TEST DRIVE MEME #7

[sailmods]

1. before she hung up, she said she was a skeleton

[there is no note in your cabin. no forces stall your legs if you decide to walk anywhere but the atrium. in fact, for the first time in hundreds of years, newly arrived passengers on the Serena Eterna are waking up with absolutely no guidance. nothing but your fellow passengers in the halls - or maybe in your bed.

perhaps you end up in the atrium eventually anyway. it is where guest services is, and where Gal Friday… actually hasn’t been in a few days. until today. and she is visibly frazzled, her hair uncoiffed, her suit rumpled, something a bit like a bruise blossoming down from her hairline and over her smooth features. more papers than ever cover her desk, and when she turns to face you, her voice is as cheerful as ever, but audibly strained.]

Welcome aboard the Serene Eterna! [a pause] You know how to work a life vest, right? Everyone knows that! You don’t need me to teach you that!

[a light bulb burns out behind her head.]

… I’ll get right on that!

[freedom includes the freedom to not know what the fuck is happening. maybe you should reflect on that.]

2. grandma went and can't stop screaming

[it’s something about the lighting fixtures, this month. has the Bellona always had a massive chandelier? maybe. who knows. don’t ask questions. either way, in the stillness of the night, or day, or late afternoon, there is a noise like a cord being cut, and the chandelier plunges into the audience below.

it hits nothing, of course. no one is ever in the theater. and that, perhaps, is what the trouble is.

so, the chandelier starts to… travel, one could say. it starts to hang in various rooms: the dining halls, the bars, the clubs… sometimes, if you’re out on the pool deck and suddenly realized you’re under a shadow, you can glance up and see it suspended 20 feet above your head, securely fastened to nothing in particular and yet remaining perfectly in place.

until it isn’t. until it falls, crystal shattering on whatever surface it lands on: floor, table, person… and, wherever the chandelier goes, a lilting childish voice follows it, singing without any obvious source.]

Ring-a-ring of roses, a pocket full of posies… ashes, ashes, we all…

3. jeff bezos murdered the infinite tommy bahama

[the lights of the Infinite Tommy Bahama go out three days into October.

barely an hour after its closure, the lights go on again, and a new banner is unfurled.



physically, it is the same store. you can even see the old signs hidden behind the new ones. however, long gone are the tropical prints and khaki dress shorts. now, one can purchase any number of officially licensed or legally distinct Halloween costumes, decorations, and various other haunted accoutrements, leading back as far as the eye can see, and then farther still. is that a Gal Friday mask? spooky! well, at least you’ll be good and ready for the Halloween party at the end of the month, which is absolutely just a normal party and in no way whatsoever anything even remotely resembling a trick. there are only treats at The Infinite Spirit Halloween!

note: bahamanuel is still here! somewhere! it kinda looks like dan bongino.]

Comments

Blackbeard | Our Flag Means Death | OTA

[treading_water]

i.

There is no doubt in his mind... Edward Teach has died. That, or since the rise of The Kraken, he's drank so much that he's hallucinating. The former seems more likely, and frankly... fucking finally.

He hadn't necessarily believed in an afterlife... but this one seems specifically created just to mock him. Perhaps hell is real, and it is a technological mindfuck of a ship, absolutely hemorrhaging fucking ghosts, among them Edward considers himself. Why he can see some of them and not the others, he doesn't know. Doesn't care. If his fate is to exist on this fucking hellmouth for the rest of eternity then he's not going to stand idly by and be ordered around.

No rest for the wicked never was more true. He'd have thought death would bring him peace, but he has his work cut out for him.

"The fuck is that." he hisses in response to being questioned about a life vest. Funny name considering he's certain he's fucking dead. It doesn't take him long to put it together, watching as others slip weird garments over their heads and begin to inflate them. He scoffs at the sight as one is handed to him and waves it off. "Fuck off, I can swim."

ii.

And here Ed thought two chandeliers were overkill. This ship has one in every damn room.

The first time he witnesses one crash, he's been drinking and it does startle him. He's quick to move and avoid any serious scrape, pressed against a wall with his gun drawn and pointing at various corners of the room, searching for the assailant that cut it down. Glass crunches under his boots as he pushes through the debris and calls out madly for whoever is responsible, the sound of a child's song raising the hairs on the back of his neck.

"Come out and face me!" he snarls, eying everyone suspiciously as if they could be the culprit. The lack of anyone stepping forward has him laughing wickedly, strands of hair hanging in front of his kohl-smeared eyes in a way that makes him look positively unhinged.

"No? You think I won't find you? That I can't sniff you out?" his voice is strangely calm as he hovers over another nearby passenger, feeling them out and determining them not a threat before approaching another. "Watch your fucking backs." he hisses, "Because when Blackbeard does find you, you can count on your spine being ripped out and used as the next fucking chandelier..."

1

[treadwater]

"Sure you can swim, but if you end up in the ocean, how long could you last out there waiting for someone to come by and rescue you?"

How long could he tread water, that is. Because it's damned exhausting, even if a human body is more buoyant in salt water. The question's coming from a short teenage girl with too-bright blue hair (that doesn't seem to be dyed) and eyes that match, dressed in a blue-and-white dress with a broad-brimmed sun hat. She's mostly hanging out to see the new batch of new arrivals, in case there's anyone her age to hang out with. Ed gets her attention, though. Wasn't he here before? But he's acting like this is all new to him, and that means...

...well, she's not entirely certain what it means, but it's interesting.

[treading_water]

Metaphorically speaking, Edward Teach has been treading water his entire life. Literally? Different answer... he doesn't respond right away, taking a moment to look over the person speaking to him.

Edward doesn't let first impressions impact him too strongly. People can surprise you; those with the sunniest disposition can hurt you the most, he's recently learned. It's made him much more guarded, from the full-fingered leather gloves on his hands that deny human touch to the smeared black makeup that colors his eyes and stubbled chin- a mask between him and the rest of the world. If he was recognized by anyone on this ship, they would instantly see a difference, and not just because of the lack of beard.

"If I'm out there, it's either because I want to be, or I'm already long dead." he answers finally, "Either way, no one's coming by to rescue me."

[treadwater]

"You might be surprised by that." People on this ship are driven by cooperation, a lot more than past voyages of the Serena Eterna have been.

"But also, I kind of hope you don't have a reason to want to be out there anytime soon."

ii

[crushed_pearls]

When Erin hears the chandelier crash she's already off at a jog, but then that NAME gets shouted and she's off to the races at the speed of Fangirl. What comes bursting into the room is -

- A fucking elf? Dressed for a sword fight at a brothel by the looks of it; skirt over torn and fades jeans, turtleneck with the sleeves carefully removed, cloudy hair writhing against a ribbon cut from a summer sky that restrains it in a ponytail. All around her is a haze of crackling gunpowder that makes little ships and Jolly Rogers out of the smoke.

"Did you say Blackbeard?" She gabbles out, as if that's the urgent part.

[treading_water]

His eyes follow the sound of someone bursting into the room, but Ed doesn't fully turn to face them until he hears his name repeated.

Here's the thing about Blackbeard: his legend precedes him in every way. He doesn't even need to be present to strike fear into the hearts of any passing sailor. He knows this... it's what spoils the fun. Despite the frustration of finding himself aboard this unthinkable vessel, there is a certain level of excitement that comes with it. Opportunity. Drama. Life. He hasn’t decided yet if anyone knowing who he is impacts that positively or not. Time will tell.

Edward looks the part of Blackbeard- almost anyway. He's wearing Blackbeard's clothes. He's holding Blackbeard's gun. There's one problem of course- he doesn't have a beard.

'You can't be Blackbeard without your black beard!'

Stede's words ring through the back of his mind, haunting him. The first rejection of many. The one that made him paint the beard back on his face with kohl and try to reassume the title he'd nearly lost. Ed grunts, confused by the person before him. Not what he'd expected. Nothing ever is, here.

"Who's asking?"

[crushed_pearls]

Erin pats herself down (her hand strays to her saber for a moment, making sure it's still strapped firmly across the small of her back; an automatic gesture, over as quickly as it starts) and stands up straight. "Erin Peters, sir, do call me Erin. Folks had been saying Captain Teach was aboard the ship but somehow we just kept missing each other. I've been a fan of your work since I was a girl."

(Hey Peters, what's your over/under on fucking Blackbeard understanding the idea of fandom?)

Oh, right, shit.

"That is uh, I used to read all about your career in piracy. It was inspirational for me in a lot of ways." A beat. "...Some less fortunate than others but, y'know. You okay? I heard that damn chandelier come down again."

Wildcard

[ninetoes]

It's been a week at the most since Bonnet and his Edward disappeared. Izzy hadn't seen the latter since he publicly resigned, and only briefly saw Stede when he was approached to make a deal. Then Halloween, which he is still trying to actually figure out, happened, and now half the people on the ship are dead, injured, or missing in action.

Doesn't matter, Izzy told himself. He's got what he wanted, Bonnet's out of his way, and Edward...well, Edward didn't want anything to do with him so fine. He'd checked when Stede didn't answer his call for a meeting, and found their rooms empty. Stede's secret closet was gone. His ugly painting of The Badmintons also gone. Edward's belongings had vanished, and it was as though they'd never been aboard to begin with. Fine.

He could work with that. He could forge ahead, pick up the scraps, and try his best to do something with the mess he'd bargained for. It was a damn sight better than sitting around feeling guilty for something he didn't need to. Being happy with scraps wasn't enough, anymore. Didn't need to be enough.

Israel Hands is, in that way and a few more, a changed man in this new setting. He's walking with a slight limp from the Battle of Halloween, and under his familiar clothes there sits a tight, high neck undershirt with a thick gold collar around his throat, but he's alive and in good spirits. Cocky as all fuck, if we're being honest. He's a proper captain now, just like he was back home. Everything is coming up Izzy.

Until, of course, he turns the corner of a corridor and sees the familiar shape of Edward Teach walking way from him. But that-

-no. No, that can't be right at all. Edward's gone. And there hadn't been a single day aboard that Izzy had seen Ed wearing his leathers, set high up in the back of a closet in favor of Hawaiian shirts, board shorts, and flip-flops.

Izzy stops short, his hand flexing where it rests on the pummel of his cutlass.

This can't be right. A ghost? A challenge, sent by the Captain? He watches in silence from twenty feet away, getting farther as Edward walks. Twenty two, twenty four, he'll lose him. Act Izzy, now, do something-

"--Edward?"

[treading_water]

There are only a few voices so distinct that could stop Edward in his tracks, and one of those belongs to Izzy Hands. He doesn't turn immediately- everything he's encountered thus far on this ship has been a fucking haunting and why should this be different? He's prepared for the worst when he finally does turn and face his first mate, his eyes piercing and dark, a frown painted black with kohl.

His brow twitches and furrows slightly, scanning the other man head to foot before speaking. He isn't happy with Izzy. Not really. Things have been set back in order, but Mr. Hands has a whole lot of ass kissing to do if he ever wants his Captain's respect again. Edward smiles. It isn't a smile that should set anyone at ease.

"Basilica."

[ninetoes]

Oh shit.

Izzy can't remember the last time Edward called him that. It's the name of a liar, who used a young pirate for passage to Curacao in the name of his mother's jewels. It's the name of a boy who used it as a North star to get himself there, and convinced Edward Teach to move heaven, earth, and James Hornigold in order to bail for the lover he was attempting to return to. It's the act of violence which followed the discovery of that lover's death, and the righteous vindication of stalking down that murderer, trapping him, and burning them alive on hallowed ground. Edward had helped him bar the doors and set the blaze. Then Edward nearly threw him in it for his betrayal. Maybe he'd died that day, Izzy isn't sure. That part of him, maybe. The part who thought there might be something else in the world besides life at sea.

Israel Basilica Hands became something else: wholly, and irrevocably that of Edward's.

And he hasn't regretted it, not a day, not even the bitter, hard, painful ones. If it meant having the life he'd had, if it meant being where he belonged, he would do it all again without question.

He hasn't thought about that for a very long time, and it's been even longer since he's seen Ed's bare face. Under the kohl and jagged danger, he looks young. It's jarring, and Izzy's mouth hangs open with shock (and a little awe). There he is, Blackbeard, fucking finally!

(so then why does approaching feel like pressing soft flesh to the tip of a blade?)

Izzy stays very still, caught between the want to settle in his place to the man's right, and the internal screaming to run in the opposite direction.

"Is it really you, sir."

2; cw: skinning and cult stuff :)

[theweakhavepurpose]

Pratt has not been spending too much time outside of his room lately, other than chasing a ghost through the whole ship and getting in fights, so he has no idea that the chandeliers apparently have it out for them now.

He misses Blackbeard nearly getting taken out by four hundred pounds of gaudy gold crystal, so when he rushes out of the room to accuse Deputy Pratt of.. whatever it is he's accusing of him of, Pratt just stares at him.

His eyes are haunted, and deep sunk in the sockets, the front of his deputy uniform splashed with dried blood, and a bite wound on his arm that he hasn't bothered to bandage up.

"Don't just take the spine, you gotta take the ribcage too or it won't all stay together. Just falls apart." His voice is rough, scratchy, like an animatronic scarecrow running out of batteries. "Unless you don't skin them first I guess. Why are you making people into chandeliers?"

He blinks for the first time and looks away, "Something happen? I didn't like... do that and forget did I?"

Oh god please tell him he didn't start skinning people and fucking forgot.

[treading_water]

"Shut the fuck up!" Ed barks, pushing him aside, immediately bored by his rambling. Whomever made the attempt on his-- and let's face it, several other people's life is clearly not showing face. Wonderful.

More phantoms, then. What else is fucking new. Alright, wait a minute... suddenly the dude with the haunted eyes isn't so boring. Ed heel-turns back at him, but this time his gun is holstered and he's grabbing the front of that bloody shirt and dragging him closer.

"You look like you've seen some shit." he mutters. Not a compliment or a critique, just state of fact. "I've changed my mind. Don't shut up. Start talking. Useful information, please."

[theweakhavepurpose]

Pratt stumbles back, running his hands through his hair and looking elsewhere. That's probably the most valid reaction he's gotten to the insane stuff he's said and he's almost pleased. Finally someone just tells him to fuck off.

But then...

There's a moment right after he's grabbed and dragged forward where he doesn't react and just lets it happen. Someone growling at him? Knocking him around? Giving him orders? Fuck yes. But then it passes because he has no idea who the hell this is and he really doesn't wanna end up explaining to Tendi (again) that he got run through by a pirate (again) but holy shit it was hot (again).

The knife from his belt is in his hand in an instant and at Ed's side, but he doesn't reach for his sidearm in his holster, yet. "Don't. Don't touch me."

Wriggling free of those hands he backs up, knife at the ready, but other hand up as well.

"I've seen a ton of shit. Gonna have to specify. Which shit we talking about? And who are you?"

2, and I'm sorry about her

[starfleetashell]

"Yeah, dude, we're all terrified," Mariner says, making it a point to sound unimpressed. If Ed does think he's dead, he may well think her a demon - the dragon's wings and tail and clawed feet on this woman are surely demonic-looking. "How would you make a spine into a chandelier, anyway? You'd need, like, multiple spines. Logistically, it doesn't make sense. I don't think you thought that one through."

She smiles winningly at him, though. "I'll give you a pass 'cause you're hot."

What can she say? She likes bad boys. And bad girls. And bad non-binary babes. And bad Bynars. And--well, you get the point.

not as sorry as me

[treading_water]

Blackbeard himself has been described as particularly demonic by unfortunate seamen, but she's frankly not the weirdest thing he's seen since waking on this ship. Ed nudges whoever he's threatening aside for a moment as she addresses him, reholstering his weapon as he approaches. None of the people present seem to be the threat at-hand, but he's not about to admit he was spooked.

"Logistically, I've got the time to gather all the spines onboard if I was hurting for an arts-and-crafts project." he retorts, giving her one of those matter-of-fact smiles in return. You know the one. It comes with a squint and is incredibly irritating.

"Mm. Gracious of you. You are?"

1. i'm stede bonnet and welcome to jackass

[alighthouse]

Stede has given up resisting the force pushing him to the muster station. Why on Earth he's being asked to learn how to use a 'life vest' - whatever the blazes that is - when he's reasonably sure that he's just been peppered by bullets from Chauncey's men. Bit of a sick joke, to tell the dead how to save their lives, after all.

When he arrives at the muster station, he stops in his tracks for an entirely different reason than the disappearance of the compelling force.

"Ed?" Stede says, with the same relief and wonder that he'd said Ed's name not an hour ago by his reckoning.

(Honey, you've got a big storm coming.)

YOU'RE IN THE JUNGLE BABY. YOU'RE GONNA DIE. ✨️🍆💦💖💀🗡🍑💨

[treading_water]

Stede's voice feels like someone dropped a shard of ice down the back of his collar and it's dripping down his spine. Edward unconsciously has a full-body cringe when he hears it. His heart literally skips beating. His throat burns. His entire expression drops and then quickly travels through an entire range of emotion in the span of mere seconds.

No. Absolutely not. Now he knows he's in hell. Phantoms abound.

Ed swallows hard, exhaling slow and shaky as he turns to see the source of Stede's voice, his eyes furious and teeth gritted. He feels another shard of ice push through his chest when he sees Stede standing there just as he'd remembered him. Not dead, not hurt, not taken from him- just fine. Like nothing fucking happened. And it's infuriating.

He moves like a serpent. Quickly weaving through the crowd until he's pressed close- knife drawn and pressed to Stede's throat.

"You." he hisses, eyes already wet at the corners, "You don't get to call me that anymore."

ii.

[opheliac]

(somewhere up above in the rafters, there's another set of crackling. another girl but with a different tone; someone much older -- in the teenage range to be specific. if he decides glance up, there is a long braided blue haired girl (and given her outfit, she can probably pass as a pirate) hanging upside down like a monkey with her legs lock around a beam. the pinks of her eyes are glistening with excitement with a big twisted grin to match.)

Hiya, welcome back, Old Timer! And I gotta say, lovin' the threats...! — Got any more I can borrow?

(this is jinx. one of izzy's psychotic "underlings". his weapon, so to speak who will do whatever order he will instruct her to do.)

[treading_water]

Ed's eyes are quick to find the source of her cackling above him. Whoever he'd been intimidating on the ground immediately disinterests him and his gun is instead, pointed at the rafters.

"Yeah... One." is all he says before firing a shot in her direction. Maybe don't position yourself to look responsible for dropping an enormous fucking object on him if you don't want to be shot.

ii.

[decohere]

"Sniff out?" a soft voice echoes nearby, though there's nobody around. Not visibly.

"Saying I stink?" Ava fades back into view, halfway through the wall because she doesn't bother with mundane things such as doors. Her arm lifts as she sticks her nose into the pit of her sweater curiously. And then she wrinkles it. "Okay fine." She's worn it three days straight but god laundry sucks.

It's then that she glances at the damage of the smashed chandelier, and raises her brows. That's new.

[treading_water]

One thing is for certain: Edward Teach is tired of these motherfucking ghosts on this motherfucking ship. He almost rolls his eyes as she phases into being halfway through a wall. Why would he be talking to her? Was she responsible for the crash of heavy glass from above? Her expression tells him she isn't.

"Piss off, ghost," he groans, "This isn't about you."

1 - sorry about him

[busball]

Oh. Leather Daddy number one! That other guy is still number two. What was even his name? He's back? Klaus hums, pausing to put his hands up. "Well, I mean...sure. But I think we kind of die if we go into the water here. Don't quote me on it, but...I dunno. I think I'd rather not sink to the bottom of...whatever this place is."

"You look...umm..." They look him over. "So good, buddy. Great." Dying doesn't seem like a thing he wants to do today, so...yeah. Rough for sure, but...Klaus can lie as well as the next...chaos gremlin. "You doing okay?"

[treading_water]

Edward gives the stranger a nonplussed look, gesturing to the vests. "If you die either way, then the vest seems rather pointless, doesn't it?" he points out. Logic. Hm.

His expression grows impossibly more annoyed at the comment about his appearance. Is he okay. Does he fucking look okay? He's on a haunted fucking cruise ship. And who the fuck is this guy, anyway?

"Do you actually want me to answer that?" he grunts irritably, giving Klaus a glare.

1

[saltwaterlungs]

Up on the roof nearby, a boyish-looking teenage girl has been watching the new arrivals largely impassively. The sight of long salt-and-pepper hair and leathers, though, that's...

"Hey- Mon Capitaine, why are they making you do the drill again?"

She calls down. Did Blackbeard... shave?

[treading_water]

While the call does get his attention, Mon Capitaine is just strange enough to make Edward question who she's speaking to. His eyes trail up and lock onto hers, but they aren't eyes he recognizes.

Alas, Blackbeard did shave, but there is several days worth of stubble already growing back, and his face is covered in a kohl mask that ensures the name Blackbeard doesn't look completely out of place.

"What do you mean again?"