#brassandblue : goodsir

[wantsusdead]

terror christmas icons!

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[herstoriies]

If I had a nickel for everytime Priscilla gets married to a dashing gent with full sideburns, I’d end up with two nickels, which isn't a lot but it's amusing that it happened twice!

[imprvdente]

@brassandblue​ . 𝐒𝐄𝐌𝐈 𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑

Fish avoided doctors like the plague. It was a bad habit for someone as dangerously reckless as her, but it was a necessary one too, learned after years spent hiding her true identity. And now that she was in the middle of this icy hell, stuck, she particularly disliked the possibility of a doctor figuring out that she had been lying. And the fact that Goodsir was a surgeon didn’t make it any better! Doctors, surgeons, the problem was the same! What if he asked her to lift up her shirt? How would she explain then, the bandages all over her torso?

And yet here she was, sitting down and nervously biting down her nails. She looked like a trapped animal more than a willing patient, but after a bad fall earlier that day, she had been forced there by some of the other mates.

“I’m sure it’s nothin’ sir,” she still muttered in the hope that it would speed up this whole process, “doesn’t even hurt that much.” A bold lie, but she’d rather be in pain than discovered!

[brassandblue]

brassandblue: a private/highly selective multimuse rp blog

ft. The Terror's Harry Goodsir & Thomas Blanky

21+ only, mutuals only, multi-fandom, multi-shipping

NOTE: this blog contains mature, potentially triggering themes & subjects; reader discretion advised!

NAVIGATION || RULES || MUSELIST || AUs || ASK

Please read the rules & character page(s) BEFORE interacting!!

[honorhearted]

@brassandblue | continued from (x)

The flames from their shared campfire flickered and danced across Ben’s features, though he didn’t dare mirror Goodsir’s warm smile. The man was absurdly kind -- God, how had war made him kind, Ben wondered? In a world full of pain and adversity and brutality and ugliness, he couldn’t quite fathom it; not when he, himself, struggled to find a modicum of compassion in the channels of his heart. If the other side were to beg on behalf of their friends and family, Ben would be quick to remind them that his own men suffered precisely the same. 

No one was special in war. No one was absolved, and though he assuredly felt pity and guilt, he was always quick to tamp down such emotions, lest he be swallowed whole and drown.

Realizing that the man was undoubtedly awaiting an answer, Ben slowly set aside his wooden bowl and squared his jaw, his eyes remaining on the flames as he said, “With all due respect, sir, how do you know leaving me to die would ‘serve nothing?’ Perhaps it was God’s great purpose for me to breathe my last, just as it was Joseph Schurr’s, Jacob Timmons’ and Charles O’Hara’s last week.” His gaze hardened as he recited three of the names of men -- nay, boys -- he’d been forced to bury in nameless, shallow graves. Although he, himself did not dig them, their faces were forever entrenched within his soul, much as if he had been the one to take a shovel to the earth.

With a bitter smile, Ben finally allowed himself a hint of eye contact. “I’m afraid my objective is far more selfish than yours, sir. I no longer fight for everyone, nor the freedom of mankind -- no, I fight for the voiceless...for my friends, my father, my...” brother. My best friend. Both of whom were treated like dogs by your so-called side of compassion.

But rather than speak such vitriol aloud, Ben offered, “I truly hope you can maintain your heart, Goodsir, because the test of war is the most trying of them all. To some, I daresay I’m unrecognizable...and maybe that’s for the best. I see now how frivolous my past concerns once were.”

[majorxmaggiexboy]

@brassandblue I need you to know I had a dream about goodsir showing up at Terror interrupting some sort of really tense moment to deliver some bagels he'd made from scratch. He said that if they were well received he'd make more XD

He was so excited to show them off too 😭

[musclesandspells]

Closed starter for @brassandblue : Silna : Goodsir

Sometimes, she still struggled to look at his hands. It was too easy for her to remember what they looked like, covered in her father's blood. She had not understood anything he was saying to her at the time, but she had recognized the strain in his voice. The compassion. He tried, to help. Others around him only stood and watched, oblivious to what they were doing as her father died within the confines of their ship.

Ship. She knew that word now, knew what to call the hulking thing in their own language. She didn't have a word for it in her own. It was different than an oomiak, even larger. Made to hold many more people. Made out of an entire forest and twisted metal dug up from the earth. A ship couldn't be taken apart and carried over the land.

Maybe it was their attachment to their ship that kept them there, stuck in the ice and waiting eventuality. If they could take it with them, pull it apart in its individual pieces... maybe they would be more inclined to leave this place. But it wasn't just the ship. It was everything inside of it.

She breathed out through her nose and turned her mind back to Goodsir, looking up into his face instead of at his hands and the drawings on paper that he was trying to show her. Her eyes searched his face, watching him speak.

[tooxldtorememxer]

Ned swallowed the lump in his throat thickly. It was like therapy again. One big group session. But it always felt good after, lighter, in a way and a relief to know he wasn’t alone. Though they all had different accounts and memories they were all the same. Of the same place, at the same time. He felt bad for Goodsir though and his account of things sent shivers down his spine.

A concentrated look crossed his face and he stared hard at his hands on the surface in front of him. “I just remember it was dark and cold. And there was sudden panic…” his brows furrowed harder. Peglar had shared that he remembered Ned being there when he’d died. On a boat in a lake but Ned had no images to recall. Not yet or that he remembered but the feeling from the moment, and that deep dark depth.. he couldn’t escape that. Even Peglar admitted that he didn’t fully remember but he said he’d been cold too. Worse than before and Ned could only agree with that.

He looked back at Goodsir again and answered his smile with his own. “No, I don’t think so. I would say we are far better off now, and we’re together again. I don’t know why, but perhaps this is what it was supposed to be. Not.. that.” That being the part of being frozen in the ice, sick, starved and chased by some kind of monster. That, all those things, might have been one accident after the other, just snowballing and now they had the re-do and because of the strange memories of the past, it brought them closer together in a sense. At least that’s what he forced himself to believe so he wouldn’t think of something bad. “I don’t remember anything after, but I’m happy too to be here with all of you. Again or anew doesn’t matter.” he shrugged lightly.

continued from here @brassandblue​

[therapardalis]

[ @brassandblue​ from here.]

-

Harry’s eyes crinkled, his smile growing wide at the reminiscing of their respective globetrotting escapades.

“May I ask, if it’s not too personal, how often do you look through storage and realize you have an entire museum exhibit sitting in front of you?”

Thera considered this for a minute, frown creasing her brow. Harry had quite the habit of coming up with excellent questions she hadn’t even thought about before. “You know, not as often as you might think!”

She had a few bits and pieces squirreled away, and in fact a secret room attached to her apartment in New York, but, “Generally, I try to get them to a real museum, unless they’re ... you know. Dangerous.”

[bertievi]

@brassandblue continued from X

“I did tell you, Sir,” was Harry’s first response–quiet, gentle, in his usual way, where any chiding was subtle. His brow was knit with concern as his eyes took in the view before him.

Still, to avoid adding insult to injury to the recovering King, he added: “I’m prepared to bar the door from anyone who might keep you from recovering. May I come in?”

It was not a false promise he’d just made. The narrow-shouldered Scotsman had learned during the war that one must stand one’s ground against incompetency from one’s allies as much as one would one’s own enemies. He had already proven the ability to bravely and politely hold his own with officials or older staff who might have otherwise ignored him–his stature and generally soft-spoken nature were disarming and he, albeit reluctantly, used that to his advantage. If anyone could help give the King the rest he so badly needed, it was Harry.

Albert had to resist allowing himself a chuckle at Goodsir’s offer to bar the door, he was quite tempted to allow him to do so in all truth, but as ever with the King duty won out. “-Come in.” He gave as permission and adjusted his position in order to reach his work with a slight squeak of complaint and a wince but little else. 

“I -did not realise how --tiring the work -can be.” He explained as he used one hand to stuff the documents back into a folder, he trusted Harry not to look but at the same time he would be remiss in his role if he were even to allow the opportunity of temptation. So once the documents were haphazardly back in their folder they were tossed a little carelessly inside the opened Red Box sat on his bedside, more for lack of reach than any disregard. Then he was sure to smile at the Doctor in some attempt to avoid too much of a telling off. “I must be exhausting as a --patient.” He meant it as a joke in comparison to his paperwork but Albert worried if he would ever not find it tiring again. 

Goodsir was a kind man though, his demeanour screamed of being worthy of trust and the respect to be listened to. “I never --gave it much thought before, but apparently -two lungs makes -paperwork less exhausting.” Right off from that though the King fixed his attention on Goodsir, “And -how are you faring?” There was a certain amount of pressure in being the Sovereign's physician after all, one wrong move could take away the head of state for a multitude of nations at the same time.  

[griefprofiled]

@brassandblue (x)

Never one to interfere in the escapades of witches when it didn't directly involve him, fortunately the rather displeased guardian bear had the grace to recoil somewhat in wary distrust rather than be a victim of hubris. Oh it lingered, but at a distance, and with a kind of vaguely annoyed sulk in its every step.

He was a Bigger Fish in this particular pond, and they both knew it.

"Take a moment." His hand had been forced, and giving the man blood had become a necessity. Any longer and he doubted there would have been any waking happening. Now, though, he would be tasked with keeping him alive for at least a day. "You will be quite recovered in a few minutes, I expect."

[myxcenterxstage]

😘 - peppers my muse with kisses (From the touch starved meme, for Goodsir ofc!

[touch starved meme] || always accepting!

“Your reading glasses are here in the library, Harry!”

In their new abode in Edinburgh, Priscilla was seated at her writing desk, pouring over literature on Zoology and scribing notes into her journal. “Yes, over here, darling!” Lifting her head, she turned to face Goodsir as he entered, giving him a warm grin. And lo an behold - there she was wearing Harry’s reading glasses!

Not that she needed them, this was all a staged performance for amusement. They were too big for her face and the lenses made her eyes appear larger - and combined with her broad cheeky smile she appeared almost like a caricature. “Oh, you mean these reading glasses, Doctor?” She slid the spectacles down her nose to look over them at Harry with a serious expression, before slipping them back on to their normal placement and laughing. “How do I look?”

She welcomed him with a warm embrace when he approached, snuggling her head against his chest before picking up her book opening to a page with illustrations of Antarctic penguins. She pointed to the page delicately with her finger.

“Did you know” she mused, “that the Pygoscelis papua, the Gentoo Penguin, are often found to gift their life-mates with pebbles as tokens of their affection~?”

Placing the book down, with both arms free now she reached to wrap her them around his neck for a kiss. Only she was taken by surprise when, instead, he had to found the opportunity quicker to kiss her. 

Priscilla squeaked giggles of delight as she found herself on the receiving end to a flurry of his affections. Her nose, chin, cheeks, and forehead were dappled with little kisses, the rapid movement lightly displacing his glasses from sitting correctly on her nose. 

They both then removed the spectacles and set them down carefully on the desk, before Priscilla found herself in Harry’s arms again and they exchanged a more passionate kiss.

@brassandblue

[herstoriies]

"everything will be just fine once i finish this up." Kimblesir! >3>

"LET ME HELP YOU" PROMPTS [accepting!]

"Right... it could've been much worse, aye?"

Priscilla winced after the sterilizer had been applied to her wound, fists balling to muster her bravery as a soldier not utter a sound. Still, at Goodsir's touch, which was oh so gentle, as the pain subsided to bearable she slumped leaning towards him. Easy to say she was glad not to be in Dr. Stanley's company, but something swelled in her chest hearing Harry's words and coming from him she could believe him that everything would be alright. Discreetly her fingertips reached for something of him, even the edge of his jacket, to hold on to without drawing too much attention.

"Thank you, Doctor." a ghost of a tender grin despite a gaze distracted in thoughts, "With you, I know I'm in good hands."

Indeed, however, it could have been far, far worse. Adrenaline waning that terror of ice and snow lingered in her mind. Lieutenant Graham would be found... right?

This is what we signed up for, an adventure of a lifetime.

Perhaps more than only one lifetime, just what was that... that bear?

@brassandblue

[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?

[hope-on-hope-ever]

@brassandblue - continuation from Prologue

The deep mahogany door to Erebus’ Captains quarters opened, and there stood the Expedition commander. Not a crease in his uniform or dishevelment in appearance, or waver in his serious confidence. But still it could not fully hide the grave concern in his eyes.

A noticeable shock crossed Franklin’s features. The expedition leader was surely expecting someone else - anyone - other than who he saw before him.

“Leftenant—“

Astounded, he gave a long frown of confusion, brow knit, and there was then an awkward silence between them for a long few seconds.

It was then Sir John glared at Goodsir, with the same hardened gaze when the poor man stood before them (as though in court martial) bearing the news of the all too recent disappearance of Lieutenant Gore.

But not before long Sir John looked to Arthur. Over his many years at sea, Sir John had seen many a hideous sight of battle wounds, but this was something still bordering on the unbearable. And riddling him with tormenting guilt. Even with the bandages and state of proper dress, one look and he could relive the nightmare. There was healing, yes, but what hell was it to endure every day?

And yet ocean blue eyes still met sharp green. Both with their own sort of stubbornness. But before he opened his mouth again, noting those behind them curiously trailing his surprise visitors from a safe distance, he silently gestured the two men inside and ensured the door was shut behind them. To honor a necessary privacy before the commander’s disquiet and irritation - and pain - rose in his voice.

“Praytell, what on earth are you doing out of bed, Leftenant Kirkland?! Just what sort of state of mind are you -” there was an unusual bite in Sir John’s voice that he still managed to keep from being raised too loudly “And you, Mr. Goodsir! I demand an explanation for allowing such negligence!“

[honorhearted]

"RIGHT HERE,PLEASE" let's pretend I can read and follow directions.

IN  THE SPIRIT  OF  SINDAY  SEND  ME  ‘RIGHT  HERE,  PLEASE’  IF  YOUR  MUSE  WANTS  TO  SLEEP  WITH  MINE. / @brassandblue (I'm including your first ask here: Almost all my nations are super into Ben and yes, even Arthur. (Arthur, Amelia, Marianne--femFrance) On the other hand, Goodsir, Alice (femEngland) and Jesse are fine with friendship.)

"Although I'm flattered by the compliment, I'm not so sure I have the endurance to pay that close attention to so many suitors...nation or otherwise."