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pengychan · 1 year ago

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[Our Flag Means Death] The Lost Unicorn, Pt. 2

Title: The Lost Unicorn Summary: Weakened by the gunshot wound, Izzy falls behind during the escape and is captured. The good news is that the navy surgeon can keep him alive. The bad one is that he's now live bait for the crew of the Revenge. Characters: Izzy Hands, Ed Teach, Stede Bonnet, Crew of the Revenge, Ricky Barnes Rating: T All chapters are tagged as 'lost unicorn' on my blog. [Back to Part 1]

Unsurprisingly no one is having a good time, but at least they now have extra brain cells on board to think of a decent plan. Also, flashbacks. ***

“Good Lord, Israel, I truly hope that was one of your baby teeth.”

Israel tries to reply, but there is blood bubbling in his mouth and something hard on his tongue. He turns and spits out another tooth. “Think so,” he says, as well as one can manage to enunciate with both front teeth gone. So, not very well.

The innkeeper rubs his face before giving a quick glance towards the kitchen where Israel’s mother is busy cooking dinner, unaware of the trouble her son got into yet again. He can faintly hear her singing. “You’re going to give poor Edith a heart attack one of these days, you truly are.”

“So don’t tell her.”

“I think she’s going to notice either way, boy. Who was it this time? The cobbler’s kid again?”

“I fell down the stairs.”

Callused fingers grab his chin, forcing his face up. Israel scowls before the old man even starts his lecture. Or tries to, because one eye is swollen shut and it makes scowling difficult. “You can’t keep picking fights with everybody.”

“He insulted me,” Israel replies, and it is a lie. But he’ll die before he lets a word of what really happened - he insulted her - past his lips, so he’ll settle for lying. Mr. Doherty probably already worked out that his mother’s ring is all for show and that she’s not a widow nor was ever married in the first place, but it’s one of those things that are best left unsaid.

His mother made sure he understood that very well: a problem that goes unspoken is a less of a problem.

“You should learn to let an insult or two slide, before you lose something more than a couple of teeth.”

“I’d like to see them try.”

“You’re the size and weight of a wet rat. You really do not.”

“You should see the other guy,” Israel replies, even though the other guy barely got a nosebleed out of their fight, and steps past to head upstairs, to the room he shares with his mother, to wash some blood off. Or at least he tries to. He never manages to put one foot down on the steps before Mr. Doherty grapes his wrist, tight.

It’s wrong. Israel can tell right away that it’s wrong, because Mr. Doherty never grabs anyone like this unless it’s a drunk patron that needs to be thrown out of the inn.

And no one alive should ever have hands this cold.

“You’re going to die alone. You know that, don’t you, Izzy?”

Israel looks up, alarmed and more than a little confused, because no one has ever called him anything other than his full name before. Mr. Doherty is looking the other way, even as the grip tightens, colder and colder.

… Or maybe it isn’t that cold. Maybe it’s him who is warm, too warm, feverish. Israel swallows, and now even the blood in his mouth feels boiling hot. “Let me--”

“You’re difficult, you know? You make it so goddamn difficult for anyone to like you. Got it into your head no one could and now here you are, making damn sure no one does.”

The man turns his head now and it’s not Mr. Doherty anymore. Israel Hands is still some fifteen years away from meeting Benjamin Hornigold for the first time, but those eyes still go through him like a knife, make him still and stop struggling to break free from his grip.

A smile, wide, all teeth. “They’re not coming back for you, Izzy. None of them. Why would they?”

Israel’s vision is swimming, and it feels like he’s burning. The grip on his wrist stays, ice cold, while his left knee folds and he falls. The man who’s not Mr. Doherty pulls him up by the wrist, dangles him like a dead rat caught in a trap. Something in his gut hurts, more throbbing heat.

“Because you got dolled up, put on perfume, and sang a little song? That’s it? You think that would make anyone want to risk their lives for a miserable bastard? They wanted to have a laugh at you, that's all.”

A shake, the heat in his gut blooms into pain, and Israel screams.

“Ma--” he tries to call out, but another cold hand grabs his neck, squeezes, and the scream dies in his throat.

“They won’t come, none of them, least of all Ed. They thought they got live bait, and all they have in their hands is dead meat. It’s for the best, you know. If they do, they die. And the last person who was ever willing to give her life for you died shitting her bed while you were fucking around as a powder monkey for the Royal Navy.”

Israel tries to grasp the man’s wrist, to pry those icy fingers from his throat, but his hand is so weak and he feels so heavy. His vision darkens, and the arm falls back by his side.

“Do you want them to come for you? Do you want them to die for you? You selfish little twat.”

None of his words make sense to Israel, but he’s no longer listening. All he knows is that he’s burning, and his side hurts, and he can’t see anything anymore. In the dark he hears voices, faint and far away-- … high fever……bring it down…… doing my best…… keep him alive…-- but when he tries to scream, the grip on his throat makes it impossible. That’s when he knows that he’s going to die, and no one is coming.

A chasm opens beneath him, and Israel falls.

***

“All right. So. The plan. We need to be clever about this.”

“We’re never very clever about anything.”

“Yeah, whose idea was it to send the guy with the obvious wooden leg forth with the hostage?”

“I mean, Prince Whatshisname would have fucked it all up either way, I guess.”

“Still, proves my point. We’re never very clever about anything.”

“And it got one of us captured. So we have to be this time. Like with… remember the lighthouse trick?”

“Oh yeah, that was good.”

“Real good.”

“How’s playing lighthouse going to help with this?”

“It’s not, but what I mean is that it shows we can be clever, and that’s the kind of attitude we need to have again.”

“Oh! If we do the lighthouse thing anyway, can I do the foghorn?”

“Yes, Roach.”

“I say we go and burn the place down until they give Izzy back.”

“No, Wee John.”

“There were the towels, too.”

“Yeah, the drugged towels, when we got away from the Red Flag!”

“That was clever. Wasn’t it, Zheng?”

“... I’ll concede it was. Begrudgingly. But it won’t help us now, since none of those men will let us close enough to smell our towels.”

“I don’t need to get close.”

Jim’s voice was cold, and it caused everyone on deck to turn to them. They were sitting apart from everyone else, sharpening their throwing knives, jaw set and mouth a thin line. There was no doubt that they were already thinking of the moment each of those very, very sharp knives would sink in some pale English throat.

“Probably not what I’m supposed to say,” Archie muttered. “But you look really hot right now.”

“Appreciated,” Jim replied with the smallest twitch of their lips, but didn't stop sharpening the knives for a moment. Stede cleared his throat.

“Very well. So, um. Going back to our clever plan--”

“We split up.”

Ed had been silent almost from the moment they managed to lose the Navy ship at their heels - so silent, in fact, that Stede was starting to worry a little - but now he spoke up, and everyone turned to look at him.

“... Split up?” Pete repeated, and Lucius made a face.

“That sounds like a terrible idea. You know, in horror books someone always dies when the characters split up,” he muttered, gaining himself a look from Jackie.

“What kinda books do you read?” she asked, but never got an answer. Ed walked up to the improvised table they were all huddled around, and tapped his finger on New Providence.

“They gave up the chase now because we had a head start and sailed faster, but I’ll bet they’re not going to just dock again. They’ll be on high alert for any attack after we took down so many of theirs. I’ll bet Frenchie’s right arm their man-of-war will keep patrolling around the island, looking out for any ships.”

“Why does it have to be my arm?” Frenchie groaned, but got no reaction other than a sympathetic pat from Fang.

Stede frowned down at the map. “It makes sense, but how does splitting up--”

“Some of us stay on the ship, the others are dropped on New Providence,” Auntie spoke up, nodding. “Yes, I see. We lead their ship on a wild duck chase--”

“I think you mean--” Olu started, but a glare was enough to make him shut his mouth.

“I know what I meant to mean. Some of us keep their ship’s attention on the Revenge, while the rest get on the ground and scout things out from there.” A pause, and she looked around. “A small group would be best.”

Ed scoffed a little. “A big group kills more English.”

“Yes. But a big group also gets discovered quickly. If your friend is alive, the last thing you want is charging in like a bull without knowing what you’re getting into. For all we know, the noseless rat has him at gunpoint. ” Auntie crossed her arms, and looked Ed in the eye. “You want him back alive, yes?”

“Of course I do.”

“And come back alive yourself?”

It was a more charged question than she realized, Stede knew, and he found himself holding his breath for Ed’s reply. “Yeah,” Ed said, like a man who hadn’t purposefully steer the ship into a storm to go down with it only weeks earlier, and Stede breathed again. “Would be nice.”

“Then you take a small group for reconnaissance. Figure out what’s going on in Nassau, if he’s even alive, and where they’re keeping him. Then get picked up by the ship again, and we reconvene. Makes sense, no?” She turned to Stede. “What does the captain think?” she asked, her tone making it clear she was no huge fan of the fact he, out of all the people on board, was the captain.

Oh dear, now it fell on him to decide, of course. Stede opened his mouth, but Ed spoke up before he could utter a single word.

“... It makes sense. I’m going. Jim?”

A flick of their wrist, and the knife Jim had been sharpening whistled through the air, hitting the mast only a few inches left of Ed’s temple. He didn’t even flinch, and just looked on as Jim nodded. “Of course I’m in.”

“Me too, then,” Archie muttered, and Ed nodded.

“Sounds good. The three of us,” he agreed, and looked back at the others. “We’ll signal you when we’re ready to--”

“What-- no, wait a moment!” Stede protested. “I’m coming, too!”

A scoff. “No you’re not.”

“Yes I am!”

“Are not.”

A bit too outraged to even notice the way several crew members were rolling their eyes, Stede crossed his arms. “Am too!”

“I’m not risking you falling into their hands too. You’re the captain, so you stay on the ship--”

“Well, I am your captain, Edward Teach!” Stede snapped, slamming both hands on the table and causing Ed to recoil, several crew members to flinch, and Lucius’ eyebrows to shoot all the way up to his hairline. “I call the shots here, I am going nowhere without you!”

It was a pretty good outburst, if Stede said so himself. Almost up there with ‘do not try this captain again’, and he liked to think Izzy would be just as impressed. Ed sure seemed to be, because he opened his mouth, stared a moment, and then closed it before licking his lips and clearing his throat.

(Later, after leaving them on the coast some way north of Nassau, Lucius would ask aloud if he was the only one who’d gotten the distinct feeling that Ed had been very close to rawing Stede on the deck right there and then. He was not.)

“... Right. Yeah. So, the four of us,” Ed finally said, and turned to the pile of uniforms they’d thrown on the deck after getting away from the English warship. “Guess we should put them on again.”

Archie tilted her head. “You think that fuckery is going to work twice? Barely worked the first time. It was a bit of a shit plan. No offense, captain.”

“None taken. But to be fair, I didn’t have much time to come up with anything better and I didn’t hear any of you--”

“Shit plan or not, Ed is right,” Jim cut him off, crossing the deck to retrieve their knife from the mast. “Seeing their uniform may at least make someone hesitate a moment before shooting. And a moment is all I’d need to kill them.”

Stede nodded. “Oh! Yes, of course! We only need a moment to strike first, if it comes to it.”

“Not you,” Auntie said. “You need more moments.”

“Maybe two moments, babe,” Ed said quickly.

“More like twenty,” Zheng commented, and Ed crossed his arms.

“That’s not very constructive.”

“No, no, she’s not wrong,” Stede conceded. “I may not be the best swordsman. Or marksman. Or… well… I will be mostly there for, uh. Strategic thinking.”

“Then we’re fucked,” Jim remarked, but turned back towards New Providence, by now only a small dot in the distance. “So, what are we waiting for?”

“Nightfall?” Olu suggested, a bit hesitant, and Zheng nodded with a smile.

“Yes. Nightfall,” she said. A pause, and she turned to Jim and Archie. She pulled something from her sleeve, and held it out to them. A vial, with something viscous in it, like oil. “Take this. It’s a poison. Not of much use if someone drinks it, but if you coat your blades with it, the smallest cut is deadly.”

“Oooh, this is awesome!” Archie grinned, taking the vial. “Can’t wait to try this out.”

“Leave some for me,” Jim muttered, elbowing her side, and turned back to Zheng. “Thank you. We’ll put it to good use.”

“You’d better, because it’s more expensive than this ship.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have said that, man. I’ll get performance anxiety now.”

Archie’s comment made both Jim and Zheng chuckle. It was Zheng to speak again first. “And come back in one piece, both of you. Oluwande would appreciate that, and-- I would, too.”

“We’ll do our best,” Archie exclaimed, all brightness, putting an arm around Jim’s shoulders. “But failing that, do you have any preference on what pieces we do bring back?”

Stede was honestly a little curious to hear the answer, but he noticed Ed walking off below deck and that immediately shifted on top of his priorities. He followed, a little sheepish.

“Um, Ed? I’m sorry I raised my voice.”

It caused Ed to pause, halfway down the steps to retrieve more guns, most likely. He turned just a little, enough for Stede to see his profile. “... It’s all right. You’re the captain.”

“Well, it’s no excuse to yell--”

“The captain gets to yell.”

“That’s not really the kind of captain I wanted to be,” Stede muttered, more than a little bashful, and Ed fully turned to look at him.

“I mean-- I don’t mind.”

“But it’s ru--”

“Kinda hot really.”

“... Oh?”

“Well, maybe-- you know, in other circumstances. In a private setting. Not on the deck.”

Stede’s mind immediately attempted to supply various circumstances where that new bit of information could be used in a private setting, and it took him some effort to chase that thought away. Later, he decided. Once their mission was complete.

“Ah,” he said, and cleared his throat. “Well-- duly noted. But, uh… I think I really should come with you, that’s why I insisted. I’m worried about Izzy, too, and I don’t think I can just sit around while sending you to do this really dangerous thing alone. I mean, I’m the captain. Makes me responsible for all the crew. You know?”

Ed stared a moment, then nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I-- I get that. Just don’t wanna see you in danger if I can help it.”

“Well, that just means you’ll need to be my knight in shining armor if it comes to it,” Stede quipped, and was very relieved to see Ed’s lips quirk in a smile.

“I can do that. Killing is a hell of a lot easier when it’s to protect someone.”

“There, problem solved. But I’ll do my best not to get in the line of fire in the first place.” He stepped closer, and leaned in for a quick kiss that Ed reciprocated right away. “No one’s getting hurt. I mean, no one but the English.”

“... What if he’s already dead?”

“No, hey.” He pressed two fingers on Ed’s lips, looking at him in the eye. “Don’t think like that. Captain’s orders.”

Ed didn’t reply, but he did lean into the touch and kisses his fingertips, and Stede figured he could take it as an ‘aye’.

***

After letting his father’s body drop on the ground, Edward turns around and runs.

He has to run. He can’t go back. His mother will look at his face and see what he did, what he is, and he can’t bear the thought. Rain keeps falling, there’s thunder and he keeps slipping on cobblestones, hearing nothing but his own panting breath, blood rushing in his ears.

He can hardly think but there is one thing he knows, one thing only that keeps him running towards the docks. Father is gone, she is safe, and she doesn’t need another monster to replace him.

So he has to go.

Later, he won’t remember exactly what happened. He will only know that by the time he gets to the docks his eyes are full of-- rain it’s just rain--rainwater and he can’t see the man standing in front of him until he slams against his side and falls back on the ground with a grunt.

“And who the fuck are you?”

The man is towering over him, like his father did earlier that night before-- he --the Kraken got him. He’s pulling back his lips in a grimace, hair sticking to his forehead. There is a boy too, he’s got some kid by the throat and is holding him high up enough his feet don’t touch the ground.

“Well? I’m talking to you!” The man steps forward, and his boot is up to come down on him before Edward can even think of scooting back, but it never comes down. Not on him, at least.

“Eat shit!” the boy in his grasp yells, and his foot kicks out, hitting the man right in the groin.

The high-pitched scream would be funny, if Edward remembered how to laugh. For now he only stares, wide-eyed, as the man drops the boy and falls on his knees, holding onto his groin with a whine. “You little bastard-- you’re fucking dead meat when I--”

He never gets to say another word, because the kid he’s been holding by the neck picks something up from the ground and screams. He swings that something in an arc through the air, heavy and made of metal. It meets the man’s bald head with a sickening crunch, the skull caves in, and he falls back without another sound.

“WHO’S DEAD MEAT NOW, FUCKER!”

Another hit, another, and another. Edward doesn't remember standing, but he must have. Suddenly he’s up and grabbing the boy’s arm, stopping him from swinging the metal pipe again. “Stop it. Stop! He’s dead!”

He’s dead, dead, dead, I did it and I can never go back.

He expects a struggle, but there is none. The boy drops the pipe and turns to look at him, blue eyes wide under a mop of wet brown hair. Only later, when the sun dries them both, Edward will see it’s sandy blond.

“Ah, shit,” he says, and for just a moment his voice shakes. “I killed him, didn’t I?”

Tell them it was the Kraken, Edward thinks, and for a horrible moment he almost laughs.

“We’ve got to get away from here,” he says instead. “Come this way, we can--”

“Well well. That looks an awful lot like what my ship cook would look like after going through a meat grinder.”

Edward stills, and so does the boy. They turn, slowly, to see a man standing over the corpse - and over them. A boot kicks the dead man’s side. “Must have been shitfaced drunk for two runts like you to take him down. How do you plan to pay me back for this loss, precisely?”

Edward says nothing, mouth dry, still holding onto the boy’s arm and looks up. He cannot make out the man’s face.

The first time he sees him, Benjamin Hornigold is nothing but a dark shadow in silver rain.

“I should shoot you both,” the shadow is saying. “But he was an asshole, and I could use another couple of cabin boys who can take down a man if needed.” A sharp tilt of his head. “You, what’s your name?”

“John Rackham,” Edward hears the boy say, and the shadow scoffs.

“Well, I already have a John on board. So you’ll be Jack from now on. Objections?”

“No, sir.”

“Good. Do you have a family to say goodbye to, Jack?”

“... No,” he says. It sounds like a lie even to Edward’s ears, but the shadow doesn’t insist.

Honestly, he probably wouldn’t have let him say goodbye either way. He just smiles, a flash of teeth in the dark. “Just how I like my men,” he mutters, and turns to Edward. “And you, what’s your name?”

Edward licks his lip, mouth dry. He has seen ships come and go his entire life, merchant ships as well as the occasional pirate ship port authorities turn a blind eye on for a bribe, but he’s never been on one. Still… he has no choice now, does he? This is why he was running to the docks in the first place. He has to leave, and the only way is by sea. By ship. This is his chance to disappear.

And it only cost another man’s life.

Laughter almost bubbles up his chest and throat, but Edward holds it down because he knows that if he laughs now, before this man, he’s as good as dead. So he looks up, face wet with rain, and speaks.

“Edward.”

“Edward what?”

“... Just Edward. I don’t have a family,” he adds. Somewhere out there is a woman nursing a bruised face, wondering when her beast of a husband and her son are coming home, but now they’re both gone - the Kraken got them - and there’s just him left, and he can never go back.

She’s better off without.

As with Jack, the shadow doesn’t question him. “Hm. Well, damn common names you’ve got. I’ve got another Edward too, and it seems much too long for a shrimp like you. So Ed it is.” A wave of his hand, beckoning them to follow, and they obey. They will keep obeying for a long time. What choice do they have?

Benjamin Hornigold walks to the docks in pouring rain, and Ed follows.

***

When Izzy woke up, he was still feverish and he could hear rain.

There was no window in the room he’d been put in, but rain was drumming loud above him, so he could only guess he was put into one of the rooms in the attic. Not a stupid decision: the only way in there would be up the stairs, and a few men with rifles could easily fend off an attack from the vantage point.

And he was sure Pinocchio had placed plenty of men on each floor, weapons at the ready. They’d taken down plenty, but the bastard had brought in half a fucking army. If the crew tried to storm in, they’d be utterly fucked.

They won’t. They’re not so stupid, he thought, but even as the thought crossed his mind he knew there had to be a limit to willful delusion. They’re probably not so stupid. But they won’t come. They must think I’m dead. Someone must have seen me get shot.

It was what he wanted to believe, sure enough. The best possible scenario: not one member of the crew would die for his sake, not because they didn’t care but because they didn’t know he was alive. He could go with that, hold onto that thought until the trapdoor opened beneath him and he hung by the neck for a crowd of cunts in Kingston.

Or maybe they know, and still won’t come.

Enough. Don’t go there.

Izzy shook his head, trying to dispel the thought, and tried to shift on the bed. He was still sluggish, much too warm, and whatever the ship surgeon gave him must have worn off, because his bandaged wound was hurting like a bitch. But he was alive, mind passably clear, so it looked like the fever was not going to do him in after all.

Bit of a pity, that. He’d have loved to stop being a chess piece in Prince Cunty’s hands.

Izzy groaned and let his head drop back on the pillow, staring at the ceiling. What time was it? What day was it, how long had he been out? He had absolutely no idea. He could tell he was still really fucking thirsty and now also really fucking hungry, but he had probably pissed Noseless off enough he’d leave him to--

“What are you doing here?”

A voice on the other side of the door, barely muffled. Izzy craned his neck to look at it, not too surprised to find there were officers standing outside it, too. There was another voice, lower, more mumbled.

“Ugh, so we’re feeding him now?”

“Guess little Prince Ricky doesn’t want to hang a corpse in Kingston. Let him through.”

The door opened, and some kid walked in, closing the door behind him. Well, not quite a kid, but not a man either. The uniform didn’t quite fit him right, he had pimples across both cheeks, and was avoiding his gaze. He was carrying a tray with a glass of water and some bread. Izzy sneered.

“Do I get my own maid now?” he muttered, and the boy looked up.

“I’m no maid,” he protested, with a thick yet annoyingly familiar accent Izzy could place in three seconds flat. Look at that, all this way from London - another dweller of the city’s shit pits beyond the Tower. “I’m--”

“A powder monkey,” Izzy cut him off, and the boy flushed red.

“I’m learning to be a seaman--”

“And until you do, you’re the monkey fetching gunpowder on the ship. Now give me the tray or fuck off.”

A sharp intake of breath, and for a second the brat looked like he could cry, but in the end he placed the tray on the bed, where Izzy could reach with his free hand, and quickly stepped back. They had told him he was dangerous, more likely than not, but even if he’d been in any condition to harm him, Izzy couldn’t be bothered.

All he could do now was make an effort to sit up as much as the manacle and his wound allowed, grab the glass of water, and drink. His parched throat almost spasmed, but he forced himself to swallow and then drank more, to the last drop. Maybe seeing him drinking so desperately made him look less dangerous, after all, because the monkey gathered the courage to speak out, standing to his full height.

It was not a lot, but it wasn’t like Izzy was the one to speak there.

“I’ll have you know,” he declared, trying and failing to imitate the way of speaking of much higher class officers, “that my duties on the ship take skill.”

“No, they don’t,” Izzy replied, grabbing the piece of bread and biting into it. It was stale and rubbery, but he’d take it. He heard the monkey’s protests over his own chewing.

“What would you know!”

“That’s how I started out,” he replied through his mouthful, and swallowed. “A powder monkey on the HMS Riptide.”

“Ah.” A pause, a little uncertain. Izzy had time enough to chew and swallow another couple of bites before he spoke again. “I heard some men say you used to be in the Navy.”

“... It was a long time ago.”

“Then what happened?”

Izzy didn’t reply right away. Another bite, and the bread was gone. Hunger was somewhat quelled, but the thirst sure as hell was not. “If you want the tale, get me more water,” he said. “Or you can fuck off.”

A scowl, and the monkey want to take the tray, once again stupidly skittish for someone dealing with a bed-bound man who’d been deliriously feverish until that morning, with a hole in his gut, missing a leg, and with a wrist manacled to the bed frame. He hesitated a moment, glancing at the pitcher on a table at the far side of the room… then set his jaw and marched to the door, not sparing him a second look.

How easily offended, kids those days.

Izzy leaned back with a groan, closed his eyes, and tried to sleep. Listening to the rain helped, to some degree; it kept his mind from wandering to the crew, what they may be doing, whether they may be foolish enough to return and fall right into a trap.

And it kept it from memories of a very long time ago, when he’d looked up at Captain Benjamin Hornigold and - still tied to the mast, back a bloody mess from the interrupted flogging, the corpses of his comrades littering the deck - he’d asked if he happened to be hiring.

***

[Back to Part 1]

#ofmd #our flag means death #izzy hands #edward teach #stede bonnet #crew of the revenge #lost unicorn

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dragonskxn · 1 month ago

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Echoes Of The Past!

Send "Echoes of the past" for your muse to experience one of my muses memories in a vision/dream.

@foxedthecards

"Madamoiselle Dubois! A word, please."

Annalise froze in place as she heard the minister's grumbling cadence and turned around slowly, trudging back towards the entrance of the little chapel.

She kept her bonnet pulled tightly against her head, her hair piled up underneath to avoid anyone from seeing its true color. Annalise hoped that the charcoal she used to stain her hairline and brows was not running in the summer heat.

"Bonjour, Minister Gagnon. What is it that you need?"

Henri Gagnon was a squat toad of a man and as bald as one too, though he wore a white powdered wig to make up for it. A constant scowl was etched on his face, and he had drooping jowls that reminded Annalise of a bulldog. And yet, today, his face seemed oddly.... gentle?

"Please, please, come in, Miss Dubois. There is something important to discuss." Even his gruff voice was smoother, and his wrinkled hands ushered her into the chapel as if he were calming a frightened horse.

Annalise tentatively stepped inside the plain little building of worship, and when she did, she realized something was wrong. This was some sort of trap.

"Annalise, my dear—" The minister cleared his throat, covering his mouth briefly with a handkerchief that was pulled from his robe's pocket. "I am so terribly sorry about the... prejudice... you've faced over the years. Rest assured, I found great offense hearing of the gossip and cruelties thrust toward your person."

Then why didn't you help me when I needed it most? Annalise thought, but remained silent.

"You are a hardworking young lady, diligent, dutiful. But you are nineteen years of age, and yet unmarried. Therefore, I have decided it was within my best interests to find you a suitable husband. The Lord has spoken to me and declared that Monsieur Vachon will become your spouse."

"What?" Annalise choked. She knew of the other man — Gerard Vachon, a swine and cattle farmer. She saw him occasionally making deliveries to the butcher's shop. He was as wide and strong as an ox, and his bristly black beard reminded her of a boar's fur.

He was a recent widower, too. Though Annalise was aware of this, she did not know how his wife died. What she did know was that she left behind three young boys. A sour taste filled Annalise's mouth. She was to be the replacement.

"I did not agree to this! I am a woman grown; I should be able to make my own decision on who I must marry!" Annalise protested, her cheeks flushing red with anger.

"It is normally the parents' decision to choose their daughter's husband. But as you are orphaned, I have taken over that responsibility," the minister harrumphed, the gentle facade fading at the girl's insolence. "Gerard has offered me his finest pig and cow in exchange for your hand."

"So that is all I am worth to you? You call yourself a man of God, and yet you are eager to hand away a girl you haven't even cared about in years for two beasts?" Annalise scoffed. "I will not marry Gerard Vachon. You will have to pull me from my home kicking and screaming. And I will fight back."

She turned on her heel and ran from the chapel, leaving the minister spluttering and redfaced with fury. Annalise continued to run, pushing past anyone in her way, hurrying back to the safety of her home.

She would not leave for weeks. Even when the farmer and the minister arrived to bang on her door, pleading for her to come out, she refused.

#foxedthecards #whoops this got long

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stedes-incredible-library · 2 years ago

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Hi! Same anon asking for fave lists, I’d love to hear from all the mods!

Hello! Here are some of our favourites in no particular order (mind the tags and also check the pairings!)

stuck in second gear by tediousdelusion [E], 69k nice

“I want a divorce.” Izzy’s said the words more times than once in the past eighteen years of marriage, but he means them this time. More than he ever has before, anyway. At the prow of the very expensive and very unnecessary boat parked in the driveway, Edward - Izzy’s idiot (soon-to-be-ex) husband - sighs and rolls his eyes. “Come on, Iz!” Ed shouts. He’s wearing a stupid fucking captain’s hat and has one foot propped against the rail. “The boat is an investment! And it’ll be fun.” Or, how Izzy Hands saves his marriage (and gains a boyfriend) by getting a divorce.

would you worship gravity by bitethehands [E], 60k

At precisely the seven-and-a-half hour mark, Izzy prepares the cabin for landing. Ed’s crackly voice buzzes over the loudspeaker with the announcement. He’s not thinking specifically of Finance Consultant Guy, nor of anything bar the inevitable banality of deboarding, so it genuinely catches him off-guard when a hand closes over his wrist. “Apologies for being forward, but what are you doing after this?” - Izzy is a flight attendant. Edward is a pilot. Stede is the first-class passenger who won’t stop chasing after them both.

piña coladas by faeeebaeee [E], WIP

The 80s are in full swing, and the golden decade of Nintendo Gameboys’ and Sony Walkmans’ has never looked better. In the neon jungle, Stede Bonnet, a young salaryman, meets enigmatic mechanic apprentice Edward Teach, and the pair strike up an unlikely friendship via fax machine, page beepers and gifts in the mail.

~Mod N

What Kind of Pirate Has a Friend? by @thetardigrape [E], 31k pre-canon

A story of Edward Teach and Jack Rackham, the two youngest pirates in Captain Hornigold's crew. Friendship, fucking, and fighting. Maybe some fuckery.

The Body Knows by @veeagainsttheday [M], 21k canon adjacent, magical realism, spooky vibes

Stede Bonnet thought he was finally free by faking his own death with a fuckery and leaving everything to his widow and children. He was wrong.

The World Beyond by @veeagainsttheday [E], 43k Alternate Universe

The Colorado River runs dry and sparks thirty years of Water Wars. Blackbeard is the most legendary water pirate in the desert; the Gentleman Pirate broke his heart. Now Stede is searching for the love of his life and Ed is planning his retirement. Unfortunately the remaining Cinco Gallos are still looking for Jim and the cults might be right about the biggest conspiracy theory of the last three decades...

~Mod A (I have a wildly hard time picking favorites of anything. What I've done here is pare down a selection of favorite authors, then shuffled through those for fics that truly haven't left me alone since I read them, then spun that down until I had the three that had the fewest hits. All three are by authors whose entire fandom catalogue I would recommend.)

tastes so sweet it hurts a little by florence_after_midnight [E], 8.3k

“Suits you,” Izzy says, hoping Ed hears the reverence in his voice. “You think?” Ed says, in a playful tone that makes it clear she’s not looking for reassurance but shamelessly fishing for compliments. Fair, Izzy thinks, she deserves all the praise in the world. He’s never been good with words, so he tries to put it all into the simple act of touching her. You’re the most beautiful woman in the fucking world, says the finger tracing the floral pattern of the lace. I’ve never loved anyone like I love you, says his thumb running up her sternum. I’d gladly worship at your feet all day, says his left hand finding hers, lacing their fingers together and squeezing tight. or: The one where Ed buys lingerie and Izzy loses his mind about it.

take the pain, take the pleasure by @shatteredhourglass [E], 10k

“If I didn’t know better,” Ed says, hand tracing down Jack’s arm slowly, deceptively gentle, “I’d think you were fucking around with my things, Jack.” In which Ed and Izzy collectively menace the men who choose to get involved with them. Or, five times someone wasn't allowed to fuck Izzy Hands' pussy, and one time they were

everybody's got their limits (nobody's found mine) by @oopshidaisyy [E], 16k

After 153 days, killing Stede Bonnet had begun to lose its appeal. (Or: Izzy gets stuck in a time loop.)

~Mod 🐁

#ofmd #our flag means death #fic rec #our flag means death fanfic #steddyhands #gentlebeard #edward teach #izzy hands #stede bonnet #calico jack rackham #ofmd fic #our flag means death fic #ofmd fanfic #captain stede bonnet #blackbeard | edward teach #israel hands

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our-flag-means-death-ao3feed · 2 years ago

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Blackbeard: The Spy Who Shagged Me

by SierraJaneSims

Ed (codename Blackbeard) is the F.B.I.’s (Forensic Badminton Intelligence agency) top agent, so when there are reports of a woman, known as The Black Widow of Wellington, helping wives off their husbands, they of course send in their best. Getting close to Evelyn Higgins won’t be easy, and Ed has some secrets of his own.

Enter Stede Bonnet, nicest neighbor and most oblivious man on Earth. He’s perfect for Ed’s purposes, but things get a bit complicated when the neighborhood decides to meddle in the seemingly romantic connection between the two. Can Ed keep his true identity hidden long enough to catch his perp? Or will the bumbling idiots of Queen Anne Street manage to accidentally take down a multi-million dollar operation?

Words: 4058, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Our Flag Means Death (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Evelyn Higgins, Lucius Spriggs, Black Pete (Our Flag Means Death), Buttons (Our Flag Means Death), Spanish Jackie (Our Flag Means Death), The Badminton Twins

Relationships: Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet, Blackbeard | Edward Teach & Israel Hands, Oluwande Boodhari/Jim Jimenez

Additional Tags: Spies & Secret Agents, Izzy is an AI, he's still a dick though, Ed is an exhausted parent, warning: stupid acronyms, Fake Feelings, spoiler: they become real though

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/46637638

#Our flag means death #ofmd #https://archiveofourown.org/works/46637638

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celticbarb · 2 years ago

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Book: Highland Breath

Author: Michelle Deerwester-Dalrymple

Series: Glen Coe Highlanders, Book #2

Release Date: January 26, 2023

Book Length: 279 pages

Overall Rating: 5/5 Stars

Blog Rating: 5/5 Saltire Flags

The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry….Robert Burns (Scottish Poet)

Scotland, 17th century

This story centers around two people Fiona Graham and Maddock MacDonald that have to marry for political reasons and seem to be opposites in personalities as well. As Fiona is a bibliophile, who always has her head in a book, where Maddock is a libertine, where he always has his head up some woman’s gown! The one thing they do agree on is neither of them wants to marry each other. Fiona and her sister’s Ann and Jemma had always been promised that they could pick their own husbands. As they each wanted a love match but now due to their father’s ambitions that was another deceitful lie! Her father, Archie Graham is selling her like livestock, only to raise himself up in politics and connect himself to a powerful clan like the MacDonalds.

Archie Graham was a widow and only a bonnet laird, with a small bit of land. He only had a few tenant farmers to aid him with the livestock and to help plant small plots of vegetables, oats and flax. He had a governess to help with his daughters and stable hands taught them how to ride horses. Historically, the term bonnet laird is a petty landowner. They wore a bonnet like the non-landowning classes. Bonnet lairds filled a position in society below Lairds. The other reason is that Graham was the Hammer against the Campbell clan and how he made a reasonable living. Furthermore when the powerful Seamus MacDonald, Laird of Glenachulish offered his philandering son he jumped at the chance! It would raise his status and possibly make him more powerful and wealthier. Of course this did not sit well with Fiona or Maddock!

As this Laird’s son is of an important clan, though his rakish ambitions are well known all over the highlands! This is part of the reason his father wants his wild son tamed, settled and married to one woman. As the men of this clan are loyal, honorable and are not unfaithful to their wives, even Maddock knew that. It is also a time when politics were stirring with King James Stuart having been exiled to Ireland which is the start of the Jacobite rebellion and a missing letter that starts this off. When Maddock realized this highland beauty had no interest in him they formed a plan together. It was a fake betrothal to everyone else they were planning their wedding but as their wedding celebrations began it would give Maddock a chance to introduce Fiona to other gentlemen who would be visiting. The one problem is as he got to know his betrothed he felt jealousy and did not want any other man touching his Fiona!

Of course these two are planning to fool everyone with a fake betrothal where Maddock promised to find Fiona a loyal loving husband for her. Except he starts to not like this idea in the least since he has fallen in love with this bookish lass! Soon Fiona is starting to fall for this rogue and knows her heart will be broken. Plus she can’t marry a man where her future will be filled with an unfaithful husband who will definitely break her heart! On the political side of things will they locate this mysterious missing letter and red box? Do these star-crossed lovers even have a chance? Will this union be doomed before it even starts? Read and find out.

Again my go to author Michelle Deerwester-Dalrymple pens another extraordinary read that just kept me turning the pages late into the night. I absolutely love when author’s weave true history with a fictional romance. As for the swoon-worthy hero even with all his faults, I couldn’t help but love him! Now any reader will be able to relate to the heroine, a lover of books, who wants to be loved and marry a loyal partner. That does not seem to be asking too much or is it? This is a book I highly recommend and I look forward to the next book in this fantastic series!

Pre-Order Link:

https://www.amazon.com/Highland-Breath-Historical-Highlander-Highlanders-ebook/dp/B0BR3GWP3Y/

Disclaimer: I received an advance readers copy and agreed to do an honest, fair, review and blog through Booksprout. All thoughts, ideas and words are my own.

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batsarebetterthanpeople · 2 years ago

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my guy. Ed is literally not in the shot at the academy when he says "wife, Mary Bonnet." He fucks off rather enthusiastically and the guy doesn't say wife Mary Bonnet for like another 30 seconds and 7 lines of dialogue. I don't think he's just hanging out around the corner in case someone says something interesting. He's being directed where to put his shit and told to shave his beard. I don't think the Navy is letting him hang behind the door to eves drop. They're shoving a razor in his hand and telling him to lose the leather.

As for the pictures. Literally why couldn't they be a neice and nephew and a sister? Or a deceased wife and kids? Like Ed would be jumping to a lot of really uncharitable (if correct) conclusions about Stede if he just assumed that he abandoned his family like that. I have my sister's school photo up on my fridge at my apartment. It's not that weird to have family portraits lying around of people who aren't your wife and kids. (Also not to project but I literally believed the niece and nephew lie about two tattoos above his heart, you'll believe a lotta shit when you have the rose colored glasses on. I'm not saying that Stede lied about who was in the pictures I'm just saying that Ed has motive to believe it's not his wife) And even if he did assume it to be a wife and kids, I once again direct you to the widower hypothesis. "I was a coward" "I should have been there to guide my family" he ran away to be a pirate for Christ's sake. He's being literally so dramatic Ed has reason to assume that something dramatic happened. The portraits mean nothing and Ed probably wouldn't ask about them if he thought they were dead out of respect for Stede.

Anyway in conclusion, I considered both of the factors you brought up when I made my initial post and considered them both to be deeply irrelevant. Ed doesn't know shit about shit he's very intentionally way off screen for every clarifying moment. Just because he's a genius doesn't mean he can connect puzzle pieces Stede's not giving him. He never got the chance to connect Mary with the woman in the drawing, who again isn't even necessarily Stede's wife.

#Ed: Who's mary#Stede: Would you like to see my secret closet?#Ed: Ah he is gay. Good. Mary's probably his sister or something So I was making a joke in the tags on this post and then I realized. Ed only ever hears Stede talk about Mary twice. once here

The lines here are as follows:

Stede: Mary *whimper*

Ed: Who's this Mary then?

Then Lucius bursts in and no more is heard about Mary until here.

The Dialogue goes:

Stede: Do they really think I'm dead? Or did Mary report me dead out of spite? I wonder if they had a funeral. I mean what would they bury? Would it be an empty - AHHHHH

Ed: What?

Stede: What have they done with your face?

and then they talk about the beard and no more is said on the subject of Mary or the fact that Stede has been reported dead. The only thing that Ed knows is that Stede has a woman in his life named Mary that would be the person to report him dead if he went missing. She could be anyone, a sister, a cousin, maybe even a maid. Ed has no reason to believe that it's his wife. In fact there are reasons to believe that she's not his wife considering that he doesn't wear a ring on his wedding ring finger at any point over the course of series. And if someone was acting like that at you you wouldn't assume they were married either.

Even in this scene he says

Ed: What's that? Grain tower?

Stede: Oh, it's a lighthouse, I should have been one for my family. Guide them.

Ed: Well, Technically you're supposed to avoid lighthouses, so you don't crack up on the rocks.

The way Stede says that it kinda sounds like Something Happened to his family, especially in conjunction with him muttering that he's a coward and it is never clarified if Mary is part of that family.

Anyway Ed thinks Stede is either a bachelor because he's gay or he thinks he's a widower because of the "I was a coward" "I should have been one for my family" bit that he's doing. This is especially funny in conjunction with Stede "trouble in paradise" Bonnet thinking that Ed and Izzy are together.

#ofmd meta #anyway im right Ed has literally no reason to think hes married

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whatthefoucault · 3 years ago

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Ok no but hear me out, because what if, before Stede and the gang make it back to Ed and them on the ship to get the band back together, Ed finds out that in the intervening, like, couple of days, Stede “died” in the most absurdly dramatic way possible, and just sort of finds his way on sadness-autopilot to the Bonnet home, looking for, what, closure? Just to be where this man he loved so much came from and maybe, in some disjointed and incomplete way feel near him again, despite everything? And Mary’s there, clutching a sharp object behind her back and she’s like oh no a vaguely threatening crime man what are you doing here wait why are you crying and Ed’s like, I was... a friend of Stede’s, I think, and Mary’s stance softens, and she lets him in and makes a cup of tea.

And she explains as po-faced as one can “exactly” what happened, and they sit there awkwardly in the Bonnet front room, not having much to say to each other, and Ed takes in their surroundings, unchanged enough presumably from when Stede lived there to be both a visceral reminder of all of the wonderful things he was, and also a fierce indicator of why he chose to leave.

“Nice house,” he tells her, trying to remember the rules of small talk. “Did you... paint that?”

He points at a large canvas that now hangs over the sideboard of what looks to be a very detailed close-up of some flowers.

“I did, actually,” she says. “A couple of weeks ago. It’s - ”

“A lily,” Ed suggests.

“A vagina,” Mary says, at the same time.

and Ed nods, unsure how to follow on from that. Mary gives him an apologetic smile.

“So I guess you two were close friends?”

“I think so,” Ed tells her cautiously, not about to bare his entire soul and the deep, devastating love he holds for Stede to the man’s widow, for fuck’s sake.

“Well, he’s in a better place now,” Mary assures him. “He’s free.”

And with that, the tears are back, and despite himself Ed’s shaking and ugly-sobbing, and Mary begins to reach a hand out to give him a pat on the shoulder, but thinks better of it and just offers him a hankie instead.

And Ed’s emotions are catching up with his brain, but now his thoughts are too fast and too all at once to word them properly, but he’s trying anyway despite himself. “We were - I was going to - and then he, I thought, but - but then - ” he manages between sobs.

And Mary is given pause. Wait a minute, she thinks, as it slowly dawns on her. Why would it mean this much to this guy, unless

“Sorry, what did you say your name was?”

“Uhh, it’s Ed?”

And she lights up. He isn’t exactly who she would have expected, all goth and intimidating and stuff, but she also doesn’t know what she did expect. But on the other hand, if this is Stede’s Ed, then

“You’re Ed? Shit, what are you doing here? Stede’s going to be looking for you.”

Which makes no sense to Ed now, because “But Stede’s - you mean he’s a ghost?”

And she leans in with a conspiratorial smile. “Okay look, I obviously couldn’t tell just any old friend, but you’re Ed. It was, what did he call it? A fuckery?”

And Ed understands, he thinks, hopeful. “You mean... he’s...”

And Mary laughs. “No, he’s fine,” she tells him. “Staged the whole thing. It was brilliant! He’s gonna be out there looking for you right now.”

And Ed’s whole body melts with relief, pooling in the deep cushions of the velvet settee. There are too many emotions rattling through his body at once. edwardteach.exe has stopped working

“He's? Wait, how do you - no, doesn’t matter. No, yes it does. You've heard of me?”

And Mary’s like, “I know my ex-husband loves you very much.”

And Ed’s like

But wait, she’s cool with him just fucking off with another fellow, he thinks? And she explains that their marriage sucked and she’s fucking thriving and she’s genuinely happy he’s happy.

And after a few more biscuits, now that the mood has lightened considerably, she sends Ed on his merry way to go smooch her ex-husband probably. They’ve still got some shit to talk through together, and he’s going to hug that stupid brilliant man SO HARD and he’s still not sure what his emotions are doing, and he doesn’t know where he’s going, but he’s, like, so gay for Stede right now oh my god that absolute fucking human treasure ughhhhhhhhhh FEELINGS

And Doug comes in a few minutes later looking Terribly Concerned, as Mary’s brushing biscuit crumbs off the coffee table, and he’s like “Mary, are you ok? I saw a vaguely threatening man leave just now. He looked just like Blackbeard???”

And Mary’s like he

WHAT

#ofmd #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #edward teach #mary bonnet #our flag means death #doug is there also #this is terrible but it wouldn't leave my head until i wrote it down #sorry

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chuplayswithfire · 3 years ago

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i think we all know that episode ten features both Stede and Ed paralleling each other, but what really interests me about the whole thing is that they are moving in reverse from each other, not following the same path but rather tracking backwards.

Ed is at his most emotionally honest and healthy point at the start through about the first half of Episode 10. It might not seem like it on the surface, given the crying, feasting upon of marmalade, depression nesting, and sad poetry writing, but this is Edward Teach for the first time (possibly in his life, but definitely during the season) allowing himself to feel his emotions in the moment without needing to be subject to racist violence or trauma (the French captain using a racial slur, the false kraken) first. Stede broke up with him and instead of putting on a mask until it overwhelms him, he's just sad. He just lets himself be sad, and then he reaches out to other people - Lucius, and then the crew - and he starts to heal.

Is he doing great? Fuck, of course not. The man's just had his heart broken after giving up everything he knows and putting himself out there. He's feeling god awful. He's a wreck. Even when he's cleaning up, and feeling a bit better, it's clear he's still really fucking sad, and clearly his new hopes are fragile considering Izzy will later break them down like a wrecking ball, but in that first half of the episode what we see is Ed suffering and hurt.

And honest about it. No hiding himself. No hiding from himself. He doesn't try to blend in. He doesn't put on a different mask, he doesn't hide away from it. Even without Stede, he's letting himself feel what he wants to feel and react how he wants to react and be the person he wants to be, Edward not just Blackbeard myth and legend. He's acting fully on his personal growth.

Stede on the other hand starts the episode out lying to himself and everyone around him about everything he's feeling. He's regressed to all his worst habits - he's passive aggressive with Mary and avoidant, nosy and invasive, leaning fully into his privilege to dictate to Mary her title (pointing out that Widow Bonnet isn't accurate and that she should change it) and space (being in her painter's studio when she clearly doesn't want him there, and remember, Stede is the one familiar with passive aggression and the rules of society. He knows what he's doing.)

He tries to pretend that everything is normal, giving into his classic trait of avoidance by refusing to properly discuss the issue of his abandoning his family (Mary is the one forced to bring it up! After Stede tries to passive aggressively get her to talk about Doug!) or becoming a criminal or - any of it, really.

And this culminates in two ways: 1) Stede going to that bar and indulging in the worst of himself with those men, betraying Ed for the sake of winning a place amidst men he's never been able to find companionship with and 2) ruining Mary's event with verbal and then physical violence and refusing to discuss THAT either.

for the first - it is difficult to see the way that Stede discusses Ed in that post as anything besides Stede throwing Ed fully under the bus for the sake of his own reputation (and being fully aware of it, which makes him feel worse, which makes him lash out more when he gets to Mary's art show). Stede's been uncomfortable at home, unhappy, has made this choice to rush back and pour himself into a space that's already been filled in and paved over, and it's becoming increasingly clear to him that no matter how much he wants to deny it, he doesn't belong here.

And then along come fellow gentlemen who gas him up, who consider him a hero, who want to hear all about his adventures. He's boasting when we return to the clip, about his duel with Izzy, clearly already deep in his cups given the number of empty tankards around him. When they ask about Blackbeard, leaning in, eager, "Is he as bloodthirsty as everyone says," full of relish and intrigue, Stede responds with truth - "Oh he's absolutely lovely."

And those men falter, their faces struck with confusion, maybe disappointment, and you get a moment of Stede seeing this, that he's losing the crowd, and he says, "Oh and of course a bloodthirsty killer" and immediately there are smiles and impressed nods. This isn't something he said to protect Ed or his reputation - this is something he said to recapture the crowd hanging on his every word, for once listening to him, Stede Bonnet, with respect. No Baby Bonnet here.

Not great Stede!

But then he makes it worse, by adding, "Born of the devil himself."

Born of the devil himself. The ultimate means of othering someone in the Christian world, which, these times were very big on the religion, on the Christianity, on the importance of being children of God, and here is Stede throwing Ed fully under the bus to say that Ed isn't just a bloodthirsty killer, but a monster, a being born from the devil himself.

Stede has personally heard from Ed that these are some of Ed's worst fears about himself. That he's a bad person, a monster, that he's done all these horrible things, and Stede fully throws Ed to that reputation for the sake of getting along with his fellow rich white gentlemen. He is fully putting Ed in the box of the Devil Pyrate Blackbeard for the approval of these men. And he clearly feels pretty bad about it, considering he hastens to say he doesn't want to talk about Ed.

And then we get to his second big hit on his spiral down (and I do love the symbolism, that Stede and Ed both have a two hit spiral down to the bottom). He goes to Mary's art show, drunk as a skunk, to humiliate Mary and make her feel as terrible as he does, because he hates that she's happy.

"And if her husband gave up the sea, surely she should give up the dishonest title, even though she hates my guts. [exaggerated sad face] which is her right."

Oh he can't stand that she's happy. That she gave him that speech and told him she won't blow up her life just because he blew up his (after he blew up hers in the first place!!!)

And then when Doug puts a hand on his shoulder, there's that already classic line - "Unhand me or bleed." - as he tosses him to the table and presses a knife to him. The look of dawning realization.

"Clearly I've had too much to drink. And for that I am sorry. Being home's been quite an adjustment. For both of us! I forgive you by the way. For sleeping with Doug."

This is the lowest Stede can go. This is his bottom drop. This is not an apology for what he said about or to Mary, what he did to Doug. This is an apology for having too much to drink, coupled with a condescending, but we were both in the wrong, equally! Stede doesn't actually face that he's beyond fucked things up until Mary almost kills him and he's forced to come to the realization of ohhhhh shit, she was going to kill me!

Luckily from here, he can make the climb up. And this is partially because Mary is gracious about the whole thing (more than most people would be, to be honest), but also because Stede has a way out. Stede can go back to the sea, and he can go back to his crew, and he can go back to Ed.

He came home, but he can leave again. And he sets things to rights. He talks about his feelings, he speaks to the children and Mary and even Doug, he puts her reputation back to the way it should be and fakes his death and he's able to walk back to a life that he truly wants as a man free of the past.

Now back to Ed.

See, now we're back to that fun reverse parallel. Because in a perfect filming choice, the intersection of Stede and Ed's emotional arcs happens to be the moment when it all hits the crescendo - because Izzy confronts Ed, who is at his best and most free self, at the moment that Stede is torching Mary's life and being his absolutely worse self. And I didn't talk about that scene earlier, but let's talk about it.

Let's talk about Ed is smiling and laughing a little, is cleaning up and restoring the space around him, is giving himself the emotional room to go "Feels nice to tidy up a little, can't believe I was living like this, can you Iz?" and invite a man who has both been his ally and his betrayer in, and Izzy Fucking Hands, lounging in the background, leafing through Stede's book of pirates and anti Blackbeard propaganda, says,

"I'm going to speak plainly." And Ed welcomes this. Ed gives him the space to speak. "I should have let the English kill you." And we see the expression on Ed's face, as his smile drops and his brows furrow. "This, whatever it is you've become, is a fate worse than death."

And Ed tries to laugh it off, a little bitten of tch, shake of the head, close the eyes, and smile again, "Well, I am still, Blackbeard, so -"

And Izzy cuts him off with a growl. Izzy tosses the book. Izzy stomps up to him. Izzy growls out that the English propaganda is the real Blackbeard, not Edward, who's just a "namby-pamby in a silk gown, piiiiining for his boooooyfriend."

And Ed snaps.

Narratively, its the moment when Stede grabs a knife and holds it to Doug's throat.

(Note that they both go for the throat. Constantly paralleling each other.)

From here, while Stede goes on the upswing, Ed goes on the downswing. It's here that he betrays himself and Stede - where Stede tore Ed down to cast him as the monster for the approval of his wealthy white peers, Ed has everything of Stede's cast into the sea, starting with Lucius and then the books and the the knick knacks and finally the crew themselves, save for the ones Ed needs. This is Ed's two part violence - hurting the crew, throwing away Stede's stuff.

(I'm going to be honest, I don't read cutting off Izzy's toe as an act of violence, that seemed very much like an act of acknowledgement for and too Izzy and the man he wants Ed to be, the man he worships. It's a classic Blackbeard thing to do, cut off a man's toe and make him eat it for a laugh, and Izzy wants Blackbeard.)

And Ed has people around him too, people who care about him, but they're Stede's people first. We haven't seen Ed getting close to the crew aside from Lucius and Frenchie - and where Frenchie was validating Ed on the French ship, Lucius has been Stede's staunch partner in romance. It's really clear why one goes and one stays. The person that Ed has who "cares" about Ed, is Izzy, who this whole performance is for.

So we end where we began.

One protagonist at his most emotionally healthy and honest. One protagonist drowning in his worst state to date.

God I fucking love this show.

#ofmd #edward teach #stede bonnet #izzy hands #mary allamby bonnet #our flag means death #ofmd meta #ofmd spoilers

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sea-owl · 2 years ago

Note

Okay I’ve seen a lot of people making AUs where Colin suffers so what about this? Imagine Colin and Penelope falling for each other in their teens and knowing how the other person feels but not acting on it since Colin is still in university or Penelope has debuted in society. Come Penelope’s first season when she’s eighteen, Colin is already figuring out a plan to court her. There’s just one small problem. Everyone thinks they are just friends or that Colin sees her as a sister. Even when he came over with flowers for Penelope, her family assumed they were for Marina. Penelope and Colin exchange exasperated looks while Marina quickly catches on and does her best to help the childhood sweethearts. Except somehow this leads to everyone thinking Colin is with Marina. Even when Marina marries Philip (no Whistledown exposure in this) people think Colin is heartbroken about this when in reality he’s heartbroken because when he asked Lord Featherington for Penelope’s hand, the man in question said no and stated drunkenly that he has no intention of seeing his daughter married to some third son that relies on his brothers money to support himself. Of course the man just had to die shortly after, taking news of Colin’s intentions with him. So not only must he allow Penelope her mourning period, but Lord Featheringtons words bother him until Penelope tells him perhaps he should travel. It might help him find what he wants to do and they can still write while also respecting her mourning period. So he sets off and comes up with the idea of documenting his travels and later publishing them. It might not be the money a viscount makes but at least he can support his family. Unfortunately to do this, he might have to travel for a few years but thank the lord Penelope agrees to wait for him. Thankfully he comes back for each season. Cue a few years later, Colin enters his family’s sitting room beaming and announces that he’s finally proposed Penelope. Cue his family going “WHAT?!” as Colin looks at them oddly and says, “how is this a surprise? I’ve been courting her since her first season! I just wanted to make sure I had enough money saved up for us to start our life together. Thank the lord Penelope loved me enough to wait.” I’d just love to see everyone but Colin and Penelope being oblivious to their relationship for a change rather than the other way around.

Hell yeah, we got a happy Polin au. Jk, I love you all but you gotta admit a lot of you send me asks trying to make Colin suffer

So, I'm thinking a little bit of book, a little bit of show, probably closer to book, as in I want to take out the queen deus ex machina subplots, and Whistledown is closer to the book version. We also gonna add Felicity because we love her in this house and Shondaland did a disservice by cutting her. Also, a little side note for some context, mourning periods in the regency era differed for a widow and children. A widow was the strictest of the mourners, she was in mourning for a year and a day, any social interactions were practically forbidden outside of callers, and halfway through when she went into half mourning, she could slowly restart her social functions. For children it was 6 months to a year depending on the age of the child. The older the child the longer the mourning period. Personally, I think Portia would be 50/50. If Lord Featherington left her good financially, she would probably keep her daughters in mourning for the full year, but since they are in the financial situation that they're in she's probably pulling them out as early as she can to get safety nets under them.

On the day of the bonnet incident, we got a mutual love at first sight, with a little bit of my favorite trope of theirs's, she fell first (because it took him two seconds to see her due to bonnet) he fell harder.

Colin is all in, and if Penelope was already out in society, he would've asked to marry her on the spot. They come to an understanding for them to wait until they are secure enough for marriage. They are on a very fine line though with how often they skirt the edges of propriety.

When Penelope's first season comes around, a year too early in both their opinions, Colin starts planning a courtship with plans of a long engagement.

Here comes the problem, both their families think Colin is trying to court Penelope's cousin, a one Ms. Marina Thompson.

Colin brings flowers, they give them to Marina, Colin says he is calling on Penelope, they assume it's him using his friendship with her to basically skip the line of Marina's callers.

Marina for a moment thought the same thing until little Felicity growled at her.

"They are in love," Felicity said. "Colin will marry Penelope, and not you!"

That's when Marina sees all the touches, and whispers that go between them. How even though people say he's there for her, the whole time Colin is sitting next to Penelope, his head practically resting on her's.

It's a miracle how no one has forced them to marry yet. The ton must be blind.

With a few bribes to Felicity, who clung to her older sister like glue, Marina was able to ask Penelope about it. Penelope did reveal that yes, they were courting, but they were both also aware that it would be better for them to have a longer engagement.

Meanwhile Colin finally worked up the nerve to ask Lord Featherington for his daughter's hand. Lord Featherington, who had gambled away any dowry for his daughters and had already scared away Mr. Finch, almost had a panic attack at the question. Lord help him if Portia ever finds out about this. She'll kill him if she ever learns he ruined her chance of marrying one of their daughters off to a Bridgerton.

Lord Featherington turns towards Colin and says, "My daughter will not marry some third born son who relies on his brother's good will for money! She deserves to be supported and not have to hold her breathe for the day her charity case of a husband comes home and tells her that he failed her!"

Lord Featherington might as well have struck Colin. It was as if he knew which words would pick at Colin's insecurities the worst.

By the end of the season Marina has married Phillip, and Lord Featherington is dead. The ladies of the Featherington household must now go into mourning. Colin fights the urge to groan, because now depending on if Portia decides to keep all her daughters in mourning with her, he won't be able to see Penelope until midway through next social season. Not to mention the last words Lord Featherington said to him were still weighing heavily on his mind.

"Why don't you travel?" Penelope suggested to him.

Currently the Bridgertons were on a condolence call to the Featheringtons. It was strange, given Portia's taste for bright yellows, oranges, and pinks, to see all of them wearing black, veils and bonnets covering their hair.

"Travel?" Colin asked her.

"Yes, maybe it will help clear your thoughts. I'll be in the countryside anyway until we go into half mourning. You could write to me all the new places you visit."

Colin heads to Greece, keeping a journal, and writing his beloved letters. He makes sure he's back in time for the next season, having to make plans to call on Penelope except she was already in his drawing room.

They talk about his travels and Colin shows her different entries from his journal.

"You know you could publish these, they're quite good."

Colin rolls his eyes. "You mean the Bridgerton name will get them published. Then everyone would just tell me they thought it was good when they could be lying through their teeth."

Penelope thought for a minute, her fingers tracing the spine of the journal. "Well how about this, the name may still be the reason they buy the book in the beginning but no one will give you false praises."

Colin raised an eyebrow at her. "Pen, what are you getting at?"

"Publish them under Lord Whistledown."

"And invite the wrath of Lady Whistledown?" Colin scoffed. "Could you imagine what she write."

Penelope only smiled. "That I am proud of my husband?"

Colin could have sworn he almost got whiplash from how fast he turned towards Penelope.

In the end the travel stories of Lord Whistledown's time in Greece became a huge success, and people were wanting more.

"I'm sorry love, we're going to have to put off marriage a bit longer."

Penelope sighed. "We can always use my money."

Colin kissed Penelope's forehead. "I need to be able to provide for you. Just a few more years," he promised.

"I'm going to hold you to that Lord Whistledown."

"A gentleman never breaks his promise Lady Whistledown."

A few years later Colin is in the Featherington drawing room asking for Portia's permission to marry her daughter.

"Finally! Mr. Bridgerton you certainly kept my daughter waiting long enough!"

It was a very different reaction to the bewilderment of the Bridgerton household.

"Are you all really that blind? I've been courting Pen since her first season!"

#polin #bridgerton #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #love at first sight au

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triflesandparsnips · 2 years ago

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All right, let's talk about Mary Bonnet and Evelyn Higgins.

So we know that Mary declared Stede dead at some point prior to his arrival at British-sailor camp. We also know that it's been enough time for her to develop a new style, get a painting tutor, fuuuuuck that painting tutor (GOOD JOB, GIRL), fall in love with that painting tutor (maybe before or after the fucking, whatever, GOOD JOB, GIRL), develop her own little friend circle of widows, and get enough of a reputation that she could actually draw guests to an art show who weren't her immediate friends and family.

My thought? It wasn't more than a month after Stede left that Mary got him declared dead. Depending on when exactly he left, it could've been less than a week.

Imagine, if you will, the bills coming due. Stede doesn't go out much, so perhaps no one's noticed that he's missing, but-- the tradesmen must be paid, wages have to be dispersed to the servants, the home farm needs supplies... there has to be money. Mary might have her own pin money she can spend from, and that might tide over one or two bills, but even that needs to be replenished from Stede's accounts. Accounts that Mary herself can't very well demand that Stede's man of business hand over to her because her husband has decided to fuck off to parts unknown.

I mean, she does try. But Mr. Barkley is a bit of a bastard, it turns out, and now she's on the street in front of his offices and trying very hard not to cry.

This is how the Widow Higgins finds her.

The Widow Higgins -- Evelyn, the towering blonde will correct -- is something of a personality in Bridgetown. She owns the local dress shop outright, and since there's not much by way of competition the women of town are generally forced to put up with Evelyn's... peccadilloes. The smoking, for one. The matching eyepatches. The accent. Mary has always found herself fascinated by what little she's seen of the woman-- but Evelyn rarely attended any of the ladies who actually frequented her shop. If she was there at all, she seemed to prefer sticking to the doorway between the front of the shop and the back, ready at a moment's notice to snort softly at the indecisiveness of the gentry, smoke curling up like a dragon's breath from her nose, before pulling back the curtain and disappearing into the seamstresses' domain.

Evelyn was mysterious. She was independent. She was tall. Mary didn't really know why all of that equaled up to someone she rather desperately wanted to be friends with, but there it was. Not that Evelyn had ever shown any interest back-- once or twice, maybe, when Mary had asked for her bodice to be cut a little lower, or to try some color other than the pale pinks and yellows her mother had insisted were the only shades that suited her. But Evelyn's attention never stayed very long; Mary was a married girl, and just as silly as all the others, apparently, and that was that.

It probably hadn't helped that Evelyn had met Stede. Stede had a habit of wanting to attend this, of all Mary's regular errands, though he'd never invited her to join him on his day-to-day. She rather thought she'd like to learn about the property and what went into its upkeep, and if she'd wondered, sometimes, if maybe Stede would hold her hand as he helped her over a stile, or maybe he'd find a convenient bale of hay somewhere that unlocked the core of spontaneity and, and heat she thought he might have somewhere in him that never seemed to make itself known in their more private evenings... but. Well. If she'd ever wondered all that, she knew better than to say it.

Which was fine, actually, because he always made a face about it whenever she'd brought up his tending to his responsibilities, and tried to reassure her as to how boring it was, and then ask if she wouldn't rather get another dress. Stede seemed to think that was all she was good for: dresses. And then he'd come with her and spend all day just talking about fabrics and cuts and bothering Evelyn about the latest fashions from the Continent until Evelyn left without a word and Mary inevitably ended up in their carriage home, sitting silent next to Stede and wondering why in the fuck her husband thought she had no thought in her head beyond the latest bit of brocade.

So. It was with some surprise that standing outside Mr. Barkley's misogynistic shit of an establishment and trying not to scream led to the Widow Higgins -- Evelyn -- stopping immediately in front of her, looking her up and down, and saying, "Problem with the husband?"

Mary, blinking hard and uncertain whether speaking was really an option for her at the moment, nodded.

Evelyn flicked the end of her cigarillo, ignoring the ash that dropped onto her blood-red dress in favor of staring at Mary. After a moment, a smile crooked up the side of her mouth, making her one eye crinkle. "Thought so. C'mon. I'm buying."

And so it was that Evelyn dragged Mary into that mysterious back room of her dress shop, past the seamstresses at work, and then farther on into her personal office, where she sat Mary down on an overstuffed couch, plied her with more than a little whisky, taught her to smoke, and drew up the steps -- clearly memorized, clearly boiled down to its fastest application -- that Mary would need to take to declare Stede dead and herself the proxy for his accounts until Louis came of age. Evelyn also invited her to the Weekly Widows' Business Tea and Support Group, offered to buy off any clothes that Mary would be happier seeing the back of so that she could cover expenses in the meantime, and casually mentioned that Mary had tits to die for.

It took a few hours, all told, but most of that was because Mary was damned if she'd leave before she managed at least one smoke ring.

And the tits thing was pretty excellent as well.

#our flag means death #evelyn higgins #mary allamby bonnet #mary bonnet #backstory fun #free plot bunnies #if you write it link it #do the thing

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menaceanon · 3 years ago

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Oh look! The “Ed and Stede turn up on Mary’s doorstep” fic is happening…

Edit: It’s up on AO3! Updates every Saturday.

—

“I’m terribly sorry to intrude. It’s just, you see, we’re somewhat accidentally in the area and we badly need a place to lie low.”

The man on Mary’s doorstep in the moonlight is Stede. She knew him at once, having spent more than a decade with his face hanging about, but for a heartbeat she’s sure she must be mistaken. His clothes are plain and practical and much less fine, and his jaw is shadowed with a beard. The closest he comes to ornamentation is the shine of his sword and pistol, but he doesn’t wear them like trinkets, and the sword is not a gentleman’s sword but a cutlass that has seen some use.

Mary considers the new steel in his eye and the change in his posture and determines that, for all that, he’s still recognizably Stede.

Which presents a problem.

“Stede. We talked about this. You weren’t going to come back. You can’t come back. The whole town saw you die.”

“No! No, it’s not like that. In fact, that’s why I came to you. I thought you might not appreciate it if anyone else was to see me up and about. As it were. We’ll only be a day, two at most, we’re merely waiting on our rendezvous. Mary,” he adds when she hesitates, then nods to the man hanging off his shoulder. “Ed’s hurt.”

And, well, that really is all he needs to say isn’t it. For the first time, Mary is able to pry her gaze away from Stede’s artless piratical-ness and focus on the stranger bleeding beside him on her doorstep.

Ed.

Ed is already staring back at her, and she straightens under the unexpected impact of his stare. Mary isn’t certain what she expected, though on reflection she realizes she’d imagined someone more like Stede, someone soft and sweet and bubbly and wonderfully odd.

Ed wears tight black leather, his one bare arm coiled in tattoos, and his hair is a great waving ocean of gray. He’s swept kohl under his canny brown eyes and wears a short beard, fuller than Stede’s and just long enough to start to curl. Most remarkably, despite the heavy way he’s leaning on her dead husband, Ed bears a closer resemblance to a panther lounging at his ease than to an injured man. It’s a trick that Mary wouldn’t mind learning.

She likes him at once. And even if she didn’t there was only ever one thing to do now.

The widow Mary Bonnet sweeps forward to catch Ed’s free hand. She squeezes tight, smiling up at him, and his eyes go wide.

“I was afraid I’d never get a chance to meet you, Ed. Please, come inside. Both of you.”

#our flag means death #ofmd #edward teach #stede bonnet #mary bonnet #ofmd spoilers #our flag means death spoilers #my fic #chiaroscuro fic

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podcastenthusiast · 3 years ago

Text

OFMD Fic Recs

Here it is, the big list I like to put together of fanfiction recommendations!

It’s gonna be long. Blackbonnet-centric. I’ll likely add more over time. Enjoy!

Old Wounds by derryday

Author’s summary:

"I've got to say, Stede," Ed said from where he was reclining on the couch, his long limbs draped every which way, "if someone had told me a year ago that some spoiled rich boy was gonna take up pirating, I'd've given you a week, tops."

Ed's voice was soft, thoughtful. There was no malice in his teasing smirk. His eyes were warm, crinkling at the corners, inviting Stede to share the joke.

Stede still flinched, jostling the two glasses of brandy he'd been pouring. A bit of amber liquid spilled over the rim, staining his sleeve.

Chiaroscuro by MenaceAnon

Author’s summary:

The Widow Mary Bonnet has a life, and Stede Bonnet isn't part of it. They agreed. There was a leopard and everything.

Then again, Stede has a talent for disrupting plans—for instance, by turning up on your doorstep in the dead of night with a bleeding pirate who turns out to be his beloved Ed.

Stede’s First Divorce-Arc by Oposummmmfriend

Author’s summary:

Stede has a heartfelt late-night chat with Oluwande about moving on. Stede also has a vindictive streak that refuses to let things go. You can probably guess which one wins out.

our blood is thicker than storms and saltwater by ShowMeAHero

Author’s summary:

“No!” Ed screams instinctively. He doesn’t know what’s happened, but he knows he’s heard a gunshot, and he knows Stede’s hands are slipping out of his, and he knows, a second later, that Stede’s let go of the railing to fall into the sea below.

Somebody grabs onto Ed’s shoulder, but he wrenches them off of him without a second thought. He wrestles his boots off, then his weapons, but he doesn’t care to tear off anything else— there isn’t time for it, not now, not when—

“Captain, don’t!” Frenchie shouts behind him.

Ed ignores him. The Revenge doesn’t have a captain if Stede Bonnet’s not on board.

pearls that you pulled from the deep by ShowMeAHero

Author’s summary:

If this man lives— which Ed has no intention of allowing to happen— he could start a whole fresh horror story, could tour the seas telling this brand-new tale about Blackbeard’s specific brand of savage violence. This time, it would even be entirely fucking true.

This time, it won’t be Izzy that kills a man for him, or the flames of a fire, or the blow of a fall. It won’t be committed from a distance, and it won’t be an experience-twice-removed, and it won’t be outsourced to somebody else. It won’t be an accident; it won’t be a legend; it won’t be a mistake, or an exaggeration, or just another myth that sailors tell each other for scares late at night.

It won’t be a technicality that kills the man that killed Stede Bonnet. It’ll be Ed.

or: ed and stede are ambushed, and ed thinks he sees stede die. he doesn't, of course, but ed doesn't know that.

An Old Lighthouse, A New Dawn by strawberryliqor

Author's summary:

Ed touches his forehead to the nape of Stede’s neck, quietly inhales the faint scent of lavender and sea salt and something uniquely Stede. If they could just exist like this all the time — entwined together within the stone walls of this room — he thinks they could be happy. How they used to be. Though maybe without stupid naivety and the rose-colored glasses they saw each other through. Those had been ripped off long ago.

If they could just...

Or: Ed and Stede are forced to share a bungalow for six months to work through their issues.

all that I am led me to you by profdanglais

Author’s summary:

For ten years, Mary Allamby Bonnet has barely given any thought to her "late" husband Stede. She's been far too busy enjoying her life as his wealthy widow. Until the night that Stede appears at her door, badly wounded, in the arms of the most feared pirate in history.

Until that moment Mary had never truly believed the Wanted posters that claimed Stede as a "known associate" of Blackbeard's. Yet here he is, in her home, less the legendary pirate captain than simply Stede's Ed, a man terrified of losing the love of his life. He won't, though. Not if Mary has anything to say about it.

Or, Mary and Ed nurse Stede back to health and in doing so form a friendship.

A Lighthouse To Each Other; or, Cracking Up On The Rocks by zmayhem

Author’s summary:

What do you do when you've been married nearly a decade and you're still nearly strangers, when you know something has to change even if it means everything falls apart? Maybe you ask the stranger who shares your bed and your life, and you ask yourself, to take a leap and make a gift of as much truth as you can handle. And maybe, as you're trying to figure out how to make that gift of your truth a reality, you fumble closer to truths about yourself you didn't even know.

stories we heard, and others we tell ourselves by CrypticSymbol

Author’s summary:

“One calling card and you come running, is that it?” Izzy had asked, disgust oozing from his voice. Ed noted a hint of disappointment too. He just couldn’t help himself from doing so, it seemed. The renewed adoration that bled out of Izzy just months before had been cauterized.

And it had been more than one calling card, to be fair. Though there was no point in arguing semantics with Izzy Hands.

The previous mysterious parcels had been trinkets and gifts left waiting for him to find, like the least challenging treasure hunt in the history of piracy, but this last one was different.

or, Jeff the Accountant is invited to a masquerade ball, and sometimes it's easier to talk things through when you're Jeff and he's Godfrey Thornrose.

[Podfic link]

Uncommon Peace by stardust_and_sunlight

Author’s summary:

“I think I would like to rest,” Stede said, the sound loud in the stillness of the morning, and Ed looked up at him immediately.

“Oh, of course! You’ve never been stabbed before!”

Stede smiled ruefully. “I admit I’ve never had the pleasure in the past,” he said, and Ed’s face twisted into a look of half-amusement, half-bemusement, the same one he’d worn when he had first seen all Stede’s fine things.

Stede wasn’t sure what it was about what he’d said that had made Ed’s eyes crease like that, but he liked the way it made Ed look.

[Post episode 4. Stede deals with his stab wound, thinks about Ed, and prepares him breakfast.]

prevailing winds by holograms

Author’s summary:

Blackbeard dies in November, 1718.

Then Ed finds himself returned back a year prior, before he met Stede Bonnet. He does it all over again.

(or, Ed falls back in time and tries to make things better, this time around)

Fond Regards by ivyblossoms

Author’s summary:

Stede Bonnet, unexpectedly home after his adventures at sea, writes letters to Ed. He has a lot to process.

Hello, My Old Heart by LadyKyrin

Author’s summary:

In the span of a single second, or maybe even just a half-second, three things happened:

A gun went off.Ed’s blade sliced deep into Chauncey’s throat.

And Stede screamed Ed’s name.

Ed comes looking for Stede when he doesn't show up at the dock. When Chauncey shoots Ed, Stede has no choice but to take him to the one place where there's actually a chance they might not be immediately killed or captured: the house he once shared with Mary, Alma, and Louis.

(In which there's a lot of hurt/comfort as Stede tends to an injured Ed, Stede and Ed grow closer as they deal with the various forms of guilt they carry, and Mary and Doug get an unexpected front-row seat to the unlikely romance between the greatest pirate of all time and Mary's sort-of-ex, very-much-not-dead husband.)

all my stumbling phrases by winterkill

Author’s summary:

As the crew of the Revenge learns to read, Ed and Stede learn to grow beyond the mess they made.

Phantom Pain by TallowFallow

Author’s summary:

Why is this happening? How could he still even feel in his pointer finger? Lucius was never the superstitious sort, he'd rather focus on the living, thank you, but could there be a supernatural explanation for this? Is he going insane? Is he being haunted?

-----

Lucius can feel his finger hurting. The one he no longer has.

Ocean Lullabies by charmedward

Author’s summary:

Blackbeard kills kids.

Only the really naughty ones though, the ones who deserved it. That’s what Black Pete had said to Stede, only a few short days before their fated meeting with said infamous pirate captain. It hadn’t really processed at the time, just another barely believable description of the mythical man idolised by Stede’s fanciful employee. It isn’t true. It can’t be. The man standing in front of Stede now has only killed one person, he’d said as much.

But Stede had watched him order the deaths of men. Blackbeard may not have been the one to do it, but his body count was higher than a singular digit. He was perfectly capable of being the monster so many believed him to be.

Stede holds the wailing baby closer. He meets Ed’s expression with one that he hopes is defiant, or determined. Something strong.

“She’s coming with us,” he says and his tone is a challenge.

First, we steal a priest by Elisahni

Author’s summary:

“I just want it to be said, by someone,” said Lucius, “that grave robbing is very 1500s.”

“We’re not digging one up,” said Ed, “I’m not that barbaric! We’ll want a live one. We’re going to steal a priest from a church.”

“Ed,” said Stede, scandalised. “That’s kidnapping!”

“I guess it is. Okay, we’re going on a treasure hunt to kidnap a priest. That’s the plan.”

Ed starts planning the wedding before the proposal; Lucius is having none of it.

my heart could break for a one-legged seagull (that’s bad luck) by thingswithteeth

Author’s summary:

Frenchie was born for this kind of espionage.

A not wholly exhaustive list of all the times Blackbeard tried to kill Stede, and the one time he succeeded (sort of) by wilkiecollins

Author’s summary:

Blackbeard has to kill Stede, so life goes back to normal, but there are a thousand ways to do it, and it keeps going wrong. Alternatively: the one where Stede teaches Ed things and woos him completely off his feet while remaining entirely oblivious.

Comfort Me With Oranges by throughanaquarium

Author’s summary:

Set between "The Art of Fuckery" and "This is Happening." Ed seems uneasy after Izzy's banishment from the ship, so Stede thinks back to the last time he felt loved and tries to recreate that experience for his co-captain.

Or: Justice for Roach's baking skills.

fear not the weather by dotsayers

Author’s summary:

The moon shone through the tree canopy, a break in the clouds as rain continued to pour.

A footprint, rust-red against the earth, gleamed.

“Stede, mate,” he said, as he looked up and saw the line of prints disappearing into the trees. “What the absolute fuck.”

(A rainstorm stops Ed from leaving.)

it will be worth by InkandOwl

Author’s summary:

“Oh.” Ed looks out to the sprawl of land, their friends milling about like the most lackadaisical group of livestock he’s ever seen, but mostly at Stede. Leaned intently in towards Jim while they tell him about their latest adventures into the tropics. “Sometimes I’m afraid I’ve caged a bird.”

“Hmm.” Lucius looks out towards Stede and claps his hands atop his knees, “You think Stede would prefer whatever the fuck it was we were all doing before over this?”

“Piracy?”

Lucius shakes his head aggressively, “That wasn’t piracy, no, no. That was a shit show.”

—

Ed, Stede, and realizing that happiness is the adventure

i’m yours, you know by ShowMeAHero

Author’s summary:

“I think I’ve fucked up,” Stede confesses.

“Yeah,” Lucius tells him, “but don’t take it too hard. I might’ve fucked up, too, if somebody dragged me out of bed to tell me I’d ruined their family, and my own, and destroyed the love of my life’s entire legacy, and then, like— blew their own whole fucking head off. Like, that— I get that, Cap’n. That makes sense.”

Stede nods, keeping his eyes forward. After a beat, he can’t maintain the calm, and he needs the human connection, turning back to look at Lucius. He actually spills over, then, eyes burning.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Lucius comments, but Stede is already carefully standing up so he can bend and hug Lucius without capsizing their vessel.

or: stede saves his crew, draws a duel, and reunites with the love of his life, though he's certain he's going to die every step of the way.

Built in the Human Plan by ItsClydeBitches

Author’s summary:

"What remarkable penmanship you have," he said.

It would be another decade before Ed understood why those words sent his blood to boiling. "Passive aggression" Stede would say, ignorant to the question he'd just answered. Back then, Henderson rolled up his parchment and Ed took note of the way his lip curled at the spilled ink, the careless way he handed off Ed's efforts to some nameless underling.

They made their trade. Henderson went back to his ship. Ed gave Izzy a different gesture and eight hours later it was ash in the harbor.

Or: the one where Stede teaches Ed how to read and it (mostly) turns out fine.

The Art of Taking a Blade by letthesongtakeflight

Author’s summary:

When he got to the mast, it was just him and the insane, brave, brilliant man impaled against it. “I’ll take care of him.”

Their eyes met. Stede drew in a small, quick breath. His eyes pinned Ed to the spot like he was pinned to the mast.

------

Or: Ed pulls Izzy's sword out of Stede.

In The Small Hours by unfolded73

Author’s summary;

In the middle of the night, Stede wrestles with his demons and with telling Ed how he feels. Oluwande helps clarify things for him.

Edelweiss by draculard

Author’s summary:

“Do you know your flower symbolism, Ed?” Stede asked, his voice soft.

Ed shook his head; his eyes never left Stede’s face.

“They might ask you,” said Stede. “So just so you’re prepared, these are lilies. They are the symbol of holiness, of royalty.” He lifted a hand and let the petals touch his fingers, light and ghostly. “The petals are pink-white, representing the purity of the wearer. The pistils are golden, representing your holy soul.”

He met Ed’s eyes, and after a moment — as if he had to force himself — Ed smiled.

“I don’t think there’s anyone alive who thinks my soul is holy,” he said.

Or: Stede's life, told through flowers.

separating salt from water by morian

Author’s summary:

"Hey." Ed reaches across because it's the only thing that feels right. He grasps Stede's wrist and smoothes the pad of his thumb across his knuckles. Stede stops fiddling with his ring and looks up at him, wide-eyed. "This isn't Captain shit. This is God shit. Are you God?"

The room is blank with silence.

Gently, Ed repeats, "Are you God, Stede?"

Stede's voice is thin and high when he answers, "I'm not God."

"And is God here, in this room?"

Comically, Stede looks around like he might find God perched on the edge of his desk, or pulling books from his shelves to examine the spines.

"He's not," Stede concedes.

"That's right, mate. Stupid bugger doesn't associate himself with pirates."

Or: The Revenge has been becalmed for six days. Ed has bigger things to worry about, like sharks and being in love.

heartless by Nanashio7

Author’s summary:

Stede seems determined to win Edward back. It must be why he keeps “accidentally” showing up in Edward’s life.

Izzy scoffs. “He just doesn’t learn, does he? Tell him Blackbeard has no use for apologies.”

“Yeah,” Edward says. “That’s true. I don’t. But also, unrelated to that other thing, what else did he say about me?”

Frenchie blinks. “Um. Nothing? The message came tied to a seagull’s leg so. You know. Not much real estate on those little papers. Can’t write a lot, can you?” He straightens suddenly. “Oh, I still have it!”

He fishes a crumpled, wind-dampened piece of paper from his pocket and drops it into Edward’s hand. When Edward unfurls it, he sees only a series of poorly-drawn images: The Revenge with a little triangle sail, a rope ladder and an arrow, a caricature of Stede looking like he’s crying.

“We really need to teach you guys how to read,” Edward notes.

Presentable by Fyre

Author’s summary:

This was the clothing of the legendary Blackbeard, infamous and deadly pirate. Had anyone told him, weeks ago, that he would be donning Blackbeard’s clothes, he would have been sure they were making fun of him. After all, Blackbeard would trifle with someone as dull and odd as Baby Bonnet.

He couldn’t keep the giddy smile from spreading across his face.

Well, evidently he was quite interesting enough for Blackbeard to like him.

i’ll find a new place to be from by Bebravenow

Stede's heard 'soft' before, heard it his whole life. His father spat it like an insult and his teachers murmured it like it was a condition and his peers said it like it was a joke.

Ed doesn't say it like that, though. He says it like it's a compliment. He says it like it's something worth being.

to thine own self by DragonQuill907

Author’s summary:

“Stede.”

The other man approached cautiously, the look on his face a mixture of fear and awe. Ed tried not to hate himself for inspiring that look.

“Er, yes?” Stede asked. “Edward, is everything all right?”

“Yeah, totally fine,” Ed replied. “Just time for a pirating lesson. This one’s on handling first mates who’re out of line.”

“Oh, I doubt I’ll need that. Mr. Buttons is a fine–”

“Stede. Come hold his mouth open."

Or: an alternate ending to 1.06

He Painted the Stars in the Sky by Parrlen

Author's summary:

"Was there anything that Stede Bonnet couldn't do? He gave importance to everything. Made everything meaningful. Made life less dull.

And again Ed thought that this was the way life ought to be: stars above him, ocean below him, Stede beside him. His guide, his freedom, and his heart. What more could a man need?

At a certain point, Ed stopped looking to the sky, shifting to watch Stede with wonderment instead, rapt in the passionate way he wove his tales, painting the sky into a storied mural. And Ed thought he would be content to be this way with him forever. Even though the dinghy was too small to lay comfortably in, and the hard wood hurt his back, and he really would have killed for a pillow that wasn't a lumpy sack of oranges."

***

In which Stede goes to Ed on the dock, but doesn't immediately tell him what happened, and Ed starts freaking the fuck out about it.

Two middle-aged gay pirates have to figure out how to actually communicate with one another and reckon with their pasts at the same time.

To Capture Every Minute by hopeless_eccentric

Author's summary:

Alma was distracted from her thoughts by an odd look Blackbeard gave her, as if there was something incredibly annoying on the tip of his tongue.

“Anyone ever told you you looked like the Gentleman Pirate?” he finally asked.

She blinked.

“Excuse me?”

in which alma stows away and runs into the crew of the revenge. family shenanigans ensue

Breathe by Harley_Quinn09876

Author's summary:

The Revenge targets a French merchant vessel only to discover the captain is an old flame of Stede's. Stede, who is struggling with panic attacks and grateful for the distraction, is excited to rekindle an old friendship, but Ed is not so pleased.

Or, the one where Ed gets to take care of Stede this time.

Part 2 of the Pain Management series!

[The whole series is great. This is just my favorite. Podfic link here]

Your Feedback is Important to Us by ElapsedSpiral

Author's summary:

Stede starts holding open cabin hours to allow the crew to air their grievances. It goes about as well as you’d expect.

AKA my “Stede is going to go off like a horny volcano when he finally gets laid” fic.

Featuring Stede’s cursed yet sexy moustache, Swede lore and Lucius being altogether too good at his job(s). Unbetaed.

Roach-Centric ficlets by bongbingbong

Author's summary:

Little ficlets about Roach interacting with the rest of the crew, because I love him and there isn't enough fanfic around where he's the main character.

the flight of birds by afterism

Author's summary:

Ed thinks about the short and brutal lives of pirates. Stede introduces Ed to the concept of moisturising, and taking some time for one's self.

Or, Ed's knee hurts and Stede's always keen to help out.

Hoist Up The Thing by KittyHawke

Author's summary:

Stede Bonnet, self-styled Gentleman Pirate and captain of The Revenge, prepares to embark upon adventure on the high seas.

But first there are a few things to take care of, such as remembering everyone's names and finding out what a mainbrace is.

A Good Start by hoc_voluerunt

Author's summary:

How did that marmalade get to the main-top without waking Ed? Maybe Stede just wanted to do something nice.

Gap-filler for episode 4.

[Podfic link here]

Modern AUs

this tired world could change by gangnamstiles

Author’s summary:

One summer day, two unlikely paths cross in the alley behind Bonnet Group’s towering skyscraper: Stede is at the end of his rope, and Ed’s just taking a smoke break. Of course, after they’ve become inseparable, Ed’s past catches up to him as Stede tries to find a way out of his own obligations, and the solace they’ve found in each other is threatened.

“You’re freaking out in here,” Lucius says, shutting the door behind himself. He grabs two rocks glasses from the bar cart and a decanter of the good whisky and sets it all on Stede’s desk.

“Astute,” Stede declares. “I’ve asked Ed on a date.”

“Ooh, Mr. Mechanic?” Lucius simpers, and Stede blushes. “Haven’t you two been dating for weeks?”

“Wh—No, we’re friends!” He says.

“Oh, my God, you can’t be serious,” Lucius says.

Knockout by MooeyDooey

Author’s summary:

Plenty of things can happen when a man reaches his mid life crisis.

Sometimes, he buys something incredibly expensive. He could even adopt a whole new lifestyle, something completely removed from the sort of life he lived before.

In the 1700s, it might make sense for a him to leave his life behind and pursue a new career as a pirate. But what's a man to do when the golden age of piracy happened hundreds of years ago?

In this modern world, there's only one adequate substitute. An underground club in the basement of a bar called 'The Revenge', where a weekly illegal fight club is hosted.

It's the exact sort of lifestyle that Stede Bonnet, a wealthy entrepreneur, is after. Glory. Pride. Acclaim.

He has minimal experience with fighting. But once he meets the reigning champion of the fighting circuit, Blackbeard himself, both of their lives will be changed forever in ways neither of them expected.

$2 taco night by GoldStarGrl

Author’s summary:

The guy in the expensive sports coat and fancy Apple watch has been sitting at the end of the bar since 3 PM.

[Sequel to this previous fic]

one foot in front of the other by GoldStarGrl

Author’s summary:

Stede comes out. His world might even survive it.

An Accomplished Life by scheherazade

Author’s summary:

In the twenty-five years since they graduated from these hallowed halls, Stede's classmates have gone on to hold public office, found multi-million dollar companies, star in Hollywood scandals, patent life-saving vaccines, and—in more than one case—make the front page of the New York Times for destroying an entire country's faith in institutional justice.

Such are the things expected of the best and wealthiest of society.

So when former class secretary Nigel Badminton corners him in the reunion tent during Friday evening drinks, throws a patronizing arm around his shoulders and asks loudly in front of everyone, Whatever have you been up to these days, Bonnet! Enjoying that mad, single lifestyle again?

—

Stede does something he's not proud of. He lies.

—

Stede brings Ed to his twenty-five-year college reunion. [Modern AU]

A Comprehensive Menu of Blackbeard’s Craft Cocktails by the_bedheaded_league

Author’s summary:

Stede's a middle-aged businessman going through a divorce, and he desperately needs a drink. He ends up at Blackbeard's: a charming little bar (that's technically not a gay bar but kind of is a gay bar) with nautical décor, classic rock, excellent cocktails, and a very pretty bartender who wears crop tops and leather.

Soon Stede becomes a regular, and obviously he just likes going there because the cocktails are great.

Definitely no other reason.

Our Dice Mean Death. by Mystrothedefender

Author’s summary:

Stede, a rooky DM, feels his players are losing interest in his campaign. He reaches out to a more experienced DM to try and improve, and ends up finding out more about himself than he expected to.

Blackbeard’s recipes by FullThrive

Author’s summary:

Stede discovers cooking, happiness and maybe more when he finds Blackbeard's cooking blog.

AU : Ed is a food blogger and Stede is a fan

Somewhere Beyond the Sea by ClaireKerzner

Salvage diver Ed Teach is no stranger to the story of Blackbeard and the Queen Anne's Revenge- after all, the famous pirate is a distant ancestor. But then Professor Stede Bonnet, maritime archaeologist and many-times-great-grandson of the original, waltzes through the door of his shop and requests his services in finding the wreck. What are the odds?

Ed's had enough of the cutthroat world of salvage diving, and he's this close to leaving it all behind. But Bonnet's quest sparks an interest he hasn't felt in years, and he agrees to help the oddly charming man. Nothing to do with the fact that the Queen Anne might just be the last treasure trove Ed needs to escape his life. Definitely nothing to do with the way Bonnet's cheerful enthusiasm makes his heart skip a beat.

Together they'll hunt for the wreck... and then they'll reckon with what comes next.

Conflict of Interest by ElapsedSpiral

Author's summary:

“You get it, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Stede said, reflexively. “I think I do.”

Ed looked pleased at that. “I think you do too.”

Ed and Stede crash into one another, literally and figuratively. Things get worse (and better) from there.

Lawyer!Stede/Businessman!Ed AU, unbetaed.

most of the time i'm just getting older (but i'll get to heaven standing on your shoulders) by jimboy

Author's summary:

“There’s a new English teacher.” Lucius was standing in front of the doors to the classroom when Edward returned from the staff room for third period.

“Is that right? Haven’t seen him.” He sighed, moving past him into the classroom. “Is he nice?”

“He’s a bit mental. But like, in a cool way. I guess.”

Ed wasn’t really listening, rummaging through drawers looking for the A-Level scripts. “Uh huh.”

“Jamie Ritchie called Shakespeare a slur and he took him outside and screamed at him for 12 minutes.”

He paused and turned around. “Did he now?”

Ed teaches Drama at a private school for boys and does nothing else but smoke weed and rot with his best (and only) friend, Izzy. That is until a newly divorced English teacher with a passion for Shakespeare and fighting homophobia sweeps into his life.

Date for Sale by journeytogallifrey

Author's summary:

When Stede put out the advertisement for a man, it was very late at night and he was very, very drunk. Seeking: intimidating man to conduct himself poorly at an elite dinner party this Christmas. Tattoos, piercings a plus. Must be comfortable speaking out of turn and using the wrong cutlery for at least one course. Rate of pay negotiable – role involves engaging with somewhat difficult personages and you will be compensated accordingly. Note that you will be posing as another man’s romantic partner; homophobes need not apply. --- Frustrated by his rich, bigoted family, Stede Bonnet advertises for a man to be his fake date when he faces them at Christmas. Tattooed biker Edward Teach responds. But somewhere between planning amazing pranks and teaching Ed about society, Stede begins to fall for him. Could Ed ever feel the same?

I've Never Felt So at Home by lookinglass

Author's summary:

“Uh oh, there goes your boyfriend,” Lucius called. He nodded toward the front windows.

Stede turned from the wall he was papering in time to see a handsome, long haired man striding out into the parking lot. Today he was wearing a short black shirt, and his many tattoos were on full display. The man mounted a motorcycle and kicked it on with a low grumble that could be heard even inside the building.

“Think you’ll ever just say hello to him?” Lucius asked. “Maybe casually park your car by his bike, happen to be walking in as he’s leaving work, say, ‘oh hello, very cool gentleman in your leather outfit, my name’s Stede, I enjoy staring at your arse through the windows every day—”

“Oh, leave him alone,” Oluwande interrupted. “Stede’ll talk to him when he’s ready. Or he won’t.”

Or, in which Stede comes out in his forties and jumps head first into the queer community, even if he's still a little too intimidated to talk to the handsome guy who runs the tattoo shop a few doors down.

Trade Descriptions Act by ElapsedSpiral

Author's summary:

Ed finds Stede Bonnet's Filofax and tries being Stede Bonnet on for size. It's going okay until he meets the real Stede Bonnet.

A deeply stupid modern take on the "Ed wants to steal Stede's identity" idea. Unbetaed.

#cj's fic recs #ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd fic recs #blackbonnet

22 notes · View notes

wistfulcynic · 2 years ago

Text

all that I am led me to you (2/3)

Or, Mary and Ed nurse Stede back to health and in doing so form a friendship.

AO3 | Tumblr

Chapter Two: (CW for brief, non-explicit allusions to child sexual abuse)

Doug rose very early most mornings. The students at his art school now numbered in the dozens and came from all around to study under his tutelage, so he liked to get an early start on his busy days. When Mary, who had returned to bed in the small hours after checking on her fugitive patient, woke again, Doug had long since departed, his pillow still rumpled from his head but cold to her touch.

Mary sighed. She’d hoped to have a chance to tell Doug about the pirates currently camped in her studio before he left for the school, but it seemed he’d opted to let her sleep rather than wake her to say goodbye, a gesture she would greatly appreciate on any other day. Now the revelation of Stede’s dramatic return to their lives would have to wait at least until that evening. She only hoped that Doug wouldn’t be hurt by her decision not to wake him the night before. And that Stede would be lucid enough by the time Doug returned that he could explain the situation himself.

Alas, when Mary arrived at the studio, she found Ed awake and hovering over Stede’s bedside, holding an empty teacup in one hand and radiating anxiety.

“He’s feverish, I think,” he said, the minute he caught sight of Mary. “His face feels warm. I gave him the calabash you left, but it doesn’t seem to be—”

“How long ago? For the calabash?”

“Uh”—Ed glanced up at the sun, just visible through the window—“thirteen minutes.”

“You likely wouldn’t see any improvement before now, then,” said Mary. “Especially as that was brewed hours ago. It loses its potency quite quickly. Give it another ten minutes or so and if there’s no improvement I’ll brew a fresh cup. In the meantime, we need to change the dressing on his wound.”

She sent Ed to the kitchen to mix the poultice, to keep his mind and hands occupied and him out of her hair while she removed Stede’s bandage and examined the wound. It did appear slightly inflamed, though nothing too concerning. There was no supperation that she could detect.

She swabbed it again nevertheless, just to be safe, and when Ed returned with the poultice packed it carefully and re-wrapped it with another length of clean linen. Then she pressed the back of her hand to Stede’s forehead.

“He does seem a bit warm still, but not so much that we need to worry,” she informed a wild-eyed Ed. “He’s doing well, all things considered. Don’t panic just yet.”

Ed visibly grappled with himself for a moment as his fear and worry for Stede warred with the iron-clad strength of will that had made him the terror of the seas. “It’s—hard not to,” he said.

Mary nodded. “It’s never easy to watch the people we love suffer.”

Ed turned to her with a smile, grateful and slightly wry. “Yeah,” he agreed, “that it isn’t.”

“To be honest, I’m a bit surprised,” Mary said, before she could think better of it. “I’d have thought this would be old hat for you by now, living as you do. Is this really the first time Stede’s been wounded?”

Ed appeared surprised by her question, then he grinned. “No,” he replied, “it isn’t. Not even close. The very first time I met Stede was right after he’d been stabbed in the gut. And then hanged.”

“Hanged!” Mary exclaimed, as though that were somehow more alarming than a stabbing. She supposed it was the nature of the thing.

“Yep,” Ed confirmed. “Long story. Point is, that gut wound nearly did for him. More than once I thought he wouldn’t make it. He did, though. Pulled right through. Since then, I’ve seen him stabbed more times than I can count, and slashed up, and nearly drowned. Shot too, though less badly than this. I never lost it any of those times, though. Not like this. Never felt so… I don’t know. Helpless before.”

“He was probably awake then,” Mary observed. “Also, you had a long time between when he was shot and when you got here. A long time to watch him bleed and fade and to feel helpless to save him. And considering he’s still not entirely out of the woods, I’d say it’s normal to be afraid.”

“I guess I just don’t handle fear well.” Ed sat heavily down in his chair and ran a hand over his beard. “Went years, decades really, never feeling it at all. Didn’t care enough about anything to mind losing it, I guess.”

Until he met Stede. Mary kept her expression neutral but internally she marvelled. Imagine anyone loving Stede Bonnet enough that just the prospect of losing him sent them spiralling. Mary, for one, absolutely could not fathom it.

Perhaps that was unkind. She had let go of most of her resentment of Stede when he’d died the second time. No—earlier even than that. When his confession about Ed had made her realise that the failure of their marriage was down to nothing that she had done or even that he had done. They could never have been fulfilled with each other—it was fundamentally impossible. And Mary had discovered that it was hard to resent a man who had been suffering in his way as much as she had in hers, especially once he’d left her with all the tools she needed to build herself the kind of life she’d always wanted.

At least, that’s what Mary had told herself. It was possible though that a leetle tiny bit of that resentment may still remain, buried deeply but unmistakably there.

“Let’s have some brunch,” she said to Ed. “You need to eat.”

“I couldn’t leave—” he began, predictably.

“He’ll be fine here for an hour,” she interrupted firmly. “It doesn’t do him any good for you to hover over him, worrying. Let him sleep.” She felt Stede’s forehead again. “His temperature seems better already and when we’ve eaten we’ll brew him some more calabash. Come on, Ed, you need to keep up your own strength. You’ve had a rough time of it.”

Ed placed his own hand on Stede’s forehead. “He does seem better,” he conceded. “And I could definitely eat.”

“Come on, then,” said Mary. “What do you fancy?”

Eagerness lit in Ed’s eyes. “Got any marmalade?”

“Oh, yeah, this is the good stuff,” he sighed some time later, after polishing off a plate of eggs and ham and three cups of tea so sugary she nearly gagged watching him drink it, and then settling in to a slice of bread liberally slathered with the best marmalade Mary had on hand. “We don’t have it so often anymore. Gotta raid the bloody Spanish for it, and sometimes they haven’t even got any. Friend of ours makes his own out of Florida oranges and it’s good, not saying it isn’t, but this Spanish stuff is the bees’ knackers.”

“I suppose it is nice.” Mary had never given marmalade that much thought.

“This marmalade, it was the first thing Stede and I ate together,” mused Ed. “Up in the crow’s nest of the Revenge, at sunrise. He woke me up and gave me some and God, I knew then—I couldn’t admit it to myself but I knew I was a goner. Never stood a bloody chance against him.”

Mary watched his face closely as he replayed the memory, worried he might lose himself in his fear again, but after a moment he met her eyes with a smile, this one thoughtful with a touch of shrewd. “Can I ask you something?” he inquired.

“Sure,” said Mary.

“How do you know my name?”

“Ah.” Mary returned his smile. “Stede told me. When he came back here, the last time. Just after I tried to kill him.”

Ed blinked in astonishment. “You tried to kill him?”

“Well, I say tried, it wasn’t much of an attempt.” Even as she demurred, Mary couldn’t help feeling a bit smug. It wasn’t every day that a respectable widow could shock a notorious pirate with the tale of her murderous intent, after all. “I was honestly going to. But then I found I couldn’t. And then he woke up.”

“You tried to kill him in his sleep.” Ed chuckled. “Bloody hell. You’re just full of surprises, Widow Bonnet.”

Mary had never thought of herself as being particularly surprising, and found the notion of it pleased her immensely. Equally pleasing was the discovery that she’d read Ed correctly—he didn’t seem especially bothered to hear that she’d once meant to kill the man he loved. “Anyway,” she continued, “Stede woke up and we had a talk. Finally talked through everything we needed to. And he told me he was in love with a man named Ed.”

Mary could still remember, so clearly, the emotions of that moment. Comprehension. Compassion. Soaring relief, for both of them. A weight lifted from their shoulders then, at last, a way out of the mess they were in.

“So did you know that I was Blackbeard, then?”

“No, not then. Stede just said ‘Ed’. But years later I saw a Wanted poster for him, which called him a ‘known associate of Blackbeard’s,’ and I remembered that your real name was Edward, and well.” She gave a little shrug. “The dots weren’t hard to connect.”

“You knew who I was and still you let me into your house, just like that. To save the man who made you miserable for years.” Ed shook his head. “Fascinating,” he muttered, then continued in a louder voice, “You know, I think you’re right. In different circumstances, you and Stede would have been friends. Great friends.” He paused, and Mary would swear his eyes actually twinkled. “Shame you had to fuck it up by marrying each other.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, as laughter bubbled up inside her. “That really buggered everything, didn’t it?”

Ed’s answering chuckle grew into a belly laugh as Mary tipped her head back and let the mirth just flow out of her. Soon they both were roaring, laughing until their bellies ached with it and tears rolled down their cheeks. It felt good to laugh, cathartic. It swept away the final, clinging dregs of Mary’s resentment against Stede, and when she met Ed’s eyes again she felt like the two of them had formed a connection. A friendship, even. Or the seeds of one, at least.

On impulse, she reached out and placed her hand on his. “Have you had enough to eat?” she asked. “If so, we should brew up some more calabash and go check on Stede.”

Ed stared for a moment at her hand on his, then placed his other one on top of hers and gave it a squeeze. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m good. Thanks. I—just thanks.”

“You’re very welcome,” said Mary.

Stede was still asleep when they returned to the studio, and less warm to the touch than he had been. Relief was plain to see in Ed’s eyes as he settled down to wake Stede just enough that he could drink the fresh calabash. This he did with barely a protest, then fell immediately back to sleep.

“Does he need more mimosa?” asked Ed, frowning down at him. “The pain—”

“I think for now it’s best to let him sleep,” said Mary. “That’s the best way to heal. We’ll see how he feels when he wakes up.”

“Er—okay, if you think so.” Ed settled back into what Mary now thought of as his chair and put his feet up on the crate. There he remained, unmoving, for several minutes, absently stroking his beard as he watched Stede sleep.

“I might do some painting,” Mary informed him. “Do you want me to get you a book or something?”

“No thanks, I don’t think I could concentrate on one,” Ed replied. “I’m not much of a reader, though I like stories. Stede reads to me, mostly, and I tell him stories.”

“Will you tell me some?” Mary asked. She was convinced it wouldn’t be good for Ed to do nothing all day but sit and brood at Stede’s bedside. He was clearly a man inclined to get lost in his own head unless he had some task to accomplish, some external thing to focus on.

He looked taken aback by her request, but quickly recovered. “Sure, if you want,” he said. “What kind of story?”

“Just anything you’d like to tell me. The kind you would normally tell Stede.”

“Yeah, some of those I’m not sure you’d care to hear,” said Ed wryly.

“Oh, you think they’re too much for my delicate, lady-like ears?” Mary scoffed. “Try me.”

“You asked for it,” said Ed, then launched into a tale about himself as a lad, in his first year at sea. How he and his mate Jack had followed their captain, Hornigold, into a brothel, not knowing what one was, and once inside were mistaken for employees.

“Turns out we were precisely the sort that their clientele most enjoyed,” remarked Ed, observing Mary closely with another twinkle in his eye.

Mary was rather shocked, she had to admit it, and more than a little horrified by the flippant way he told the tale. She supposed many years had passed since it happened, but still.

“How old were you?” she asked.

“Fourteen.”

“Goodness.” Mary took a moment to absorb that, then said: “Well. Go on, then. How did you escape?”

“Who says we escaped?”

“Did you not escape!” Mary spun around to face him, eyes wide and paintbrush dangling limply from her fingers.

Ed had the grace to look the very slightest bit contrite. “No, we did,” he said. “Sorry, I shouldn’t mess with you like that. We did escape. It was the first fuckery I ever pulled, actually. We were being led away to the back rooms by these two men but I managed to get close to Jack, close enough to whisper to him that he should cry out Edwina, no! when I gave him the signal. Then I tripped on the stairs—that was the signal—and Jack played his role like a star. The man dropped me like I was on fire. Thought I was a girl, you see, pretending to be a boy. Nothing I said after that could convince him otherwise, though I put on a show of pretending. Couldn’t give in too easy, y’know?”

“No,” said Mary faintly. “I suppose not.”

“So the man kicked me aside and said he was going to find himself a ‘real lad,’ to which I replied ‘Well, Jaqueline, we tried,’ then Jack’s bloke dropped him too. They were furious, shouting at the brothel madam for trying to scam them, and in all the confusion me and Jack slipped away and made it back to the ship. Hornigold knew it was us, of course—that bastard always knew everything—and he thrashed us good the next day.” Ed huffed a little chuckle as he shook his head, then his expression grew solemn. “But I’ll tell you, Mary, I’d’ve taken a hundred thrashings over one night with those men. They had the emptiest eyes I’ve ever seen. Worse than my dad’s, or Hornigold’s, or any number of vicious bastards I’ve met in my years at sea. Ice cold and dead flat. Not human.” He paused again and Mary tried to imagine it, imagine him, young and vulnerable, protecting himself and his friend with his wits and clever trickery. She found that it wasn’t difficult. What a remarkable person he was.

“So yeah.” Ed gave himself a little shake. “Jack and I buggered each other real quick after that, first chance we got, so’s if we ever found ourselves in a situation like it again at least we’d know what we were in for.” The smile he offered Mary was faintly abashed. “Er, sorry if I—”

“Don’t be,” Mary heard herself saying. “I did ask you for a story. And that is… well, it’s certainly a story.”

“They aren’t all like that,” said Ed. “Let me tell you about the time Stede and I accidentally captured a Dutch merchant fleet.”

Mary nodded eagerly. “Yes, please, tell me that one.”

Ed launched into the story and Mary listened, laughed and gasped and commented in all the right places, but her mind still lingered on what he’d revealed of himself in that first, tragic tale. It broke her heart to think about the horrors he’d faced at such a young age, and she doubted that was anything like the worst of it. Thank goodness he’d found Stede, late in life to be sure, but still early enough for them to have years together to be happy and in love. She understood much better now the origins of Ed’s fierce devotion, and why his fear of losing Stede was so desperate and so raw.

She really, really wanted to hug him.

They passed the afternoon pleasantly, with Mary painting and Ed telling stories, and Stede sleeping peacefully without visible signs of distress. Mary noted that the sound of Ed’s voice seemed to soothe him, that he only shifted on the chaise when Ed stopped talking, to reflect or to sip more of the tea Mary brought him. For his part, Ed often touched Stede in ways that appeared unconscious—stroking his cheek or running fingers through his hair, or just holding his hand, which he once did for over an hour, their fingers twined together and Ed’s thumb moving in a gentle sweep across Stede’s knuckles.

Many of the stories he told were of pirating adventures but even more were about the life he’d lived over the past decade. The quieter, domestic existence he had with Stede. These stories had an element of contentment to them that the others lacked; they weren’t told to titillate or to terrify, they were simple homely anecdotes of a happy life. As she listened, Mary found herself taking up a fresh canvas, washing it in delicate shades of blue and sandy brown then sketching on the outline of a wooden hut with palms behind it, an image drawn from Ed’s tales through her mind and out the tip of her paintbrush. She could picture it all so clearly—the beach, the hut, the swaying trees. The two men on the porch, sharing a drink or a pipe, or a nap together in their hammock.

Eventually her eyes and arm began to tire and Ed’s enthusiasm for tale-spinning to wane, and she was about to suggest that they take a break and have something to eat when Stede gave a deep groan and opened his eyes.

“Ed?” he croaked, and Ed was instantly out of the chair and crouched by his side. Mary heard a loud crack as he went down and winced, thinking of the knee brace he’d not worn all day.

Ed did not appear to notice any pain; his attention was fixed on Stede. “I’m here, love,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been shot,” said Stede. Ed gave a relieved chuckle.

“You seem lucid, at least,” he observed.

“Well, that’s a relief. How long have I been out?”

“You’ve been asleep for almost a full day.”

“Asleep?”

“Yeah.” Ed stroked his cheek. “You weren’t delirious for long. Mary sorted you out.”

“Mary?” Stede, for the first time since he’d opened them, took his eyes from Ed’s face and scanned the room. His gaze landed on Mary who, for lack of any more elegant options, gave him a little wave.

“Hiya, Stede. Glad you’re alive.”

“Mary,” Stede repeated. “You—you did let us in.”

“Of course I did. I couldn’t let you die. Not for real, anyway.”

“Oh good,” Stede nodded and gave her a weak smile. “That’s good. I’m grateful.”

“We both are.” Now that Stede was awake and talking, Ed’s face wore a beaming smile. Relief and joy shone from him.

“Do you mind if I check your wound, Stede?” Mary asked. “It’s been a while.”

“Yes, please do. It hurts like a sonofabitch.”

Mary took only a moment to blink in surprise at hearing such a turn of phrase from him—he’s been living with Ed for ten years, woman, and you’ve heard the way he talks—then briskly unwrapped Stede’s bandage and inspected the wound. The skin was still raw and red but the wound had closed and the skin begun the process of knitting itself back together. There were no signs of suppuration. Mary gave Ed a reassuring nod.

“It looks good,” she said. “Should heal quickly now, if you look after it properly. I can put on some ointment to dull the pain before we wrap you back up again.

“I’d appreciate that,” said Stede. “Thank you.”

Mary went to the kitchen to mix up the ointment and a new poultice, and when she returned to the studio Ed and Stede were kissing. She stopped dead in her tracks and turned her back on them so fast she made herself dizzy, though still not quickly enough to miss noticing the way they held each other—Ed’s arm supporting Stede’s back, his other hand cradling his face. Stede’s arm—the uninjured one—curled around Ed’s waist, holding him as tightly as he was likely able in his weakened state. Even a glimpse of them was more than enough to convey the depth of tenderness and intimacy they shared—and the heat that simmered beneath it. Mary found herself feeling rather flushed.

“I thought I’d lost you,” she heard Ed say, gruffly. “I thought you were gone, Stede, I thought—”

“Shhh,” said Stede softly. “I’m here. I’m still here, my love, and I’m not going anywhere. It’d take a great deal more than one measly bullet to get me away from you. Three bullets, minimum, and even that would be a stretch.”

Ed chuckled, but when he spoke again his voice still quavered. “Don’t joke about it,” he said. “You don’t know what it was like to watch you fading away, barely conscious and talking nonsense, having to haul you bodily through a goddamn jungle in a downpour, not knowing where I was going or what kind of reception I’d get even if I—” His words were cut off and Mary recognised the sound of renewed kissing. It went on for several excruciatingly long minutes, during which she debated somewhat frantically what to do.

Then Ed said: “Thank fuck for Mary is all I’ll say,” and Stede inquired: “What did she actually do to heal me?” and Mary figured that was the best cue she was going to get.

“Oh, just a little light witchcraft,” she replied, breezing into the studio with her arms full of potions and a length of clean linen trailing behind her like a banner. “Things I picked up from the other widows. Old medicine, you know. Traditional.”

“Right,” said Stede, “well that’s good, then,” and Mary marvelled yet again. The Stede she’d been married to would never have been so blasé about traditional medicine, and would have insisted on a ‘proper doctor’ being called. He’d changed so much, she knew that from Ed’s tales. But it still jarred to witness those changes firsthand.

Stede sat obediently, gritting his teeth against the pain as she swabbed his wound and dabbed on some pain-relieving ointment, then followed that up by packing it again with the poultice and wrapping it up in linen.

“There,” she said in satisfaction. “How does that feel?”

“Better.” Stede looked at her with surprise and a touch of admiration that made her feel more smug than it probably should. “It really does feel much better. Thank you.”

Mary nodded. “Unfortunately, I don’t have any pain relievers you can take internally that won’t put you to sleep. We can give you more mimosa when you need to rest again, but now what do you say we have some dinner? Cook’s nearly done preparing it, and I don’t know about you but I’m famished.”

“I could eat,” said Ed, and Stede agreed.

“I don’t know if I can handle much but something would be greatly appreciated,” he said.

“She has some of that good marmalade,” Ed informed him. Stede pulled a face.

“Maybe later,” he said. “Perhaps for now just some broth and a little bread—”

“Cook is heating up some oxtail as we speak,” said Mary. “Ed and I will have a roast.”

Ed’s eyes lit up and he gave an eager nod. Stede smiled indulgently at him. “That sounds excellent,” he said. “Thank you, Mary.”

Mary and Ed helped Stede to the dining room where the three of them settled in and after a slightly awkward five minutes or so relaxed in each other’s company and began to genuinely enjoy themselves. This altered Stede turned out to be someone Mary could talk to much more easily than she ever could his former self, and Ed, free now from the fear and anxiety that had been weighing him down, finally convinced that his love was truly out of danger, was the life and soul of the evening—funny, charming, and sparkling with charisma. Mary watched him in mild awe. It was easy to see how this man could command the loyalty of pirate crews and the respect even of his enemies. It was easy to see why Stede would fall so hard that he’d be willing to give up everything he owned to be with him. Mary had honestly thought Stede both foolish and foolhardy, to do such a thing. But now she understood.

They were just finishing up dessert when a knock sounded at the door.

“That’s odd,” said Mary. “I’m not expecting anyone. Doug’s at the school until late tonight, and of course he wouldn’t knock.” The knock came again, louder and more insistent. “I suppose I’d better see who it is,” she said.

When she opened the door all the ease and comfort of the pleasant evening fell away, evaporated into the air like mist beneath the morning sun. The governor of Barbados stood just outside her door, with a naval admiral at his side and a group of armed Marines behind them.

“Widow Bonnet,” said the governor in that oleaginous manner of his that had always made Mary’s skin crawl. “Good evening. May we come in?”

Mary gripped the doorknob tightly but the expression on her face remained cool. “What is this about?” she asked.

“Oh, nothing, nothing. Just a few minor inquiries we believe you can assist us with.” The governor’s smile made Mary’s stomach churn. “Regarding a pair of fugitive pirates.”

#blackbonnet fanfic #ofmd fanfiction #blackbonnet fanfiction #gentlebeard #gentlebeard fanfic #ed x stede #ed and mary #edward teach and mary bonnet are friends #hurt/comfort #ed and stede are so soft with each other #mary thinks ed is pretty effing cool #and who are we to argue with her #all that I am led me to you #profdanglaisstuff

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