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link to Podfuckery: The Dread Pyrate Blackbeard (Former) on SoundCloud
The long nights of winter are some of the crew’s favorites, actually, because there’s fuckall to do. There’s dinner, yeah: usually delicious, always slightly surprising, always served with Roach’s trademark mix of threatening and nonchalant (with a dash of sweetness, these days). There’s the final tasks of the night, making sure everything’s squared away, ship-shape and all that, but this time of the year there’s not as much trade, so they’re a little less likely to need to react on a moment’s notice, so.
It’s not that they let things slide (much): rather, it’s that things get a little looser, as the nights stretch towards the new year.
And then of course, there’s reading time, which. Well.
Sometimes it’s delayed, a bit.
#
“Captains?” Frenchie knocks again at the door, three quick raps, and inside, there’s the scuffle of movement, and—is that a bell? Something jingling, anyway, and a muffled voice, and a thump, and Frenchie glances over his shoulder at Wee John, shrugs, and decides he’ll come back in a few, maybe. Or send Lucius? It’s his turn to want to gouge his eyes out, actually, he figures.
The thing is, though, they’re working their way through the one with the wooden boy, and this time, Stede’s promised they’re going to finish it before the new year, which is, by Frenchie’s calculations—and by the Gregorian calendar, that weasley, slippery thing, all its leap years and sneaky bits, and by the ship’s logbook, too—it’s tomorrow. So. They’ve got pages to go before they sleep, is all he’s saying. And they’ve got plans tonight, too. Plans that are non-negotiable.
He knocks again, and this time—silence.
Hm.
He swings his lute down from his shoulder and strums thoughtfully. Good job he brought reinforcements for this.
#
Fang’s on watch duty tonight—he likes the first watch of the night, actually, likes the quiet of it, likes the way things don’t tend to go wrong yet and likes the way that he can settle down afterwards and sleep through till the morning, if everything goes all right, curled up beside Roachie or Lucius or tucked tight between Frenchie’s elbows and Wee John’s warmth. It’s a good place, this ship, even if it’s not like any other ship he’s ever been on.
Maybe especially because of that.
So when he hears the crash from below, he has literally no idea what to expect when he rushes down.
He follows the sound of voices to the Captains’ cabin, finds most of the crew gathered around the door, which is not particularly odd—it’s a ship without a strict chain of command, usually, and so they’re always up in each other’s business. He still remembers fondly the way he’d stretched out on Stede’s soft silk sheets for Lucius to sketch him, that first week on the ship.
“I don’t know, babe!” Pete’s saying. “I wasn’t like, watching them!”
“But they were in there,” Lucius says. “I heard them in there!”
“We’re going to miss our reading time?” says Swede. “If we don’t find Captain soon, we’ll never know if the wooden boy gets flesh?”
“They probably fucked off into one of the stupid tunnels,” says Jim. “We can finish the fucking thing tomorrow, whatever!”
“Captain said by New Years?” Swede moans. “It is New Year’s Eve?”
“Guys!” Oluwande raises his voice over the chatter. “I’m sure they’re fine, I’m sure—”
“Is that blood?” Zheng says from inside the cabin, where she’s kneeling by a stain on the floor.
“Nah,” says Roach, pushing his way in beside her. “It’s tea.”
***
“These ones?” Stede says, holding up a pair of cosy looking woollen slippers.
“No, the ones with the bows on.”
Stede scrunches up his nose. “I don’t think those will go with your outfit, darling.”
“Fuck that, I just want cosy toes.”
Stede smiles fondly. “Alright. You deserve that after your ordeal.”
Ed sniffles and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Thanks, babe,” he says. “You’re my hero, you know?”
Stede turns away as he digs through his trunk of miscellaneous Winter vibe accoutrements. He doesn’t let Ed see his proud smile.
“Ah! Here they are!” Stede says triumphantly, brandishing the soft fuchsia slippers with large silky white bows on the uppers.
There’s the faint sound of someone knocking on the cabin door.
“Oh! It’s the crew. I better let them know…” Stede says as he goes towards the door of the auxiliary wardrobe.
“No!” Ed says, grabbing at Stede’s arm to stop him. The sudden change in Stede’s momentum causes his arm to swish out and knock into a small dresser with various ornamental pieces displayed on top. An oriental handbell topples off and hits the ground with a tinkle, followed by a metal tray of hair products, which thunks onto the floor. “I um… I don’t want them to see me like this.”
Stede takes a step back and looks at him. His eyes are red and puffy, and a little haunted. His hair is mussed, his jacket is twisted on his body, and his feet are currently bare. He’s perched on top of a small trunk of clothes, his knees pulled to his chest, one arm wrapped tightly around them.
“Alright,” Stede says. He runs a hand over Ed’s knotty hair. “We’ll stay in here until you feel better. But I did promise them I was going to read to them tonight.”
Ed looks up at him gratefully. “Thanks babe,” he says, the glimmer of tears in his eyes.
They listen to the crew speculate on the other side of the door.
“I know those guys are horny as fuck for each other, but shit… What the hell are they into?”
“You don’t think they’ve been fighting, do you?”
“Nah. Last time they fought there wasn’t a corner of the ship that was safe. Trust me, if they were fighting, we’d all know about it.”
“We’d know when they were making up, too.”
“Oh god, please don’t remind me.”
“They’re not in here. I’m gonna look in the ballroom.”
“The window is open? Perhaps they turned into birds and flew away?”
“I’ll check the rec room.”
Once they’ve all gone, Stede turns back to Ed. “How about I brush your hair for you?” he suggests. “That always makes you feel better, doesn’t it?”
Ed sniffs. “Yeah,” he says, a hint of a smile on his lips. “You could put some flowers in it?”
“Wonderful idea!” Stede says. “Here, put these on first.” He hands Ed the slippers, and he slides them onto his feet.
Earlier…
“It’s not gone, babe,” Ed whines from atop the melodeon. His foot slips and slams into the keys.
“Please be careful if you insist on sitting up there, darling,” Stede says with a sigh. The instrument isn’t his pride and joy, it hasn’t been in the family for generations. That one had ended up at the bottom of the ocean somewhere around Nassau. But the less said about that, the better. This new one, discovered on a ship they raided and dragged across to The Revenge by the extremely reluctant crew, is a worthy replacement.
Not that Stede can even play it. The old one had always been more of an ornamental piece. The ideal place for a fancy candlestick or a lush fern. But once Stede discovered Ed could play it, the thing had become his favourite piece of furniture. So replacing it had been somewhat of a priority when Stede returned to the ship.
“I don’t care about the harpsichord, babe, I just need that fucking thing out of here!” Ed says.
“Well I do care about it! And for the hundredth time, it’s not a harpsichord.”
“Sounds like a fucking harpsichord to me.”
“Well it’s not. Anyway, I can’t see it anywhere. I’m sure it’s gone,” Stede insists.
“It can’t just be gone! Where would it go? It’s in here somewhere!”
Stede comes over to Ed and rubs his arm soothingly. “I’ve looked everywhere I can reach, darling. I don’t know what else I can do.”
Ed gazes up imploringly at Stede with big watery eyes and a quivering chin.
“I need you to find it,” Ed whispers. “I won’t be able to sleep in here until it’s gone.” His eyes dart around the room anxiously.
The cabin is in a state of disarray with books piled precariously all over the place, clothes dumped in heaps, and the blankets and cushions from the bed strewn across the floor. Stede’s third favourite teapot lies in pieces on the floorboards, the tea that used to be inside it now spread out in a large fragrant puddle that has crept slowly underneath the door.
Stede presses his lips together. “I know, darling. I just don’t know where else I could look. Maybe it’s scuttled down through a gap in the floorboards.”
Ed’s horrified gaze fixes back on Stede and his eyebrows raise so fast they almost shoot off his face. “Th…there are… s…s…spiders… underneath the f…f…floorboards?” he gasps. His wide eyes dart down to the floor.
Now, Ed is a clever man. A genius, one might argue. A brilliant tactician. Stede knows that Ed must know the ship is probably riddled with spiders. He’s spent most of his life onboard ships. There’s no way he can’t know that. He’s the Dread Pyrate Blackbeard (former).
At this moment, the Dread Pyrate Blackbeard (former) is the most pathetic looking creature Stede has ever seen. He’s in his full leathers and boots, hair half tied back, jewellery draped around his neck and dangling from his ears. He’s cowering on top of the melodeon, eyes wide and wet, looking absolutely terrified.
Stede has been willing a spider to appear for the last half hour, so he can catch it and make it walk the plank, to make this whole ordeal end. Also to calm his petrified boyfriend. Storytelling hour is upon them, and time waits for no man. Or spider.
He could pretend to catch one, just to make Ed feel better. Pretend to chuck it overboard. But Ed’s not an idiot, and Stede’s not a very convincing liar. Even if it would soothe Ed, Stede can’t lie to him. They’re still working on trusting each other,
Stede gives a big sigh and flops down onto the sofa in front of the melodeon.
“Please, babe,” Ed implores in the quietest voice.
Stede looks up at Ed, wondering what on Earth he can do that he hasn’t already tried. And then he sees it! The spider is squashed on the bottom of Ed’s boot! All this time searching, and it was right there! He must have stepped on it in his rush to get to the safety of the melodeon.
Stede sits up with a start. “I’ve found it!” he says excitedly.
“Where?” Ed asks, drawing himself even smaller.
“It’s on your boot,” Stede says, and then he knows he’s made a huge mistake.
Ed starts flailing his arms and legs and screaming. “GET IT OFF ME GET IT OFF ME GET IT OFF ME!”
Shit.
“It’s alright, Ed,” Stede says as he stands and goes to Ed. “It’s dead. It can’t hurt you.”
“GET IT OFF ME!”
“STOP!” Stede shouts, and Ed stops screaming and goes still as he stares up at him. “It’s dead. Squashed onto the bottom of your boot. It can’t hurt you, it…”
“IT CAN! IT CAN! GET IT OFF ME!”
“EDWARD!” Stede yells. Ed freezes again. “Calm down. I can’t do anything while you’re acting like this. Keep still a moment and I can peel it off your boot and throw it overboard. Alright?”
“No!” Ed says, thankfully quieter now. “The whole thing!”
“I’ll get the whole thing. Just hold your foot still.”
“NO! THE WHOLE BOOT!”
“Your whole boot?”
“Yes! Just throw the whole thing over!”
“I’m not going to throw your whole boot over, Ed! These are your only pair.”
“Please, babe? Please?” Stede looks down into Ed’s beseeching eyes and sighs.
“Fine. Let me get it off you, and I’ll take it up to the deck and…”
“No!” Ed squeaks. “Out the window. So I can see.”
“Alright. Hold still then.”
Stede unbuckles Ed’s boot, feeling the tension in his leg muscles. He slips the boot off Ed’s foot, and Ed recoils as soon as his foot is free. Stede takes the boot over towards the bed nook.
“Where are you going with it?” Ed asks, clearly panicked.
“To the window. To throw it out.”
“Not near the bed, babe! What if it falls off the boot?”
Stede turns the boot to inspect the very well squished arachnid. There’s no way that’s falling off unaided. “Alright,” he says, and he moves aft towards the stern. Ed watches intently as Stede opens a window and flings the boot out. He claps his hands at a job well done.
“Now the other one,” Ed says.
“What?”
“The other boot.” Ed holds his booted foot out towards Stede.
“The spider’s gone, Ed. We don’t need to throw that one over too.”
“Yes we do.”
Stede sighs.
“What am I gonna do with one boot, anyway?” Ed asks. He has a point.
“Fine,” Stede says, and he takes the second boot off and chucks it to join the first. Once he hears the splosh of it hitting the water, he comes back to join Ed. “Better?”
Ed nods up at Stede, his chin still quivering. “My feet are cold,” he says in a whisper.
Later…
“Love the hair, Cap’n,” Roach says as the two captains wander out onto the deck. Ed smiles proudly, and reaches a hand out to make sure the flowers are still tucked into his braid.
“Come on, crew,” Stede calls as they start to gather round. “I thought you’d all be ready to start by now.”
“We didn’t know where you were,” Jim says.
“Yeah, we looked everywhere,” Lucius adds.
“We thought you turned into birds and flew away?” The Swede explains.
“I don’t think anyone else thought that, mate,” Olu says.
“Well, we’re here now.” Stede hops up into the hammock, and holds out a hand to Ed who joins him. “Just a quick announcement before we start - tomorrow we’re going to be looking for ships to raid - Edward needs a new pair of boots.”
“Why do you need new boots?” Fang asks.
“Just… fancied a change,” Ed says. “Gotta keep up with all the trends.”
Ed tucks his slippered feet beneath himself and cuddles up closer to Stede .
“Birds don’t wear boots?” The Swede muses.
“Can we get on with the story now?” Jim asks.
“All right, all right, settle down, crew,” Stede says, rearranging the blanket so it drapes over both him and Ed. “We’re all anxious to see how it ends…”
An expectant calm spreads over the crew, eyes closed or on Stede, hands still or busy with repetitive tasks, bodies curled together or splayed out.
Stede takes a deep breath, settles his glasses on his nose, and begins.