiful as Stede. “Yeah, it is.” He said. “Do you see that, over there?”

He pointed at the shape of the Kraken, who had swum over to their side of the ship.

Stede narrowed his eyes, looking. For a second, Ed was convinced he saw recognition pass through his eyes, but then Stede turned to him looking confused. “I don’t see anything, dear.”

“Huh.” Ed said. Fucking octopus, can’t you get closer? “Must’ve been a trick of the light.”

“It does look beautiful, reflected in the waters.” Stede said. “Entrancing, even.”

Edward hummed, leaning to his side. “I wanted to speak to you. In private.” 

“We can go back to our cabin if you wish to.” Stede said. 

“No, here is just fine.” Ed said, and then looked at the moon again. “It’s just a quick thing.”

“So?” Prompted Stede. “What is it?”

For a moment, Ed thought about making a dumb joke, or saying anything else. But that would imply being a coward, and Edward was many things, but a coward was not one of them.

“Do you remember your first fuckery?” He asked.

“Oh, yes, it was wonderful.” Stede said, smiling at the memories. “The crew did such a good job! I was very proud of them.”

“And you remember the conversation? At the bathtub?” Ed continued.

Stede’s smile wavered. “Yes. I do. Why?”

“Because, well, when I said I was the Kraken, I meant it.” Ed said. “I am the Kraken and the Kraken is me. We’re connected, always have been.” He paused trying to find the words. “It’s just in my nature, I can’t really explain–”

“Ed, darling,” Stede cut him off, laying a gentle hand on his arm. “You’re not the Kraken. Your mistakes do not define you.”

“That’s not what I–” Ed tried to say, a bit choked up.

But Stede only hugged him, pressed him tight to his chest and said. “You’re not a monster. You never were.”

“Fuck– Stede.” He said, trying not to cry. 

‘You idiot’ he wanted to say, but that wouldn’t be fair. The Kraken looked at them, and he knew it was amused. Fucking bastard.

“Come on.” Stede said, using one of his fancy handkerchiefs to dry Ed’s tears. “Let’s go to our cabin and talk about it there, alright?”

“It’s fine, I’m fine.” Ed said. “I was just–” He sniffled, and leaned into Stede’s hand as he cupped his cheek. “Nothing, forget about it.”

Stede sighed. “If that’s what you wish, my dear.” He pressed a quick kiss to Ed’s lips. “I love you, alright?”

Ed smiled, feeling a bit foolish. “I love you too.” He muttered. “Let’s go to sleep?”

In the morning, Ed went down to the kitchen and sat at the table with the others. For once, the kitchen was dead silent, apart from the scrape of utensils against the dishes.

“…So?” Lucius broke the silence. “Did you tell him?”

Ed sighed. “I tried.” There was a pause, as everyone waited for him to continue. “Yeah, no, he didn’t figure it out.”

Frenchie grumbled something under his breath, and passed Jim a few coins. Then, he nudged Wee John to do the same. Jim only gave them a cocky grin, and split the money with Oluwande.

“Heck yeah.” Pete said, looking smug. “That means we can try again!”

“What about Buttons?” Ivan said. “He hasn’t tried yet.”

“Well, I mean, yeah.” Lucius said. “But do you expect him to win? He’s not gonna succeed at this.” He looked over at Mr Buttons. “Sorry.”

Buttons shrugged. “It’s ok.” He continued eating his breakfast and ignored the rest of the conversation.

“If Buttons fails, can I be the next one?” The Swede asked.

“I thought we were going in order.” Said Olu. “Like, same order as before.”

“I wouldn’t mind going sooner.” Roach said. “I’ve had time to rehearse a way of telling the Captain in my head several times.”

“No, I’m going first.” Lucius said. “I’m the one that’s been waiting the most for his turn!” 

“Yeah, it’s only fair.” Pete said. He turned to Ed. “Right, Captain?”

Ed cleaned the bread crumbs from his beard. “Yeah, that makes sense.” He said. “If Buttons fails, then we go back in the same order and try again. He’s bound to find out in the end, right?”

The crew gave out a series of mumbles, but most of them seemed content. Or at least content enough not to start a mutiny.

Ed guessed that was enough.

Chapter Text

Nathaniel Buttons was born in Scotland, and for most of his childhood, he was happy.

Karl had accompanied him since he was three, and the bird was just a small grey chick.

Buttons missed him very much, but he and Olivia were healing. They would be alright.

He waited for the full moon. For good luck. And because it was the day before the talent show.

The crew, like actors the day before a play aired, had all collected bellow deck, in a panicked attempt of last hour practice. Even though they’d been practicing for a week. 

With everyone in the same place, Buttons decided it was his best shot.

He left Olivia at the helm. She could manage on her own.

The first day he had sailed with Stede Bonnet, the man had taken Buttons and happily showed him all his secret passages and hiding spots. He had been informed, in between excited rambles of the lavish lifes of pirates, that he’d made them so they’d connect to all parts of the ship. A few weeks later, Buttons would find out they were meant for his children, who hadn’t ended up coming with him.

Good. Pirate ships were no place for children.

“Captain?” He asked, entering Stede’s cabin. “Are you awake?”

The Captain shot up from bed, trying to make it seem as if he had been. And failing. Miserably. 

“Yes, yes, of course, do you need anything?” He said, putting on his robe.

Captain Edward turned in his sleep, muttering something unintelligible. 

Buttons tried to whisper as to not wake him up. “There’s something you need to see, Captain.” 

Stede frowned. “Really? It’s so late, though.” He fought back a yawn. “Can’t it wait ’til morning?”

“‘M afraid not, sir.” Buttons said. “Come, we better use the secret passages.” 

He started walking, as the Captain followed behind him. “It must be serious if we’re using those.” Stede mumbled, mostly to himself. 

He blew out the light of his lamp, and gestured the Captain to look through the small gaps on the wood.

It was the small room next to the entertainment area. In there, the rest of the crew had sat around, in boxes or barrels–or in barrels, if you were the Swede–, and were just chatting lowly, practicing their talent. Or at least that seemed to be at first glance.

The only exception seemed to be Izzy, who was trying to ignore everyone and sleep, to no avail. He was in a hammock, using his wings as an extra blanket underneath an old one that was pocketed with holes.

Right in front of Izzy, their backs turned to him, were Lucius and Pete. Lucius was holding his cards, trying to perfect his magic tricks, and Pete was holding on to his arm, looking at Frenchie with fear in his eyes.

Because Frenchie, who was next to Lucius, was juggling fire. 

Wee John was napping, alongside Ivan, both of them content to be in their less than human forms. The Swede was making flower crowns, occasionally asking Olu to grow another flower from the wooden planks. So far, Olu, Jim and Fang all had flower crowns. 

And Roach was staring at Frenchie, holding his knifes, looking unimpressed. 

“I already said juggling was my talent.” Roach said. 

“Yeah, yeah, mate I know that.” Frenchie said, still juggling. “I’m just saying, it would be so much more awesome if you added fire to it.”

Roach seemed to consider it for a second. “I don’t think I can recover from fire. Never tried it, though.”

“See? He doesn’t like fire.” Pete said, still holding onto Lucius. “Now can you please stop?”

Frenchie kept juggling. “I’m not gonna burn you mate, I’m too good at this to even drop them.”

And then he promptly dropped one, that would have set fire to the ship had Lucius not caught it mid air. 

“There.” Lucius said. “Now please stop before you give Pete a heart attack. Wait.” He frowned, and turned to Pete. “Do you have a heart?”

Pete shrugged. “I dunno, a wooden one? Maybe?”

“There’s one way to find out.” Jim said, playing with their knives. They made a motion of stabbing someone and pulling something out. “Investigate.”

Pete gulped. “No thanks.” He said, with a small voice.

“I’ll give you a flower crown if you stop with the fire.” The Swede said. He was already starting a new one, this time with daisies. 

Frenchie seemed to consider it. “Deal.” Then, he turned to blow the flames off, and instead of the desired effect, the fire amplified into a gust. 

Pete shrieked, hiding behind Lucius, who was unfazed by it. 

“Shit.” Frenchie said. “Um… Izzy? Your blanket’s on fire.”

Izzy, who had almost–almost!– fallen asleep, let out a confused ‘what’, and then jumped out of his hammock, cursing very loudly. He stepped on his blanket several times, even after the fire died out. “You fucking twats!” He said, as everyone laughed. “Stop playing with fire, we’re on a fucking wooden ship!”

“Sorry.” Frenchie said, looking sheepish. Wee John nuzzled into him, comforting him. 

“Here” Fang said, and then dumped a bunch of snow into Frenchie’s fireballs. “Fixed.”

Ivan turned human, quickly, upon seeing snow. “Can I get a pile, please?” He asked. And, as soon as Fang complied, he turned back into a raven and started playing in it.

“See, guys?” Roach said. “This is why my talent is better.” As to demonstrate, he started juggling his knives, successful for a few seconds, until one pierced through his hand. “Aw, man. I’m gonna need help stitching this up.”

“I’ll do it.” Olu said, standing up from where he had being, lying his head on Jim’s lap. “I’ll go get the stuff, it’s in the galley, right?”

“Yep.” Roach said, still playing with the knife that was poking out his hand.

As Olu moved, he passed right in front of where Buttons and Stede were, and Stede took a small step back.

And then tripped and fell on his ass.

“You ok, Captain?” Buttons said, not bothering to whisper. Olu had already heard them.

“Yeah, yes! Yes, of course!” Stede said, not convincingly at all. “I just– I need– I need to go talk to Ed. Real quick. I’ll be, eh, I’ll be back.”

The Captain rose from his feet, and, with minimal stumbling, made his way back to were they’d come from. Buttons, on the other hand, opened the secret passage and stepped out with the rest.

“What the fuck was that.” Lucius was the first one to ask.

“That, my dear laddie,” said Buttons, “was me winning the bet.”

“Wait.” Jim said. “If you’re here, and the captains are asleep… who the fuck is at the helm?”

“Olivia is.” Buttons responded. 

Then, as soon as he finished saying that, the ship shook from side to side. 

Oh well. They’d run aground again.

Chapter Text

Stede Bonnet was born in Barbados, to a very unkind father.

But that doesn’t matter. 

What matters is, that ever since Stede was a child, the nice lady in the cemetery with cold fingers would listen to him talk for hours on end, both of them sitting by a well kept grave. And she would fix his messy hair and tie his shoes, and Stede would bring her flowers so she could put them in the grave.

What matters is, that when Stede was ten, someone asked him what he was doing alone on the cemetery. And Stede looked at the nice lady with the cold hands, and she only smiled.

Over the years, he learnt to ignore it. 

He never stopped visiting the nice lady with the cold hands. He couldn’t bring himself to do so. He just stopped talking to her.

Just like he stopped talking to the little barefooted children by the pier, and the old couple with grey eyes by the tavern, and the drunken sailor who no longer drank at the beach. They weren’t really there, so Stede shouldn’t talk to them.

Stede was normal. Perfectly normal. He just… had a wild imagination. Nothing else. Nothing serious.

The night after his wedding, Stede Bonnet dreamt of the sea, no lighthouses on sight. 

It took him years to work up the courage to leave.

The sea brought him more ghosts, the tide dragging them towards Stede. First, a few unnamed ones, just old sea dogs on the Republic of pirates.

Stede had ignored worse. 

But then, Nigel. Nigel started following him, and he seemed to know Stede could see him, somehow.

He got rid of him soon enough.

And since Stede Bonnet couldn’t have nice things, with Blackbeard came another set of inconveniences. Strange sightings. 

Stray weeds growing on the ship’s corners, that were never there the next day. The rats, always scurrying, despite everyone insisting they had no problems such as those. The sound of the whole ship singing, when Stede knew there was no party going on. The crowing of a bird, that Stede knew wasn’t a seagull. 

Karl was there, a lot of the time, just sitting on top of Buttons’s head. The man, although very connected to the moon, didn’t seem to notice. Stede contemplated telling him, once, and decided against it. 

And, perhaps the most strange thing of them all, a strange shape on the horizon, constant throughout every night.

So Stede ignored them. Every little thing that his brain made up, he just. No. They weren’t there. They were just silly little thoughts of him. Nothing more.

And if the silhouette of a familiar creature followed him until he found his way back to Edward, Stede ignored it too.

Just his imagination providing some comfort.

His crew was acting strange. Stede didn’t bring it up–no need to be rude–, but it was a bit concerning. First, those strange pranks and conversations, and then incidents like the Swede jumping off the deck and Roach almost hurting himself. Heck, even Ig–Izzy was acting strange.

Hopefully Buttons would tell him what this all was about, once he showed him whatever it was that needed his attention so late, and the usage of the secret tunnels.

Oh dear. Oh well. Oh fuck.

As Stede made his way back to the cabin, in the dark, his mind reviewing every single memory he had, he contemplated the option of this being a dream. But it couldn’t be, for Stede had fallen down and that had hurt quite a bit.

He made it to his room, just as the ship rocked from side to side, and he had to hold onto the doorframe as to not end on the floor. Again.

“Fucking hell.” It was Ed, sweet Ed, waking up from the ship’s sudden movement. He turned to look around, and spotted Stede standing on the entryway. “You alright, mate?”

“I– Yes, I’m… I’m fine.” Stede said, suddenly realizing how badly he had been breathing. He walked to Ed and sat by his side. “I just– I’m fine.”

Edward hummed. “We ran aground, didn’t we?” He nudged Stede, trying to cheer him up.

Stede let out a short laugh. “Yes, knowing our crew? Yes, probably.” He said, lying against Ed.

But did Stede know his crew at all? If they’d been hiding all of this from him– He expected Izzy, maybe Jim, to hide such things, but the rest? 

Was Ed hiding things too?

Oh. Oh, the Kraken. Oh dear. That conversation from weeks ago.

Stede groaned, burying his face on his hands. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Hey, no.” Edward said, hugging him. “None of that. Come one, what’s wrong?”

“Ed, dear,” Stede said, “I’ve been such a fool.” And before Ed could reprimand him for talking shit about himself. “Ever since I’ve been a child, Ed, I’ve been seeing things.

So when I came here, I thought– I thought it was all in my mind, just like before.”

There was a small pause between them. “I don’t think it was ever in my mind at all, now.”

Edward sighed, rubbing his back. “Come with me. I wanna try show you something.”

Stede followed him to the open deck, holding his hand. Once they were there, Ed looked around until he seemed to spot something overhead. Stede ignored the island they had run into.

“There.” Ed said, guiding Stede to the railing. “Can you see it now?”

Stede looked over to the sea, and saw nothing but the mesmerizing ways the waves moved. “I’m afraid not, dear.”

Ed hummed. He leaned over the railing and shout. “Oi! Dickhead! Come closer!” He turned to Stede. “This fucker never does what I want it to, but hopefully it’ll listen to me just this once.”

Stede chuckled, unsure of how to react. Then, he saw something over the corner of his eye, and turned. He came face to face with a creature from the deeps of the ocean, its black eyes staring into his soul.

It had a lovely colour scheme, even in the dark, Stede noted.

“Oh.” He said. “Hello. You must be Ed’s friend?”

Ed laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, kinda.” He said. “Took me a while to realize what it wanted from me.” He reached over the railing, petting one of the Kraken’s tentacles. “The fucker won’t talk to me.”

The Kraken responded by splashing him with water, to which Ed offered a middle finger, with no bite behind it.

“I believe it is quite hard to speak with no mouth, dear.” Stede said, hesitant to reach out to the Kraken.

“I suppose that’s true.” Ed conceded. “So. You have ghosts, right? I have a giant octopus that follows me around and bullies me into being happy.”

And the Kraken’s attribution to the conversation was throwing seawater at Ed again, only this time accompanied with algae that stuck to his hair.

Stede couldn’t help the laughter that overtook him. “Yes–” He panted, trying to stop, as he helped Ed take the bits of algae off him. “I suppose that’s quite how it is!” He ignored how Ed cursed of that ‘bloody fucking overrated squid’. “And the rest of the crew, too, then?”

“Oh, it’s a full on ensemble of weirdos.” Ed said, still shooting death glares at the Kraken. “I’ll tell you all about it in the morning, let’s leave before this maniac decides to throw a fish at me.”

“That sounds like a great idea, dear.” Stede said.

The next morning, Stede climbed off the boat into the beach, and looked around for the rest of the crew. They were all roaming around, scattered across the seemingly deserted island.

He approached Buttons. “So. Is there anyone on the island?”

“Doesn’t seem so.” Buttons said, picking rocks from the beach. “This is a good spot. Clear energy.”

“That’s good to hear.” Stede said. He looked over to where Frenchie was on top of Roach’s shoulders, picking coconuts and passing them to the Swede and Wee John.

That wouldn’t end well. “Could you ask the crew to all come? For a small chat, nothing much.”

“Of course, captain.” Buttons said. Then, he handed one of his rocks to Stede, and went off to gather everyone.

Stede stared at the rock, and then placed it in his pocket. For safe keeping. 

They sat around in the sand. The Swede was drawing figures with a stick. Fang had collected rocks and shells, and was playing noughts and crosses with Ivan.

Stede stood in front of them all, and by their posture, he could tell something was off.

“So.” He started, trying to get their attention. “The elephant in the room should be addressed, shouldn’t it?”

“There’s no room captain.” Wee John said. He waved around. “We’re in an island.”

“Yeah, and aren’t elephants in like, Asia?” Roach said. “That’s pretty far from here.”

“That’s– not what I meant.” Stede said. “What I was trying to get at is that yesterday night, some… revelations were made.”

“To be fair, Stede.” Lucius said. “We did try to tell you. Several times.”

A chorus of ‘yeah’ and similar sentiments echoed through the crew. 

“Right!” Stede said. “Well, I apologize for not noticing, and if, now that we all know, you would like to go around explaining what you are, that would be greatly appreciated.”

“I for starters,” said Ed, who had also grabbed a stick to draw on the sand, “have zero idea what I am. I heard the term ‘child of the sea’ in one of those witchy towns, so I just kinda. Used it.”

“It fits you a lot, boss.” Fang said. “I’m a witch. So is Frenchie. Ivan’s my familiar, Wee John’s Frenchie’s.”

“Well, I mean, I’m not that good of a witch. Yet.” Frenchie said, shrugging. “Wee John’s a pretty cat, but he’s not evil, so he keeps us safe from the evil soul sucking cats.”

“That’s… lovely.” Stede said, having flashbacks to that one cat he trapped in a chest. “And Ivan?”

“A raven.” Ivan said. 

“His feathers are very soft.” Fang told him, like it was a very secret thing.

”So are Jim’s.” Olu piped up. He had been growing flowers between the sand grains. “They’re a siren–.”

“–Not a mermaid–” Jim interrupted. 

“–and I’m fae.” Olu said. He plucked a flower and offered it to Stede. “Here, you mentioned liking green carnations.”

“I, oh, thank you Olu.” Stede said, taking it and twirling around his fingers. It was a beautiful little thing. “Anyone else?”

“I am a mermaid.” The Swede said. “Can I go swimming around the ship later? I like doing that.”

“Of course! As long as it is safe for you.” Stede said. 

“Well, I’m dead.” Roach said. “That’s pretty much it.”

“You’re… dead.” Stede repeated, frowning.

“Yup. Woke up like that one day.” Roach said. “I feel fine, before you ask.”

“…Alright.” Stede turned to the ones left. “Lucius?”

“Sex demon.” Lucius said, winking playfully. “I’m pretty good at it, too, just ask–”

“Right! Incubus, yes, I’ve heard of those.” Stede said, feeling himself grow red.

Lucius made a face. “Incubus and sucubus is all about the positions, but I’m more of a switch, you know?”

“That’s… lovely.” Stede managed.

“I’m made of wood.” Pete said, saving Stede from his prolonged torture. “Not much to explain there.”

“Right. And Mr. Buttons is… Mr. Buttons.” Stede said. Buttons nodded in agreement, so Stede turned to the last remaining member of his crew. “Izzy?”

Izzy, who so far had stood–the only one standing besides Stede–a little bit to the side, crossed his arms defensively. “I’m human” he lied.

“Iz, mate, I’m pretty sure he already saw your wings.” Ed said.

“I did.” Stede admitted. “I was wondering– how do you hide them so well?”

“Mind your fucking business.” Izzy so kindly responded.

“Oh, we made him a corset!” Frenchie said. “It works better than his old methods, so I call it a successful project.”

“Yeah, and we’re using its design as a basis for Jim’s flattener until Roach finds the guy to chop their tits off.” Wee John added. “We should finish that one soon.”

“Good.” Jim said. They stood up, brushing away the sand. “Are we going to have another vacation? I want another vacation.”

“Yes, sure, of course!” Stede said. “Everyone, feel free to enjoy today, please don’t maim each other.” 

The crew took that as a queue to scramble, each to do what they pleased. Ed approached Stede, and gave him a chaste kiss.

“I found a little cozy shade by a tree a bit more into the island.” He said. “It’s a perfect spot for cuddles–and more, if you want to.”

Stede didn’t fight the blush creeping up his cheeks. “Edward you are a menace.” He kissed him again, and then grabbed his hands. “Let’s hope we have some privacy.”

“You didn’t tell them about the ghosts.” Ed said, hours later, as they made their way back to their quarters for the night.

“I’d rather wait.” Stede said. “It’s still… a lot of information. Besides, I wouldn’t want to steal their spotlight.”

“That’s fair.” Edward said, throwing himself to bed and taking his boots off. “You could always use it to fuck with people.”

“What, talking to ghosts?” Stede said, changing clothes. “It’s hardly of any use.”

“I’m sure we can find it a use if we look hard enough.” Ed said. “It’ll be a fun challenge!”