Archive of Our Own

So, he’s, uh, been left at the docks, huh?

That’s never happened before. Leave it to Stede to give Ed one last new experience as a parting shot.

Ed climbs up the ladder onto the Revenge, grunts at Izzy, and the next thing he knows, he’s stripping everything off from that horrible place and curling up on the bed in Stede’s pink banyan. It still smells like him, and Ed weeps as he breathes in the blend of nervous sweat and earthy determination that he’ll forever associate with Stede.

He’s never been dumped before. He’s Blackbeard.

He was Blackbeard.

His hand reaches up to stroke his hideous naked chin, the one that Stede had literally screamed at seeing.

He’s not Blackbeard anymore.

He’s just Ed.

And Ed is someone who gets dumped.

As it turns out, Ed is someone who does many things.

Ed builds blanket forts.

Ed hides in blanket forts.

Ed writes lyrics in blanket forts.

Ed eats marmalade in blanket forts.

Ed makes eye contact with the marmalade jar to avoid the devastating pity in Lucius’s eyes.

Ed is someone who people look at with pity.

Another new experience, thanks Stede.

“Babe, you’ve got to get over this,” Lucius says. “You’re like two seconds away from giving yourself a fringe.”

Ed laughs. “Jack gave himself a fringe once.”

Lucius wrinkles his nose. “Is that why his vests looked like that?”

“Yeah. He did it post break up, but Americans think a fringe means, you know, fringe.”

Lucius shrugs. “There, you see? Even Jack knew better than to buy into that 'new hair, new you' idea.”

Ed tilts his head. “I don’t know. A fringe might help.”

“No!” Lucius yelps. “No, it will not help. Do not cut your hair, Ed.”

Ed nods and rolls over, turning his back to Lucius. “Okay. I think you should go now, Lucius.”

“Are you sure?”

Ed nods again, and hears a sigh.

“Okay, but I’m taking your scissors with me.”

Oh, like I can’t find something sharp on a pirate ship? Ed thinks, but doesn’t say, because he has a plan. Lucius, for all his advice about “letting go” and “beginning again” has given him a great idea.

New hair. New him.

The second he hears the door click shut behind Lucius, Ed erupts from the blanket fort like the kraken itself, pillows flying everywhere. The gesture is made less elegant when he gets tangled in the robe and a blanket and has to stumble out of the mess, wrestling with fabric determined to suck him down. But that’s his old life. That’s Old Ed.

New Ed, or Soon to be New Ed, heads to Stede’s private bathroom, where he finds the man’s shaving kit. He knows exactly where it is, because he spent the first day sitting in the bathtub sobbing, rubbing Stede’s cologne through his hair.

Hair that’s about to be gone.

He grabs the scissors, and holds them up to his tear-stricken face, smudgy with eyeliner and a patchy three-day beard. That’s not him. That’s Old Ed.

Soon To Be New Ed picks up Stede’s scissors and looks at them. Stede already severed Ed from Blackbeard. He’ll be the final cut, the break between Old and New.

“Hello there,” Ed says to the scissors. “You’re gonna help me out now, right? Make sure my bangs look great?”

That’s right, Ed! The scissors say to him in a high squeaky voice. New hair, new you!

“New hair, new me,” says Soon To Be New Ed and lets out a deep breath. “Here it goes.”

SNIP

SNIP

SNIP

“Oh fuck.”

Oh fuck, it’s gone, it’s gone what the fuck has he fucking done. Ed stares at himself in the mirror, and New Ed stares back, and suddenly he can see his fucking eyebrows? And like half his forehead. And it’s all uneven?

[Alt Text: Illustration of Edward Teach in the breakup robe, sobbing as he holds a pair of scissors and looks at himself in the mirror]

No. Get your shit together, Ed. Lucius Spriggs is not gonna look at you and say “I told you so.”

With watery eyes and a quivering hand, New Ed cleans up the line of the fringe.

It’s… a look.

It’s different.

New Ed turns in the mirror, watching himself from different angles.

He’s… totally pulling this off?

He lets the banyan slip down his shoulder and makes a pouty face at the mirror.

Is the fringe…hot?

New Ed flounces out of the bathroom and heads up on deck.

New hair, new him.

Everyone loves New Ed. They’re all so happy to see him and his hair.

After he sings, Frenchie asks him how he’s doing, and Ed is so grateful because the answer is “bad” and he tries to be brave about it, but everyone is so nice.

“I think we should go around in a circle and everyone can give Ed their best tip for getting over a breakup,” says Lucius. He hands Ed a small book. “I’ll start: journaling.”

“Thanks, Lucius,” Ed says, and he flips open to the front, where Lucius has already started a list. “I’m sure this is going to come in handy.”

“Don’t get bangs,” says Pete and there are groans from around the deck. “Unlesss!!” He insists, “Unless you can totally rock them like Ed here.”

“Thanks, Pete, I bet you could rock bangs too,” Ed says, and writes down item 2. Don’t get bangs unless you can rock them.

“Write down a list of all your good qualities, so you remember what you like about yourself,” says Oluwande.

“And then write down a list of all their bad qualities so you remember why you should throw knives first and ask questions later,” adds Jim.

“Great stuff, guys, keep it coming!” says Ed.

By the time he goes back down to the captain's quarters, he’s got a whole list:

[Alt text: An illustration of Ed's Journal with a handwritten page. The inside cover of the journal is the pattern of the bird robe, in red coloring. The text reads as follows:]

Getting Over Him

1. Journal, bitch (Lucius).

2. Don’t give yourself bangs unless you can totally rock them. (Pete)

3. Write down a list of all of your good qualities! Get in touch with what makes you special (Oluwande)

4. Write a list of all his bad qualities so you remember to never get back together. (Jim)

5. Feed your despair. (Roach)

6. Get over your ex by dating someone else (Frenchie)

7. Get rid of things that remind you of your ex. (Wee John).

8. Go to new places. (Fang)

9. Meditate upon ye mistress the sea (Buttons)

10. Reconnect with old friends. (Izzy)

11. Discover your heartsong. (The Swede)

12. Warn his new partner. (Ivan)

The cabin feels dank and depressing after spending the morning on deck in the breeze. It’s a mess, but it has a strong air of chaos, as though it’s just been turned over instead of lying stagnant for a week as Ed cries.

Wait a second, there’s something new in here that isn’t an empty bottle.

Zip the porcupinefish from his cabin on the Queen Anne is on Stede’s desk. There’s a note from Izzy at the base—here’s an old friend, for starters.

[Alt Text: an illustration of a light yellow porcupinefish with eyes going two different ways and prominent teeth in it's beak. It's smiling. In front of it is a note from Izzy: here's an old friend, for starters.]

“My old friend!” Ed says, and reaches out to hug the puffer. It only takes one prick of the puffer’s spines for Ed to remember that hugging a porcupinefish is a bad idea, and he’s got a bloody hand for his trouble. Typical of his life thus far, really.

There’s no blood on the spines though. Or at least, there is, but he watches the fish absorb them.

Weird.

I missed you, Blackbeard! Ed hears, in words that bypass his ears and land straight in his brain.

“Um, hello?” he asks. “Is someone mucking about in the walls again?”

Blackbeard, it’s me! Zip!

Ed’s eyes boggle, and he glares at the empty bottles all over the place. “Fuck this, I’m not that drunk.”

Your hair looks good, Blackbeard!

“Yeah? Lucius said it would be a mistake.”

There’s a knock at the door. “Ed? Are you decent? We’re ready for the dress rehearsal.”

Lucius pops his head around the corner and recoils. “What the fuck is that?”

“It’s Zip,” says Ed, and holds out his little buddy. “My friend.”

Lucius’s eyes are very wide. So much for being understanding. “Okaaay and would we call it a friend?”

Traitor! cries Zip in Ed’s head.

“Hey chill out, Lucius is judgy but basically fine.”

“And we’re talking to the dead fish now. Great. Okay, if you see me backing out of the room, it’s because I am.” As soon as the door slams behind Lucius, Ed hears pounding footsteps and him shouting for Izzy.

Coward. He doesn’t want you to get too powerful.

Ed startles himself. “You think he’s trying to hold me back?”

He doesn’t like your hair. Zip reminds him.

Ed sighs. It’s tough at the top, being beautiful and brilliant.

He looks at the list of ideas that the crew just gave him.

7. Get rid of things that remind you of your ex.

Well…

New hair, new crew.

Journal, Bitch

Edward might have made a mistake about the new crew thing. For one, he does feel pretty bad about the fact that Lucius went over with Ed’s scissors in his pocket. How is Ed supposed to trim his bangs now? He makes a mental note to add “scissors” to the grocery list.

He also regrets throwing the person who wrote the grocery lists overboard.

The list-writer is now Frenchie, because Ed can’t write things himself, he’s a Captain. There are rules about things like that. He’s too busy doing captain things to write mundane little things like grocery lists. And that also means that the depiction of items on the list is a little up to interpretation.

Somehow “porcupinefish massage jelly” keeps appearing on there, even though Ed has never told Frenchie to add it. When Ed asks Zip, the little fish… well does nothing but stare at him with his glass eyes. It makes my spines pretty. And Ed can respect wanting to look pretty, so he leaves it on there.

[Alt text: illustration of a shopping list with illustrations of oranges, a cow, a chicken and eggs, and written on it is "porcupinefish massage jelly". There's an illustration of Zip beside it smiling with stars and sparkles around him saying "It makes my spines pretty."]

Of course, Jim is being kind of a dick right now. Ed’s disappointed. They already had fringe. He thought they were on the same page about the life-changing power of hair that hangs in your eyes. Jim might even be able to be a guru of sorts, a guide to helping Ed through his breakup.

The third time Zip wakes Ed up in time to grab a knife plummeting down from above, Ed realizes that this bonding isn’t working out. Back to square one.

And, left to his own devices, Ed doesn’t really have anyone else to ask. Frenchie is cowering from him, Izzy has never mourned a relationship in his life, Fang claims to have taken a vow of silence, and Ivan is just giving him the finger. So it’s down to Ed and Lucius’s journal.

And me.

And Zip.

So Ed opens the journal.

Step 1 to getting over an ex. Journal, Bitch.

Ed can do this.

Dear

Wait, shouldn’t this start with some fuckoff big fancy capital letter? Because everyone’s going to want to read his journal, he’s Blackbeard.

[Alt Text: pages from Ed's journal. He experiments with drop caps--fancy looking D's and even one that's in the shape of a knife and another shaped like Zip the porcupinefish. There's handwritten text in the journal that follows below:]

Dear Journal

What?? What is that. That’s such a weak beginning. It doesn’t even sound right. You say dear to a diary, but I’m journaling so…

Bonjour, Journal,

Yeah, that’s good. That’s classy. Stede probably didn’t speak French to his journal.

Bonjournal, even!

Okay so, Ed is crushing this whole journal thing. He flips back to the list of ideas.

1. Journal, bitch.

Done. Checkmark and checkmate. Ed is journaling so hard he’s basically invented it.

2. Don’t give yourself bangs unless you can totally rock them.

You can totally rock them says Zip.

And yeah, he can. Clearly not everyone can because if they could it wouldn’t be a rule. But Ed’s really getting the hang of these guys. Before he was just a pirate, but now he’s a pirate of fashion.

So even without the help of Jim (thanks a lot) or Lucius (RIP), Ed is totally acing this breakup thing.

He looks at 3.

Write down a list of all of your good qualities! Get in touch with what makes you special (Oluwande)

[Alt text: a handwritten journal page that has an image of Blackbeard's flag, but the skeleton is has a frowny sad face as it stabs the hearts. The journal entry reads:]

Good Qualities of Edward Teach

1. Looks great with fringe

2. Is so sexy he cured his best friend’s midlife crisis.

3. Is so sexy he caused his best friend and would be lover’s new midlife crisis. Well, it was certainly a unique way to take down a rival pirate captain.

4. Can do anything, including

   1. fish, maybe

   2. steal a dinghy

   3. die alone, probably

That’s probably enough of his good qualities.

onto #4 Write a list of all his bad qualities so you remember to never get back together.

That’s much easier.

[Alt text: A handwritten journal page of Stede's bad qualities. The writing gets increasingly erratic as Ed gets frustrated and it looks like someone might have cried on the page.]

Stede’s Bad Qualities

1. Stede’s frilly little sleeves get caught on nails and it’s not sexy when the holes get bigger and he gets trapped and cries out “oh, Edward, can you give me a hand here?” and then it’s really not sexy when he sees the rip that was made and spends the rest of the day pouting about “shoddy craftsmanship.” At the end of the day, when you’re sitting by the fire and he sticks his torn sleeve right in front of your nose and says, “really Ed! I’ve never been so disheveled in my life, it’s entirely unbecoming of a Captain, don’t you think? Imagine if it had torn a hole in my stocking?” And then Ed was obligated to spend the night prying the nails out at stocking height just to see what would happen (and what happened was Stede was furious when he got holes in his lace stockings and it was not hot at all).

2. Sometimes Stede is, Ed has to admit, a little too whimsical. The time he put bells on his shoes to celebrate crossing the equator, which he insisted was a thing that a wizened old sailor at a bar had told him about and was a worldwide tradition of merchants and pirates alike, and refused to listen to anything anyone else had to say about the matter. And he jingled all over the place for the day and Ed was going totally mad because Stede kept trying to creep up behind him and each time Ed thought, “this is it, he’s going to snake his arms around my waist and kiss me " and he never did, so, really it was just sort of heartbreaking.

3. He is not the greatest at the whole boat thing (see above).

4. Sometimes the sun makes his hair look flaxen instead of golden and, like, who has the time to decipher between the two? Pick a lane, mate. It’s hard to write odes to one’s hair if the color keeps shifting. Not that Ed would write odes. Not that Stede deserves them

The paper blurs and then gets blotchy. Why is Ed crying over this guy who clearly objectively sucked? There are four points as to why. He can probably think up a billion more.

Ed hopes Stede’s stockings get stuck on nails for the rest of his life and he only sort of wants to be there to see it, which feels like an improvement. The journaling must be working. And, of course it is, he’s Blackbeard, the best journaler in the world.

Don’t bottle your ex

Ed’s standing on deck the first time it happens. He’s so shocked he nearly drops a map in the water.

You should contact Stede.

“Um, no thanks, that ship has literally sailed.”

He goes about his day, only to be laying in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, thinking. You should contact Stede.

“Cut it out, Zip, I know it’s you,” Ed says. “I wouldn’t contact Stede. And even if I wanted to, I can’t.”

You should bottle him.

“I hope that means smashing a bottle over his head.”

Like, send him a message in a bottle.

“Why would I do that?”

Tell him how you really feel. See if he misses you.

“He definitely misses, me, I’m Ed and I’ve got this awesome new hair.”

Tell him that. Make him sorry for what he’s missing.

A series of splashes occurs as a number of bottles are thrown over the deck of the Revenge.

If one were to read them, they would read:

Hey.

You up?

It’s been a while since we’ve talked.

How’s Mary your ex-wife is she still your ex? you know what, fuck it, the weather wherever you are?

I’m doing great. Got a new haircut so fantastic that your old crew jumped ship rather than stand in it’s glory. Seriously. Here’s a picture of how great I look now. Feast your eyes, Bonnet, because this is all you’re ever going to get of it.

I mean, you could probably see it in person if you wanted to. I might be amenable to some sort of rendezvous. So you can return my stuff to me.

My stuff being my heart, you jackass.

[Alt text: An illustration of bottles bobbing in the ocean, with little slips of paper that have the above messages written on them.]

Dating someone new

Ed stalks around the ship. There’s a new girl, Archie, who seems pretty cool. He steps up while she’s telling a story about a snake cult she used to belong to.

“You know, “ he says, flexing his biceps, “I’ve got a snake tattoo.”

She looks at him quizzically. “Can you flex that muscle again, mate?”

He does so, and she whistles. “Yeah, do you want some help with your lifting? I think you’re really losing your muscle tone. I mean, look at yours compared to mine.” She flexes and both biceps bulge. “I guess it comes from being at the top, right? Not hauling loot around with us little guys?” She slaps him on the back. “I can give pointers any time you like. I gotta keep in shape for any potential boa wrestling.”

Okay, so, strike one. He sidles up to Frenchie. “Hey Frenchie, any interest in composing a song together? I’ve been working on some lyrics I think you really might—”

Frenchie smiles nervously. “Gonna stop you right there, Captain, but I’ve gone solo. I’m not taking on collaborators right now.

Jim throws a knife at him the second he looks their way, but he’s not sure if it’s because they sensed his amorous intentions, or because it was Tuesday.

He sits in the captain’s cabin despairing. He needs to date someone, but who is he going to meet in person? It took a whole ship to bring him Stede.

A whole ship…

A Record of the last minutes of the Captain of Le Pain Divain, as perceived by Zip the all-knowing.

The Captain of Le Pain Divain is seated in his cabin. He’d surrendered as soon as he saw Blackbeard’s flag on the horizon. He hopes that the pirates will be merciful, and that might spare his merchandise. The crew he cares less for. Freeloaders, the lot of them, always complaining about their rations. They go on and on about how they need green vegetables, but are too good for green meat? Impossible to please. Blackbeard can have them.

He hears the gangway thud into place and the screaming begins.

“Oy! You! Where are your bistro tables?”

“Find me some bloody tablecloths!”

“You’re telling me these are your best candles?”

The door to the cabin thuds open and a short man with grease paint in his hair strides in, then stops dead and sighs. “Well, they aren’t sending their best,” he says, giving the Captain a calculating once over.

“I beg your pardon?”

The man ignores him. “Do you really intend to meet Captain Blackbeard when you’re dressed for tequila shooter night at Jackie’z?”

The captain is bewildered by the man, who stalks over to his wardrobe and begins pawing through it.

“Where’s your silk?”

“Back home! What fool do you take me for? No one would bring silk to sea!”

The man rolls his eyes. “Cashmere?”

The baffled captain shrugs. “Will linen do?”

The man nods, but under his breath, mutters “And it’s not even summer.”

When the captain comes on deck, the blood he was expecting is absent. Instead, the deck is filled with candles and flowers, the French flag is draped across a barrel as an impromptu tablecloth. The table is set with two plates, and two wine glasses, a man with long wavy black and gray hair is pouring the wine, his back to the captain.

Upon seeing him, a lad with a lute raises an eyebrow and glances sideways at the angry man, who shakes his head. The lad strikes up a chord anyway. “Captain of Le Pain Divain, allow me to present to you the scourge of the seven seas and your date for this evening, the notorious Captain Blackbeard!”

The man turns and smiles shyly. He’s very handsome, though there seems to be something wrong with his bangs. He gestures for the captain to sit and then reads from a pamphlet titled “36 Questions to Fall in Love.”

“Given the choice of anyone in the world, who would you want as a dinner guest.”

The deck is silent, save for the lapping of the waves. The captain starts to sweat. “Um, the legendary Captain Blackbeard of course!”

Blackbeard smiles, like he’s passed a test.

The captain grins back. “Who would you want as a dinner guest, Blackbeard?”

And Blackbeard’s eyes immediately go watery.

A sour note hits the lute. The man who questioned the captain’s sartorial choices mutters “for fuck’s sake.”

As the captain of Le Pain Divain flies over the side of his ship, Captain Blackbeard shouts down at him. “You blew it! Big mistake! Huge!”

The captain is almost relieved to take his chance with the sharks.

Meditate Upon Ye Mistress the Sea

So the dating’s not really working out. What does it take to meet a nice pirate captain these days? All the good ones are taken or straight, he’s left with the vaguely erotic letters from Ned Low that mysteriously turn up around the place and are getting increasingly unhinged. Like, Ed’s down for some rope play, sure, but he prefers it when the ropes aren’t made out of human intestines.

So unsanitary.

So he’s in his cabin on his bed trying to meditate about it.

Meditating.

Meditating.

Splash.

Ed is back in the dinghy, after Stede left him at the dock. He’s rowing and rowing, but the Revenge is nowhere to be found.

There’s a splashing at the side of the boat that has nothing to do with his oars.

“Buy you a drink, Sailor?” asks Stede.

Only it’s not Stede, not exactly. It’s a Stede with a fringe.

[Alt Text: An illustration of MerStede swimming up to Ed, but instead of normal MerStede, he has fringe and looks like he is from a 2000s boy band.]

And also a mermaid tail, but like, whatever, Ed has fifty dreams about merStede a week. He’s never had fringe before.

“Why weren’t you at the dock?” Ed asks.

“I was getting my fringe cut!” cries Stede. "Had to look perfect for you."

Oh, well, that makes a certain amount of sense. Ed can’t really fault him for that.

“And when did you grow a tail?”

“The same time you grew yours!”

Ed looks down and sees that he is sporting a giant purple tail. “Fuck off!”

Stede pauses to push his bangs out of his eyes and then reaches out a hand. “Come with me, Edward?”

Ed rolls out of the boat and takes Stede’s hand. But the moment that their fingers touch, Stede starts to transform. His beautiful face elongates into a toothy beak, and spines prick out from his body.

“Zip!!” Ed cries. “Stop messing with my meditations!”

As Ed wakes, he hears a raspy chuckle, like air being pressed out of a bellows.

heh heh heh.

Meditate Upon Literally Anything that is Not Stede

A Record of the last minutes of Deep Mike, as perceived by Zip the all-knowing.

Deep Mike has always been a deep thinker. It’s how he got his name, on a trip to meet a Wise Man ™ in the desert. Before that, he’d just been called “Off ‘is ass” Mike, which definitely has less of a ring of profound enlightenment to it.

After a six week course in said aforementioned desert at the foot of his Master ™, Deep Mike had returned to Tortola to spread the good news of careful movement, deep breathing, and meditation. So far the good people of Carrot Bay hadn’t been too interested in the gospel of Miketarianism, but once he could get the sign painter to spell it properly on his fliers, Deep Mike was sure that new congregants would be flooding in.

So far, the most enthusiasm he’d encountered was from an eager lad this morning. He had been quite curious about Deep Mike’s preachings of inner peace and forgiveness, and had promised to return to the afternoon service.

This had meant that Deep Mike had had to scrounge to create an afternoon service, since by noon he was usually getting pissed at the pub, but if this was the beginning of demand, who was he to stand in the way? After all, as his Master ™ said, “Maketh ye a customer, not a sale.”

The man returns, dragging a friend by the arm. This is not unusual. In Deep Mike’s experience, most plus ones end up manhandled into his services. The guest is tall, with a magnificent head of black and gray hair that makes Deep Mike wish he hadn’t insisted that Miketarians go bald. Is it too late to rebrand to ponytails? At least there is some fairness in the universe: the man had marred his looks somewhat with a catastrophic fringe. He appears to be wearing a porcupinefish on his shoulder, the way some men might carry a bird.

[Alt text: Art of a very sad Ed with Zip attached to his shoulder like a parrot]

So, he’s going through a breakup? Deep Mike can work with that.

“I don’t wanna do this, Frenchie,” the man whispers loudly. His gaze darts around the sanctuary (four cushions and some candles in the alley behind Deep Mike’s favorite pub), as though the thought of meditation is more frightening than an encounter with the Dread Pirate Blackbeard himself.

“Come on, Cap, it’ll cheer you up. Just let your mind go blank for a bit, eh?”

Deep Mike bristles, because in the Miketarian philosophy, one’s mind doesn’t go blank, exactly, but contemplates the glories of their leader, Deep Mike. He’ll correct his new apostle as soon as they get settled.

But as the lad leads his captain forward, Deep Mike realizes two things very quickly.

1. The man with the bad fringe is the Dread Pirate Captain Blackbeard himself.

2. He still owes Blackbeard 30 doubloons and two strings of pearls after that business in Gustavia.

This is why you take the six week course in the desert, and not just the weekend seminar. He didn’t drink mystery liquid from a jug to prove his loyalty to not walk away with contingency plans.

“Welcome, my children. Today, as we seek the mysteries of the great Mike, we shall symbolize the veil that the world puts between us an enlightenment by wearing a prayer towel on our faces.”

“Fuck this, I’m out!” cries Blackbeard.

“Please, Captain! He really cleared my chakras this morning!”

He did? Deep Mike’s better than he thought. His first convert is right here in his grasp, he’s not gonna lose it just because Eddie Teach is sniffing around.

“I’m not covering my face. Do you know how many people want me dead?”

Deep Mike forces himself to stop reaching for the gun in the waist pocket of his Holy Tunic ™. (He had bought the Deluxe Cult Leader package, which mostly just added pockets).

“What if I stand guard? Will that let you relax?”

“You probably wanna kill me too.”

“Not me, Captain. I’m definitely over you separating me from my Queer Platonic Partner because you needed someone to sew a flag.”

Blackbeard glares at the man, and Deep Mike suppresses a wince as he expects his newest convert to be run through. Perhaps he can turn him into Miketarianism’s first martyr. To Deep Mike’s shock, Blackbeard cocks his head like he’s listening to the porcupinefish, and sighs.

“Okay, give me a fucking prayer towel.”

Deep Mike scrambles to do so, holding one out to Frenchie. Frenchie sniffs it and frowns. “Ooh, Captain’s not really a lavender guy anymore. Do you have something in citrus?”

Deep Mike does not, in fact, have anything in citrus, but he’s willing to do quite a lot for his future martyr. So he finds the orange he was saving for lunch, scratches the peel and rubs it on a towel.

“I can handle the lavender,” grumbles Blackbeard, his voice watery. “It’s yummy.” He stands up to snatch the towel away from Deep Mike, moving as quickly as he does on a ship, and Deep Mike throws the be-oranged towel over own face, and prays to Saint Mike that Blackbeard didn’t see him.

“Now my children, coverth thine eyes and—”

The towel is ripped off his face.

“Mickey Six Hands? Is that you?”

“When I took my vows, I gave my past over into the hands of the Great Mike,” Deep Mike tries.

“Yeah, you’re definitely Mickey Six-Hands, only he’d be dumb enough to start a cult while undercover and use his own name.” Blackbeard cracks his neck. “Haven’t seen you since Gustavia, eh? How’s the cult business going?”

Mickey sighs and drops the affectation. “Bloody rubbish, Ed, your lad ‘ere’s the first convert I’ve had all week.”

“Times are tough, ain’t they, Mickey?”

“Sure are, Ed.”

“For me too,” says Blackbeard, and he sticks his fingers in his mouth and whistles. Suddenly three pirates rush in from the opening of the alley.

Dammit.

“Hi, Izzy,” Mickey says, waving weakly.

“Should’a stayed dead, Mickey,” Izzy rasps at him. “Want interest, boss?”

“I’ll take his lavender towels,” Blackbeard says. “Good seeing you, Mickey.” He then sits down on the cushion and places the towel over his head. “I’ll try that meditating now.”

The last thing Mickey hears before he’s knocked unconscious is, “Sorry I doubted you, Frenchie. I do feel much better.”

Retail Therapy

The shopping list keeps filling up with echidnas.

[Alt text: An illustration of a shopping list but it just says Echidnas everywhere. Remember Echidnas. There are pictures of echidnas. There's also an arrow pointing to a fishing pole (for the list), jam, strawberries, and bees illustrated.]

Sometimes it’s in a normal hand, and sometimes the writing is scratchy and spindle-thin, rather like someone had dipped a porcupinefish spine in ink. There are little dots in between the letters, showing where said porcupinefish might have hopped as he wrote.

Whatever Zip is, he’s impressive.

He also isn’t getting an echidna.

They’re so cute and pokey! Zip insists. And they lay eggs, they’re basically a chicken.

“A chicken that will stab you up. We’ve already got enough people carrying knives on this ship.”

So why should your chicken be any different?

Ed won’t admit it, but Zip has a point. Besides, what would Stede have had? A little fuzzy rabbit or something. Probably a precious duckling that somehow always stayed young and fluffy no matter how old it got.

That didn’t really fit the vibe he was going for these days.

Treat yourself, girlfriend! Zip urges. New do, new crew, new monotreme too!

—

“You want a what?” Jackie practically shouts. Ed can feel the weight of stares as everyone in the bar reorients themselves to eavesdrop on him.

“You know,” he whispers. “An echidna. Little guy, sort of like a platypus and a hedgehog had a baby?”

“You don’t just want a moony white dude instead? Because I’ve got one staying in my Vista suite. You can have him.”

“I’m up to here in moony white dudes. What I need is cute li'l guy to keep me company.”

Jackie holds up her hands. “Well, Jackie can’t argue with that. Okay, Blackbeard, lucky for you, I’ve got twenty husbands.” She stares at his shoulder, where he’s fastened Zip on. “You sure more spikes are the way to go?”

“He said he wanted to make sure I picked a good one.”

“Your porcupine fish wants you to pick a good echidna?” she asks, her voice deadpan.

“Yeah, it was his idea.”

“I bet it was.” Jackie sighs. “Okay, but if you change your mind, I’ve got one moony white dude available on the double.”

“Had enough of those to last a lifetime,” says Ed.

“Yeah, I thought as much. Nice bangs, by the way. Good luck with that.” She shakes her head, and then hollers, “Martina!” A burly woman with a boa constrictor wrapped around her like the Swede’s rope necklace materializes out of thin air. Jackie kisses her and then kisses the snake. “Got a special mission for you.”

Six hours later, Ed is riding through the Republic of Pirates on the back of a stolen horse, a backpack full of echidnas on his back.

“Why do I let you talk me into things?” Ed screams.

They deserve nice homes! He was keeping them in their own filth!

“Somehow I don’t think history is going to remember this as ‘Blackbeard, liberator of Echidnas,’” Ed growls. People dive out of the way of his galloping horse—the smart people, anyway. Some local constables step right in front him him, like he’s gonna be able to stop the beast.

“Blackbeard, you’re under arrest for—”

Ed rolls his eyes, grabs a flag from a stall and uses the pole like a javelin, easily batting them aside.

As he rushes past, galloping straight toward the harbor, the constables blow their whistles. “That’s improper use of a dive signal flag, that is!” shouts one. “And excessive speed within a harbor!”

“Put it on my tab!” shouts Ed.

He winds down an alleyway. These alleys used to be proper dingy, the kind of filth a lad could really get up to trouble in. But the republic’s changed. There are all sorts of legitimate shops now—he even sees a stall selling soup.

It must be popular, there’s a little crowd gathered around it, and in the crowd, he sees a tousled blond head that looks extremely familiar.

“Ed!” He makes out, just as Zip falls off his shoulder and jams itself into the horse’s flank, spurring it on from what had already been a gallop to what is now a terrifying blur. Ed hangs on for dear life, any questions of whether that might have been Stede dashed out of mind for the far more immediate problem of “Don’t fall off”and “How do I stop a horse?”

[Alt text: An illustration of Ed galloping through town on a horse. He and the horse look terrified, there are echidnas hanging onto him for dear life, and Zip the pufferfish looks like he's cackling as he makes the horse go faster.]

Luckily, the horse has that completely in hand—-it runs all the way to the docks, stops abruptly, and bends it’s head just enough to allow Ed to fly off, echidnas and all. He pulls the backpack off and holds them up above the water while he treads. Zip floats beside him, the current pulling him in little spirals. He looks happier than ever.

Fly little echidnas, fly!

“They’re not flying, they’re drowning!” Ed snaps, and he paddles back to shore.

Ed ignores Zip’s protests until he is able to plant the wriggling sack safely on the dock. “Think they would have been safer with their original dealer, mate.”

He was going to eat them!

Ed hauls himself up to the dock and pulls echidnas out, letting them dry themselves off in the sun.

“And don’t think I’m forgetting that we just saw Stede.”

Steve? I don’t know anyone named Steve.

“Stede Bonnet? You’re telling me that wasn’t Stede Bonnet back there?”

Well you couldn’t stop and talk to him on the middle of an echidna liberation mission.

And suddenly it dawns on Ed. “Did you try to keep me away from Stede?”

You’re better off without him! You don’t need him! He thinks your fringe is stupid!

“That’s not for you to decide!” Ed says. “All this time, all the running down ships to date captains, the journaling, the meditating—did you know Stede was right here?”

You were healing!

“I could have healed faster if you told me where my ex-boyfriend was so I could have at least kicked his ass!”

“Oh! Were we—were we using that word? Boyfriends? We never exactly had what the lads are telling me is called a ‘DTR’. Probably my fault.”

Ed spins around, and of course there he is, Stede Bonnet, in the flesh. Far more rugged looking than Ed had last seen him—his hair has lost it’s styled pattern and fallen into a natural wave, he’s got a ratty red cravat around his throat, and a filthy white shirt—made filthier by a large splash of mud across his whole front.

“Erm, yes, I fell running after you. You are quite a rider, Ed, that stop was magnificent!”

Ed doesn’t say anything. He can’t say anything. He’s pictured this meeting a thousand times—he’s even journaled about it. And he never accounted for the scenario where he was soaking wet after being thrown into the harbor, with a bunch of echidnas shuffling around his feet.

“I love your new do!” says Stede valiantly. “The fringe, I mean. It looks very chic. It’s not on any of the wanted posters yet—do you want me to add some in? make it a little more accurate?”

“Uh, sorta easier to go unnoticed if no one knows exactly what I look like.”

“Ah! Disguise!” says Stede, and taps the side of his nose knowingly. “Is that why you’ve got the echidnas?”

Ed looks down at the prickly creatures nosing around his feet. “Ah, yep. There’s a story.”

“I’ll bet there is,” says Stede, and he looks at Ed with eyes full of warmth and fondness—folding a pocket square under the moonlight eyes. And then he yelps, “oh no, there it goes!”

One of the echidnas toddles off the dock and lands in the water with a splash. There’s no waves in the harbor for the little guys to dodge, but Ed’s not gonna take his chances. He dives off the dock into the water, and grabs at the little bugger.

He holds it aloft and turns to see Stede diving after another echidna that has just waddled into the water. He falls to his knees and thunks to the dock, just missing it as the monotreme wriggles out of his grasp.

And it’s not alone—it’s brethren swiftly follow, jumping into the water with splashes Ed would find adorable under any other circumstance. Stede follows after, rolling off the dock and flopping into the water, creating the first true danger for the echidnas that only just manage to get out of the way.

“Fuck!” he cries as he surfaces. “I hit one!”

He waves his arm about, but it’s not the echidna quills stuck into him—-it’s Zip’s spines.

I got him!

“Leave him alone, Zip!” Ed shouts, scooping echidnas out of the water as he swims his way back to Stede.

“I didn’t do anything!” Stede insists, as he flails around, trying to pluck Zip off of him. He’s stuck to him very determinedly for something that Ed is mostly sure is an inanimate object.

“I’m not talking to you, I’m talking to my porcupinefish!” Ed snaps.

“Oh, well that really clears things up, thanks.”

“You don’t get to get bitchy with me Stede Bonnet!”

“You’re the one who attacked me with your home decor!”

“He’s a friend.”

Drown him, Ed, drown him!

“God, Zip, we’re not drowning him.”

“Does he want to drown me? See how you like it!” Stede angrily shoves his arm underwater, and then hisses when salt gets into his Zip-induced wounds.

“He’s a fish, he loves water. Get your arm out, you dingus it’s gonna sting.”

“Do you really care if my arm hurts?” Stede huffs.

“Dunno. Do you really like my fringe?”

Stede’s face softens, despite his new spiny growth. “Ed, of course. It’s beautiful. It really suits you.”

Ed smiles a watery smile. “Okay then. Let him go, Zip.”

The porcupinefish miraculously pops off of Stede’s arm, and Stede bats it away as quick as he can.

“Hey, that’s my friend!” Ed protests.

Zip lands a few feet away, right in front of an echidna. Right! The echidnas! The echidnas that they’re supposed to be saving.

Four echidnas that are, in fact, swimming straight to Zip. The one in Ed’s hands wriggles until he sets it in the water, and he swims off to join his friends. They surround Zip and then one of the echidnas dives under the water and resurfaces, holding Zip on it’s back.

Goodbye, Edward. They agreed to make me their king.

[Alt text: Zip the porcupinefish is smiling giddily beneath a golden crown. A rainbow shines over him. The echidnas celebrate, holding him up and waving at Ed.]

“You’re just leaving?”

You never really needed me. The real heartbreak was in you all along.

Ed swims toward Zip, distraught. “That’s bullshit! We’ve been through so much together.”

Please throw the remaining spine jelly overboard. It will find its way to me!

“Zip? Zip!!” Ed cries after him.

He feels a hand on his shoulder and turns. “I’d say this sounds nuts, but I think your porcupinefish just told me to be nice to you,” says Stede. “What is he?”

Ed laughs, shaking his head. “King of the echidnas, apparently.” He turns, and offers Stede a shy smile. “C’mon, lets get out of the water. Got any fancy clothes I can borrow?”

Stede sighs as he swims beside Ed. “Just the ones on my back I’m afraid. All I can offer you is a tub at Jackie’z to wash the saltwater off in.”

Ed groans. “Oh my god, of course you’re the moony white dude.”

Stede laughs as he hauls himself back onto the dock. “You’ve heard of me?”

He reaches down and offers a hand to Ed. Ed grasps it. “Yeah, I’ve heard all about you.”

Journal Some More, Bitch!

[Alt text: Another page of Ed's journal, with Ed and Stede both writing in it. The text reads as follows]

Bonjournal,

So… Stede’s back. I guess.

Hi, Journal! Glad to be here.

Yeah. Cheers.

Edward, don’t be like that!

Stop looking over my shoulder, it’s weird!

Weirder than a sentient pufferfish?

[sketch of Ed pouting at Stede with sad kitten eyes and kitten ears]

Sorry.

And I bet you’re wondering about how we got around to the me forgiving him thing.

It went like this...

[Alt text: Illustration of Stede on his knees before Ed, hands clasped and pleading. He's saying "I’m sorry, Edward, I messed up! You and your beautiful hair deserve so much better than what I can offer but please if you’ll give me just one last chance." Ed is standing happily with a sign pointed at his head that says "amazing fringe!". Ed holds up a finger and says he'll take Stede Back "on one condition"]

[Alt text: Another journal page. Most prominent is an illustration of Stede with fringe. He's standing in a Captain Morgan pose, brandishing a scimitar and with his lace-up shirt dangerously un-laced. The text around him says "Such Fringe!" "Wow!" "Almost as good as Ed's!". The rest of the page is a journal entry written by Ed, Stede, and Zip.]

It didn’t quite happen that way, Ed.

Hey, whose bonjournal is this? Yours or mine?

I think there’s a matter of mine being at the bottom of the ocean.

Yeah but that was old Ed’s fault. He didn’t have the fringe. Can’t be accountable for him.

Stede kisses Ed and says “I guess you’re right darling”.

Stede you can’t write that.

But I did and I want it recorded for posterity.

Well, and I want the record to show that co-captains Edward Teach and Stede Bonnet look great with fringe.

We do indeed!

And having thus resolved our squabble, it is our intention to make sure everyone on the new Revenge follows our new hair-code.

Snip snip.

Zip??????

heh heh heh