#i know nothing ab tma but here

[theelectricalcity]

@stan-th-man @happychaos-o7

too lazy to draw anything serious yet-

[radiojamming]

I feel like the low-hanging fruit of a prompt to give you is something around the canonical presence of the Franklin Expedition in TMA lore. Everchase fic?

[GRABS THAT FRUIT AND SCURRIES BACK UP MY TREE WITH IT BEFORE U CAN EVEN BLINK]

also i picked my 3rd favorite franklin expedition boy as the main dude here :3c and this isn’t terror-centric so much as it lines up with MAG 133!

- - -

Tom doesn’t understand what possesses the men he sails with. Some of them have such a want; such a craving and a desire that he cannot fathom, what with his simple daily tasks and basic training. He sees it, sometimes, when he’s tying off ropes or painting or tarring. He sees their hunger, spies it when they look out at where the sea is caked in ice, threatening the end of a cold summer. Out beyond the grey mountains and glaciers, the knife points of broken ice, the strange creatures, the dancing lights that curtain the stars, he knows they see the Northwest Passage. They see it so clearly that they’re blind to what’s in front of them now.

He sees a job. He sees chores and things that years in the Navy have taught him to do. 

Of course, he also wants things. Everyone does. Tom wants to make it through the expedition in one piece, whether it end in the Sandwich Islands or England if they have to turn tail. He wants to collect his double pay, count it out from his hands to his mother’s, and feel safe and warm again before the next set of sails and ropes entices him back to the sea. 

And once, he wanted adventure. He wouldn’t have had the thought to sign onto Erebus if there wasn’t some part of him that craved it. It didn’t capture his senses the way it does for some of the men, but there was a thrill that ran a gauntlet through his heart when he saw something truly strange, like the auroras or the twirled horns of narwhals peeking up through the ice. Sometimes, he would eagerly run down to the orlop after his watch ended and pen out a quick letter to his sisters, his brother, his mother, or his cousins—just hurried observations of the Arctic and how different it was from Gillingham. 

He wanted adventure. The past tense is deliberate and fierce. He wanted, because the only reason it was ever in the present tense at all is now buried under six feet of frozen gravel some two hundred miles north. If he must want something presently, he wants his brother back from the dead.

No, he doesn’t understand the men who seek the Passage like hounds on a scent. What’s the use of wanting something you’re not meant to have?

- - -

They freeze in for the second summer in a row. The sun kisses the horizon, pressing rosy lips to grey shale and pink ice—then draws back up into a powder blue sky to wink above them. 

That’s when people start to disappear.

First, it’s Sir John. He dies in June—or so Tom’s told. He apparently dies in the night, long after the dog watches take place. Captain Crozier tells the men that they’ll be burying Sir John right away, but Commander— no, Captain Fitzjames’ face is fixed peculiarly when the announcement is made. Dreadfully ill, Crozier tells them. He can’t be seen.

It doesn’t make sense. Many of the ABs echo the sentiment, but the mates and lieutenants are quick to quash their concerns. The burial is hasty, committing a simple wooden box to the gravel with only a large stone to mark the grave itself. This strikes Tom as stranger than all the Arctic’s oddest traits combined. His brother, a lowly able-bodied seaman, was afforded more decorum than Sir John Franklin. 

More disappear after that. Fairholme and Osmer apparently die on a hunting expedition. Aylmore, Goddard, and Kinnaird aren’t far behind, disappearing into that sun-soaked horizon with only whispers left behind. 

Reddington makes the oddest display before his disappearance; honestly, he’s the best hint to Tom that something very, very strange is happening. The night before he goes missing, he wakes half the ship up with a maniacal laugh, practically screaming in pure incoherence before Lieutenant Le Vesconte drags him into the Wardroom, presumably to calm him. Le Vesconte opens the door only once to ask for Captain Fitzjames and a glass of brandy before he shuts them both in and the screaming starts again. All Tom can catch is the howl of, “It’s there! It’s there! I’ve seen it!” before Fitzjames arrives.

The next morning, Reddington is gone. Fitzjames says he broke loose and ran off after the second dog watch, presumably having gone mad.

A few days later, Crozier says they’re going to abandon ship and begin a long walk south.

- - -

The craving begins in September, Tom thinks. 

If there even is such thing as September. 

In his mind, it’s The Craving, titled like a book. In this book, he thinks the plot would be about men so far gone in their hunger that all the humanity in them decays to nothing, leaving them crazed husks searching for the impossible. At this point, what with men falling into the stones and dying halfway through the descent, he feels they shouldn’t be like this. They should be tending their wounded and ill, making camp more often. But The Craving is in Crozier’s eyes, dragging them further and further towards… something.

Tom doesn’t think they’re looking for the Passage anymore.

He follows along, as he always has. Ever the seaman, now ever the AB, following orders from a boatswain with lips scarred from his whistle freezing to the flesh and tearing away. 

Then, The Craving gets carnal when their last food stores begin to dwindle. Tom barely notices, watching as if in a dream as the man who used to be Daniel Arthur cracks marrow out of a bone, greedily clawing it out of the hollows with his frostbitten fingers. He eats like an animal, and stops only when they begin to move again. 

Tom doesn’t eat with them. Every time he thinks of it, his mind plays some terrible trick. He thinks of John, entombed in ice and rock, emaciated and torn open like an animal was the one who pried his ribs from his body, and not a surgeon. He thinks of what John’s marrow would taste like, and imagines his brother watching him, eyes unfocused behind the mists of death, jaw unhinged in that silent scream of a corpse—judging him.

Tommy, he thinks John would say. Always stealing off my plate, huh?

He doesn’t eat. When the hunger saws at his stomach with iron teeth, he bites his hands, his lips, the wool from his coat, the copper-tasting metal of his buttons. He swallows snow until he vomits. 

And somehow, impossibly, he lives on.

- - -

There are no days.

No weeks.

No months.

Maybe years, but Tom’s stopped counting.

There are only steps, one after another. There are bloody footprints thousands of miles behind them. They abandoned the sledges back in the snow and gravel, leaving useless cargo and a trail of broken bodies. Men still die, but there seems to be no real reason why they do. Tom should have been dead… ten? Twenty? Fifty years ago? He can’t remember. All he knows is that he’s still walking, following behind Crozier and Fitzjames and a dwindling party of men still dressed for the Arctic weather.

They’re in a desert.

Surely they should have found the Passage by now? Tom thinks this as he sees a lizard scurry up a strange plant, spiked like a well-used pincushion. The sun bites his blistering flesh, scrapes its glowing teeth along the back of his neck. Still, he’s never felt the need to take off his slops. There’s something comforting about the What Was, after all.

Why is he here? He doesn’t Crave the way the others do. They always talk about the Passage. It’s over that hill, surely. It’s along this river. If we just walk over there, it will be within sight. He knows it won’t be. It never is.

So why does he walk?

Because you Want, something tells him. It’s a deep, odd thing set in his soul, prone to ring out when struck like a bell, reminding him that he Must Always Walk.

For what?

For the Wanting, it says. And what do you Want, Thomas Hartnell?

Somewhere beyond a flat-topped mountain the colour of blood and bile, he thinks about that question. What does he Want?

He wants his mother to kiss his forehead and tell him good night. He wants Charlie to take apart their father’s pocket watch and put it back together, just in time to proudly show it to Tom. He wants to hear Mary Ann sing old shanties while she kneads dough on Friday morning. He wants to sit at the base of an apple tree while Betsy throws down the fruit, giggling as she does so.

He wants John to come back from the dead.

He wants to go home.

And Home is over that next mountain, says The Craving. Tom looks up at another blood-red mountain, the winking sun pressing a kiss to the slant of its neck. Don’t you want to see it again? Gillingham? Kent? The River and the Sea?

Of course he does, but it isn’t—

Well, maybe it is.

So Tom Wants, and he Craves, and he Walks.

[anonplusultra-blog]

Faux Sèrum

<Hey Elsa, still wake :s|

|Yeah, what up Anna?>

<Just wanted to remind you that you can text me if you feeling| lonely or idk anythin                                                                   |

|Don't worry love, we'll talk at lunch. See ya tmrr babe>

<uh?. kay G'night babe?|

Well she did sounded happier than our emotional lunch a couple days ago. But 'babe', I didn't think Elsa was the type of girl that would call her friends babe, she is usually more reserved and formal, even when addressing me, her own sister.

My phone clock said it was fifteen past one, I really hope she gets some sleep, she already missed Literature yesterday because she over slept.

My eyes were almost giving up the fight, my breath became slower and I was finding the sweet spot laying on my side... until my eyes connected with pale green bright ones across my bed. "Aah! Oh, its just- I'm sorry Rory, but your eyes were like ghostly for a sec. Uh did my phone wake you up?"

"Not really, I was thinking about a story I read this afternoon online, it was about these two brothers that had a legal dispute over the rights to an App that got very popular lately. And then I was thinking about you and Elizabeth, as a complete opposite to their relationship" Is she...who's Elizabeth? "You and your sister seem to be really close. I'm an only child so I guess always wanted a sister. I mean Malena... my step mom is like an older sister to me, almost. She is turning thirty two this month and I'm nineteen, but to be honest she looks younger"

"Wait, you're older than me... how?, you look like thirteen. Are you sure you're not like a fairy or one of those kids from Peter Pan's stories?" I really thought she was some sort of genius thirteen year old that got here for her brains. And she is so cute! "You are adorable"

"Should I take that as a compliment" aw, is she blushing? Wait-wait a second. Am I, am I flirting with Rory? Sure, she is mysterious and a cutie but. Oh, I think I'm flirting with her. It wouldn't be the first time, and we're not in high school anymore, this won't be one of those hey let's be lez and make out for funsies, we are adults now, we could be girlf-partn-we might be serious about it. Take it slow, she might not be into girls, there are still straight girls... probably out there in the world. And even if they feel attracted to other girls it might not be serious.

"Hum, yeah. Totally babe" real smooth you dumb dumb "I mean its totally late" saved! "Yaaaaawn~, goodnight Rory".

I couldn't keep eye contact with her after that and pretended to be sleeping by facing to the wall and hugging my pillow tight. I wonder what was keeping Elsa up this late, and well I have to tell her about Rory and I'm sure she will support me, and maybe she will finally come out of the closet.

Elsa has never had a boyfriend... or a girlfriend either, but I know she is not asexual. I once saw her laptop's browser history, her searches where mostly about something called first time videos, no boys in those videos for what I watched.

She didn't have a date for prom, instead she asked me to be her date which was very sweet but it was when Hans and I were dating. That did not end well, Elsa went back into a depression which I could help her overcome, I had to, it was my fault after all. Hans wasn't even worth it, he just wanted to fulfill some sexual fantasy. Asshole. I regret dating him, Elsa was right about him all along.

Ugh, why is sleeping so hard now! Every time I try to stop thinking and sleep, I start thinking about Elsa or Rory, or both. I guess I can't wait 'till tomorrow, I'll send Elsa a text. No! I can't wake her up just for that!

Even if I get any sleep, tomorrow is going to be a hard day...

And indeed it was. I was so distracted by the sleep deprivation that during volley classes I broke my 'ball to the face' record. Although one of them was because I thought seeing Elsa, guess I got hit in the head a lot that day. The last time Elsa came to one of my games or practices was back in high school. Her excuse for not coming to see me was that our uniforms were too revealing and uncomfortable to wear and some weird feminist term I can't quite recall. I never told her that I helped designing the Arendelle's Amazons team uniform.

ooo

Today was a hard day. All thru the night I had to fight the urge to comply to mirror's Anna requests. Since two days ago, when I decided to own the wrong feelings towards my sister, and accepted her fictional kisses and roaming hands, Anna has gotten bolder and is firmly determined to go where no other has ever been.

She wants us to do something so despicable... yet I know she only wants it because, I, because I want her too. But we can't. I had complied and let her touch me lustfully from head to toe. I have felt her hands massage, squeeze and pinch into the soft flesh of my breasts, her lips and saliva seducing my neck, my fingers, my nipples, my nose and my lips. I let her feel all of me... except for my sex. There is where I've drawn a line. Its ridiculous and even I find it a nuisance, but once we cross that invisible line, we could no longer be who we are now. We would no longer be human, we would be no better than animals. How could I do that to her if I love her, strip her away from her humanity, making her but a lust beast.

The only way I have managed to stop her from advancing any further is exercise. I have done about a hundred squats or even more, maybe the sore muscles are enough punishment in her eyes or she ends up as tired as I am by the end of the day. Mirror Anna had the idea of visiting the real Anna's volley practice this morning, and she did, she even took some photos of Anna. I still don't get why an athlete has to wear those tiny shorts to play volley. Which is the same reason I'm doing squats five minutes before Anna comes to my dorm with pizza slices and probably looking... I need more squats.

Knock-Knock. The sound from the lower part of the door, Anna was kicking the wood, her hands must be occupied with the pizza. I'm sitting on the floor, sweating and sore, my muscles inflamed and my mind... pure. I force my self up, a grunt escaping my throat. "I'm coming, Anna, just a second" every step a needle of quick pain thru my legs. I take a deep breath and turn the knob opening the door and inviting Anna in.

"Pizza is here!" said my sister cheerful as ever.

She indeed had a nine inch plain white box, a can of coca~cola for us to share and a pair of straws. And then I had to look at her, her beautiful face holding an honest warm smile my face can't avoid replicating. I take the box from her and place it on the desk going around my bed, Anna tilts her head to right showing confusion. She kicks her shoes off and walks thru the bed setting down the coke on the desk and sitting down on my bed.

She looks at me joyfully and pats the spot to her left presenting it for me to sit by her side. I can't help but smiling and feeling a blush crawl under my cheeks. I took of my sneakers and took a step forwards when Anna extended her hand in front of her signaling me to stop. "Are those new pants?" her chocolate eyebrows knitted together.

"N-No, m-m-mom gave th-these yoga pan-nts t-t-to me last christ-t-tmas" I was stuttering so much, why?

"Are you sure, you look different. Twirl for me, babe." B-babe?! Where did that came from? Do I really look strange? But, as per usual, I did as Anna requested. "No no. Slower" And I did it again, slower this time.

"S-s-ssee, the same old p-p-pa-ants." her face was thoughtful and intense. And her next words were, acute to say the least.

"Your ass got bigger. But bigger good, you know, not fat or immense. Just fuller, um, how can I... your butt looks good in those pants" We were both blushing red and hot like a flame. And a awkward silence set in for a few seconds longer than I would like it to be.

"I-I-I squats...an-d-d-d thank y-y-you An-Anna" she bursted in a laughter and I followed. She fell on her back as she tried to recover from our cackling up.

I sat down next to her still chuckling a bit. Her skirt had risen a couple of inches up and her thighs were at full display, but what my eyes were seeking for was barely peeking into my sight, her green- No! stop it. Pizza night, and that's it. Behave like a sentient being Elsa, focus. I looked away from her and my eyes met the mirror across the dorm. And I saw myself kissing Anna, like I would kiss the other Anna. Shook my head to make sure it was nothing more than a mere mesmerism. It was.

Anna sit up and wipe some tears the laughing had brought to her eyes. "We are such dorks. Oh, that made me so hungry. Let's eat before the pizza gets cold and our can of soda gets warm" if only she knew how hard this visit has been to me.

We ate the pepperoni and cajun style spiced slices of pizza, and clean the fatty oily sensation drinking the can of soda with two straws, one for each, although, I worry I might have sipped from Anna's a few times both being identical white plastic same lengthened generic straws. This night was the best I had in a long time, but it was fated to die.

All the fun, our pleasant chat, all would end with Anna going back to her own dorm.

Anna got up and stretched until her back pop the air off her spine joints and mewl with satisfaction. She put on her shoes back and took a last look at the mirror to check her makeup. "My dorm doesn't have a mirror"

"Please stay! Jus-Just-t-t for the night, please, An-Anna."

She turned to me with a disappointing look, I knew what her answer was going to be "I can't stay Elsa, I'm sorry. but, I have Volley courses tomorrow early in the morning".

It hurt. Having her just for a moment every day, when I deserved to have her by my side. I felt anger, sadness, yearning all bottled up in my chest ready to burst. "I-I don't care ab-bout your stupid volley. Y-you only play it because of the slut uniforms they wear..." hot tears ran thru my face as I collapsed to my knees. Why was I pushing her away? Why couldn't I just... accept it, that there is no Anna and Elsa, not in the way my mind has made it to be lately.

But then warmth wrapped my body, Anna was holding me, on her knees, crying. I don't deserve her. "I know how much it hurts Elsa, and believe me, it hurts me too. And calling me a slut or whore or a cunt, will not work on me, you can't hurt me, because you love me more than anyone will ever love me, and we know that".

I don't deserve her.

My tears kept rolling down my cheeks, like healing rain, cleansing the pressure off my chest. My eyes seek hers, I swallow hard and cease breathing, my lips draughting a kiss that Anna with no hesitation participates in. Chaste, nothing but a peck for her, but to me... it was a promise. A promise to Anna, 'I will try'.

Anna still loves to break mom's rule. I know that, as chaste as our kisses are, siblings our age don't kiss each other on the lips, but we are not just siblings, not just sisters... we are special. And I think she missed this too. Not in the same way I do, but it still makes me feel a little better.

"There, better now sweetie?" I was, so I nodded "Uhm, so, my roommate Rory, well..." she was scratching the back of her neck and her eyes leaving mine "she told me about this social worker that can help... us, with, well you know like therapy. We could go tomorrow... if you want of course."

"M-m-maybe it would hel-p. Th-th-thanks, An-nn-na, for being here for me" she fought tears creeping in her eyes and helped me get up.

We said goodnight, and she left. I closed the door and there in front of me was Anna in the mirror sitting on the bed and pretending to be weary.

"Finally, she left. I really thought for a moment there that she would ruin our night. And... tonight will be the night, right babe?"

I did not responded. But instead, I undressed and hid myself under the red wig.

I did not want to fight myself no more.

Tonight was going to be the night.

Tonight, I would stop being a human...