#and some morfin and stuff

[ley-med]

One thing that's been on my professional bucket list is epidural anesthesia. Since it's a pretty rare occurrence in my hospital, I haven't got to do one yet. So knowing that today is the day, that I will have a case that requires EDA, I've spent yesterday afternoon watching videos and re-reading on the theory.

So naturally, the patient tells me she changed her mind and would rather face the pain of a hemicolectomy than to face her fear of epidural analgesia...

And it hurts because lady! please let me help you! please let me ease your pain! But of course her decision is her decision...

So yeah, it's still on my bucket list.

[spirkkock]

A (NSFW) Modern AU where Nedward and Jopson are a cute little married (?) couple getting their house restored and Tozer is a thirsty contractor who gets swept up into a steamy throuple??? Hello??? can anyone hear me?????

Ned and Tom inherited a Georgian or Victorian home from Edward's grandmother or something, but it needs serious work, like needs to be taken back to the studs (or the Victorian equivalent) almost. And Sol comes in to rewire the ancient (fire hazard) electrical.

Down-on-his-luck Sol (having recently lost his job with a construction company) and knows way more about building than just being an electrician is like... hey.... you know they ran all this plumbing wrong here and you can easily salvage the shaker wall paneling in this room instead of tearing it out.

So Ned and Tom are like.... yes? tell us more? so Tozer is just kind of like "well I've got a guy (Morfin) who can run this plumbing again for a really reasonable price, and frankly I could do a better job of retiling this kitchen, and I know a guy (Bridgens) who is really into restoring old Victorian toilets and bathtubs if you need one. Oh by the way - these plaster and lath walls on the first floor don't even need to be removed, I could install some picture rails here so you don't damage the plaster when you hang stuff on the walls."

so they fire the shitty company they had before and put all of their faith in Sol and his mismatched team of contractor friends.

and it's a miracle for Sol because he's had a really unstable couple of months, what with losing his job and then getting booted out of a horribly fucked up polycule and losing his housing stability to boot. So he throws himself into this job which is so much better than just working as just an electrician.

And pretty soon the house becomes (sorta) livable, so Tom and Ned move in while he's still working on it - and then shit hits the fan.

Mostly because Tom works from home and likes to watch Sol with his unnerving blue eyes and walk around in shorts that are, frankly, obscene while also (not-so) subtly bending over to put paint swatches on the wainscoting or whatever. And whenever Ned is there (Saturdays) he's always trying to be helpful but doing a miserable job of it and then moping around with his big sad eyes and his fuck-me lashes while Sol does the heavy lifting.

And this is a Big Job, and a long one, so it's months and months of this, until eventually Ned and Tom are asking Sol to stay for dinner or join them to watch the game against liverpool or whatever - and they're both driving Sol up the wall because he's so horny for both of them he could die but they're MARRIED.

and then one horribly hot day (when Sol is working on re-installing the newly restored windows on the second floor so that the central AC the HVAC guy (Peglar) put in can actually start getting used) and he's stripped out of his shirt and is sweating obscenely - Tom brings him up a sandwich and some cold water and nearly drops the plate when he sees Sol glistening and flexing like that. And it obviously results in Tom on his knees (don't worry, he's using Sol's kneeling mat to protect his lovely delicate knees from the unfinished floor) giving Sol the sloppiest, filthiest blowjob of his life and it melts Sol's damn MIND.

Only this is a huge problem because now all the sudden he's fucking Tom half the time instead of working, and he can't look at Ned in the eye because, Christ, he's been banging this guy's husband in nearly every room in their house. And now Sol is a nervous wreck because Ned is always trying to coax him into staying for a beer or some takeout. And Sol isn't even picking up on the way Ned's hands linger when he claps him on the shoulder or the long knowing looks between Tom and Ned whenever Sol goes red and looks away from Tom's ass or that pale sliver of skin where his shirt rides up.

Sol is totally going to lose this job and never be able to use them as a reference.

Until one Saturday Tom corners Sol in the upstairs bathroom while hes installing the beautiful clawfoot tub and crowds him up against the recently restored sink to shove his hand down Sol's pants. And Sol is like, "Wait-please-Tom-don't --- ohhhh god - Ned is -fuuuuuck - NED is DOWNSTAIRS" but of course Tom just cuts him off with a vicious kiss and keeps stroking him off.

And the stairs creak - which mean's Ned is coming up but Sol can barely register it because Tom's hand feels so good and his lips are so hot and demanding. But then Tom pulls away and Sol makes eye contact with Ned over his shoulder and - oh fuck - he's cumming so hard into Tom's palm that it nearly makes his knees give out.

And there's a long moment of horrified silence where Sol is frozen, cum cooling on his stomach, Tom's hand still around his prick, and Nedward is looking at him with wide dark eyes and his stupid pouty mouth open in shock. And Sol is white knuckling the sink so hard he thinks he might rip it right out and ruin all the beautiful work he's done. This is it - he's cooked - this whole thing is crashing down around his head now, while his cock is out and the tub isn't even all the way installed.

But then Ned's pink tongue is darting out to wet his lips he palms himself with one of his big hands and his voice is low and gravely and totally filthy as he says, "Christ, Sol - you two look just as hot as I imagined."

And Tom is leaning in and snickering against his throat, and Sol doesn't know if his brain is just fully been scrambled but he doesn't understand what is happening at all. But then Tom is kissing him, and when he comes up for air there's a second pair of lips there to meet him, and it takes him a moment to realize that they're Ned's. And fuck his kiss is so hot and wet and Sol is moaning.

Needless to say he's a wreck of a man and so confused to find out that Ned has known all along that Sol and Tom were fucking - duh - there was a coordinated effort to try and get him into their bed, but that Ned was convinced Sol wasn't interested so he had backed off and just been satisfied hearing about it second-hand from Tom.

So Sol gets to have hot threesomes with two beautiful men all the time now as he finishes up the house and he takes some convincing but eventually Ned and Tom get him to agree to move into one of the spare rooms (although their bed is big enough for all three of them so it rarely gets used, actually)

and maybe Ned uses a little bit of that inheritance to loan Sol and friends what they need to start an honest-to-god historical restoration contracting company.

NOW EXPANDED: [[PART 2]]

[schestokryl]

Wait I haven’t talked about that time my brain generated me a Tozer/Morfin museum stuff modern au dream??

Well, it goes like this:

I’ve met Tozer somewhere and we didn’t get along at first, but then he invited me to hang out and I thought why not. So, next day, I arrived at the meeting spot, Tozer is there with Morfin, introduces him as his boyfriend, and tell us to hang out and then just disappears?? But turns out, John was working in the same museum as me, as a member of mounting team (basically people who hang pictures and arrange exhibitions). So, besides hanging out, we decided to do some work and went to check new exhibition space in an office building. But turns out, the landlord didn’t want to give us the keys, so we had to ask for leagal documents and we’re getting ready to speak to the manager what I woke up.

While I was hanging out with Morfin, he told me that he also played in a theatre in his free time. He also complimented my drawings of Trystan as Pharazon and said he wished he looked as good as he does??

also, Tozer walked beside us a couple of times showing thumbs up 👍

That was an interesting dream but now I can’t stop thinking about museum stuff Morfin, who loves art and does theatre and Tozer, who is a security officer in a museum

[andrew-rannells-mustache]

Tuunbaq, terror and expedition for the ask game!

Tuunbaq - were you frightened by the show? which scene do you find the “scariest”?

I’m usually a total wimp with horror stuff, but funnily enough not really? I had an unusual watching experience because I kind of joined the fandom on tumblr before I sat down to actually watch the show. I like spoiling things for myself so all of the more “scary” scenes I’d either seen before or seen memes about which cut the scariness for me, and the show having very few jump scares definitely helped too lol. The only time I ever remember jumping while watching was in the very opening scene when JCR is with the Netsilik hunter and Crozier walks away in the background - for some reason I thought that that was gonna be a Tuunbaq jump scare and it startled me 💀

As for which scene is “scariest” - for me, it’s when they find the heads of Fairholme’s rescue party. The thought that:

1) no one is coming to save them, no one even knows where they are

2) the Tuunbaq is smart and capable enough to make a nice little display of these heads with the knowledge that they will be found by the men and it will upset them, and

3) they only got 18 miles from the ships? And that this (judging from how the heads look) happened a while ago?? They’ve been there this whole time?!

It’s just! Crazy to me! (The scene where they find Strong and Evans’ bodies stacked together fits too but honestly on my first watch I didn’t realize that it was two separate guys so it didn’t affect me as significantly lol)

^Second place goes to Collins’ horrible from supper speech. I didn’t have any idea what the title of episode 7 meant going into the show (I thought maybe they were feeling horrible from whatever they ate for supper? Maybe because of the lead or something?) so it definitely threw me for a loop! I’m not usually bothered by cannibalism as a concept, but Collins being tormented by this involuntary reaction he had to such a traumatic experience really stuck with me.

Honorable mention to Morfin’s death too - a lot of episode 7 really follows the concept of like. Desperation and the loss of hope (imo, at least), and I find it very interesting. It’s by far the episode that unsettles me the most. :-)

(One more honorable mention for the music that plays during Sir John’s death - the scene doesn’t really bother me but GOD that fucking discordant piano tune freaks me the hell out. Idk why but it is so creepy to me. If I’m alone and doing a rewatch or edit where I need clips from that scene I have to mute it because it bugs me so much lol.

Answered Terror here :-)

Expedition - top 5 favorite characters?

(I tiered them because I like a few of them equally lol)

Top favorites tier

Silna and Hickey

Second favorites tier

Irving, Hartnell, and Hodgson

Bonus characters that don’t make top five but I think about them often

Tozer, Gibson, Little, Real Hickey, Billy Orren, John Weekes

Thank you for the asks! :-)

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

The funniest quotes from my toxicology notes: a collection

It's not even that funny but it made me read the freaking notes so suffer with me

Yeah, I wasn't writing in English most of the time, but stuff happens,-

[Excretion: Kidneys] *insert basic biology knowledge*

This graph:

„Sliznice v dýchacích cestách zachytávají, like, prach a mikroby. *Biology knowledge*“

[komplex carcinogens] „Two in one!“

[osmium] „It's being a difficult little bitch“

[Mercury] „[...] And that's bad.“

[amalgam - that thing used to repair teeth that releases mercury into your body] „Will be fully banned in 2030. Meanwhile suffer unless you are a child or with a child. Teratogenic.“

[Chronic exposure to mercury] „Just describe a Mad Hatter“

Repeatedly describing animals used in experiments as „volunteered animals“

[From a two hour lecture about lab safety] „Don't be a fucking idiot.“

„ 'cos capitalism ✨“

„It does what it says“

[Glykophosphate] „Magic genom into plants => they are now immune too and you can use it to make your sklizeň clean of plevel. Fuck languages btw.“

[neuroparalytic substances] „That gas from GtN!!“

[heroin] „Prescribed to overcome morfin addiction. Good luck with that one.“

[pervitin] „(fuck you) in chocolate? Sure. Hysterical wife? Yeah, why not. Yep, army gets some too! (Wehrmacht Blitzkrieg)“

[Atropin] „NEVERLAND CURSE“

„Please, don't lick toads“ (this is a genuine quote from the textbook btw)

[nomilkinmyteaplease]

The Terror as Angry People in Local Newspapers

[sunder-soul]

𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝖉𝖔𝖛𝖊

❶·❷·❸·❹·❺·❻

Chapter Two: He’s very, very beautiful. Black hair in tidy waves, dark, hooded eyes lined with sooty lashes, full lips, angled jaw, and all his fine features illuminated by the glow from the pub behind you. If you’d met him anywhere else you might have blushed, but here, now, you have to resist the urge to arch a brow. Wordcount: 2.3k Content warning: language, allusions to bigotry.

Story Tags: @crazytwentythrees

Permanent Tags: @jujugentle @weirdowithnobeardo @pearlstiare @fromthehellmouth @whoevenfrickenknows @moatsnow @voidmalfoy @lucys-brain @sunles @arana-alpha @tallyovie @expectoscamander @nothinghcppens @itsjustfics @mikariell95 @suicide-sweetheart636 @toasterking

McCollin slams the Records Room logbook down on your desk and you nearly jump out of your skin. “I told you to drop it,” he says coolly.

Your initials are scribbled on the page half a dozen times over the past two weeks. You look up at him wide-eyed. “I…”

“You were only supposed to watch that stupid trial once,” he interrupts, eyes hard.

“Look, I’ve found stuff, McCollin! Merope Gaunt? She ran away with Tom Riddle, for Christs’ sake, they got married and everything! That’s why Morfin was talking about her in his trial!”

He falters, brow furrowing. “How did you find out that –”

“I’ve been doing some work on the case – off hours,” you add hastily at his expression, “and look, I know you said it was pretty cut and dry, but in that whole trial no one actually asks him why he did it –”

McCollin laughs a little unkindly. “No one asked him why he did it? Do you hear yourself? Didn’t you just say his sister married a Muggle?”

“Yeah but she died ages ago,” you say desperately, leaning forward.

“Why does that matter?”

“Morfin was released from Azkaban in ’28 and came home to find his sister gone. He lived right around the corner from those Muggles, McCollin, so why did he wait fifteen years to kill them?”

McCollin gives you a deeply sceptical look. “Your problem is that he didn’t kill them sooner?”

“My problem is there’s no reason that he didn’t kill them sooner!” you correct. “If he’s really such a nutcase, why did it take him that long to get revenge on the Riddles?”

“Maybe he didn’t know who she’d run off with until then,” he shrugs.

“Then how did he suddenly find out in ‘43?”

McCollin sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Look, kiddo, I’m gonna do you a favour. I’ll let all this slide if you drop this thing now and stop letting it distract you.”

You gape at him. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

“But I’ve found –!”

“I don’t care what you’ve found, I need you to do your job,” McCollin snaps, waving at your desk. “So some pure-blood nutter murdered some Muggles because his sister ran off with one of ‘em, what in Merlin’s name is so hard to understand about that?”

“She had a kid with him!” you hiss.

He hesitates again. “You found a birth certificate?”

“No, but she died in a Muggle orphanage and was buried in the pauper’s yard, what do you think happened?”

McCollin, for the first time, looks somewhat doubtful. “Case never mentioned a kid…” he says slowly.

Hope sparks in your chest. “And where was Tom Riddle whilst his wife died in childbirth, huh? Where did the kid end up? Did Morfin know about them? Did Riddle even know?”

McCollin exhales a very fatigued sigh. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you.”

“No,” you say immediately.

“If you figure this out, will you get back to your actual job?”

“Yes.”

“You promise?”

You’re on the edge of your seat. “I promise.”

He grits his teeth. “Merlin… fine. What do you need?”

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

You hate Azkaban. The place is dark and cold and dripping wet, the dementors never stay quite far enough away, and the screams and sobs of the prisoners within the black stone stick in your heart for weeks afterwards.

“In and out,” McCollin mutters, pulling off his hat and casting the dementor beside you an aspersing look. “Five minutes, kiddo, and then we’re gone.”

You nod quickly and step down the long, dark corridor, peering at the parchment in your hand and checking it against the cell numbers scratched into the stone on either wall. You find him around the corner. Cell 75191.

You lift your lit wand, squinting into the darkness. “Morfin…?”

There’s the faint clinking of chains and then a skin-crawling hiss that makes your heart clench in fear, followed by a rasping, phlegmy cackle.

“Morfin Gaunt?” you try again, catching sight of movement in the corner of the cell, a figure hunched there.

He only hisses again.

“I don’t speak Parseltongue, Mr Gaunt,” you say with a forced calm, “I’m here to talk about the Riddles.”

Morfin spits at the ground. “Riddles,” he growls. “Fucking Riddles, fucking filthy Muggle Riddles in their filthy stinking house, got what was coming didn’t they? Got what they deserved in the end –”

“You knew about Merope and Tom Riddle, didn’t you, Mr Gaunt?” you interrupt, hands shaking in the aching cold. You bury your non-wand hand in your pocket in vain – the chill of the prison is all-permeating.

“Filthy Riddle… filthy scumsucker…”

“Why did you kill the Riddles in 1943?”

He barks a hideous laugh. “Muggle scum they were, had it coming, saw the light leave their eyes at the end of a wand like was intended, not my sister, not my family –”

“Why did you wait, Mr Gaunt?”

There’s silence. Your heart thrums nervously.

“You got home in 1928 but you didn’t kill the Riddles until 1943… Why didn’t you kill them sooner?” you press carefully.

Morfin doesn’t reply for a moment, and then – “Muggle scum,” he mutters a little dolefully.

“Yes but what changed?” you say, patience fraying a bit. “What changed in 1943? Did something happen?”

“Scourge of the earth… got to get rid of ‘em all, that Grindelwald fellow had the right idea, get rid of ‘em –”

There’s a sound like a heavy door closing in the distance and you’re suddenly very aware that you don’t have a lot of time left. “Did you know about Merope’s child?” you ask pressingly.

Morfin descends into a coughing fit and spits what sounds like a hefty wad of mucus onto the floor of his cell. “Knew it,” he says darkly, “I knew it, that slut…”

“You knew?”

“Looked just like him, didn’t he?” he snarls.

“Who?” you say at once.

“He looked just like that nasty, filthy, disgusting Muggle… Well, they’re all dead now.” He laughs nastily again. “Rotting in the ground where they belong, Muggle scum…”

You can hear McCollin calling for you but your head is spinning. He waited… he waited fifteen years…

If Merope’s son had been born at the end of ’26, he would have been sixteen in July of ’43.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

“I know why he waited,” you breathe to McCollin the second you’re back in the safety of the Ministry.

“Why?”

“I know why he waited to kill the Riddles – Merope’s son came to find him – maybe he was looking for his family, he probably grew up in that orphanage – he really did only find out about her kid in ’43 and it made him snap and –”

“Slow down,” McCollin frowns, hand on your shoulder. “What are you saying?”

“You have to get me access to Morfin’s memory of that day,” you say intensely.

His face and his hand fall in unison. “You said that if I got you in to see Morfin, you’d let it go,” he says sharply.

“I know but Jesus McCollin! Shouldn’t we find her son?”

“This is getting out of hand,” he mutters, turning and walking off across the huge entrance hall.

“Please,” you say, following him. “Please! I –”

“No,” he says flatly.

“But –!”

“What, you want to watch murders now?”

“McCollin, just listen –”

“I’m serious, drop it,” he drawls, stepping into an elevator and turning to point at you. “I don’t wanna hear you say the name Riddle again.”

The elevator dings, the door slides shut on McCollin’s serious face, and you sigh in frustration.

“Riddle?”

Your head lifts in surprise. The voice had come from beside you, a very formally-dressed old man with curated grey hair, gold glasses, and a haughty expression. “Yes, sir…?” you ask slowly.

“Ah yes, a real shame, all that,” the man sighs, looking up at the elevators expectantly.

You blink. You recognise the man from around the Ministry, but you can’t think of a single conceivable reason why a senior member of the International Confederation of Wizards knows the name of a Muggle murdered eight years ago. “…Yes, it was.”

“Such a waste,” he shakes his head sagely. “He could have gone far.”

You don’t know what to say. “You’re… you’re talking about Tom Riddle, sir…?”

“Yes, of course,” the man titters, “Slughorn recommended him to me personally – assured me he’d go far. A real talent, he said.”

Something is definitely not right, but the man’s elevator dings and he steps inside at once, expensive robes swirling as he turns. “To end up in Knockturn Alley of all places,” he sighs, “and to think... the boy could have been Minister for Magic one day.”

The doors shut before your gobsmacked face.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

“So let me get this straight,” Mori says lowly, setting down another drink for you. “You think the kid’s here? In Knockturn Alley?”

“I think so,” you murmur as Mori takes your empty glass away. “Either that or some poor schmuck with the exact same name as a murdered Muggle is walking around completely unrelated to all this shit.”

“Have you found anything on the kid?”

You nod blankly. “Looked up the name and found a ton of stuff straight away – star pupil at Hogwarts, won a ton of awards, Prefect, Head-boy –”

“Sounds like a square,” Mori snorts.

“He fell off the map a bit after school,” you frown, leaning forward on your forearms. “Found an address from a few years back but doesn’t seem up-to-date. The guy definitely mentioned Knockturn Alley though, so –”

“If you told me a name, I’ll probably know him.”

You shoot him a nervous look. “I dunno, Mori, I’m really pissing McCollin off with this already. If he finds out I’m leaking names –”

“Well I’ll tell you this for free, no one down this way’ll take kindly to someone in Ministry robes poking their nose around,” he says darkly.

You sigh and take a sip from your drink. “I know.”

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

You leave just past midnight, giving Mori a wave as you grab your cloak and head for the door, already reaching for your wand to Apparate as you push it open –

You walk straight into someone. “Oh,” you exclaim, stepping back. “I'm so sorry.”

“Not at all.”

You look up at the voice in surprise, smooth and pleasant and velvety. The face behind it is even better; he’s very, very beautiful. Black hair in tidy waves, dark, hooded eyes lined with sooty lashes, full lips, angled jaw, and all his fine features illuminated by the glow from the pub behind you as he pushes the door wide and holds it for you, stepping aside with a polite twist to his lips to let you out first.

If you’d met him anywhere else you might have blushed, but here, now, you have to resist the urge to arch a brow. He’s not exactly what you’d normally expect from customers of Moribund’s.

“Thank you,” you say evenly, stepping past him and rather theatrically hoping he’s not some sort of pretty-faced creature that would strike when your back’s turned –

“You’re from the Ministry?”

You hesitate. His question was perfectly curious and well-warranted – the purple robes you were still wearing were also not what one might normally expect from customers of Moribund’s. “I am,” you say quietly, pulling out your wand.

“Are you here on business or for pleasure?” he smiles a little. It makes him even more beautiful. It makes you more suspicious.

“A bit of both,” you say truthfully, thinking of your conversation with Mori.

“Rather strange for someone of your profession to patron a place like this,” says the young man, head tilting a fraction.

You hesitate for a moment, but if he intends on giving you trouble, it feels like a good idea to establish that you have people looking out for you around here. “I’m friends with the barman.”

“In which case it's odd I’ve not seen you more, then,” he says very smoothly, the little twist to his lips returning, “since I’m something of a regular.”

But you’ve had quite enough. “You’re letting the warmth out,” you say politely, inclining your head at the door he’s still holding open as you lift your wand. “Enjoy your drinks.”

“Would you care to join me?”

You hesitate, eyes flicking back to the young man. His head is still tilted slightly as he watches you, and suddenly you can’t tell if the curl to his lips is more attractive or unnerving.

“I’d very much like the company,” he smiles, white, straight teeth, too handsome, too gorgeous.

Alarm bells are going off in your head. Too smarmy. He knows he’s beautiful, that much was certain, and something about him is giving you the creeps in a way that feels strangely familiar. Like you’ve met him before. “No,” you say clearly, “but thanks for the invitation.”

“Ah, I should have known that someone like you would already be spoken for,” he says with a knowing nod, charming and good-natured.

“No,” you frown. You can’t tell what’s rubbing you the wrong way about him, but there’s something.

His brow lifts slightly, like your response surprised him. “Not a fan of the drink, then?”

You snort a light laugh. “No, I am.”

There’s a beat of silence. “An early morning, perhaps?” the young man says just as lightly – though there’s a very faint edge to his expression that you clock at once. He can’t figure out why you’ve rejected him. What an arrogant asshole…

You sigh a bit shortly, liking him less by the second. “Goodnight,” you say pointedly, trying to lift your wand again but –

“Have I offended you somehow, madam?” he asks, sounding slightly amused. “If I have it wasn’t my intention to do so.”

You shoot him a look that is unapologetically annoyed. “You haven’t offended me, you’ve disrespected me,” you say curtly.

His eyes sparkle, his lips curl even more. “By asking you to join me for a drink?”

“By refusing to take my answer graciously,” you retort smoothly, “I said no. I don’t appreciate being cajoled.”

Some of the humour dissipates from his face, and you seize the opportunity to escape.

“Goodnight.”

And you lift your wand in a swift motion and vanish before he can interrupt again.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

❶·❷·❸·❹·❺·❻

Reply/message me to get added to the tag list! 💖

[sevsssnape]

why i hate james potter more than the other marauders

okay first we’re going to have some dumbledore bashing which leads to us figuring out why james potter fucking sucks, so hang on tight.

some stuff we know abt Albus Dumbledore

since a young age, he was planning on collecting the deathly hollows

he had an incredible amount of power and connections everywhere, one of the examples that fucking blows me away is how he was able to get into no less than fucking Azkaban to get Morfin Gaunt’s memory.

was one academy award-level actor, who played and/or gained the trust of anyone he needed to get his way and use them when in need. and everyone with as much effort as needed, i’m going to mention and analyse some examples:

Hagrid, a half-giant, was his chance among the giants (that he did actually take). he was gullible, and didn’t even need any sort of effort to be manipulated. Dumbledore didn’t even need to prove his innocence and bring him back to school as he did with Newt, and Hagrid still worshipped him like a god bc he gave him a shitty job.

Newt, the obviously brilliant student he wanted to keep on his side, who turned out to be an even bigger help, forcing him to go to the US. Newt wasn’t gullible, and wouldn’t have done him the favour if he didn’t owe him his Hogwarts years.

we don’t even need to explain what he did with Harry now, do we?

and finally, the Marauders. Starting with Remus Lupin, the werewolf, a golden fucking ticket for Dumbledore to use in building a connection among the werewolves, he went to their fucking house, and talked them into letting him come to the school. last time he did such thing was with no less than Tom fucking Riddle who had been because of his exceptional talent. This shows just how important it had been for Dumbledore to have a link inside the werewolves’ circle. He brings him to school, and goes all the way out of his way to build the shrieking shack (!!), didn’t let the news of the attempted murder of one the students get out by any means and supported Lupin until the very last day of Hogwarts.

Sirius Black. the future Heir of no less than the noble and most ancient house of Black. the incredible wealth and political power, making him a FUCKING JGRWESKLF connection to the heart of the most powerful and Darkest families in Britain. exceptional magical talent (i direct you to here ). Dumbledore supported him throughout the seven Hogwarts years, ignoring all the things he did to students (and no, not just severus, i direct you to here explaining that they used an illegal hex on a boy named Bertram Aubrey, and just lol the hypocrisy) which included a fucking attempted m u r d e r.

and lastly, we have James Potter (not going to analyse the rat’s life, bc i think the only reason his behaviour was excused had been bc he was “friends” with Dumbledore’s precious other three Marauders). James Potter, the future Heir of the Potter family, who were not only wealthy and powerful, and incredible Light allies, but also possessed no other than the Invisibility Cloak :))))) - and you might wonder why and how had Dumbledore come in possession of the Invisibility Cloak prior to giving it to Harry :)) the same goes for James Potter; being forgiven no matter what he did, sexual assault, attempted murder, nothing, and also being named Head Boy, even though he had never been a Prefect, l o l. He was Dumbledore’s most beloved.

so he had his reasons to support whoever he did, each to a certain level, due to the uses or possible uses they could have for him.

now, this wouldn’t just work one-sidedly. when someone random offers to do a huge favour for you, the first question you ask them is fucking why? and what’s in it for you? and you would not easily trust them when they don’t provide you a logical answer, unless you’re 1. desperate 2. not in perfect status to think and analyse (drunk, anxious, mentally abused, in a really young age etc.) or  3. too fucking stupid

as for the ones mentioned above:

Hagrid: both 1 and 3

Newt: 1

Harry: both 1 and 2 (my poor boy </3)

Lupin: 1

Sirius: both 1 and 2, desperately in need to get away from his family, and Dumbledore being the literal exact opposite of Sirius’ abusive mother and family, and seeing the opportunity of joining the glorious Light, and later the Order, the immediate and perfect chance to get away from it all. He saw Dumbledore as someone who was helping a little boy in need to get away from his abusive family. A kind-hearted saint. So what Dumbledore said was right, and what he demanded from them was right, because he was his saint. so when he excused what they did in their years, and brushed them off, that would mean that they have no way been wrong and cruel, bc this angelic man has no tolerance for cruelty and would rescue the victims as he did with Sirius, right? (and we’re considering that the main abusive Marauders had been SIrius and James Potter, and Lupin hadn’t been an arsehole)

but James Potter, he wasn’t by any means desperate. He wasn’t abused at home, didn’t have a secret condition who could ruin all his chances in life, his life and education didn’t depend on no other than Albus Dumbledore, no. He was a hot, popular rich-kid jock, who was raised in the best conditions. he had no reason to be manipulated by Dumbledore, no reason to owe him, to need him, he just did it, took the favours and trusted Dumbledore without ever asking “why?”, only and only because he was too fucking stupid. 

there is no reason you can excuse the things James Potter did. the rat was a fucking coward that followed them around, Sirius Black was abused and projected his anger and hatred and the abuse he had seen from his family on the easiest shot similar to them, but James Potter was just a true, total arsehole. nothing more than a fucking bully.

and i don’t think he would’ve changed a bit had he lived.

Sirius and Remus both had mentioned their regret towards the things they’d done, because they had lost the reasons they had to excuse themselves throughout time, and in case of Sirius, he had also had twelve years of Azkaban to think of everything he had and had not done in his life. so they came to the realisation that they’d done wrong.

but someone who hadn’t ever had a reason for doing the cruel things they did, and had only done them because they wanted to, and they could, this person hasn’t really got a place for redemption, because they had never seen the wrong in what they do, so what is there for them to regret?

[sharkselfies]

this is kind of a weird question, but do you happen to know of anywhere i might find shots of the terror’s sick bay? looking for refs but i don’t follow too many terror blogs

BOY DO I EVER!! not a weird question at all! thank you for asking and for your patience while i wrote all this stuff in response. you probably know some of it already, but i wanted to try to be as thorough as possible.

cinemaqua, the hungarian water park that bought the ship set after filming ended, uploaded a bunch of high quality photos with the sets relatively in tact. there is one very good one of the sickbay:

check out those little shelves with railings so the bottles don't fall off if they're sailing in rough waters (or being crushed and shifted by the pack ice).

i know you asked about terror's sickbay specifically; however, as this behind the scenes video mentions, they just used the one set for both ships, so technically terror and erebus's sickbays are the same place. however, the set designers did change a few details here and there to make them look different--the erebus scenes are a bit fancier than the terror ones, swapping out curtains for real doors, looking a bit less weather beaten, etc. (semi-relatedly, did you know erebus, even though she's the flagship and is larger, is the younger ship? terror was ordered in 1812 completed in 1813, while erebus was ordered in 1823, laid down in '24, and launched in '26. so it does make sense she might look a bit more modern!)

there are 2 good detail shots of sickbay set dressing in that video:

anyway, this is the part that took me so long to get back to you on--making a list of all the scenes that take place in each ship's sickbay (which ended up accidentally turning into a partial rewatch and list of all the scenes with the doctors). we actually see terror's sickbay less frequently than erebus's (since goodsir and stanley, both stationed on erebus, are more major characters than are mcdonald and peddie on terror), at least at first. we don't get our first glimpse into the terror sickbay until episode four! but once we've seen it, we spend a LOT of time there.

the best episodes to rewatch to take your own terror sickbay screencaps would be episodes 4 and 5, then! (the best ep for erebus sickbay screencaps would def be episode 1 since you basically get shots from every angle with the combo of david young's initial exam + the hallucination at the foot of his bed.)

here are some of my own caps from 5 that show off the background details of terror's sickbay really well so you can get a good sense of where things are!

notice how they even moved all the lanterns to one side of the room for blanky's amputation at the end of the episode?

speaking of lanterns, you may find it useful to brighten your screencaps if you can, because this show is SO dark sometimes. a brightened screencap on twitter was what helped me first notice there were anatomical diagrams on terror's sickbay walls! you can see those clearly behind goodsir when he's telling macca abt the lead line on morfin's gums in 4 and behind crozier veeery briefly and blurrily during blanky's amputation in 5.

(stanley has one on the wall of his cabin as well when goodsir's telling him about the lead poisoning in ep 6, i believe. it's not 100% clear where this scene takes place since it's quite focused on their faces and not the backgrounds so much, but i think it's in his room)

finally, when i don't feel like doing an actual rewatch or digging through a mountain of screenshots for references, i'll just go browse the stephen stanley or alexander m(a)cdonald tags, since they tend to have most of their scenes in their respective sickbays and the gifsets made by creators there can be a great help for slowing things down and observing! def follow theterroramc if you want to follow some more terror blogs too, because they curate everything and have a really comprehensive tagging system!

thank you again for your question and i hope this long winded reply was helpful for you! anyone else feel free to chime in with more details in the replies or reblogs as well.

[k-s-morgan]

Alright so I’m slow to catch things and this might sound kinda stupid😅but did Tom read those letters in front of Harry while making worried faces on purpose?Because I feel like he could have easily handled Morfin or sent one of his followers to do the job.Or was he not sure and didn’t wan’t to underestemate someone who’s from the Slytherin line even if they were considered insane.Your story is so well written that every scene makes me think,also with Tom you never know what goes on his mind.

Hi! Thank you)) And haha, no, Tom was actually genuinely worried, though I admit pretending is something he would certainly do :D He knew how he wanted to handle Morfin, but the problem was, he wasn’t sure how to do that without Harry ever finding out. That’s why he was hesitating for so long. Until the ritual was completed, Tom tried to avoid any risks with Harry, and since he knew Harry’s aware of his family and might actually check up on them at some point, he kept deliberating. He also wasn’t sure how to even get to Morfin because neither he nor his followers could visualize his place (as they hadn’t seen it before), and in any case, disappearing from school could be very risky since this could be discovered quickly. 

So there were many factors Tom had to think of, and Harry remained his biggest obstacle - after Beth, he really didn’t want to underestimate Harry’s ability to find out about stuff he shouldn’t be doing. Tom’s okay with letting others manipulate Richards into killing himself or giving love potion to Alice, but committing another murder so explicitly, with Harry’s safety at stake, worried him too much to take direct action. 

[seacollectsrivers]

terror 7: horrible from supper

i only mention black sails twice this time! go team

oh awww before the journey!!! oooh my heart these young lads :(

Mr hickey??? I SEE

why are they packing crystals and china skshhdkdb

billy looking.... uuuuh..... 😬

billy please shut up.

Crozier's words of encouragement for the men staying behind vs Sir John's for the lead party. something there.

UHM. "Friend, mother, lover" vs Miranda's ghost speech along the same lines i’m!!!!

places as characters is something I adore

who's EC

when crozier tosses his hat to jopson idk it's cute how in-sync they are

is that lady Silence?? i was wondering what had happened to her

o fuck morfin is not doing well

aw Collins :(

"well you haven't tried with me" my boyyyyy

god this poor man

everyone should have a hug from goodsir

I know I keep harping on this but I genuinely love goodsir sm and I am also wholly ready for some Psychic Damage involving that man

the callback to the dog convo in ep 1 tho

hickey-not-hickey is a smart man how long till he figures out the lead thing

yeah why is Morfin still working hard stuff??? he's obviously not fit???

uh oh spaghettios

oh jesus that’s very deliberate now. that’s a warning that is.

NOT TO GO BLACK SAILS ON MAIN but uhmmm Crozier, Flint, keeping things from their men??? fruit fruit??

sound designnnn i’ll never get over it

james in his uniform and crozier in his wee anorak 😌

how fuckin cute... James didn't need the help up there and yet. Hand Held.

^i’m gonna EXPIRE

ah, I assume the names this marine lad is listing to be armed are their little mutiny party

thats kinda creepy, goodsir, but i’ll give it a pass since ur a scientist and all

oh shit morfin

I am WORRIED once more!!

collins :(

I dont like the marine sneaking arounddddd

goodsir :(:(:(:(

love that Crozier is smart enough to smell the potential mutiny. love that for him

i have nothing to add to this i’m just Looking

I like jopson :)

oh heck yeah!!! Well fucking deserved!!!

like Hickey's not wrong hes really not, they are deliberately keeping kinda vital info from them

I love that they call the crews Terrors and Erebites

did he.... kill the dog...........

jsdkhfdkjs listening to Hickey talk and remembering the story abt your one captain Blanky was talking about, the one everyone was fantasising to kill

also noticing that Hickey's saying Crozier and not Captain

"survival is a nasty piece of business, but we do what we have to do" oh yeah what’ve you done in ur past mr hickey not hickey

one of the men in irving's hunting party, with the sunglasses, looks exactly like blinkin from Robin Hood: men in tights

hickey walking alone, separated from the others. hm.

oh!! people!! please don't.... please don't so anything stupid hickey.....

the clothes of the Netsilik look so much warmer and cozier than the wool uniforms ngl

thats v kind of them dang

breaking bread, sharing a meal!!

uhmmm have... have the others gone from the ridge

Worried once more!!!!!!!!

Hickey!!!!! bro!!!!!!!

this music!!!!!

uhm!!!!!

im gonna go absolutely insane hello???

[cinemaocd]

Victorian undergarments: a guide for Terror fans

AKA the truth about men’s corsets, leather gear, garters, over the knee stockings, drop front versus front fly trousers and More Terror Shit Shirt Posting

My hot mess of a shirt post continues to get notes. I continue to get lovely asks and pms, so I’m going to bring you more shirt information as well as more info about other articles of historic clothing worn in the Terror. My hope is that this will be useful for fic writers and artists as well as giving fans a deep dive into one of my favorite obsessions: historical dress.

The style of shirt that Francis wears was an all purpose undergarment. It was almost always white, or unbleached linen (though cotton was used for shirts at that point in the 19th century). It was cut with a very full sleeve (up to twenty inches) to allow ease of movement and long tails which were tucked under the groin to form a protective layer between the body and trousers. The shirt was not a button down as we know it, but had a pullover V-neck with two buttons at the throat as on this extant example:

One of the things that interesting about this shirt was how little it changed over the years. This cut of shirt had a 150+ year reign. It was a practical design that provided a washable layer next to the body. The generous sleeve allowed for a variety of clothing to be worn with it. It had the downside of requiring a lot of fabric (more than 3 yards of linen for each shirt) and as such patterns could be a complex patchwork of sewn together squares that helped avoid waste.

By the 1840s men’s shirts were changing. The front was often decorated with pintucking, the fabric was lighter weight cotton, rather than linen, but the full sleeves and long tails were still in evidence.

Those would gradually be lost over the next decades as the popularity of knitted drawers, union suits and other types of underwear came into being and as sewing machines made mass production of shirts possible.

But obviously our Francis cares nothing for these modern shirts and wears his old favorite that he has owned forever, possibly made by a family member, as was common in the period especially for officers in the military. Mind you, it doesn’t really matter most of the time that his shirt is very old as it was never meant to be seen. One of the worst costume fantasies that has been perpetrated in so many period films is the gentleman walking around in his shirt. At least Andrew Davies Mr. Darcy had the good sense to be embarrassed to be caught in his shirt. Joe Wright’s Darcy actually goes a courtin half dressed...but I digress. We only see Crozier in his shirt sleeves after they’ve left the ship, have been hauling for a few days and during the mutiny. I like to think that Crozier realizes that wearing his old shirt will help the men identify with him more. 

If you were an officer in the military you would be provided with a steward or valet to assist in your dressing. This man would also help to keep your uniform clean and and in good repair. (Honestly one of the best relationships in all of fiction is the one between Captain Jack Aubrey and his steward, Killick, who lives in a state of constant paranoia about Aubrey’s uniforms.) An officer would have several shirts so that they could have a clean one at all times and they would probably keep a best one for dress. (Maybe Francis has a cotton shirt with pintucking, folded away in a trunk somewhere, guarded feverishly by Jopson) The sailors who had no access to regular laundry would have a few as well, though they might be made of cheaper, rougher cloth, with ticking or striped patterns on them, like the one Hickey wears during his trail.

Again, Francis appearing hauling alongside the men in his shirt is his way of signaling to them that he is one of them. Mr. Goodsir, also appears in his shirtsleeves after the mutiny, a sign that his civilized veneer is scraped away along with his outer uniform.

Drops and drawers

Well into the 19th century both men and women had no such thing as drawers, pants, underpants, knickers etc. as a rule. For men, the long shirt tails were tucked under the groin, front and back and created a little, er..nest for their equipage. For women, the shift, just a long shirt really, provided a layer of protection between menstrual blood and valuable gowns and stays, as well as protecting less washable layers from sweat and grime.

But for the men of the Terror, there was layer of knitted wool underwear, that may have been either two pieces or one suit, with buttons running the length of the body. There are very few examples of these garments, but we do know they existed thanks to the Maritime Museum saving Lord Nelson’s stuff.:

Interesting that this shirt has the long tails for tucking. But by the time of Franklin expedition, knitted long drawers would have been available as well. The full long underwear suit wasn’t patented until the 1860s in America (where it’s use by soldiers in the Civil War earned it the moniker “union suit.”) However that doesn’t mean some kind of full suit of long underwear wasn’t available in England at the time of the expedition. My guess is that Francis has a separate shirt, the top of which is visible during the crisis over Mr. Morfin, and woolen or cotton “drawers” which he mentions to Jopson on the morning after Morfin’s death like these from 1840s made by John Smedley:

Hickey is shown in his underwear after Irving’s murder and then after the mutiny he adopts it as a sort of uniform (complete with stolen boots and great coat) of the new regime. It’s such a wonderful little detail that this BASE creature is wearing only a BASE layer.

Garters, Stockings, Corsets and other Kinkwear from Military history

Men’s and women’s stocking differed very little in the 19th century. Over the knee stockings of embroidered silk would have been kept for dress, but every day socks of cotton and wool with embroidery near the top or “clocking” (because the pattern was often of a clock) were worn by all.

Lord Nelson’s stockings had a crown insignia instead of a clock, which I just think is neat. (His undershirt has the same insignia at the neck...whether it was Emma Hamilton or Lady Nelson doing this embroidery, we’ll leave to Terrence Rattigan to decide...)

Officers would have had dress socks that were held up by sock garters (elastic garters for men and women were patented in the 1820s.) Given that their shirt tails were cut to mid thigh and their socks were over the knee, it’s fairly plausible that they used a double ended garter which clipped at one end to the shirt tail and the other to the top of the stocking. If all of this is sounding like some of the racier James Fitzjames fanart that is not my fault. Blame history!

Speaking of which, did you know that men sometimes wore corsets to make their uniforms fit better?  This 1830s Royal Marines uniform at the Maritime Museum is specified to have required a corset for proper fit. Sadly the corset didn’t survive! (If anyone wants to draw Tozier, Pilkington or Hedges in a corset, I would very much like to see that.)

As if all of that weren’t kinky enough, there is this leather and rope jock strap, which was attached to a corset, also from the very naughty nautical museum in slutty, slutty Greenwich. The less said about the white crust on the jock strap the better.

Waistcoat Discourse

Well this will probably be a bit pedestrian after that section, but I think it’s worth talking about waistcoats as well. In the flashback scenes Francis wears a fancy silk waistcoat that has the same cut as the other wool one he wears.

Again this is Francis’ practical nature. Navy uniform patterns were sent out in 1843 with changes to the uniform, including a different waistcoat, so he’s having his man make the waistcoat off the same pattern, saving him money. An interesting footnote was that the Lieutenants uniform in 1843 had a bunch of additional gold braiding and there were many complaints to the admiralty about the cost of these additions. There was also a thriving second hand market in used uniform jackets.

Fitzjames has a white waistcoat cut from the same pattern.

Which is based off of the portrait of real life Fitzjames.

Wool flannel would have been the fabric of choice for arctic explorers. It’s a nice little detail, that The Real Mr. Hickey had a plaid flannel waistcoat in the flashback scene:

That striped shirt looks familiar! I wonder if the imposter Hickey took his clothes after he dabbed him?!

And finally: STOCKS

In the 18th and 19th centuries men went so far as to cover the collar of the shirt with a stock (think of it as a cumberbund for the neck) so that their collar wasn’t peaking out from their tie. It also helped to make for the appearance of a long, graceful neck. I mean scroll back up and check out the giraffe neck on historical JFJ. Stocks have generally fallen into the vast pit of forgotten fashion and it’s the rare historical costume nerd that even knows what they are, yet for almost 200 years they were considered essential kit for men. Officers in the military HAD to wear a stock as part of their uniform, and it was often uncomfortable (the base of the stock was made of leather, horsehair or WOOD) and covered with fabric. It buckled in the back, requiring a servant to help put it on. Here is a 1845 silk and leather stock from the Maritime Museum:

Though it isn’t exactly undergear, trouser fronts were in flux during this period. Here is the 1843 uniform with the fall front trouser opening. But in the world outside the navy, fly front trousers are starting to pop up around 1840ish.You are welcome to my JFJ has newfangled fly front trousers head canon...

[cawsaurus]

Adventures in watching The Terror when you’re legitimately face-blind

Re-rewatching Horrible from Supper

Aw, watch Young alive and well, talking with THartnell in the flashback scene

The first time I watched this episode I could tell there was something wrong with (Real) Hickey's face/hair, but assumed that my face-blindness was playing tricks on me and dismissed it.

Ah, yes, the crew filling the boats with *checks notes* cutlery and furniture. Fitzjames notes this, and perhaps inspired by the resource waste that was the Carnival, is against it.

Manson is hopeful that the Little’s party might have dinner ready for them, but is dismissed by a very pessimistic Gibson. THartnell disapproves of this and glares at Gibson, but continues working.

This is the first time I successfully recognized Armitage!!!! He's talking with a Robert Golding (???) who I've literally never noticed before.

Tozer knows well that when you're being pursued by a bear you don't need to outrun the bear, but the person next to you. And he hopes that the person next to him happens to be Hickey. He doesn't seem to think much of him at this point, and yet a few moments later he agrees to join him.

Gibson is also skeptical about the Inuit helping them.

Morfin is looking like shit. Collins rushes to help him carry Goodsir's stuff... which allows him to hear Goodsir as he tells Bridgens about possible treatments for Morfin's illness. Coca wine, huh?

Hickey still can't lie worth shit, but is VERY good at leveraging people's moments of vulnerability. Here he has Gibson be the one to suggest they leave the others behind. Also present: Manson, Tozer, Armitage, Golding. And thus the core group of the mutineers is established.

Gibson mentions there are 40 men in their party, the other 50 were sent with Little to set up an outpost. So there’s just 90 people left? It should be 105.

Tozer suggests they wait until they're on land to leave, so the rest of the group will help them haul the supplies through the ice

Hickey already aiming for rank here

I see 7 men being left behind in the ship

They leave the ship on April 22 1948

Compare Ross the elder riding atop a boat during his march vs Crozier hauling with his crew

Blanky compliments THartnell's eye for reading the ice. In a different world where THartnell lived, would he have become an ice master?

Hickey watches Hodgson consideringly. What does Hickey see? Is this related to Crozier complimenting THartnell?

Shipping aside, I don't think Collins and Goodsir where close before this point because: 

COLLINS (When told to open up): I've tried, sir. GOODSIR: Well, you haven't tried with me.

Some excellent active listening from Goodsir. Can recognize some techniques. However he's overwhelmed by Collins explanation. He wasn’t ready for it.

The way Crozier puts Goodsir under his wing ("We share a burden, you and I, keeping this (the secret of the tins)") reminds me of how how he praises THartnell. I get the feeling Crozier is very conscious of how important it is to build relationships with the crew. If only he had had more time I think he could have prevented the mutiny

I like to think that Hickey is gleeful that someone is agreeing with him at last that the dog is being treated better than them. This is probably the point where he gets the idea to eat Neptune. The discord server confirms the men having lunch with him are Armitage and Pilkington.

Hickey catches Goodsir dragging Silna out of the line for food.

Morfin and Tozer are the ones to find out the rescue mission failed. Fitzjames confirms that they only made it 18 miles before dying. I see at least 5 corpses.

Crozier wanted to go with Fitzjames over the ice wall before the others in case there were any other unpleasant discoveries at the other side e.g. Little's party not making it

Crozier asks Little indirectly if he saw the rescue party. He's not going to tell him?

Right away Tozer wants to arm more men. He suggests Armitage, Crispe, Manson, Seeley, Coombs, and lastly Hickey. If you add Gibson, Golding and Pilkington to that  list, that's 10 people total that are on the mutineer’s side. Hodgson will later reluctantly join them (11 people)

Crozier is suspicious.

There are only 8 marines left.

CROZIER (pointedly, to Tozer): It's going to be difficult to surprise us on such level ground, hm?

Crozier memorized where everyone was from to be able to use it at key moments. Here he uses it to try and convince Morfin to stay alive.

Morfin commits suicide by Tozer :(

Between the sledge party (~5?), the men left in the ships (7) and Morfin, the body count for this episode is now at 13. Later Hickey will stab 2 people, bringing it up to 15.

THartnell reaches out to comfort Goodsir, but Goodsir shrugs him off

By the way Goodsir is hyperventilating it looks like he's having a panic attack. Thank God Silna is there to comfort him.

Crozier asks THartnell to find out who else helped Hickey get Silna

After Jopson complains about Crozier shaving his job away:

CROZIER: I need to hold a command meeting this morning for Captain Fitzjames ande the lieutenants. I'll let you gather them. JOPSON (with the slightlest hint of sarcasm): Oh, thank you very much, sir.

Jopson is such a little shit, I love him so much.

While the other officers discuss the situation with the tin cans, Hodgson is send out with THartnell and Manson to bury Morfin. He peers down at the little mound under which Morfin lays.

And then he comes back and finds out they had a big talk without him and that Jopson was promoted. A steward! Promoted to lieutenant!

(#OfficePolitics)

And that... that's the moment of vulnerability Hickey exploits.

Hickey doesn't tell Hodgson what happened to Morfin. He asks him. He's most successful when he lets others talk.

Hickey says the food would be divided into "nearly a hundred portions", so there's less than 100 people alive at this point.

HODGSON: God, blind me.

He's so ridiculously Victorian.

Was there ever a more Hickey sentence than "Survival is a nasty piece of business, but we do what we have to do."

I like that Hickey recognizes he's more suited to be a powerful man's right hand man. He likes running things from the shadows.

Why does Hodgson send Hickey with Irving???

Hickey has to adapt here. By his expression I don't think he was planning on encountering those Inuit at that point (and how could he be?) I think he decided to kill the other two on the spot.

[glass-es-say]

The Fitzjames Sweater: a Terror conspiracy theory

Do you like your meta long and stupid? And full of not-really-mystery about a single item of clothing? Then boy do I have a meta for you; the center of which is James Fitzjames’ sweater—and the identity of its final owner.

(Half meta-analysis, half conspiracy theory, half absolute blithering nonsense under the cut, lads.)

Now, this is a pretty distinctive sweater, especially in an expedition full of grey and navy arans. There are a couple of specific design elements (best outlined in knit-the-terror’s posts) that make it easy to identify The Sweater once it ends up on Le Vesconte: the side cables, the gansey-esque top and bottom, the ribbing patterns on the sleeves. The short neckband also visually distinguishes The Sweater from the cowl-necked white sweater Mr. Collins is wearing (also I think that one gets pretty soundly torn apart when Tuunbaq eviscerates him).

All of this is great and wonderful. However. What I’m most interested in is the cuffs.

These are double-length cuffs in a 1x1 rib with (perhaps anachronistically) a thumbhole knit in. Fitzjames wears the cuffs folded up most of the time, though if you turn up your brightness and squint you can spot that they’re all the way down at the time of poor Morfin’s death.

The garment construction appears to be such that sleeve was worked flat and them seamed into a tube—the thumbhole then just being part of the seam that wasn’t sewn up. (Why you would make a sleeve like this is beyond me—seaming sucks and it would literally be just as easy to add the thumbhole in when knitting in the round, but I suspect it has something to do with how they produced the no-doubt 10+ versions of this sweater they needed for filming.)

So, we’ve established some key characteristics of The Sweater that help us identify it. We’ve determined that it ends up on Le Vesconte after Fitzjames’ death. (Actually, Le Vesconte’s wearing The Sweater + waistcoat when Fitzjames collapses, so presumably James gives it away before then.)  But can we show that anyone else has worn it? (Spoilers: sort of, but also yes.)

The morning after Silna leaves the Inuit village, when Francis is running around trying to figure out which way she went, he’s wearing the above outfit. His left hand is gone at this point, so his sleeve is tied up at the wrist, but there, covering his right hand… is an extra-long white sweater cuff with a thumbhole.

The image quality isn’t great here (the cameraperson decided to focus on the acting instead of a sleeve cuff for some reason) but when you look at all the angles next to each other, the resemblance is pretty obvious. Either there was always another long-cuffed white sweater on the Franklin Expedition that we are never shown, or Francis has at some point picked up The Sweater and is wearing it under his slops.

You can see a sliver of neckband underneath all his other layers in the picture above, just like with James.

Now, my main hurdle in 100% proof that this is The Sweater is, actually, also my most definitive proof: the thumbhole. (My gift and my curse…my blessing and my burden...)

Assuming James hasn’t folded his cuffs to intentionally obfuscate, it’s pretty clear that each sleeve has one—and only one—thumbhole along the inside seam of the sleeve. It’s a logical assumption—I have no clue why you’d put a thumbhole on the outside of the sleeve because, like… that’s not where thumbs are.

By the time Francis is wearing the sweater it’s pretty beat up, so there are a number of noticeable holes in the cuff rather than just the one. (As we see from Le Vesconte’s shot at the beginning of this post, the rest of The Sweater is faring a pretty similar fate. My poor knitter’s heart is weeping.) While some of the holes have a fuzziness around the edges that indicates fraying, there’s still one hole with a cleaner, more finished edge that would indicate its identity as the real, intended thumbhole.

The problem is, it’s on the outside of the sleeve. Crozier appears to be sticking his thumb through another, accidental hole on the opposite side of the cuff. Even if The Sweater was worn inside-out and/or backwards, he shouldn’t be able to wear the thumbhole on the outside—at least, that’s what I thought. Then I tried putting on a sweater with only one hand. (It’s called field research, please don’t judge me.)

Basically, it’s really easy to get a sleeve twisted when you pull on a sweater, especially if it’s made to fit someone with a different physique. Without the opposite hand (or using your teeth, I guess), it’s basically impossible to untwist it, a difficulty that I imagine is compounded if you’ve already hooked your thumb through the cuff in the wrong place. I personally hate the feeling of a twisted sleeve, but Francis has just woken up in an unfamiliar place and honestly at this point in his life he might’ve just shoved the sweater on and called it a day.

Plus, we see the left cuff on Le Vesconte earlier and the thumbhole appears to be on the outside. The sleeves on this sweater are consistently Way Too Long, so it’s possible things just got twisted around whenever an actor would put it on and they left it that way for realism’s sake.

We don’t see Francis in it after the scene in the Inuit village, but like, even if The Sweater was still wearable after another two years, Francis is pretty well covered by his fur parka. (Also… just saying… the emotional implications of a moment where the last remnants of James Fitzjames unravel under his fingertips are uh… pretty juicy.

James has holes in him and so does his sweater.)

So! I think it’s fair to say that, at the very least, the sweater Francis is wearing is supposed to be the Fitzjames Sweater, as shown to the best of my ability (and screencap resolution). I won’t call it “beyond a doubt” but I think it’s a pretty strong foundation—which is good, because here is where my knit-wear based fever dream starts to, uh, unravel.

My initial assumption after realizing Crozier had the white sweater at the Inuit village was that he pulled it off Le Vesconte after Little’s death. (And idea which cannot help but conjure the morbid image of Crozier undressing a body beset by rigor mortis with one hand…. Or asking Silna for help.)

The tangle in this theory is that I went back and looked at the first few “travelling with Silna” scenes, initially for proof that Francis doesn’t pick up The Sweater until the Little Camp—and found the opposite. 

There’s no sign of The Sweater on Francis before the Tuunbaq showdown, but he has somehow acquired The Sweater before finding the body of Le Vesconte. The same identifying features I’m using for the end scene are all there, so. Can’t really deny that. (The best view we get is from the sad dead Jopson hair stroke, which  also dates the timeframe a lot better then an ambiguous “Crozier walking around” screenshot.)

(For what it’s worth, the thumbhole arrangement appears to be done properly this time. Or at least, the hole on the outside of the arm is the frayed “accidental” thumbhole.)

To clarify the timeline:

Fitzjames has The Sweater.

At some point before James collapses, Le Vesconte acquires The Sweater.

Francis is kidnapped by Hickey’s camp. He does not have The Sweater, or at least not visibly.

Le Vesconte (and sweater) leave the sick (including Jopson) behind and head off toward the eventual Little camp.

Tuunbaq showdown. Francis spends some time in recovery.

We can assume that at some point during this bullet point or the next Le Vesconte and buddies die.

Francis and Silna leave the Hickey camp, find the abandoned men and sad dead Jopson. Somehow Francis has acquired The Sweater.

After this, Francis and Silna find the Little camp, presumably including a dead Le Vesconte and The Sweater.

(You could argue that Le Vesconte actually ended up staying with the sick but Francis’ is wearing the sweater when he first sees Jopson so he would have had to have it before finding them.)

(Also, I have suspicions that this figure leaving the sick camp is Le Vesconte.)

So! There is an indication that, at the same point in time, both Crozier and Le Vesconte(‘s body) were wearing a version of The Sweater. If from this point forward we consider the sweater Fitzjames is seen wearing to be the “true sweater” and the extra to be the “double sweater”, then I see four possibilities:

Option One: Francis already had the sweater double.

Points in favor:

This gives the fun image of Crozier and Fitzjames showing up to the expedition on day one and staring horrorstruck at each other like “we wore the same dress!??!!”

You change. No you change! No you change!!!

Points against:

We see Francis in all kinds of informal dress and never see him wearing it. I’m not actually sure we ever see him wearing a sweater, period. Man hates being cozy, I guess.

There is literally no way costume design would have done this. Like, it beggars belief.

Option Two: Someone else (at the Hickey camp) had an eerily similar sweater that Crozier felt justified in taking.

Points in favor:

It doesn’t show up until he and Silna go back to the Hickey camp, so it’s unlikely that he would have gotten it earlier and just been carrying it around without wearing it.

They did seem to just leave all their stuff lying around, so Francis wouldn’t have to pull it off a dead body, which is a lot more palatable.

If the sweater was a standard “baby’s first officer sweater” present, Hodgson could be a candidate for the true owner.

Points against:

“Baby’s first officer sweater” is just like… not a thing the Victorian Royal Navy did. Also, we never see any of them wearing it, so.

Why wouldn’t the owner have worn it to the Tuunbaq showdown? I get that they’re all wandering around in their shirtsleeves but if someone had a sweater that was remotely still wearable, I feel pretty confident in thinking they aren’t just going to leave it lying around.

Option Three: Actually, Le Vesconte’s sweater is the double.

Points in favor:

Obviously Henry and James got them as best friends forever tokens and whenever they notice they’re wearing them at the same time they spend like, two minutes just hugging each other and saying “bro. bro. bro!”

It absolutely infuriates Francis.

This implies that Francis (or possibly a Hickey camp member but uh… unlikely) got ahold of the Fitzjames version after his death. James isn’t wearing it when he collapses (god… think of the blood stains…), so it would have been as easy as packing it up once he’s dead.

Francis is either in slops or in shirtsleeves after this point so if he keeps the cuffs folded up and his slops collar buttoned (which he does) then we might just not have seen it?

Even if we assume Le Vesconte’s sweater is a different one, there’s still pretty strong evidence James wasn’t buried in his sweater—see the above point, and also the fact that it doesn’t later show up on Hickey’s person. That’s a nice sweater, man, even if it’s fraying, and if I were already stealing a dead man’s boots I would’ve taken the sweater too.

Points against:

Le Vesconte is wearing The Sweater when James collapses—Fitzjames, notably, isn’t. (James mentions the heat as a reason why he can’t keep walking, so he might just not have been wearing it?)

God, guys, I don’t know that much about the Victorian knitting industry but the idea of two bros going out and getting matching sweaters seems… implausible at best.

Option Four: Making a TV show is hard and keeping track of all the details is harder and someone just accidentally put Jared in the sweater five minutes of screen time too early and we were past the time for reshoots and just assumed that no one would be neurotic enough to notice this.

Points in favor:

Script supervisor is like, a really hard job and if this is your biggest slip up then honestly? Who even cares.

Points against:

I care. I care very much.

But which option could be the truth? What conclusions have we formed from this tedious trek across the frozen wasteland of HD screencaps? What horrors have we (me, literally just me) wrought in the name of split-second costume design based character choices? Could Crozier have somehow gotten The Sweater from Le Vesconte after Tuunbaq dies but before reaching Little’s camp? Is there another, actually viable explanation for the mystery of the twin sweaters? How many good fics/headcanons could come from any of these options? I don’t know! Please discuss!

(For however much it matters: my personal favorite is Option Four. None of the others seem a terribly plausible story justification, and also I like the emotional weight of Francis picking up the sweater as a memento of JFJ—or the intention of it, even if continuity gets a little screwy.

Also, if no one writes fic about this then I will be forced to and who really wants that?? Write this fic for me and save us all the turmoil.)

(A thousand props to @knit-the-terror for sussing out enough details that I could even make an argument focused around the cuff of a sweater. Please forgive my corrupting your research for a frantic fever dream rant about something that mostly doesn’t matter.)

[amberess]

My Invisible Disease

Last summer I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia after many years of widespread symptoms and often long periods of extreme pain and illness. For the first time I am opening up about this topic and actually it is quite scary. You might have perceived me as a twenty-something year old hard worker with many goals and dreams, but now I am actually at my weakest point ever. The bad news is that there is no cure for fibromyalgia. The good news is that it is not life threatening.

What is fibromyalgia?

Fibromyalgia is a chronic disease, caused by a sensory disorder of the central nervous system, mainly resulting in extreme pain and tenderness over the entire body, as well as extreme fatigue.

My body aches from the moment I open my eyes in the morning until I go to sleep, and even during the night I often wake up in extreme pain. During the day, I am lucky if my pain feels acceptable and if I am able to perform normal, daily tasks. Sadly, there are days that I am forced to spend my days in bed, either doing nothing or sleeping.

There is a lot more to it though. I deal with ‘fibro fogs’ on a daily basis, meaning periods of unclear and vague thinking or failing to process normal stuff. For example, I cannot follow an easy conversation between family, let alone remember what they said afterwards. Luckily, I am fully aware of such brain fog, which causes me to postpone important decisions for example. Unfortunately, postponing decisions is not possible when I am driving my car for instance. Sometimes I feel like I am putting myself at risk whenever I am ‘in the real world’ during a fibro fog.  

A brain fog is just one of many symptoms on the list, aside from the extreme pain and fatigue experienced on a daily basis. Fibromyalgia is complex and touches many areas and functions of the body. Therefore, it cannot be easily explained.

Everyone might think I am perfectly fine but...

I am struggling. Don’t get me wrong, I am a very happy human being, surrounded by lots of love from my partner and friends, but I am always suffering from pain all over my body. To other people I look fine and healthy, sometimes a little bit tired maybe, but no one would see the gravity of this condition. It is an invisible disease.

Confusion and incomprehension comes with the invisibility of this disease. I experienced that it is really important to talk about fibromyalgia and let your family, friends and collegues know how it is affecting you. It is the only way to comprehension and happiness.

Living with fibromyalgia is hard work

When I was diagnosed, my first reflex was to ask the doctors how we are going to fix this. The response was quite harsh, namely that up to this day, there is no cure for fibromyalgia. No medicine on the entire world would give me my health back. That was hard to deal with. The only thing doctors would say, was that you needed to find a way to live with the consequences of this disease. Honestly, I could not feel more let down. When I got over feeling powerless, I was ready for action, meaning finding a way to put up with this disease. My desire to stay happy, my (career-oriented) ambition and need to become healthier, motivated me to search for things to feel better.

Fibromyalgia is a freaking labyrinth with a million paths to choose and just one path that leads to a desirable outcome. You can choose many different paths, from heavy pain medication like morfine to no medication at all, from bed rest to intense work-outs, from physiotherapy to psychological help and so on. Doctors have no clue what the right path is for this disease and every path is one of ‘trial and error’. So there are a million possibilities, but in the end the fact is that there is actually no real cure.

That does not mean that there are no solutions to, at least, feel better. I have found some medications, recommended by my doctors, and some therapies that work for me. If there is some interest in this matter, I will definitely write another post about it. Let me know in the comments. I am definitely not ‘there’ yet and I am still looking for ways to improve my daily life. If you’ve got any tips and tricks, feel free to share them!

I hope you have a great day! Thanks for reading.

This article aims to start the conversation about fibromyalgia and encourages comprehension for this condition. Feel free to ask me whatever you want to know about fibromyalgia.

For more information about fibromyalgia, go to:

https://www.gethealthystayhealthy.com/fibromyalgia

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=et2yca1g0sM&list=PL90J4uXAnjlg4B5TPR0VtXw1jq0dP7rLD&index=2&t=0s

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NnXh9dnzYgE&list=PL90J4uXAnjlg4B5TPR0VtXw1jq0dP7rLD&index=2

[lafiametta]

(for Day 8 of the 12 Days of Carnivale: “a time of miracles”)

[Jopson/Little, set in my modern office AU]

Tom couldn’t sleep.

Part of that, of course, could be explained by the man sound asleep next to him in his bed, curled onto his side with an arm flung halfway across Tom’s chest. 

Edward seemed comfortable, at least, his face freed from that furrowed, serious expression he wore so often in the waking hours. He looked softer now, more relaxed, those long boyish lashes fanning towards his cheeks. The bedroom lights were off, but his features were partially illuminated by the glow of lights from the Christmas tree spilling from the living room, even though the holiday had been over for nearly a week at this point.

Tom was a light sleeper, he always had been, and having someone else in bed with him tended to make things even trickier. But that was something he was definitely willing to deal with if it meant Edward staying over. It hadn’t been every night – they weren’t quite at that stage yet – but in the two weeks since the office holiday party, Edward had slept over at Tom’s more often than not, with the exception of the three days Tom had gone home to spend Christmas with his family. 

It had all happened so fast, after the Secret Santa thing. As the party had worn down, someone had come up with the idea of a bunch of them going for drinks at the bar around the corner, and Tom could tell that if he said yes Edward would come too. (Thankfully, Irving declined, citing a family engagement.) So they both went, and in between Hartnell buying everyone a second round of Jäger shots and Morfin’s drunken serenade to the long-suffering bartender, they found themselves outside on the sidewalk, ostensibly to get some air, even though it was freezing cold and Tom had started to lose some of the feeling in his fingers.

They had huddled near each other, theoretically for warmth, eventually inching closer than they had any real need to be. Until, of course, the moment when Edward had leaned over and kissed him. Tom’s face was nearly frozen solid, but Edward’s lips were warm (with just the slightest aftertaste of Jäger), and he smiled and pulled his hands from his coat pockets so he could curl them around the back of Edward’s neck. 

It hadn’t taken much to convince Edward to share a cab back to his place. And once they were finally alone, in the privacy of Tom’s apartment, they had been able to get up to all sorts of things in direct violation of HR’s non-fraternization policy. 

The thing was, Tom had had his eye on Edward for a while now, nodding hello to him in the morning when he came in, listening to him in meetings through Crozier’s half-open office door – and while he was pretty convinced the attraction was mutual, it was kind of hard to tell. Edward was fairly quiet and reserved, not given to the usual office small talk, which was why it had been nice to finally draw him into a conversation, even if it had only been about 70s music. And if Tom had suspected – and secretly fantasized – about what it would be like once Edward Little let go of just a bit of that stringent self-control, the reality of it was even hotter. 

He had almost become a fixture now in Tom’s apartment, and in his bed, that dark head of hair mussed into glorious disarray as it fell across the pillowcase.

So maybe losing a bit of sleep wasn’t that much of a sacrifice. 

He stared up at the ceiling, letting his thoughts wander as he tried to coax them back into drowsy quiet. Aside from the thing with Edward (and Tom was fine with letting it stay undefined for now, and simply enjoying it for what it was), there wasn’t much else on his mind, aside for his quick visit home for Christmas. It had been really good to see his mom and his brother – with the hours Crozier had him working, he didn’t always have time to visit that often – and get to celebrate the holiday, just the three of them. 

His brother had been in a good mood – he had just turned in the last of his college applications and now he was on a two week break from school – and his mom was in even better spirits, clearly proud of her youngest about to head off to school and thrilled to have both her sons with her for Christmas. At her insistence, they baked cookies and watched old movies, and on Christmas morning they opened presents in their pajamas, although Tom had stipulated that he needed at least a full cup of coffee before they started unwrapping anything. 

It was pretty amazing to see her like that, so excited and happy, and to know how far she had come in just two years. 

There were moments he had believed that she wouldn’t make it this far. 

Everything had started with the accident, of course. The other driver had been distracted (probably busy checking their phone or some other bullshit) and ran the red, immediately plowing right into them. His brother had been next to her, in the passenger seat, but all the airbags deployed and they both walked away from the crash, seemingly fine. But after a few weeks, her back started bothering her and there were doctor’s visits for pills, and then more and more pills: Vicodin and Percocet, eventually OxyContin. Tom hadn’t really been aware of how much she had been taking – she had been good about hiding it, and he had been so busy with work that he hadn’t been able to visit that much – and it was only later he found out how bad it had gotten, how she had moved on to occasional hits of fentanyl, somehow maintaining her habit while holding down two jobs and raising a teenage son. 

The absolute worst of it came – as it had to, eventually – one weekend in December, when had come home as a surprise and found her laying on the couch, unresponsive. His brother had been out with friends and there was no one else in the house, no one to wait with Tom as he counted the minutes for the paramedics to arrive, no one to sit with him on the vinyl upholstered bench seat in the back of the ambulance, no one to hold his hand as he begged and pleaded with whoever might possibly be listening to not let her die. 

Maybe someone was listening, maybe not. He wanted to think someone was. 

There was denial at first – as if the reality of what he had seen could possibly be denied – and then anger and tears and finally acceptance. She agreed to rehab, letting Tom’s aunt and uncle take temporary custody of his brother until she was ready, and it had taken almost a year, two treatment facilities, a halfway house, and a NA sponsor Tom wanted to nominate for sainthood to finally get her to where she was now. 

But there was always that question, that dread, lurking in the back of his mind – as he assumed it lurked in hers – was that really the end of it? Would the need ever get so strong again that she wouldn’t be able to resist? 

There wasn’t anyone he could tell, really, no one he could share these private fears with, certainly not with her and certainly not with his brother, who had already had to deal with far too much. And so Tom tried not to think about it too much, putting on his most cheerful face for when he saw them, doing his best to take each day as it came. 

“Can’t sleep?” 

Tom turned his head in the direction of the low voice and saw that Edward was awake, his dark eyes glinting in the low light of the room. 

“Just stuff on my mind, I guess,” Tom replied, as he stretched his legs out under the covers. 

The answer was vague and noncommittal, he knew, but it wasn’t as if he was expecting Edward to do much else beyond nod and go back to sleep.  

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Tom’s first instinct was to say no – perhaps not quite that directly, but to smile and find some way to gently decline the offer. Nobody needed to listen to him talk about things like that, especially not someone like Edward, who hadn’t signed up for hearing about all of Tom’s family issues when he decided to stay over. But there was something in Edward’s eyes, in the open, unguarded expression on his face that made Tom pause, because he realized, right at that moment, how much he really did want to talk about it.

And so he did. 

He told Edward everything: about his mother and his brother and his life growing up, about the accident and the pills and the couch and the disinfectant smell of her hospital room where he had waited for her to wake up. He told him about visit back home, and how proud he was of her, even as he was afraid, and guilty too, for allowing himself to doubt her when he considered the possibility of her relapsing.  

“It’s just hard sometimes, you know,” he said, “being alone with all of it.”

Edward was quiet – he hadn’t said much as Tom was talking, but had laid there next to him, listening patiently – and then reached up, letting his fingers graze along the line of Tom’s jaw. 

“You don’t have to be alone with it.” Edward swallowed roughly, pressing his lips together. “Not if you don’t want to be. Not anymore.”

Everything went still for a moment, even Tom’s heart, which he could feel in the deepest, most tender recess of his chest, although what it was trying to tell him, he wasn’t even sure. He watched as the Christmas tree lights from the living room glowed soft pink, blue, yellow, green across Edward’s bare skin, and then Tom turned and gently rolled over him, their lips meeting in a tiny miracle of light and breath and heat.