#SurvivedAU

[terrorcaptain]

@brassandblue

Lead poisoning.

It was lead fucking poisoning, meting out little bits of madness into every single one of them for years.

Thomas had already resolved, back in that Pale Void, if he should ever get his hands on the men of the company that produced them.... he would personally have them chewing on those cursed things, for every single supper, for the rest of their lives.

That is, if it wasn't going to kill him first... ---

--but Thomas buried that thought, buried it right into the bedrock of his tired mind.

(And he sneezed.)

Today was not the day for those thoughts, not at all, he had things to do, places to go. He had a life to return to, though certainly a different one than he'd hoped. Here in Liverpool, his home was now empty and his dear Esther was gone, dead and buried months before they'd all been found.

(He sneezed, again, and once more, this time into a handkerchief.)

Thomas was mostly dressed to go out, sat in an old chair in that empty home with a pair of boots ready to be separated for the day. With a grunt he strapped on his leg, wrestling with the bloody thing.

He was fatigued, eyes and nose were runny, ears blocked up too, and his cheeks ruddy--nothing a strong panacea wouldn't fix, he was sure--but if the Arctic itself couldn't lay him up, neither would a little snuffling.

He could practically hear Goodsir gently protesting. The thought brought a slight smile and a dry laugh as he finally got his false leg to cooperate.

--But what he didn't hear was the visitor at the door in the other room, nor did he notice that this visitor had just decided to enter anyway when no one had come to answer.

Francis had always considered his friendship with Blanky a true one. After spending multiple trips and multiple years in his company in the Arctic he thought that merited a true friendship and loyalty. Enough apparently to let himself into his house when he received no answer at the door, knowing his friend was not as mobile as he once was, Francis had been too impatient and too uncomfortable waiting outside for him to open the door for him. Since his return without Franklin and dozens of other men under his charge, he had found the streets of England unwelcoming if his face was recognised. He had half considered returning to sea but was perhaps not quite ready yet. Instead he had returned home to Banbridge for a while, reacquainting with his siblings and niblings. 

Still, he was in Liverpool now, in the empty looking house of his friend. He had intended to remain in the hallway of the door until Blanky made an appearance, that was until he heard a few sorry sounding sneezes coming from the next room. A moment or two later and Francis pushed himself to open the door, knowing it could only have been his friend behind it.

“You sound as if you have gained a head cold, Mr Blanky.” Came his accented voice from the doorway as he looked over his friend in the chair, not apologising for letting himself in unannounced. “You spend years in the ice but allow yourself to freeze while at home?” Francis had not intended to be that side of the Irish Sea, least of all in Liverpool but he had not missed the opportunity to check on his friend, the survivors earned such a right to check on each other, didn’t they?

[alfafilly]

A comparison between my anthro!Arpeggio, anthro!SurvivedAU!Arpeggio, and my OC Forte to show what elements of the two Arpeggios I was influenced by for Forte’s design.

I know I’ve mentioned him before but just for context, Forte is a rozenich (a raptor alien basically) I created specifically to enter into Labyrinth-OCT on deviantART! I had drawn Arpeggio as a rozenich back in 2017, and reworked that design for him. So Forte is not Arpeggio, but he’s heavily inspired/based on him. Mostly because the prize for winning the OCT is immortality for the character and um of course?

I would link to things but I can’t remember if Tumblr is still stupid and hides external links from search so. If you wanna read Fortpeggio’s misadventures I’m going to be reblogging our entries thus far on here throughout the week. It’s fun!

[terrorcaptain]

@governmentofficial

Francis often found he had time to himself since his return, a couple of hours here and there or a day or two if Mycroft was particularly busy. Ever the opportunist, Francis had ventured out into the Estate and surrounding village and country side at the crack of dawn, picking flowers he thought looked interesting and nice without being too much. Cornflowers, forget-me-nots and a few oxeye daises that he had tied together neatly in long grass.

He spent the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon preparing a meal for the pair of them, a salmon and cream cheese starter, lamb shanks for main and since he was not all too confident with his baking, he had bought some profiteroles and ice cream with some red velvet cake just in case. Everything was set up ready for when Mycroft arrived home, the lamb still simmering just to keep it tender and warm in the kitchen while the dining room had been set nicely with the flowers in a vase by Mycroft’s chair and a nice bottle of red wine at the ready.

“Welcome back.” Francis greeted him when he heard him come back in, smiling to himself and quietly very pleased with what he thought he had managed. “I’ve made dinner, it should be ready when you are.”

[terrorcaptain]

@everybodyelsedying continued from X

Ashildr jumped at the sound of a voice. She wasn’t sure if she’d been sleeping or unconscious. Those two things seemed to be very close to one another, “You’re alive,” She smiled a little. “I started to worry that you weren’t,” She probably shouldn’t have been so surprised. “My head hurts,” She frowned as she sat up.

Francis was not sure what he had walked in on but he could only give a breath of relief when Ashildr actually answered him. He crouched down beside her and checked her over as she spoke. “‘Course I’m alive.” He dismissed as his attention shifted to the complaint about her head, moving to look over it for anything that wasn’t healing. “And I’m damned lucky you are too.” He mused, “What do you remember?”

[terrorcaptain]

@governmentofficial

There had been hints or maybe they had just been clues scattered about over the last few weeks, a few wistful comments and the stash of paintings hidden in a room Francis had followed the other Francis into when it was time to give him his flee treatment. It appeared as if Mycroft was rather fond of fluffy white cats and in doing his research he discovered the paintings were of Norwegian forest cats.

A few weeks finally brought him walking into the house, carrying a box clearly containing an animal, tracking down Mycroft in the house and placing it on the nearest clear surface. “I have brought someone to meet you.” He explained and checked they was not about to be abandoned for any work Mycroft had going on, “Come and say hello, will you?”

[terrorcaptain]

@governmentofficial continued from X

The short answer? No, Mycroft had not been listening. The long answer, though, was that he was highly irritable and, quite frankly, just not interested in what Francis was talking about.

He shot the other man an irritated glare. Why exactly he was so annoyed, it wasn’t clear. Mycroft’s work was currently no more stressful than it usually was, so he supposed it had to be Francis’ voice. That wasn’t to say that his voice was annoying, mind you! Mycroft liked Francis and he usually had nothing against hearing him speak, but today… Today it was just the noise that was getting to him.

“No,” Mycroft responded, not bothering to high his moodiness. “You’re talking irritating nonsense.”

Francis should have expected a blunt response, his expression dropped moodily and whatever it was he had been gesturing for no doubt one of his tales from one deployment or another, stuck in the air for a moment before just falling to his side with an exasperated smack.

“How would you know I was talking nonsense if you were not listing to me in the first place?” He countered stubbornly, irritated by Mycroft’s rude dismissal. People had not listened to him before, sure this had not been a cautionary tale or any professional warning he should have been heard with, but the suggestion still ate away at him perhaps more than it should for those old frustrations.

“Or have you just never listened and it’s just been a general assumption?”

[terrorcaptain]

@governmentofficial

Francis wanted to treat his friend for once, especially for everything he had done for him but so too for the chance to just show him that he was appreciated and deserved nice things when he had the time of course.

He had dressed up in his finest suit and chosen to wear his naval over coat to at least merit some respect for where they were going. “You have not had a proper meal in a while and to spare you my cooking, I thought you would like to dine out with me?” He explained as he lead the way towards a restaurant. A pay cheque from the Navy had come through and he was sure to spend it on his friend where he could. “This is to be my treat.” He ordered with a playful pointed finger towards him, “No arguing.”

[terrorcaptain]

@governmentofficial continued from X

With Francis living in his home, it was inevitable that the other would eventually catch Mycroft without any shoes or socks on. This in itself wasn’t an issue, but it did reveal something he would rather not have anybody pay attention to - namely a large scar, distorted skin marking the site of an old bullet wound that never quite healed properly.

Mycroft glanced down at the question, though he already knew what Francis was asking about. For a second, he debated how much he should say. His field work days for MI6 were long in the past and he could likely get permission to tell Francis if he wanted to, but... Well, the other would look at him differently if he knew, wouldn’t he? How could he not? Mycroft had done some very cold things back then - things that he did not regret in the slightest, but that he knew could be distressing to somebody unused to such situations.

Hm. Perhaps he could tell him a few details though.

“That is from a hostage situation that I found myself a victim of,” Mycroft stated, calmly as if it was no big deal at all. “It looks worse than it should because the nature of the situation meant that I did not receive proper medical aid for a few months, thus a lot of damage had already set in by the time I found myself free again.”

Francis waited for the answer, he knew Mycroft’s work was dangerous, but he was much more grateful that he seemed to be off the field with his more recent work. He glanced to the scar again and thought about what he was saying. That Mycroft had been in a situation, injured and unable to receive help in time. “This is what makes you limp sometimes?” He checked but didn’t look to the scar again.

He knew of plenty of injuries that scared over but never healed, often it was too late to do anything about them but learn to live with them, Mycroft’s was obviously too old to do anything about. “Did you shoot the fool back?” He assumed so, he doubted anyone would get away with shooting Mycroft, if he had not sorted it he was sure Siger would have.

Francis couldn’t help but wonder how it was Mycroft had been taken hostage, if he had been outsmarted or betrayed?

[terrorcaptain]

@everybodyelsedying

It had been at least 50 years since she’d seen Francis. She made sure that he knew how to find her, but that went far beyond actively insisting he stay with her. “You can always come here,” She stood aside so he could walk in. “What happened?” She knew whatever it was, it was likely not lifethreatening, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell. “And tell me if we have to worry about anyone seeing you survive something you shouldn’t.” 

Francis stepped inside when she let him, glad to see her face again regardless. He winced as he stepped in, being mindful of his left side and clutching his left arm tightly. Never life threatening, Francis knew he would recover very soon. “Stepped into the wrong room, ended up getting turned into a human colander.” He looked to her apologetically, “Several not friendly people saw me get out from under a sheet and hobble away. Sorry to bring this to your door.”

[terrorcaptain]

◭

Ever so slightly different meme

◭ - Francis can sit in a comfortable silence with Erin, it is rare he is able to bring himself to try with others but Erin seems to carry a soothing presence that he does not feel that a long pause between them is because he is unwelcome company.

[terrorcaptain]

◭

Ever so slightly different meme

◭ - Francis will often look to Mycroft to try and read his reactions to things either good or bad and then try to adjust the situation accordingly. For all he has been through he is not prone to thinking of the smaller things having a large impact but it is important to him to witness Mycroft’s happy moments and try to protect him from the sad and upon his return he’s even more determined to see them, so he will stare at him a lot.

[terrorcaptain]

◭

Ever so slightly different meme 

◭ - Francis does not blame Ashildr for giving him the chip, he will eventually be very unhappy about it, regardless no matter how long the time passes between seeing her, when he spots her again he will still do that soft smile he perfected when he took command in the Arctic and to her it will always be genuine.

[terrorcaptain]

"I have a present for you," Ashildr presented Francis with one of his old uniforms. She'd taken the TARDIS to get one. It had to be exact, she'd decided for this to work. "Not the uniform. You just need to put that on as part of my plan," She was wearing a 19th century dress to go with it. "I told you we couldn't go back and save everyone. It doesn't work that way. But we could save someone. I want to save someone. I want us to go rescue Thomas Jopson."

Francis took the uniform hesitantly, he had once prided himself on wearing it, the ladder he had climbed and that glass ceiling he kept trying to break he thought at one time defined him. He felt the wool in his hands and the cold brass buttons and noticed how startlingly familiar it was. His eyes glanced up at her while he wondered what she was planning.

His face dropped when she revealed her plans though and for a long moment Francis could not quite find the words he wanted while he stood there in some disbelief. “Thomas?” He checked barely more than a whisper before he went to wrap his arms around her in a sudden and tight hug. “I would like that very much.”

[terrorcaptain]

@governmentofficial continued from X

Having Francis’ company at public events was a pleasure that Mycroft was swiftly becoming used to. It was nice, he had decided, to have somebody there that he actually liked to quell the frustration that nagged at him whenever he had to spend time in a room full of people. The other positive of having him tag along was that the company provided conversation starters that Mycroft could not provide himself and, through them, he discovered new things about his friend.

Somehow, the topic had turned to Francis’ adventures in the north. Mycroft had only been half-listening to the other’s stories - preferring to focus on his drink instead - until he heard the other begin to add in the odd word from what he could only assume was some kind of native language. Now that caught Mycroft’s interest. He began to listen with interest, waiting until their company moved on from them until he next spoke.

“What was that language?” Mycroft asked once they found themselves alone in the corner once again. “You will have to teach it to me. I am a good student, I promise.”

Francis did not enjoy large public events, glory hunting men and women bragging about themselves irked him, he hated the formality of it all but went along happily with Mycroft knowing they would at least be each other’s support at such gatherings. One thing Francis was quite happy to talk about was the people of the Arctic regions, it not his last experience up there. Explaining to others about a different culture and way of life often made him relax and go off on a mini tangent, occasionally showing just how much he actually knew about that unforgiving land.

He had to smile to himself at Mycroft’s curiosity and eagerness to learn, “It was Inuktitut.” He answered truthfully, a dialect but one he knew was widely understood if not a little choppy for the Nunavut families that he had encountered. “I do not think you will find use for it here, but if you really want to learn, I speak some Netsilik too.” He explained and hoped he did not sound like he was showing off but to teach Mycroft to speak languages he would potentially never use? Well why ever not?

[terrorcaptain]

‘ you talk in your sleep. ’ ((you didn't reblog this here, but have it anyway))

Francis pulled the furs closer around himself and checked her, he was deeply upset by their losses, they had not been fast enough to get to the men before they descended into desperation. He knew he would not have been able to stop them if he were there but he thought at least he would have tried.

“I hope it was nothing incriminating.” He voiced quietly, he was at least sleeping a lot more since it became just the pair of them, adjusting to the chip in his chest but also because he felt sleep came as an escape from their reality. “Did I confess all of my secrets or was it just my usual conscious nonsense?”