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#The Terror
mortuarybees · 5 minutes ago
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carves “john. can we sleep?” into my very flesh as i cry tears of blood. dont wish to talk about it
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90spsychadelics · 13 minutes ago
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࿐𝑗𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑓𝑖𝑡𝑧𝑗𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑠
࿐𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑝, 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡? 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑦 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑡ℎ.
𝑆𝑜𝑛𝑔: 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑖 𝑎𝑚 (𝑏𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑒 𝑒𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑠ℎ)
this is an edit from my instagram, @/goddesserizabese !
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mortuarybees · 15 minutes ago
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lads. be fucking honest with me this is no time for mercy. when bridgens picks peglar up after he falls. and peglar, cradled in his arms, turns his head. is he kissing him on the cheek yes or fucking no
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red-0ak-tree · 17 minutes ago
joplittle action 20 + dialogue 1!
20. Not-wanting-to-let-go hug + 1. "Is everything okay?" White Ribbon Nights
{READ ON AO3}
The dining room was empty as Thomas collected the glasses from dinner. He could hear the noise from the smoking room, Crozier and his guests sharing stories over a nightcap of brandy and cigars. Thomas hoped they wouldn’t be up long. He was accustomed to showing guests to their rooms at the end of the night, but tonight his feet were aching and the sooner he could wrap up down here and get to his own room, the better. 
Crozier didn’t host frequently. He was really rather solitary, all things considered, but decorum demanded that he host some of the Admiralty on occasion. It was always a relatively simple affair, less than a dozen guests over for dinner and drinks. Captain Fitzjames nearly always attended, he and Crozier had grown close after the discovery of the Northwest Passage, though Crozier still tried to deny he was entertained by Fitzjames’s tall tales. Thomas Blanky was a frequent guest as well, along with his wife Janine. Blanky always made Crozier laugh. That was good. 
Tonight Lieutenants Graham Gore and Henry Le Vesconte were in attendance, too. That was as good as it was bad. Gore was a kind man, who always greeted Thomas by name as though he were a friend and not just a member of Crozier’s household staff. 
Le Vesconte was troublesome though. He matched Fitzjames drink for drink and fed into his storytelling. That usually meant an extra two hours before anyone made it to bed for the evening. 
Crozier lived far from town, and his house was big enough to room half the Admiralty. Nobody left for the evening after dinner at Crozier’s house. They tucked themselves into guest rooms and left the following morning after being fed on tea and toast, and whatever else they required to pacify lingering headaches and the aftereffects of good alcohol. 
Tonight there was another lieutenant in attendance. Thomas tried to keep his eyes to himself but it was always difficult with Edward Little in the room. A fond smile crept over Thomas’s face as he reached Edward’s abandoned seat and began to clear the glasses. 
There wasn’t a name for what they shared. Thomas didn’t need to name it to know it was true. Stolen kisses in the belly of the ship, whispered confessions in Little’s narrow bunk on Terror, and now, whenever they could, furtive glances and hurried sexual liaisons in the many rooms of Crozier’s greathouse. 
Thomas collected Edward’s empty wine glass. There was a slip of ribbon twisted around the stem. Thomas smiled in earnest, then. 
It had started on Terror, before they ever overwintered at Beechey. They’d shared enough glances by then, brushed hands far too often for it to be by accident. Their first time together was messy and hesitant, cramped in Crozier’s storeroom. They learned after that to take it slow. To set aside time for one another, even when time was scarce. 
A ribbon, tied around the stem of a wine glass, passed from tray to Edward’s spot at table meant Edward should expect Thomas in his quarters that night, after the rest of the ship had bedded down. Edward would return the ribbon after a day or a week, tied around the stem at the end of dinner for Thomas to collect with his nightly tidying. A promise, a summons. Thomas always went. The lieutenant was a generous lover. 
It continued even now, back in England. They were all celebrated sailors now. They had been welcomed back as heroes after discovering the Passage. Even Thomas had been allowed a bit of the honor, his name in the paper, a nod from the Admiralty. Nothing truly changed, though. When Crozier returned to sea, Thomas followed. When Crozier remained on land, Thomas served him. 
And when Edward Little wrapped a white ribbon around the neck of a wine glass, Thomas took his meaning and found him under cover of night. 
Thomas removed the ribbon and tucked it in his pocket. He finished collecting the glasses and took them to the kitchen to be washed. He tidied the dining room, then took a tray of drinks to the men in the smoking room. 
The air was thick with cigar smoke and laughter filled the air. Le Vesconte was waving a hand toward Fitzjames, nearly knocking the tray from Thomas’s hands as he stepped toward the lieutenant to offer him drinks. Thomas stepped back deftly, careful to keep the drinks balanced, and felt a hand on the small of his back. 
“Sorry, Jopson,” Le Vesconte said, reaching toward the tray and taking a drink. “Didn’t see you there.” 
“Careful now,” a familiar voice said just behind him. Thomas nodded at Le Vesconte and turned toward Edward, who dropped the hand he’d outstretched to steady Thomas. 
Edward was smiling lazily, only half his mouth responding to the command. He had a cigar in one hand, elbow bent, smoke curling softly from where he held the cigar just away from his shoulder. His shirtsleeves were rolled up on his forearms. 
“Brandy, sir?” Thomas asked. 
“Thank you.” Edward took a small glass and held it up, as though toasting a cheers to Thomas. He sidestepped Thomas to return to the spot on the sofa beside Gore. 
Thomas took a turn around the room, and told Crozier to call for him when they were readying for bed. He felt Edward’s eyes on him the entire time. He’d never been very subtle. Thomas didn’t mind. He liked it when Edward watched him. 
It was another hour at least before everyone departed for their rooms. Thomas made sure everyone’s hearths were warm and well stoked, bid goodnight to the other men, and found his way to Edward’s room at last. He didn’t knock. They never knocked on white ribbon nights. Thomas was already expected, and knocking might alert other members of the house to strange going ons. It was better to slip in silently. 
Edward was standing near the window when Thomas entered. He shut the door quietly behind him. Edward didn’t turn. His hands were buried in his pockets as he surveyed the moonlight. Thomas padded across the room and rested his hands on Edward’s hips briefly before winding his arms around his trim waist, hugging him from behind. 
Hands, warm from wool pockets, came to rest on Thomas’s forearms. He still didn’t turn. That was unusual. Edward wasn’t one to hesitate when Thomas was in his room. He was a needful thing, kissing Thomas messily and shoving hands beneath Thomas’s waistcoat. It was always Thomas that urged them to take things slow, to enjoy one another’s company and languish in the time they shared, even if they never had half the time they wished. 
“Is everything all right?” Thomas asked, squeezing at Edward’s middle lightly. He rested his chin on Edward’s shoulder, looking out into the moonlit courtyard beyond the window. 
“Yes. Great, really.” 
It didn’t sound great. Edward said the words like a curse. Thomas pulled away and nudged at Edward’s hip, urging him to turn and face Thomas in the low light of the room. There was that half smile again, eyes tracing the shape of Thomas’s face. There was a crease between his brows, though. It gave Thomas pause. 
“Has something happened?” 
“I’ve been promoted,” Edward wet his lips. “Commander, now.” 
“Oh,” Thomas grinned. “Well then, congratulations are in order, yes?” 
Edward’s frown deepened and the smile he forced disappeared entirely. It pained Thomas. It seemed even when good things befell him, Edward was filled with melancholy. Thomas wondered if there would ever be happiness for him, or if he would always be haunted by a ghost of sorrow. He was a somber man. Perhaps that was his lot in life, just as it was Thomas’s lot to love a man that carried his own raincloud.
“I’ve taken orders.” Edward took Thomas’s hands, turning his gaze to look at their linked fingers. “North again. I’m to lead my own expedition.” 
“Edward, that’s great--” 
“I’ve already asked. I’ve been assigned a steward by the Admiralty. I shan’t be allowed to take Crozier’s, anyhow, but I did think--” Edward broke off his own sentence with a sigh. “It doesn’t matter. Two years, they said, but it may be more. I’ll miss you.” 
Thomas’s first instinct was toward playfulness. To tease Edward, remind him that he’d have his own steward now and the title of Commander, besides. A man like that would never be lonely, would have pick of anyone he liked. But Edward wasn’t that kind of man. He wouldn’t take another lover. Though they had never exchanged promises of monogamy, Edward obeyed it. He had chosen Thomas, and would stand firm in that. 
“I’ll miss you, too,” Thomas said honestly. He squeezed Edward’s fingers gently. “But we’ll see each other again.” 
Edward sighed, then surged forward to wrap his arms around Thomas’s waist. He pressed his nose to Thomas’s neck, breathing deeply. They were pressed together from thigh to chest, and Thomas could feel the slight tremor of Edward’s breath. Thomas circled his arms around Edward’s back, stroking along his spine. 
“Oh, Edward,” Thomas said softly. “You are such a sweet thing. I’ll be here when you return.” 
“You might not,” Edward’s voice was muffled against Thomas’s neck. “Crozier is considering a voyage of his own. If you depart while I’m still at sea, it may be years until we see one another again.” 
The possibility certainly posed an issue. It was the risk they always took, Navy men as they were. There was never to be any marital bliss for the two of them. No honeymoon on the beach, no lakehouse in which they could retire and enjoy one another. They were men bound by duty, constrained by the laws of the land. They found love in stolen moments. Such was their lot in life. 
Thomas sighed and turned to press his nose into the curl of Edward’s hair. The best he could do was to memorize the feel of Edward, the scent of him, the warmth of his hands on Thomas’s back and the width of him in his arms. 
“Then it may be years,” Thomas agreed. “And it will be me who comes home to you.” 
Thomas began to unwind his arms, intent to step back and take Edward’s face in his hands, kiss him until he understood that no matter the years, no matter whom came home to whom, Thomas would still be waiting for him. Edward didn’t allow it. He tightened his grip around Thomas until the embrace was nearly painful. Edward’s nose was pressed hard against the crook between Thomas’s neck and shoulder. Thomas chuckled, but it was a sad sound. He raised his arms again and clutched Edward tight. 
“Darling,” Thomas pressed a kiss to Edward’s curls. “It doesn’t matter how long it takes. It will be hard without you here and I will suffer with every day I’m apart from you. But we will see each other again.” 
Edward let out a shaky breath but didn’t remove himself from the embrace. 
“I won’t ask you to wait for me,” Edward said. “It’s not a fair thing to ask of anyone.” 
“You needn’t ask, and yet I will obey it.” 
“Thomas--” 
Thomas forced them apart then. He pulled away from Edward and held him at arm’s length, his hands on Edward’s biceps. Edward looked miserable, eyebrows knit, a downturn to his pretty mouth. 
“Here,” Thomas fished the ribbon from his pocket and took Edward’s left hand in his own. He tied the ribbon delicately around Edward’s little finger and pressed his lips to the smooth fabric. “I won’t love another until you return it to me. That’s a promise.” 
Edward flexed his fingers, looking at the ribbon across his skin. 
“Even if it takes years?” 
Thomas smiled, soft, warm. He nodded slowly. 
“Even if it takes years. Even if we see each other again as old men, hunched and gray.” 
Thomas was in Edward’s arms then, and kisses were pressed to his cheekbone, his nose, his lips. Messy and excited, the way Edward’s always way. Thomas soothed him, slowing the kiss, memorizing the taste of him. No matter what the future held, they would always have this. It was worth taking slow, committing to memory. 
No matter if they had hours or mere minutes to share, Thomas would savor every second of it. And no matter if the distance between them lasted two years or twenty, Thomas would remember. Remember Edward. He was rather difficult to forget, afterall. 
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quilleo · an hour ago
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Literally all of these apply to him, this chart was inevitable :^) he killed his gay boyfriend which makes him homophobic and the rest are just very obvious
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ratboyfanclub · an hour ago
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One of the very few ways to improve the masterpiece that was The Terror would’ve been for any of the captains to call Hickey “rat boy” in an insulting way at least once tbh
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vikkicomics · an hour ago
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Chapters: 4/? Fandom: The Terror (TV 2018), Erebus: The Story of a Ship - Michael Palin, The Voyage of Charles Darwin (TV 1978) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Captain Francis Crozier/Thomas Jopson, Captain Francis Crozier/Sir James Clark Ross, Sophia Cracroft/Captain Francis Crozier Characters: Captain Francis Crozier, Captain James Clark Ross, Thomas Jopson, Joseph Dalton Hooker, Archibald McMurdo, Edward Bird, William K. Cunningham, Thomas Abernathy, Captain John Ross, Sir John Franklin, Lady Jane Franklin, Sophia Cracroft, Fuegia Basket/Shima, Thomas Blanky (mentioned) Additional Tags: Crossover, Historical Fantasy, Anti-whaling commentary, Fan Prequel, Heroic age naval exploration, botanic gardens, Period Typical Attitudes, Fury Beach, French Whaler Ocs, Extinct Dog, Seamonsters, Crozier-centric, Parental Captain Francis Crozier, South pole fic, There will be dinosaurs Summary:
Captains Ross and Crozier lead an expedition to the edge of the map to locate the Magnetic Southpole and encounter an ancient sea-monster unearthed from polar ice by a French whaling operation.
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thursdaysbagman · an hour ago
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just finished the terror and all I can say is fuck mr hickey
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universitylibraries · 2 hours ago
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The Terror, Dan Simmons
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meowlyweird · 2 hours ago
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A quick one of Dr Stanley getting lit
(Scene study, The Terror 1 x 06)
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red-0ak-tree · 2 hours ago
2 for action + 9 for dialogue please!!
2. First kisses + 9. "Where have you been?"
Summer Apples
{READ ON AO3}
There had been a shift in the Little household recently. Thomas was observant, but even for all the careful attention he paid to his housemate, he was having a hard time placing what specifically had changed. 
Thomas noticed the shift the moment Edward’s guests left. His sister, Jane, had paid a weekend visit, taking the long drive up from London to dine with her brother. Her family had filled the house with laughter and noise, keeping Thomas plenty busy in the kitchen and darting between rooms with drink laden trays. Edward had been busy too, pulled between conversation with his sister’s husband and his nieces. He’d laughed. Thomas was glad to hear that. There hadn’t been much laughter in the household recently. 
Everything had felt rather fragmented since returning to Europe. The survivors of the Franklin Expedition had a hard time fitting back into the real world. Thomas himself struggled to know who he was back on dry land. The things he’d seen, the tragedies he’d nearly fallen victim to, made him feel out of place with people who didn’t understand what they’d face. Many of the survivors paired up, taking residence with one another and finding comfort in each other. Thomas was no exception. When Lt. Little had written and told him he was in need of a valet to help him run his house in the country, Thomas took the post without hesitation. 
Thomas did his best to be a good valet to Edward. He was not as young as he once was, and his leg would trouble him the rest of his days, but fortunately life at the Little household was rather quiet. Mostly Thomas helped with little tasks around the house, doing the washing, laying out Edward’s clothes (though he was never invited to help Edward dress). Edward employed a cook as well, and a housemaid. Thomas oversaw the workings of the house, and filled in the gaps where he was needed. 
Mostly, Thomas kept Edward company. It was a good job, all things considered. Sometimes Edward asked Thomas to take his tea in the parlor with him, other days he asked Thomas to town with him so they could do the shopping together. Edward was good company. He was a somber man, and his reticent nature had only been intensified by their experiences in the Arctic. But he made Thomas smile, and he was generous with material things. Thomas was finely dressed, always had food to fill his belly and books to fill his freetime. 
Edward was generous in other things, too: his time, his companionship, the glanced he stole in Thomas’s direction when he thought Thomas couldn’t see him. 
It had been two years since returning to their homeland. It was difficult at first, but things had gotten easier with time. Thomas wasn’t sure he’d ever be happy again, not true happiness, not when everything was tainted by the things he’d seen. But he was content, and he was glad to wake in the same house as Edward Little. That was enough, that would carry him through to the rest of his days. 
But now there came the shift. Thomas had learned to read Edward’s moods. When he woke from a bad night’s sleep and yawned at the breakfast table, Thomas knew to bring him an extra cup of tea and let him alone for the day. He wouldn’t be very good company. He’d shut himself in his study or the library and putter away his day with books, or letters, or his own memories. Some days he woke glad. He would smile at Thomas when Thomas brought his tea and gesture to the seat beside him. Those days Thomas took his tea with Edward and told stories about his youth, or playfully harassed Edward for the mud he’d tracked in from the stables. He’d tease smiles out of Edward on those days. 
Thomas was quite unfamiliar with the mood that followed Jane’s visit, though. Edward waved his goodbyes from the door, and then turned to look at Thomas, a pensive expression on his face. 
“A good visit, then?” Thomas asked, standing at attention in the doorway to the parlour. He was ready for Edward to ask for a cup of tea to calm his nerves (he always got anxious around other people these days), or for Edward to sigh and ask that his supper be brought to the study where he’d disappear for the rest of the day. Instead he just stared, dark eyes trained on Thomas as though he hadn’t seen him in days. Thomas tipped his chin to one side, a ghost of a smile on his face as he considered the other man. 
“Rather,” Edward said finally. “It’s always nice to see the girls.” 
“They seem to like you a great deal.” 
“Ah, yes, well,” Edward shrugged, plunging his hands in the pocket of his dark coat. “They think I’m an adventurer.” 
“As they should.” Thomas smiled. “If you have need of me, I’ll be helping Adeline with the washing up. Call for me if you need anything, sir.” 
Edward nodded, slow, mechanically, and Thomas turned to leave to the kitchens. Before he could leave the room he heard Edward’s footsteps in the hallway. Just two steps, quick, as though he was following after Thomas. 
“Jopson, wait--” 
Thomas turned. Sure enough Edward had stepped toward him, one hand outstretched as though to catch Thomas’s elbow and keep him there. Thomas raised an eyebrow, and Edward quickly dropped his hand. 
“Sir?” 
“Ah, nevermind it. I shan’t keep you,” Edward shifted his weight between his feet. “Thank you, you’re dismissed.” 
Thomas hesitated a moment. He considered pressing Edward for a better explanation, but decided against it. Edward was a curious thing. He’d share his thoughts if he felt it prudent, but until then Thomas could wait. Thomas nodded and ducked from the room. 
That had been two days ago. Thomas had seen little of Edward in the time that passed. They didn’t take tea together, nor did Edward find Thomas in whatever nook he was hidden away in, doing the washing up or mending injured garments, and chat with him about whatever had struck Edward’s fancy that day. Thomas didn’t mind. He liked it best when Edward sought him out and they shared space together, but it seemed whatever had been bourne in Edward during Jane’s visit required time alone to process. Thomas could give him space. He needn’t press. 
Today was different. Edward wasn’t at breakfast. Thomas left the tray on the table like usual, but returned hours later to find it completely untouched. He kept his eyes open for Edward as he attended his duties around the house, but there was no sign of him. When he met Adeline, the housekeeper, in the hallway he asked after their master, but she said she hadn’t seen him all morning. Under pretense of stoking the fire in the master bedroom, Thomas found his way to Edward’s bedroom but there was no sign of him there either. The horses were in their stables, no one had called upon the house. It seemed as though Edward had been swallowed up by the morning mist without a trace. 
Thomas tried not to let it worry him. He dusted the parlour and mended the loose threads on Edward’s riding coat and reminded himself to keep his eyes away from the clock. 
It was hard not to worry after Edward. Thomas had always worried after Edward. Even when he’d just been another lieutenant aboard Terror, Thomas felt his attention unfairly drawn toward the men. He was difficult to miss. It had been his whiskers that set him apart from the other lieutenants at first. Thomas learned his name first, his appearance was so unlike the others. Then he came to know Edward’s voice, his dark eyes, the long sweep of his eyelashes. 
Thomas had stared at pretty men his entire life. It was a personal failing he rarely let define his actions. He treated Edward Little as he did any other lieutenant, or indeed, any other gentleman. That didn’t mean he wasn’t acutely aware of his presence, or lack thereof, whenever they were in close proximity. 
It was afternoon when Edward finally returned. Thomas stepped out into the back garden, pail of dirty dish water in his hands, head full of thoughts of Edward Little, when he nearly ran directly into the man himself. Edward stepped back instinctively, giving Thomas space so he wouldn’t be showered with the dirty water. He wore his tall riding boots, slicked with mud, and carried a wicker basket in his arms. 
Thomas was startled by the sight of him. “Where have you been?” Thomas asked sharply. The words were not entirely becoming from a valet, but he and Edward had always had a rather casual relationship despite the gap in their social status. Edward could have at least let someone in the house know he would be out. That was the polite thing to do. They wouldn’t have set the table for him if they knew he would be away from home. 
“The orchard,” Edward said, eyebrows raised. He shifted the basket in his arms. “I didn’t intend to be gone so long. My thoughts ran away with me.” 
Thomas emptied the water into the patch of dirt and stones just away from the back steps. “Well, at least you found your way back. What have you got there?” 
Edward lowered the basket so Thomas could see the apples contained within. There were dozens of them, bright red and varying in shape and size. Thomas raised an eyebrow, a laugh startled out of his chest at the sight. 
“You had a craving, I suppose?” 
“Uh,” Edward looked at the apples. “No. Not really. It was just something to do, I guess. I didn’t mean to pick so many. I paid for them, before I left. You know how Hardings is, he told me I didn’t need to but I felt rather bad stripping him of so many.” 
“What in the world are we going to do with them all?” Thomas laughed. 
Edward shrugged. Thomas stepped aside to let Edward into the house first, but stopped Edward in the doorway to request he remove his boots. He was always tracking mud in, making more work for Adeline. Thomas helped him remove his boots, and then followed Edward to the kitchen where he deposited the apples on the table. Amelia, the cook, inspected them as soon as they were set down and said, “Did you have something in mind, sir? A pie, perhaps?” 
“Better make it a dozen,” Thomas laughed. “There’s enough there for a feast of pies.” 
“My mother used to make hand pies,” Edward said suddenly. “I don’t know the recipe.” 
“I’m sure I can manage it. I can prepare some for this evening if you’d like, sir?” Amelia began unpacking the apples, laying them out on the table in a neat row. “I don’t have any dough prepared, but I can get started now--” 
“I don’t mean to make more work for you,” Edward said. He glanced to Thomas as he spoke, which Thomas found slightly perplexing. It was as though Edward were asking Thomas’s permission for something. He hadn’t a clue what he was meant to add to the conversation. The apples were Edward’s doing, not Thomas’s. “I can help, if you’d like.” 
“Oh, sir, that’s very kind of you, but you needn’t.” 
“I’d like to, if I can.” Edward shifted his weight, and glanced at Thomas again. “You’ll have to teach me.” 
“Certainly, sir. Why don’t you boys go clean up, and I’ll get to dough prepared. You can fill the pies.” 
Edward nodded, eyes darting to Thomas again. Thomas gestured toward the door with one hand, following Edward into the hallway and toward his bedroom. “I can draw a bath if you’d like,” Thomas offered. “Or perhaps you’d rather have one later, after you’ve made a mess of yourself and the kitchen.” 
Edward snorted. 
“I don’t know why I offered to help,” Edward admitted. “I’ve never baked anything in my life. It seems a worthy skill to have, though, I suppose.” 
“Especially if apple picking is to be a new hobby of yours, sir.” 
They climbed the stairs together, Thomas just a pace behind Edward. He could see Edward’s face in profile, and was pleased to watch a smile crinkle his cheeks. 
“I’ll just get changed, I won’t be needing any assistance,” Edward said. He paused at the top of the stairs, then turned toward Thomas. “But if you aren’t otherwise occupied, I’m sure I could use help with the apples.” 
“As you’d like,” Thomas smiled. “I’ve always been rather a good baker.” 
“I believe it,” Edward smiled, too. They parted ways on the landing, and Thomas disappeared to his own rooms to change into clothing not slopped with dirty dish water. 
Thomas helped Amelia prepare the dough and apple filling. Edward joined them in the kitchen, but primarily hovered by Thomas’s shoulder, watching him sprinkle sugar and butter into the stewing apples. Finally Amelia shooed them both out of the kitchen entirely. “I need to prepare for dinner,” she explained, laying out the dough and filling on the kitchen table. She showed them how to cut the dough into even shapes, how to fill it with the spiced apples and crimp the edges closed. 
Alone at the table, Thomas told Edward to cut the dough while Thomas filled the pies and crimped the edges closed. 
“I used to pick apples with my brother,” Thomas said, scooping apples into the dough Edward passed him. It wasn’t as neat as Amelia’s had been, but it wasn’t awful. “We never paid for them, though.”
“Did you make pies?” 
“No,” Thomas chuckled. “We ate them all before we ever got home with them.” 
Edward’s tongue peeked between his lips, pinched there in concentration as he ran the pairing knife along the dough. 
“There was one summer when the apples all had worms inside. The farmers threw them out, but my brother and I scooped them up.” 
“You ate apples with worms in?” Edward paused his work to glance at Thomas, face twisted in disgust. 
“It’s easy to cut them out,” Thomas laughed. “The parts without the worms taste the same as any apple.” 
Edward passed a piece of dough, and Thomas gaped at it. It was far from the circular shape the previous few had been. 
“What’s this?” Thomas asked. It was vaguely oval shaped, but with what Thomas assumed to be a straight edge. Edward passed him a ‘matching’ piece for the top of the pie, though it was just as misshapen as the first. 
“A ship,” Edward said, frowning. “Or, it’s supposed to be a ship’s hull. I was going to do the mast, next.” 
Thomas’s heart swelled with affection. 
“I see it now.” 
“It isn’t very good.” 
“Well, you’ve been away from the sea. I can’t blame you if you’ve forgotten the shape of a ship.” 
Edward laughed then. As if he could ever forget the sight of a ship. As if they could ever forget anything about their time aboard Terror. 
The next shape Edward tried was a crescent moon. Though Thomas tried his best to crimp it so that it kept its shape, it looked more like a cylinder by the time he was finished. He turned the pie over in his hands and Edward looked at it, nodding. 
“Not really a moon, is it?” Edward asked. “Looks more like a cigar.” 
“Well, let’s just pretend it was always meant to be cigar shaped.” 
Edward beamed. 
Their hands brushed often as they passed the pies between them, fingers dusted with flour and sticky from the sugary apples. 
In a beat of silence, Edward sighed and said, “Jane has suggested that I should marry soon.” 
“Oh?” 
He’d always felt as though Edward’s marriage was looming on the horizon. He’d never known Edward to pay much attention to women in society, nor had he chased any for their hand as far as Thomas knew, but he was still young enough to wed, and a gentleman besides. It was the likely course of action. Thomas wondered if he would tend to a household full of Edward’s family, his children. 
It was a difficult thought. Thomas wanted to see Edward happy. He wished he could be the one to offer that happiness, though. Wished he could be the one beneath the veil, offering Edward companionship, and love, and children. 
“I have no intention to do so,” Edward said after a moment. “I’m happy enough here.” 
The next shape Edward passed over was a heart, lopsided and oddly stretched, but still recognizable. 
“You might not always be,” Thomas said. “If I may speak freely, sir?” 
“You needn’t ask. You can always speak freely with me.” 
Thomas nodded, crimping the heart shaped pie carefully, methodically. He held it in gentle hands, treating it with care. 
“The wounds from the expedition are still fresh, and I understand the contentment that comes with being back here safely. But the wounds will fade, and you will find yourself in want of companionship. A lover, perhaps. You will change your mind then.” 
“I have already changed my mind.” Edward was looking at his own hands, flexing his fingers and watching the dough caked on his skin crumble and shed to the table. 
Thomas held his breath. He was watching Edward, studying the crease in his brow, the way his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip. Edward turned to him suddenly, meeting his eyes directly. 
“Not about a wife, I’m quite firm on that,” Edward explained. His eyes darted across Thomas’s face, falling for a moment to rest on Thomas’s lips. “But I do crave… Companionship. Love.” 
“We all do, sir.” 
“I’ve found it.” 
Thomas raised his eyebrows. 
“In you.” Edward looked away then, back to the dough before him. He took a deep breath. “It is an unfair thing that I ask of you, I know that. And I don’t crave anything you don’t already give. Well, perhaps that’s not entirely true… But I shan’t ask for it, and you needn’t ever give it. It’s only-- Well, truthfully--” 
Thomas placed the last of the pies on the tray Amelia had prepared for them. He wiped his hands on the dish towel, and rose from his seat. Edward glanced at him, panic plain on his face. 
“I’m sorry, I’ve overstepped. I don’t mean anything by it, truly--” 
Thomas stepped to the side of Edward’s chair and took his chin in delicate fingers. Edward tipped his face toward Thomas, eyes wide and fearful. Thomas smiled, then leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Edward’s lips. Edward gasped, lips parting slightly, but recovered quickly. He surged forward, kissing Thomas back with a fervor. 
“You have it,” Thomas said as he pulled back, hand still on Edward’s chin, thumb pressing into the cleft of it. “My companionship, and my love. And you may ask for anything you desire.” 
Edward searched Thomas’s face for any chance of a lie. He blinked once, then his face dissolved into a grin. Thomas pressed another kiss to Edward’s cheek. Edward’s hands found Thomas’s hips, tugging him closer, leaving flour fingerprints on Thomas’s black trousers. Thomas didn’t mind. He let Edward kiss him again, relished in the taste of Edward, the warmth of his skin against his own. 
The pies hardly retained their shape after baking. The one meant to be a ship looked like a lopsided half moon. The mast was a rounded triangle. But Thomas recognized their shapes for what they were meant to be. He recognized the heart shaped pie as Edward took it into his hands and split it down the middle, handing one half to Thomas as they sat beside the fire. It tasted sweet, like summer apples and sugar. Edward would taste just the same when Thomas found him later that night in his room, and they swapped kisses in the moonlight. 
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dustmotesandquotes · 2 hours ago
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Perlerorneq. That is the word the Esquimaux use for the feeling that eats away at the hearts of men during the winter that stretches out endlessly, when the sun seldom appears. Perlerorneq. Hoarse as the lament of an animal that senses the approach of death.
Dominique Fortier, On the Proper Use of Stars
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dustmotesandquotes · 3 hours ago
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Through what aberration, through what grim irony had a vessel that was making ready to spend months in total obscurity been given the name of the Greek god of darkness?
Dominique Fortier, On the Proper Use of Stars
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i-am-not-like-you-ups · 3 hours ago
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Le Vesconte: What’s it like dating Francis?
Fitzjames: One time when he was pissed at me, I asked him for a glass of water. He brought me full of ice and said ‘wait’.
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spader7 · 3 hours ago
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sergeant sketching
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caravaggiosbrushes · 4 hours ago
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Commission for Mei! modern Dundy in yacht attire 🥴🔥
( commission sheet • kofi • instagram )
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sarisweetgirl94 · 6 hours ago
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Para sobrivir en un mundo lleno de crueldad, vayas a donde vayas, lo primero que debes hacer es desconectar completamente de todos y de todo, cada vez que intentar abusar de tu inteligencia o que comiencen a criticar tu conducta, muestrales de lo que estas hecho, muestrales como en verdad te defiendes, muestrales como no meterse con una persona como tu, muestrales que si se meten dentro de la boca del lobo jamás saldrán, muestrales que tienes más poder que ellos, muestrales la oscuridad y el terror que pueden llegar a sentir si siguen avanzando. Diles que no es fácil convertirse en lo que eres, que todo esto es culpa de gente como ellos, gente que desprecia, humilla y hace a otros que se sientan que no tiene valor. Pero la cuestión es, cuando la persona menospreciado se convierte en algo macabro, sin sentimientos, sin corazón, ni alma. Se convierte en alguien vengativo y con ganas de devorar todo a su paso.
Así que dejaros de quejaros de porque esa persona se comporta como tal o pasa de todo, en este mundo cruel.
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red-0ak-tree · 6 hours ago
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Joplittle drabble day
It's a lazy day today. Send me an action and dialogue prompt and I'll write a drabble. Feel free to mix and match, or come up with your own. Also you're welcome to request a Terror pairing that isn't Little/Jopson, but be warned I'm very selective about my Terror ships ¯\_( ͠° ͟ʖ ͠° )_/¯
[ACTION]
Good luck kisses
First kisses
Eyebrow kisses
Relieved kisses
Desperate kisses
Neck kisses
Tummy kisses
Slowly and softly kissing down the body
Welcome home kisses
Brushing hands by accident
Holding hands under the table
Holding hands for balance
Hands exploring a body
Cold hands in warm hands
Playing with each other’s fingers
Hugs from behind
Hugging while slow dancing
Side hugging while walking
One-sided hugs
Not-wanting-to-let-go hug
[DIALOGUE]
"Is everything okay?"
"What are you smiling about?"
"Did you hear that?"
"What's in it for me?"
"Isn't that weird?"
"What do you mean?"
"Is something bothering you?"
"Do you even care anymore?"
"Where have you been?"
"Can I ask you something?"
"Why are you following me?"
"How long was I asleep?"
"Does this help?"
"Isn't this what you wanted?"
"Can this wait until tomorrow?
"Do you ever stop talking?"
"What do we do now?"
"Can you please just leave me alone?"
"Does this seem normal to you?"
"What did you want to talk to me about?"
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