#merry dundy christmas

[spelacchiotto]

Merry Dundy Christmas y'all 🎄🎁✨

[froggerland]

The thing love the most about this fandom is that theyll see two or more characters who have a combined screentime of 3 minutes and have one interaction max and think „yeah they mad in love and should fuck nasty“ and i deeply respect that

So since i have also been infected with the brainrot: take this „le vesconte topping every lieutenant (and commander) on these goddamn icelocked ships“ (that one post hasnt left my head)

[franciscrozierofficial]

At SOME POINT (dw about logistics), dundy manages to get a rolled up scroll and an envelope to Crozier. In the envelope is a stark, black and white and cross-hatched ink drawing on a paper the size of a postcard that looks like something out of a dream or maybe a nightmare, harsh contrast, heavy black ink so thick the white space seems to glow. In the image, it is night. The ink drawing depicts an 18 gun English sloop-of-war burning in the water, canted at an angle that can only mean she is sinking, taking on water, seen from the perspective of someone on the deck of what looks like a bomb ketch, covered in ice. Beyond the ship burning in the harsh black water, a flat, warm-water coastline can be seen. Across the sky stretch auroras, so strangely out of place for a place that seems like it would be so warm. It is a terrible sight, an English warship losing the fight, but somehow the fire overtaking it feels like hope, burning bright with an intensity that does not want to be erased. There is a rushed signature across the bottom left, lost in the cross-hatching, but if one squints, one can make out a mess of initials, a four-name-long name, tall letters.

On the back of this image in sloping, big hand, hastily scrawled are the words:

For my captain. From your ever loyal War Dog. If there's anything I can do for you, anything ever, I will be there.

Nollaig shona, captain.

The scroll is a map of the Persian Gulf, covered in markings and notes, mostly just war plans. Mostly. There are a few notes about Captain Fitzjamie, hastily scratched out. They don't seem that important anymore.

*Crozier stares at the drawing for a long, long time. It’s when he turns it over though that his eyes widen— the map of the Persian Gulf. During many an insufferable officer’s dinner on Erebus, Crozier had heard Dundy mention this map. He fingers the corner of it, tracing the veins of ink with gentle fingertips. He sighs, slowly, heavily.*

Nollaig Shona. Merry Christmas. My mother used to say th

Thank you for… the gift, Lieutenant Le Vesconte. I�� hope you know… you…

…You are not a bad person, Henry. You are young. You make mistakes, and I… people like me… may take their time to forgive you. But you do deserve happiness.

Thank you again for the drawing. Merry Christmas.

(… and… Ní huasal ná íseal ach thuas seal agus thíos seal. Fortune is always reversible, lad.)

….

POST SCRIPT—

not to mix business and personals but I am enclosing within this missive a scarf I found in my quarters. I checked around on Terror and it belongs to no one here. Must be from Erebus. I would thank you to send me the names of the men who traveled from Erebus to Terror since this morning.

If you recognize the scarf— see that whoever it belongs to receives due punishment. I don’t like the thought that a captain’s berth is suddenly an open house. 😠

🧣

[thomas-jopson]

These are left at the door to Jopson's cabin: a collection of teas (a lot of them from China, some from Persia and the Middle East), a letter, and a postcard.

On the letter is less than legible handwriting. The words are as follows:

Hey 😉 merry christmas, cunt <3. Got you some teas. Serve them to Cap Crozier knowing they come from me 😘 n i didnt know what else to get you so i hope this drawing i did will do. i was never there so i dont know how you remember it but i hope this will suffice. congrats on the proposal btw. please for the love of god have a good long life together.

Probably your bitch, —Lt. Le Vesconte

The rest of the letter is blank.

On the postcard is drawn something that looks like ice, a ship locked in it. There are very few lines drawn, giving the whole thing a feeling of hazy whiteout, like a memory, like a dream. On the back, just the word 'Antarctica.'

If Dundy had drawn a picture of the Persian Gulf as he remembers it instead of Antarctica as he hopes Jopson remembers it, it would look much the same: hazy, a memory, a dream.

(He is actually very surprised by the sentiment. He expected to receive a gag gift or nothing at all— except maybe a rude letter.

But this?

…

Yeah,

he had much to learn…

and much of his views had to adjust.)

*he squints at the way the letter was signed off*

(Well,

…

not all his views…)

*he strokes the letters on where Antarctica is spelled out and reminisces… in between his memories of the captain… and fantasies regarding scenarios where he had successfully gotten with the captain much earlier… he was also wondering what it would have been like if the lieutenant was there*

(…Oh, Jopson would’ve gotten into much more trouble…

Crozier would have probably never sent the letter requesting him back—

had he been around Le Vesconte for a prolonged period of time, in his rambunctious young adulthood.)

(He contemplates thanking the man…

but he sees no point.

The man unfortunately knows as much about him as he does him, so he knows when Jopson is thankful and when he is not.)

[ltgeorgehodgson]

Dundy gives this gift to George sometime when he's on Erebus or Dundy on Terror, after they've met in Crozier's cabin, and after they've had their talk. He gives it to George with a smile and a kiss and a hug, his touch lingering, squeezing his hands, all of that. He says, "Merry Christmas, dearest Georgie," and presses a book with a postcard n between its pages into his hands and a little box of teas from his collection that he knows George doesn’t have.

The book is a copy of Jane Austen’s Persuasion. In the front leaf Dundy has scrawled:

Merry Christmas my dearest Georgie. I love you, Georgie, always and forever. <3

I read this book when I first met Captain Fitzjamie and all the little notes in here are related to her… I don’t love her anymore, but I hope that maybe this will… enlighten you to… to how I love. I hope it’s not insensitive. I keep wanting to tell you, over and over and over, how much you mean to me. I keep trying to find more and more ways to tell you so you'll never have to worry about losing me. I didn’t know what else to give you, but you’ve mentioned liking these sorts of stories… so I hope you will like this one (if you have not already read it, in which case I am so dearly sorry).

Yours always, —Henry.

He’s tucked a drawing he's done in ink into the back of the book. It’s very dark, so much heavy heavy ink, what looks like a map of a body of water (a bay? a gulf?) overlayed with a map of a mess of city streets overlayed with a map of yet another body of water but with more islands in it (a sea, maybe? north of a large continent?), very thick and overlapping and hard to tell at all what is going on. At the very center of this darkness is a bright spot of light, a big mess of hatchings like fur in the shape of maybe a wolf curled around a smaller mess of hatchings that approximates the image of a dog (maybe a spaniel? hard to tell). In the wolf’s mouth, a rose, thorns digging in, blood dripping, but on its face, a content expression, an expression of peace. It feels like love, so much like love, a warmth amidst all that mess of history, all those waters and streets of the past. A single spot of lantern light, a safe harbor in a thick black fog of anguish and grief; companionship in a world that wants you dead.

george will read the note and study the drawing, his eyes misting over with tears that he doesn't bother trying to blink away.

dundy, this... is absolutely perfect. I will treasure this... treasure every word... treasure the knowledge of how you love.. and every opportunity to understand you a little better. to love you better.

merry christmas, my love ❤️

[lieut-dundy-le-vesconte]

Merry Christmas, lieutenant.

You know who this is.

*he leaves a decent number of biscuits— since he knows the man loves to eat his share of biscuits during meetings… and…

…

Shoe Polish.*

merry christmas to you as well 😉

>dundy takes these things and does not hide the smirk that comes to his face. good, he thinks, he likes this game. maybe this means another meeting, though he won't hope on it. he can, however, hope that he'll be able to give respond to jopson in kind and give him something just as needling. shoe polish. you motherfucker

>he'll think of jopson as he eats the biscuits in between writing out his letters between watches, in between finally putting together what he's been thinking to do for a while now (but only really finally deciding to do today, last minute)

[lieutenantjirv]

Dundy gives this to Irving in person, when he catches him on Erebus. He tells him, "Merry Christmas," and smiles, and folds it into his hands, a book with a postcard tucked between its pages.

It's one of his copies of the Bible. It's in Irish. It’s covered in his second youngest sister Anna’s notes (she had given it to him to keep him safe, but Dundy doesn’t mind giving it up. Items mean nothing to him, and he has plenty of letters from her already).

In the front leaf of the book he has written in his scrawl:

Merry Christmas, John!

Maybe this will be of interest to you? I can’t read it (never took the time to learn Irish; I only know a few phrases). Maybe translating it will occupy your time better. Wish I could have found you something better.

Love you always, —Henry.

He does not know that this is a Catholic bible, with 7 extra books in it that the Protestant bible doesn’t have.

He has also tucked in between the pages a little postcard of an image of Paris that he has drawn in ink. It is a very bright, warm image, and it seems to radiate some kind of hope, despite how crowded and dense its mess of medieval streets looks. The image has been directly referenced from a painting of Paris in one of the few books on Dundy's shelves, though he’s added a few things of his own. Across the sky he has drawn birds, wings outstretched. Down in the streets, dark shadows collect, thick and harsh, but on the horizon, there is a bright, burning dawn.

Henry... this is...

(John looks at the Bible, flipping through the pages with reverence. He stops at the dedication, then the postcard, and smiles fondly.)

Thank you, my friend. I will treasure this gift for as long as I live. It is beautiful, and I will work diligently to translate it for myself, and perhaps I can share my findings with you as well.

I would like that.

To talk about religion with you.

To learn of our differences so that I may better understand you, whom I have come to see as one of my closest friends in this world.

[chasdesvoeux]

Dundy grabs Charlie in the hallway at some point. Smacks him on the shoulder friendly-like, then says, "Very shitty Christmas to you, kid, and a HUGELY unhappy New Year," then pulls him into a very tight hug after which he lets go and gives him his gifts.

It's a small box with a hinge, containing a medal from Dundy’s father commemorating the father on a job well done in war, given to Dundy as a reminder to do his job and do it well, a reminder that he has a legacy to uphold. With this box is a letter, written in dundy’s scrawled writing:

Merry Christmas to you, Charlie! Father gave this medal to me when I was promoted to Lieutenant, so I figured I should give it to you now, now that you are also a Lieutenant. May the strength and courage it has given me find its way to you.

Ie: stay alive motherfucker 😉 you can get through any shit life throws at you, yeah?

Love, Your brother, 🐐 (Henry)

Tacked with the letter is a postcard with an ink drawing Dundy has done of an English port town. It feels warm, nostalgic, comforting. It is drawn, to the best of Dundy’s abilities, from his memories of home, a sequestered bay, gentle hills covered in city buildings sloping to the water below. There are so many boats in the harbor. Front and center are two bomb ketches, English flags flying. They are undoubtedly HMS Terror and HMS Erebus. There is a little rowboat being piloted away from them, towards the shore. In the sky, there are so many birds, rolling clouds, the sun shining. It feels like summer. It feels like coming home.

>Charlie is surprised by the gifts and the hug, but it’s the letter with the medal inside the little box that takes his breath away. He would never have received something like this from his own father. His brother Henry back home almost certainly has no memory of him, and depending on how this expedition goes may well end up only hearing what stories his parents choose to tell about who Charlie really is. And having been at sea for just as long as he has lived on land by this point, having never been sent so much as a single letter from any of his family despite what he sends them, he has long given up on the prospect of having this sort of happiness in any form.

>This display of care and affection coming so easily from Dundy, from the wolf and the GOAT, the lieutenant he looks up to and the man he cherishes… he doesn’t know how to respond. He feels tears coming to his eyes and he blinks rapidly, trying to clear them, trying to hold up the casual and cheerful front he should really be maintaining today while everyone is celebrating their Christmas. But it’s too little too late, and now he’s pulling Dundy back into a tight hug and tears are streaming down his face.

Oh I don’t think I can tell you how much this means to me Dundy… thank you, thank you, sincerely!

[henrylevesconte]

A short and silly Fitzconte fic for my dear @chernoblank! Merry Christmas

Can also be read here on ao3

The young Commander paused outside the colorful tent of a street market vendor. James Fitzjames knew far better than to let Henry Le Vesconte peruse a collection of exotic animals (and still had slowly healing wounds from the last time he indulged the man’s whims). But he couldn’t halt his natural curiosity of the menagerie tucked away in painted cages, beckoning him forward. Their supply order would have to wait another half hour while James decided to indulge his Lieutenant just this once.

“We are only looking, Dundy.” He reminded his silver haired companion who only smiled back at him, a bit of gold flashing in his ivory smile.

“By your orders, Commander.” Henry led the charge, waving at a bored looking vendor Owner as they ducked into the shop. There were walls of birds the color of the rainbow, squawking at the two sailors for attention or perhaps thinking they may receive a treat. James never really cared for wild birds being kept as pets but he admired them while his partner beamed. His Henry had a heart for collecting strange and colorful things, after all he had collected Fitzjames not so long ago.

A few monkeys hopped and hooted at them as they passed, reaching between the bars for them with little padded hands. Henry leaned down to their level, risking his digits to gently shake the paw of one who quickly snapped their hand away and spun away from him.

“Your charms can only get you so far. Seems they stop at the animal kingdom.”Fitzjames quipped, earning a hearty laugh in response.

“Give me time, and they’ll make a fine new mascot for the ship.” Le Vesconte looked determined as they continued to the back of the shop where a strange creature sat in a closed pen.

“What is this?” Fitzjames pointed to the large rodent, it looked like a rat but the size of a miniature horse minus the obvious tail and hooves. The creature looked up at him with beady warm eyes, curtained with wispy eyelashes. His silver haired companion looked ready to burst at the seam. He hovered far too close to the creature for James’ comfort.

“Capybara.” Muttered the Shop Owner. As if that meant anything to the men.

“And I thought the rats on the Calliope were large. He’s magnificent, he’s a he, yes?” The Owner either did not hear the enthusiastic young Lieutenant or chose not to answer. Regardless, Henry was immediately enchanted, reaching into the pen to gently graze the top of its hay colored head. The capybara lifted its square maw, whiskers twitching as it allowed the sailor to treat them like a dog.

“Oh I want a whole army of them. The old girl Clio is missing a mascot, but these beasts are hardly intimidating. Certainly less dangerous to the crew.” Henry dared bring up the cheetah incident. Fitzjames let it slide as he reached in to also grace the creature with a friendly pat. The capybara accepted the affection, taking to sitting then on its hind legs and looking peaceful.

“You raise a fair point, Harry. But I don’t think the mighty capybara would inspire the crew nor deter vagrants at sea from boarding us. The other rats on Clio may become jealous.” Fitzjames nicely put his foot down on the manner, hoping Henry would give up whatever plan he was concocting.

“Or he may become their king and rule over them. Imagine, we could walk him like a fine dog. He’d be at home in my little cabin. What do they eat? And where do they come from?” Le Vesconte retorted to his Commander’s dismay.

“Like cows they eat grasses. This one came from South America.” The Owner indulged them, lighting a deep every present ache in Fitzjames’ heart.

“I guess we are alike. Two beasts away from our shared homeland.” James thought as he continued to lavish the surprisingly soft creature with affection.

Henry looked to James knowing his secret but unwilling to say what he wanted out loud, his pleading honey brown eyes said it all.

“He’s like you.”

“Absolutely not. The sea is rather absent of grasses and we cannot afford another luxury pet. You’ll have to say goodbye for now.” James reprimanded his Lieutenant, coming off a bit too harsh in tone but it finally broke the silver haired man from his fantasy.

“I suppose you’re right, James.” Henry sighed, now defeated and rising to move from the capybara. The creature moved with him, getting back on all fours and watching the two as they were about to leave. Fitzjames cursed the creature for now, as he thanked the Owner for his time and had to push his companion back into the streets. He refused to look back.

Later as the two men lay tangled in one another on the small uncomfortable Captain’s bunk, James brushed back Henry’s hair as he lay lost in thought on his chest. He already knew what the man was thinking of, he was agonizing over the oversized rodent they met earlier.

“When I get my knighthood I’ll buy you one of those capybara. You just have to stay with me until then.” Fitzjames broke the silence and his lovers train of thought. The Lieutenant looked up at him curiously but pleased to see James was serious.

“That’s a fine deal to me, my dearest. I planned to do so anyways.” Henry smiled before gracing his Commander with a loving kiss.

[lieut-dundy-le-vesconte]

Dearest Dundy,

Merry Christmas to you! I do not have much to give in the way of gifts, but I've brought what I have that I feel you'll appreciate - some naval maps from my time in Asia, a sketch of the ships i made when we wintered at Beechey and some Chinese tea leaves that I hope you'll enjoy.

In amongst the maps you'll also find a note I've written for you. I hope you appreciate it.

~Geo. H. Hodgson

the note is a rather charming little love poem written for Dundy. underneath is a drawing - not the most skillful, but clearly meant to be the two of them together, holding hands.

>he's very stupidly pleased about the maps (the first chance he gets off watch and not at sermon, he'll definitely make the tea and sit himself down to study the maps with much intensity; he has a few of china, but not enough, and these are Very Good Maps). he appreciates the sketch and the tea so totally. he'll set the sketch up against his books on his shelf where he can see it, and trust, he will be looking at it

>he reads the letter once, then twice, then again, trying to put all the words in his brain before sitting there and smiling stupidly for a long, long second, holding it close against him, as if he can hug his georgie if he squeezes the letter hard enough (he's careful not to crumple it). he traces his fingers over the letters, touching the ink, touching the words, then traces his fingers over the sketch. it's so sickeningly sweet, he doesn't even know what to do with himself, and he'll set the letter there next to the sketch. he will be looking at it. again. and again. and again. until he has it memorized probably, bc he's silly like that

>later on watch, he'll be upsettingly cheerful (which means flirting and teasing everyone with MUCH intensity (this is the sort of thing that crozier took as 'obnoxious overconfidence' and 'brushing it off')). the first chance he gets, he'll make sure to thank george for everything (and to hug him and to kiss him and to be a more-than-his-normal amount of overwhelming).