#he left with jack because he was scared of stede seeing the real him and running. he got too vulnerable. too real.

[natjennie]

thinking about the foot touch......................

[fleshadept]

smth I find interesting is their differences in like the Definition of murder. like stede didn't directly kill either of the badmintons, but he still thinks of himself as a vicious murderer. but Ed only directly killed ONE person, but indirectly killed soo many ppl, like when Jack says he lit the boat on fire, and he says technically the fire killed those people. my theory is stede hates himself, and has the whole time, so unconsciously he's grasping onto this as a reason for it, and Ed is trying to never think about those people he killed so he doesn't hate himself any more than he has to.... idk I just think its an interesting character detail :-]

the interesting thing to me is that stede did not feel bad At All for "killing" nigel. like he straight up told the elder guy that. the dude asked if he felt bad for killing him and he said Not really, he sucked even as a kid! and figured out that really the reason he felt bad was because he felt inadequate and nigel reminded him he'd abandoned his family (nigel reminding him of this is also how we, the audience, are introduced to the idea that stede left them for piracy) which made him feel guilty about THAT, so what you said about him displacing his self-hatred onto this is pretty accurate.

so he didn't really feel bad about being a murderer. it's why he could leave mind-nigel behind on the shore at the end of that episode. stede isn't as averse to murder as he is to violence, per se. we see in his flashbacks that violence has been associated with masculinity for his whole life, the specific kind of masculinity he's been excluded from, that violence turned on him as a result of his exclusion. also it seems like he just thinks it's gross lol

when chauncey died, it had the same effect: chauncey forced him to remember that he abandoned his family, he didn't really give a shit about chauncey dying, but he remembered what he'd done "to" his family (assuming they were worse off without him) and felt like he needed to resolve that. it had already been on the forefront of his anxieties from learning he had been declared dead, so chauncey just pushed him over the edge, so to speak.

it's telling that when he says "at some point, a man's gotta face the music for the things he's done and the people he's hurt" we get a shot of nigel dying at "the things he's done," a relatively neutral statement, and a shot of his family at "and the people he's hurt," because from his perspective, he really only cares that he (possibly) hurt mary and the kids.

there are some inconsistencies that i hope they explore later, like stede burning that ship of aristocrats alive but looking taken aback when calico jack said ed burned a ship of people alive (with the crew still trapped inside? perhaps that was the difference).

ed's philosophy is harder to parse because we haven't spent as much time with him. he clearly sees violence as monstrous. the only person he's ever killed was his dad, which he did as a last resort to keep his mom safe after his dad was violent, and we don't know for how long that went on. after that he "always outsourced the big job," which seems like a pretty straightforward way to rationalize necessary violence. he didn't skin that guy, fang did. same end, different means.

the fact that he constructed the myth of the kraken around killing his dad is VERY interesting. not only does he outsource actual killing to his crew or other external forces, he took his one true murder and turned it into a horror story he uses to scare people, saying it's the only thing that scared him. it's hard to tell if he genuinely believed in the kraken until stede's fuckery triggered his real memory or if he knew the whole time. either way, he clearly was traumatized by killing his dad and that led him to his current philosophy, whatever the extent of that is.

looking forward to season two, it seems like they're foreshadowing ed dropping this philosophy entirely by not just going back to being blackbeard but declaring himself the kraken, the part of himself he invented to rationalize his one and only murder. which, of course, implies he'll be doing more murdering. we'll see!

[lady-divine-writes]

Our Flag Means Death - “Metamorphosis” Chapter 1/2 (Rated NC17)

Summary: After Edward leaves with Calico Jack, Stede makes a decision that changes the course of their story...

Otherwise known as - what if the lighthouse were to become the Kraken? (3644 words)

Read on AO3.

"This is who I am, Stede. Can you see me now? You were always gonna realize what I am..."

No, Stede thinks as he watches Edward walk to the rail, preparing to leave. Turn around. Come back. Change your mind. Please.

But Edward doesn't. He jumps off the ship onto a dinghy and disappears into the night. 

With Calico Jack. 

Stede doesn't watch them go. He can't bear to see them together, rowing off into the inky black. The crew hears Jack jabber on about dead birds and store-bought captains until the dinghy gets swallowed by the dark, then nothing. The soft thwap-thwap-thwap of waves against the wooden hull, but otherwise silence.

The Revenge's crew - hell, the ship herself - holds their breath as what Edward has done sinks in.

"He...he left," Frenchie says. "Did he really just leave?"

"You saw him," Roach says.

"Should we go with him?" Fang asks Ivan. 

Ivan responds with an awkward shrug. "He didn't seem too concerned about us, did he?" 

"What should we do, Captain?" Lucius addresses a frozen Stede. "I mean, should we go after him, or...?"

Stede doesn't say a word. He may have shaken his head. If he did, he didn't do it consciously. He walks past his crew, still throwing questions his way, and makes for his quarters. He needs quiet to get his thoughts straight, but Edward's final words won't stop ringing in his ears.

"Can you see me now?"

When Stede gets to his room, he heads straight for his bottle of brandy. But he doesn't stop for it. The last person he shared a drink with was Edward, and Edward poured.

Stede doesn't want to touch it.

He continues around the perimeter, eyes open painfully wide so he doesn't start blubbering like a fool. 

A fool. That's what he is. How could he not know this is the way things would turn out in the end? Underneath the facade of his books and expensive education, Stede is nothing but a fool. One way or another, Blackbeard would leave, go back to his old life, with men like Izzy Hands and Calico Jack at his beck and call.

That's where he belongs.

Stede can't be angry at Edward. Not really. That's what is so infuriating about this. For all his sins, Blackbeard didn't lie to him. Stede knew who the man was from the start. Even if he'd never met him, the history books tell him.  

Edward is a pirate. A real pirate. 

Stede won't judge him for his past, but it would be cruel of Stede to expect the man to change any of that for him. Edward has his own crew waiting for him to return, one that robs and loots and kills on his command.

Because Edward is a killer.

Maybe Edward doesn't kill people with his own two hands, but he is the reason why plenty of people have died. Blackbeard is a murderer, even if by extension.

But not with Stede.

Around Stede, he'd been open. Vulnerable. More that scared boy who strangled his father to protect his mother than the brigand who set fire to a boat and burned an entire crew alive. But, at heart, Blackbeard is both. And Stede fears there is no separating them.

Did Stede have the right to try?

Options battle in his head, contradictions, decisions, and his head begins to pound. Regardless of how he feels, he recognizes that none of this is doing him any good.

Nor his crew, who depend on him.

He needs to pull up his big boy britches and get down to business.

And that includes a plan for getting out of here. 

Moving on.

He goes to his library and rifles through his books, finding every one he brought with him that deals with sailing. No more relying on Blackbeard to get the job done. 

Their leg of the journey with Blackbeard is over.

It's time he learned a few things about captaining his ship.

***

An hour before sunrise, Stede emerges from his quarters again, dressed for the job at hand in sturdy black pants and a white linen shirt.

Like a proper sailor.

He steps out onto the deck with a book under his arm and surveys his sleeping crew. Each one of them fell asleep pretty much where they stood. Inside Stede's chest, his heart wrenches. He hates to wake them. They've probably had a long and confusing night. 

Blast him. He should have popped his head out at least once to give them an update. But he couldn't face them, not at that point. Not when he felt like a jilted lover. And fuck it all, he can't blame Edward for that, either.

But today is a brand new day.

A day for changing the course of history.

Stede didn't sleep a wink. He was too caught up in his emotions, brain buzzing like an angry hornet's nest, not allowing him a moment of peace. But he didn't want to be some sad sack sitting on his windowsill spying on Blackbeard and Jack through his scope. 

So, he read.

All through the night, Stede read. 

He read about sailing. He read about ship construction and the science behind how boats travel. He read about leadership; what qualities make an effective captain. He also read a fanciful tale or two about pirates.

And he read through his journal from beginning to end.

My, but Lucius kept busy. The boy wrote down everything Stede told him to, plus a few entries of his own. The journal had grown by leaps and bounds when Blackbeard boarded their ship. Lucius had recorded tale after tale worthy of publication. Not only was it the start of a great pirate adventure, but it had the potential of being a fabulous romance, too. By Lucius's account anyway. 

There is no denying the boy is very talented. 

Stede found himself reading certain passages again and again. His heart crackled, fraying at the edges as if about to lose its binding.

And he came to a realization.

Stede had been naive, thinking he could be a good pirate going about things the way he was. It is definitely noble vowing not to hurt or kill anyone in his pursuit of lawlessness. But if he continued on his current path, it would mean the end of him and his crew. He didn't want that. He didn't want to endanger the men who had put their faith in him.

He didn't want to lose his found family.

But he didn't want to stop being himself.

Maybe he was gaining notoriety in pirating circles, but he was more of a punchline than anything. He'd earned no respect outside his tiny vessel. So he sought to compromise: keep being the captain he was to his crew and maintain an atmosphere of positivity, communication, fun, and support.

But burn the rest to the ground.

He's about to stomp on the wooden floor to rouse his crew, but Buttons, who'd been up all night, wailing in his grief over Karl and keeping watch on the horizon, beats him to the punch.

"Captain on deck!" he calls out in a hoarse, watery voice. "On your feet, lads! On your feet!" 

Then, he returns to his wailing.

Lucius is the first to stand, sluggishly rising to his feet. Aside from Buttons, he had waited the longest for Stede to return. And as such, he can only get one eye open. "What is it, Captain?" 

"Yeah, what's going on?" Olu asks around a yawn.

"Gentlemen! It's time we move on. I would like to be on the go before daybreak."

"Wait...so we're leaving Blackbeard behind?" Black Pete asks.

Stede fights the urge to look over his shoulder at the island not far beyond where he knows Blackbeard and Calico Jack drank themselves stupid and fell asleep, side by side. "He has made his decision. He didn't intend on staying with us for the long haul anyhow. He had gotten eager to sharpen his sword." Stede winces at how inappropriate that sounds but quickly knuckles on. "He has a dinghy. I'm sure he can find his way from here."

Black Pete turns to Lucius, sleepy eyes wide with horror. "We're going to die."

"Are you men with us?" Stede asks Ivan and Fang. "If not, you're welcome to take one of the dinghies ashore and join your captain. Or we can drop you at your preferred port of call."

The two men exchange a look. Stede doesn't know them well enough to decipher its meaning, but it seems they've decided on something they'd been talking over. "I reckon we're fine where we are," Fang says.

"If you don't mind us tagging along, that is," Ivan adds.

"Not at all," Stede says with a sad smile. "We're glad to have you. Now, if you would - hoist the mainsail." 

"Aye-aye, Captain."

Ivan calling him captain cements things in Stede's head. Stede loves and respects his crew, but Ivan and Fang are pirates in the truest sense of the term. And they've served under the best. Now, they are members of his crew, without any coercion.

The relationship between the Revenge and Blackbeard is well and truly severed. 

Settling into his decision, knowing there is no turning back, Stede finally gives the island a last glance.

"Where are we going, Captain?" Lucius asks.

Stede sighs. He has yet to chart a definitive course. He wasn't convinced he'd get this far. 

"Away from here. We're pirates. It's time we got back to it. Besides..." Stede's eyes lock on a rock where he swears he sees two silhouettes propped up and sleeping. His heart thumps heavily in his chest. Strange since he is certain he's leaving it behind. "I feel we may have overstayed our welcome."

***

It's well past sunrise before Edward realizes the Revenge is gone.

Probably because he'd spent last night soaking in a bottle of rum.

If he is being honest, he didn't expect Stede to leave. He thought Stede would give him a second chance. He sure as hell doesn't deserve it, but he took for granted that Stede would be there to offer one to him. Edward doesn't blame the man for leaving him behind. 

He'd acted like a royal arsehole.

What was he doing? Why did he leave again? For Calico Jack? Really? And what was with his "this is who I am" bullshit? Maybe he was, but it wasn't who he wanted to be. Which is why he stayed on Stede's ship for so damned long.

He was looking for an escape. A fresh start.

Edward had suspected for awhile that his time at sea was driving him insane, and he wasn't the only one. Izzy mentioned it. The crew had noticed. They'd been asking questions and spreading rumors behind his back.

Blackbeard didn't like that.

He'd needed respite. An interlude.

Stede offered him that, no questions asked.

Stede had more reason to fear Blackbeard than most pirates. Stede knew nothing about pirating, and saying his crew is subpar is an understatement. Blackbeard could have conquered Stede and taken his ship with ease. 

But Stede didn't fear Edward. Maybe at first, but that faded fast. He took the time to get to know him. (Of course, Stede fascinated Edward from jump, so he gave Stede the chance.)

Stede accepted him, took him at his word, wanted to help him.

He was the first man who'd ever treated Edward decent, who didn't use him for his reputation. He offered Edward a position as co-captain of his ship, for Christ's sake! That's like offering to share a favorite lover!

And Ed pushed him away.

For Calico Jack.

Brilliant. Well played, Blackbeard. Enjoy your island and your mate who smells like piss.

Edward puts his hands beneath him and pushes up on his palms. The world spins, and his stomach lurches, but he has to make it to his feet; find shelter before he bakes in the sun. A foot off the ground, his forehead comes in contact with a solid but moveable object. He peels his eyes open by millimeters, adjusting to the bright sunlight. Luckily, his face is shrouded in shadow. 

That small favor keeps his stomach contents firmly in place.

After he figures out the shadow of what, though, everything sucks again.

Someone had made landfall before the Revenge set out. Beside his head, he finds a crate of the stuff he'd left on board. 

Fuck him. 

Edward never heard the person who left it. Not a peep. He doesn't credit that to them being particularly stealthy. Not a single member of Stede's crew could be accused of that. 

Uness it was Ivan or Fang.

Fuck him twice! 

His own men!

Shit! He'd forgotten about them! Where the ever-living hell are they? If they were on the island with him, waiting for him to sober up, he'd know by now. Either they went with Stede, or Stede tossed them overboard.

If those are the only two options, Edward knows they're with Stede. Stede wouldn't toss men to the sea.

Stede isn't like him.

The fact that whoever came up on the beach and left the box by his head did so so silently he didn't wake up disturbs him a great deal.

Is he losing his touch?

If it were any other pirate from any other crew, he could be dead right now - tied to an anchor and dropped to the bottom of the ocean. Or worse.

Hauled off to the English. 

Just more evidence that he's a fucking idiot.

A few feet off, Jack stirs. Before he opens his eyes, he lifts the whiskey bottle he's been clutching all night to his lips. Finding it empty, he curses, and tosses it aside. The man struggles to sit up more than Edward, but he manages to do it with the help of an obliging rock. He grimaces when a breeze off the water swirls up his front and smacks him in the face. He spent a good portion of the evening vomiting on himself, and he sure as fuck smells like it. 

He blinks with his eyes closed, trying to convince them to open. But his whole face burns, straight through to his brain. He manages to lift one corner of his right eyelid. He focuses on the ocean, looks around in confusion. He searches the horizon left and right, and sees the same thing Edward did.

Nothing.

"Well, I'll be..." he chuckles to himself. That fucking fop. Jack didn't think he had it in him. 

Stede marooned their arses.

Store-bought or not, he guesses that makes Stede a genuine pirate.

"Well, shit," he says, then groans at the grating of his voice inside his skull. "I guess there goes that bounty."

Edward, stunned sober by those words, lifts his head higher. He regrets it, but there's nothing he can do about it. "What? What do you mean? What bounty?"

"Just a little deal I struck," Jack mutters. "It was pocket change. Not worth the effort. But it weren't the money I came here after." Jack winks. Gears in Edward's head start clicking into place and he feels disgusted: with himself, Jack, and a slew of other people he doesn't have the brainpower to name.

"Who did you make this deal with?" Edward growls.

Jack doesn't seem to notice Edward's change in tone. Or he plain doesn't care.

"With them." He gestures to the horizon in between searching his pockets for something he can use to rustle up breakfast. Edward turns, eyes going wide when he sees three ships part the distant fog and float into view.

Three English ships.

"Fawk!"

"Relax," Jack says. "They ain't coming for you."

"Who are they coming for then?"

Jack stares at him with eyebrows raised. "I think you know."

Edward catches on quicker this time, adrenaline sweeping what remains of the rum out of his system. "You sold us out!?"

"How?" Jack snorts. "I didn't even know where you were until a few weeks ago. I think shacking up with Stede has made your mind go soft. Besides, I would never sell you out. You and I, we go way back. As I see it, this may be an opportunity for us."

Edward ignores that last remark, racking his brain to put two and two together. Why couldn't he think? 

Why was it so much easier thinking when Stede was around?

Because he didn't need to drink three bottles of booze to like himself when he was with Stede, that's why.

When the pieces finally come together, his eyelids narrow until his eyes go completely black. "Fucking Izzy."

"Yup." Jack unravels his whip, preparing to troll the shore for food. "Took you long enough. Spanish Jackie sends her regards as well."

"And you were in on this? In league with those two to fuck me over!?"

"Uh, what are you so upset about? This isn't about you! It's about Stede!"

"It is about me! It's about me because I lo---" Edward bites his tongue before he can say it. Does he honestly feel that way? Yes. He does. And he doesn't want Jack to be the first person to hear those words come out of his mouth. "He's my friend!"

Jack stares at Edward, shocked for all of three seconds before he bursts out laughing. "Friend? What kind of pirate has a friend?"

"Jesus fucking arsehole of Christ!" Edward turns, and the world turns with him, but once it stops, he limps unsteadily away, Jack laughing after him like a clown. "Why did I leave? Why did I fucking leave? Things were going good on the Revenge. I had a taste of happiness. You weren't worth any of it."

Another breeze comes off the water, carrying those words to Jack's ears. "Hey!" he roars. "I saved your life!"

"Yeah. You did," Edward admits. "And I'm repaying the favor." 

"How?"

"By not shooting you in the face." Edward stumbles over a rock, slides through a pile of seaweed, nearly rolls his ankle in a ribbon of loose sand, but reaches the dinghy before Jack thinks to move. What he's about to do is against all sorts of pirate codes, but fuck it. Being a pirate isn't what it's cracked up to be anymore. 

And his supposed mate isn't a mate at all.

Edward drags the dinghy through the surf, guides it through the breakers, then climbs in before the water gets too high.

"Hey! HEY!" Jack screams, racing after Edward on shaky legs when it dawns on him that he's about to get marooned for a second time. "What are you doing?" 

"I'm leaving your arse and going back to the Revenge."

"Why?"

"I think you know," Ed mimics.

"You're never going to find her!"

"You found us. And I'm a fuck-ton better pirate than you."

"And what am I supposed to do, man?" Jack keeps running, but with his legs weak, he falls to his knees more than once. "If you take the only dinghy, how the hell do you expect me to get off this island?"

"Swim." Edward grabs the oars and rows with all his might, fighting waves that try to push him back towards land. But he doesn't let them. He'll break both arms before he goes back to that island. 

And Jack.

The swells aren't too treacherous at this hour but far more than he wanted to tackle in his post-inebriated state. He hits a patch of strangely choppy water about a mile out, strains his shoulder when he gets caught in a particularly nasty current. He fears it may flip his boat, but in an ironic twist, once he stops fighting, it propels him in the direction he wants to go. 

He chooses to take that as a sign.

When the worst of it is over and he reaches calmer waters, Edward takes a pause and looks back from where he came. He sees the island, his box of belongings spilled out on the sand, and Jack, on his knees, watching Edward leave him behind.

There is no guarantee that Jack will get off that island. Most sailors avoid it unless they're trying to stop someone up. The English most likely won't rescue him. They have no reason to. Izzy might come looking, but only to find Edward. When he discovers Jack has failed, he'll leave him behind...if the man is still alive. There is no food on that island aside from coconuts and seaweed, not a drop of fresh water to be found. And Jack drank his last bottle of rum.

Stede left Edward on Blind Man's Cove knowing he had a dinghy.

Edward is leaving Jack with nothing.

There's a lot of history left unfinished between him and Jack, and Edward hates unfinished business. He has felt obligated to the man for years, and that alone should prompt Edward to turn back.

But Jack crossed a line.

Looking at the man, knowing he's in peril, Edward feels nothing.

"Goodbye, Jackie," he says under his breath. "Good luck." 

Edward hopes there is an endless supply in the universe because he'll need all the luck he can get.

Edward has no clue where Stede would head. Not even a little. Stede had no agenda other than be a pirate, taking any route that led him the farthest from home. A normal pirate would head to Republic of Pirates. That's where Jack had wanted to go. Ivan and Fang might direct him there, which would be a disaster with Izzy and Spanish Jackie having it out for him. But as he has no other leads and, as that seems a logical choice, Edward turns his boat in that direction. 

Biceps burning, head screaming, he rows, praying he's not too far behind.