#terrebus

[i-am-countess-olivia]

Shortly after midnight on the 13th March, 1842, HMS Erebus and HMS Terror collided just north of the Antarctic Circle.

I wrote something in memory of that night, and of the two bomb vessels who are forever inextricably linked. Below the cut and on AO3.

THE MEANS

If I could speak to the men who come down each summer to prod at what remains of me I would ask but one question:

Erebus. Have you seen her? Have you seen my girl?

I have no means for such an address.

Here I sit, cold and broken. It is nothing new but for the duration of my stay. I was wrecked off the Portuguese coast back in 28. Trapped in ice at Repulse Bay in 36, I was pressed and squeezed until I toppled. George Back barely got me home, his hands trembling at my helm. He never sailed again. Meanwhile I, rested and refitted, was soon ready for sea.

But why am I telling you this, my girl? You know all about those years before we met. Sat side by side in our many harbours, I bored you with my tales until your masts groaned.

"Terror, not that icy yarn again.”

I only wanted to remind you: we are imminently fixable things. But you knew that, Erebus, didn't you, after our midnight kiss among the bergs?

Do you recall the day we sailed together for the first time, from Chatham for the farthest south? Cheering crowds to see us off, freshly woven sails, the black iron plate gleaming at our fores. New captains on our quarterdecks — we compared them like ladies do rings.

“What’s your one called?”

“James. Handsome. Yours?”

“Francis. Quiet.”

We listened to the nervous rap of their boot soles against our boards, the quick drum of their tiny warm hearts as they saw us off.

Soon you were dashing ahead. “Keep up,” you cried, laughing.

"Wait," I huffed. "Wait for me."

I was always behind. I wanted to beg Francis to chase you down, to feel the spit and foam of your wake splash against my bow.

I had no means to ask. It is the men who speak to us. They talk with tug and round and tack and heave. Go this way. Go that way. All we can do is pass the message back from the wind and sea. Yes. No. Maybe, if you tack hard, if you add more sail.

We are vessels, after all. We convey.

At times, Francis spoke to me in human words. Or perhaps he prayed.

And now here I sit, where he left me to sink.

Season after season shadows of men’s boats would pass over my resting place, mere thirteen fathoms deep. Light coruscating above, then fading as the ice set in. Then, ten summers ago, men came diving down like curious fish. I understood — understand — nothing of their delicate probings. They extract boots, toothbrushes, plates from my broken decks. What do you want? What are you looking for? Raise me up. Even if you must haul me, take me back to her.

Are you looking for them? They’re not here. They left me. He left me, and took Erebus instead.

Waiting, waiting. Do you recall, my girl, our midnight kiss among the bergs? Of course you do.

"Get off me," you howled as the breakers threw me up, almost over you, and our rigging tangled, became one. "My bowsprit, Terror, are you mad?"

I could do nothing, tossed about like a toy boat in a child's hand.

Then I got free and Francis had me storm ahead, to give you some small chance in the narrow channel made from soaring walls of ice. You vanished from my sight.

We rounded to and waited. In the dark, he and I together, burning our blue light. The enormity of Francis' fear strained against my beams. Terror, terror. As large as me.

His poor little heart. How he prayed. How we both did.

Your own light emerged. All well, all safe. James sailed you out, backwards, through the narrow path.

Afterwards, I thought you might sulk at me. Or complain about your disheveled state. But all you could prattle about, as we pushed our way north towards Cape Horn, was James.

"Oh Terror. You should have seen him. So brave. So indefatigable."

I sailed behind you, silent. You were in love. You weren't the only one.

At Cape Louis, we were emptied of our weary crews. On shore, it was Francis you watched: his eyes, his hand on James.

"Do you suppose he—" you began.

I watched you instead: battered and beautiful, a wounded black swan in the calm, shimmering bay.

"I don't know," I said. But I did, I did.

What James was to him, you were to me. I could have told you then, in that warm and sparkling harbour. I had the means. And yet.

Less than two years after coming home we were off again, together. With Francis and without James.

"I don't like my new one," you griped like a disappointed child at Christmas. "All he does is talk and eat."

I didn't know what to say. By then, I couldn't conceive being without you.

This time we went north, to my old ground of exertion. I trailed you wearily up to Baffin Bay, knowing what that labyrinth held in store for us. At least I thought I did.

Then came 47. How you suffered in the ice, a lady being too tightly laced into her corset. Though I ached the same, I sought to comfort you: we'll wait it out, Erebus. We've been here before, in this frozen press.

You'll see, we need only wait.

Months went by. You grew quiet. In the eternal night of winter, under the canopy they enclosed you in, I could hear you weep for James’ steady heart and hands.

Inside me, curled up in his berth, Francis wept for him too.

Daylight came again. In our bellies, one by one, tiny warm heart were going out. You said it was the only time you ever felt like a mother to them. Our hulls their only warmth and comfort.

When Francis had the last of them march out — oh, but here I must confess, Erebus. I was happy. No more death. Just us two, alone, trading tales.

So happy I was I failed to tell you that the icy corset had at last broken my ribs. Leads opened up some months later and I felt the shivering sensation of water trickling in.

When Francis came back, or what was left of him, he saw — and set his eyes on you.

We howled and begged.

Francis, are you mad?

Don't leave her. She will sink.

Don't take her. She's not yours to take.

What did he hear? Groan and croak, rope and timber, nothing more.

Perhaps he got you home. Perhaps he left you to sit in a dry dock in Portsmouth, half repaired and bored senseless, whilst he removed to the country to drink tea with James for the rest of their long days.

Well, here it is. I know not what else to say to you, my girl. Summer is coming to an end. The curious fish have gone away with their china and their toothbrushes, the ice will close over me again soon.

No matter. I'll sleep here for a little longer. I'll dream of you laughing:

"That time in the south, Terror. Do you recall? You froze over so quickly fish stuck to your hull. They scraped them off and fed them to the cat."

I'll dream and I'll wait. Perhaps by next summer, if I keep talking to myself, I will have found a way to ask.

END

----

Location of the wrecks of HMS Terror and HMS Erebus, Terror Bay and Wilmot and Crampton Bay respectively.

[traveling-song]

Dear fellow Terrebus fandom who enjoy snow survival stories,

May I bring your attention the incredible true story of “Miracle in the Andes” and the insane impossible trek through the glaciers and mountains in the Andes done by Nando Parrado and Roberto Canessa on foot after surviving a plane crash in the middle of the mountain range. Talk about a rescue march for survival that took place only 51 years ago!

Be sure to check out @miracleintheandes for more info!!

[favouritefi]

I asked them to make the butt scars bigger

[kurokmask]

more cafe au. instead of scurvy the whole store gets covid bc of the team halloween party jamie threw to "boost store morale" that ended up being a super spreader event bc stanley had come in earlier to give the employees his covid on purpose bc he was tired of his latte being made wrong for the 600th time.

after the party jamie goes to work despite feeling off for the past week bc so much of the staff have called out sick, and dramatically collapses on the floor in the middle of a rush. francis personally drives her home and hickey takes the opportunity of both store managers being gone as his chance to take the store hostage by locking everyone inside. yeah

[massgrav]

HE

HAS

ARRIVED ✨️

Thank you @favouritefi for his giant head and his tiny butt. A beautiful piece of art

[chiropteracupola]

what if they were an ultimate frisbee team

[daincrediblegg]

I want a Terror Ted Lasso AU.

[eggbagelz]

figure studies but it's terrebus dance academy's yearly jack and jill competition

[technofinch]

There have been a lot of yaoi frontiers pushed in the terror Fandom but has anyone shipped the ships. Is there terror/erebus fic I could read and could you please link me the terrebus ship art

[bbynedtime]

Just had the clearest image of a Terrebus dinner in my head.

Everyone including Nedward is big, EXCEPT Jirving, who is sitting sideways in Hodgson's lap. Hodgson keeps feeding him bits of food from his plate while talking with the other officers.

Nobody says a thing about it because they're used to it.

All's going great until Johnny starts tired-crying and they have to leave for early bedtime.

[favouritefi]

My boy is clothed in the skin of his idol and you can cloth him too

[kurokmask]

work is slow after the holidys so ive spent my shifts coming up w a thee terror coffee shop au LMFAOOOOO these here are the uniforms!

general au information under the cut: (keep in mind this is 80% a joke)

takes place in northern Canada, modern day

bougie, expensive ass coffee. very tacky nautical theming. better than starbucks, but not worth 7.50 CAD for a medium black coffee

customer base is mostly pretentious white ppl that dont mind spending money on overpriced shit. many regulars formed personal relationships with Franklin when he first opened the cafe

FRANKLIN: store owner. created Terrebus Coffee after leaving the navy in 2008. DIES. turns out the cafe was in extreme debt and was barely making a profit the entire time it was open, and was in the red by the time he died. hid how bad everything was from the staff (crozier and fitzjames knew some stuff, but not everything)

CROZIER: 51. store manager who was (shockingly) promoted to store owner in Franklin's death. uncovers the true state of the cafe. been in coffee since the 90's. has worked at terrebus for 7 years. (sophy got him the job!) stressedddd. whiskey in his (3 sugar) black coffee. trans man who transitioned after leaving the navy in in 2001. lets his employees yell at rude customers.

FITZJAMES: 35. family friend of the Franklins. in marketing. token cafe transfem who's keeping the fckin shit locked DOWNNN (started transitioning 2 years earlier). was hired as a co-store manager without Crozier's knowledge, despite having limited experience actually managing a real cafe. you can image how he reacted.

HICKEY: barista. takes smoke breaks every 30 minutes. always has to do drains/floors. ends up getting loudly fired by Crozier in front of everyone and spends the rest of his time trying to bring the business down. totally sets up a rival coffee van in the parking lot that's just him and a keurig

SILNA: goes there bc she doesn't know anyone there, and she can get her work done. most the time she brings her own food and uses their hot water to brew her own tea bc shes not paying all that money. she ends up befriending goodsir and crozier who give her free stuff all the time.

TOZER AND GIBSON: Hickey's inner polycule feeding him insider information/executing his plans of sabotage

SOPHIA: Crozier's ex girlfriend that he's still whipped for. they dated on n off in the 2010's, before she broke up w him for good in 2018. they just went different places in their careers. as said before, got him the job w franklin as her last favor to him. currently working her 2nd PHD. moves back to deal with Franklin's death; Crozier tries to start things back up with her. he wants her to wait for him to leave, he'll do it this time, he swears-- "i don't wait for anyone, anymore, francis."

SHIFT LEADS: Little, Jirving, Hodge, Gore (quits early on), Dundy, Blanky (immediately promoted by Crozier), Jopson (promoted by Crozier, later)

BARISTAS: Hickey (eventually fired), Gibson, Collins, Tozer, Goodsir, Peglar, Hartnell, your favorite white boy i didn't mention but don't worry he's definitely here

REGULARS: Silna, Bridgens, Stanley (always orders an extra dry cappuccino and complains every single time that its not dry enough even though its already 90% foam and its a fucknig rush and he INSISTS on it being remade sorry maybe im projecting) other white boys you want there

ASSORTED PLOT DETAILS:

show "deaths" are now firings/quitting/injuries/ect.

before franklin died, he and crozier got in a huge fight, where crozier threatened to quit. (he did this often, but this time franklin sounded serious about holding him to that.) fitzjames, dundy, hickey, and jopson overheard.

fitzjames got the job after getting let go (gasp) from a cushy marketing job and needed something to fill space while she looked for a second job... how's that going, jamie?

the cafe grew a reputation as being hostile/unfriendly after franklin's death bc crozier was not afraid to yell at customers/kick people out for being rude. turned off amny previous regulars. this infuriates fitzjames "you're ruining our reputation!" "i don't care about the opinions of people who'd pay 7.50 for dishwater."

when crozier goes on leave for treatment, fitzjames becomes store manager

bottle episode where the closing crew get snowed in overnight. hickey is there and he has a knife

franklin never knew crozier was trans. he had known fitzjames for many years before she transitioned and in typical boomer fashion misgendered her frequently bc he's known her "so long". bc she didn't want to upset him she'd stopped correcting him. this bothered crozier a lot

peglar and bridgens have a 2015 tumblr barista/customer slowburn romance in the background as the cafe falls apart

tuunbaq is silna's giant white husky, ofc

goodsir discovers their coffee distributor is the cheapest on the market and has had several lawsuits about contamination problems and probably has lots of carcinogens. he brings this up w crozier who tells him if they were to switch distributors he would be forced to layoff staff, and since no one has complained he wasn't going to do anything abt it. lol.

this is the terror so this story is a tragedy. the store is not saved. hickey probably burns it down. crozier repatriates the money left to the local community n spends the rest of his life doing community service or something

ok thanks for reading this wall of text. im crazy. ask me questions pls

[croziers-compass]

Summary Notes of Terror Camp 2023 (10.12.23)

(A small summary of notes and references I took during Terror Camp Day Two - Antarctic Exploration!)

Branwell's Death Narratives

Captain Scott - The narrative tilts. It tilts according to who's written it.

Vitai Lampada by Newbolt

The Book of the Long Long Trail - Newbolt

Scott Supporters vs Critics. Was he a fool or a misunderstood individual? Challenge the complexities with which a Narrative is design and revolved around. Interrogate the Narrative and where it came from!

Caitlin Branden

Personal Bias and Individual experiences steer your experience with a particular Polar Expedition

"A wonderful Evening"

Which Member of the Expedition Are You?

What attracts you to your Expedition? What about your Expedition draws you to it? What do you talk about when you talk about the Expedition of your Heart?

Rach

"Terrebus"

Narratology

"How do we frame the Narrative and How does the Narrative Frame us?"

"We cannot ask reason to take us across the Gulf of the absurd"

" The real Quest was the books we tried to write along the way " - R - The Discord Chat

"We all have our special little guys"

"Perhaps being haunted is part of being Human"

"Any Narrative can become dangerous if it becomes The Narrative. Be aware of the Biases off the Narrative you are writing. Take responsibility for the Narrative."

"Carry your little Guys in your pocket"

Emma J. P. - From the South Pole to the Stars

Incredible Parallels twixt the Astral Exploration of Space and the Antarctic / Polar Explorations with Antarctica being a simile for time spent off of Earth itself.

Empty and Vast

Roald's Narrative during the South Pole Expedition!

Sam Botz - The Feminine (?) Antarctic

"The Last Imaginary Place on Earth."

Antarctica The Woman - Stephanie Krzywonos

"Flying and Singing Like Sparrows" - Le Guin

Phil M. (linked to Patreon) (Paper Doll Polar Explorer's Sea Chest)

Ross and Crozier Expedition!

"They were Hut Mates"

Crozier Passed His Leftenant Exam at 21 in the year 1817 Ross and Crozier serving under William Perry

They Celebrated St. Patricks day!

McCormick is our Narrator through much.

"EVERYONE WAS WET"

⚓ Robert McCormick's geological collections from Antarctica and the Southern Ocean, 1839–1843

⚓ (Ross Volume 1) Voyages of discovery in the Arctic and Antarctic seas and round the world [microform] : being personal narratives of attempts to reach the North and South Poles ⚓(Ross Volume 2) A voyage of discovery and research in the southern and Antarctic regions, during the years 1839-43

by Ross, James Clark, Sir, 1800-1862 (links to Archive for JCR)

⚓Cunninham's Transcribed Journal

⚓ (An X/Twitter Acc. that follows JCR Expedition)

Becca (I got pulled away so my notes are sparse here) "I'll be blowed."

Some of these Cold Boys should not have been there. (The Scientists) Elephant Island was quite the ordeal.

Clark, Hussey, Wordie, James, the Four Nations that did not live together in Harmony.

All in the Middle of the Great War.

"Nerdy and Outside the Narrative"

Meg - Cold off the Press

"You tried"

"Mr. Clark proved the faunistic richness of the coastal Antarctic Waters, but, unfortunately, all his collections were lost with the ship."

Hussey - "This Scientist is an outlier and should not be counted"

Avery S. - Oddments, Riff Raff, and Pocket Full of Rocks

Dancing on Ice Floes

Giving sea shells as gifts!

-The importance of Collecting was incredibly valuably psychologically. To collect these specimens meant that one would have to survive to deliver them. It also helped create routine

Trading Rocks for Tobacco.

“Some will tell you that you are mad, and nearly all will say, 'What is the use?' For we are a nation of shopkeepers, and no shopkeeper will look at research which will not promise him a financial return within a year. And so you will sledge nearly alone, but those with whom you sledge will not be shopkeepers: that is worth a good deal. If you march your Winter Journeys you will have your reward, so long as all you want is a penguin's egg.” - Apsley Cherry-Garrard

"When you reach out to understand the world, even scientifically, you are reaching out to understand your place in it." - Avery S (Polar Exploration Conference Terror Camp 12.10.2023)

"How McClintock Of You" - The Discord Chat

Key Notes: With Francis Spufford and Sarah Airriess

(I was very invested in the conversations so I did not write as much as I would have liked. But some critical things really stood out to me.)

The Homosocial responses/responsibilities between the men. Care-giving and demonstrating tender roles with one another. 'Unexpectedly Gendered'

Francis has not seen The Terror

The way of Knowing these people is very unique. Reading their letters and their diaries provides a particular perspective allows you to know what they really were like - more than what their fellows may have known. You see a more intimate part of these explorers through their very personal narrations through their journals and letters.

"People are clouds of possible selves." - Francis Spufford He goes on to say something along the lines of: "Which is the problem with storytelling - as a narrator of storytelling you have to decide what comes out and what fades in the background of their personality."

"You have to decide as a Narrator." - Francis Spufford

Empathy as a Tool for Understanding

(This part was incredibly important to me.)

Sarah goes on to explain (thereabouts): You have to Listen to people. They (people writing or creating a Narrative/Narration of events) look at a historical figure and get a "snap" of them. From there they decide that they know everything about them. From there, it's like Cinderella's shoe and the step-sister cutting off parts of her foot to make it fit. You need to let these people liver and breathe as a dynamic person with feelings and thoughts. You have to be truthful. Otherwise you are doing that person a disservice and shoving them into a specific box that is meant to just fit your Narrative. You should try and be empathetic to the individual you are writing about as if they are still alive.

Spufford goes on to extrapolate on that with (thereabouts): Finding out what people meant to themselves is important. Some things you want to keep at arms lengths but still play an intrinsic role in their character. Being empathetic to these people is critical to respecting and acknowledging them with care and showing them that you care about them.

"Captain Scott is a Myth"

"The Unified Field Theory of Cold Men."

"Neurotypical people don't go to the Antarctic. Normal people are not drawn to the Antarctic."

Extra Important Links:

These are just some that I have saved from the Terror Camp. There were so many more but here is a handful.

Observations on ca. 175-year old human remains from Antarctica (Cape Shirreff, Livingston Island, South Shetlands)

Cheer_Scott_expedition

Ursula K. Le Guin Books: The Wave in the Mind Dancing at the Edge of the World: Thoughts on Words, Women, Places (thriftbooks link)

An Empire of Magnetism (Global Science and the British Magnetic Survey in the Age of Imperialism) - Dr Edward J. Gillin

A Game! "To Keep the Meat"

The Popularization of Science in Nineteenth-Century America - Hyman Kuritz

"Have You Been There?" Some Thoughts on (Not) Visiting Antarctica - ADRIAN HOWKIN

The Ship that Never Was: The Greatest Escape Story Of Australian Colonial History - Adam Courtenay (Goodreads Link)

Tristian's Wordpress of Franklin Expedition Content

Francis Spufford! ⚓ Sarah Airriess ⚓

The Music Track for Terror Camp ⚓

Book Recs from Crewmate @jesslovesboats (thank you)

Thank you so much for the experience! This weekend was fantastic!

Personal Notes and Commentary

This was my first Terror Camp in its entierty. The weekend was such a delight. I had no idea what sort of experience I would be having. It was beyond my expectations. I got to learn a lot more about some of the other Expeditions that I was not as familiar with as I would have liked to be. My book list has expanded by a decent number. Getting to listen to Nive Nielsen and Paul ready was incredible. I loved everything about this experience. I cannot wait for @terrorcamp to announce the next year's event. I will certainly be attending it without a doubt. I look forwards to future projects and staying in touch with anyone else that would like to. Thank you again for such a wonderful experience! I want to give a shoutout to the people I know of the Tumblr Urls that contributed: @brainyraccoons , @jckielantern , @nopickls , @wllipt (who was a captioner), @vivtanner , @inkonfreshnewpaper - I do not know if I missed anyone. I went through the Muster Book to check out who had tumblrs. If I missed you, please let me know. I had a fantastic time. Thank you all.

With love, In heart and spirit, Second Leftenant, Wilbur

[tgtbata]

tagged by @nigeltde-fic to art-ify these questions for writers and i would never deny her:

How many works do you have?

if i estimated correctly, i have over 350 posts with at least one drawing each on this tumblr account. which gave me a heart attack tbh, that's so many haha. there's some more my art floating around the internet elsewhere like on the terrebus account.

What fandoms do you draw for?

the main one currently is supernatural, before that it was the terror and before that it was football (the soccer kind) rpf. but i still do all of 'em! there are some others i play with like sherlock holmes, fdtd or mtw.

What are your top 5 drawings by notes?

using a random internet tool to rank posts:

dean/cas phallic angel blade (2492 notes)

sam/dean rebar kiss (1569 notes)

possum!dean (1510 notes)

blanky & tuunbaq dinner date (1492 notes)

dean with tattoos (1475 notes)

conclusion: big destiel still rules tumblr

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

i usually do when it feels like something directed at me, like asks/dms or replies on twitter and tumblr. not so much when it's tags on tumblr or qrts on twitter - those feel more like the other person is talking into the void and not to me directly lol

What is a piece of art you drew with the angstiest ending?

hard to define 'ending' in the context of art - it supposes a sort of narrative structure not every of my drawings has. maybe this one. because, in the words of the rolling stones, you can't always get what you want.

What's the piece of art you drew with the happiest ending?

i guess this defines happy ending but i also had to think of this one, just because i can hallucinate the story that it took for them to get to that cocktail sippin' ending.

Do you get hate on art?

yes, sometimes lol i've had people fighting wars in my twitter replies when i posted cas/jack art. wah wah wah he's his dad. wah wah wah they're brothers. wah wah wah kill yourself. ridiculous and irrelevant. i do still think fondly of some replies i get though, like the one that was in russian and said 'such a talent and only for the sake of lust... sad.'

Do you draw smut?

yeah, but it's one of the things i want to get better at.

Do you draw crossovers? What's the craziest one you've draw?

not really. i want to draw an spn/fdtd crossover but that's not super crazy

Have you ever had art stolen?

reposted without credit, if that counts.

Have you ever collaborated on art before?

yes, having one person do the lineart and one do the colouring. it's a fun exercise to make you consciously realise your own art processes

What's your all-time favorite ship?

wincest is up there, of course. holmes/watson is simply a staple. humboldt/bonpland because mtw shaped me in my adolescence. i don't like to define THEEE favourite though because there's different ships for different flavours and that's great.

What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

does it count as a wip if i haven't even started creating it lmao! if yes - a longer story s4 sam/dean dean/cas piece set to dessa's 551. if that sounds insane, it's because it is.

What are your drawing strengths?

i think depicting connection between two characters and portraying a sense of want/love/doubt even through a distance between them.

What are your drawing weaknesses?

stiff poses and inability to draw without reference. also backgrounds and feet :(

First fandom you drew for?

football rpf. the reason i started drawing regularly at all haha

Favorite art you've drawn?

probably this one. it just... worked out, from idea to product, and it feels smooth and it makes me happy :)

thank u for tagging me, nige!!

[birdthatisbored]

Had a dream where the terror characters were all fish (same basic story same basis in reality but they're fish in the ocean) who communicated through elaborate fish body language (live action fish actors, no animation. The human actors did voiceovers for the fish). Terror and Erebus were caves that the fish lived in. I was watching a scene where fish crozier went over to Erebus cave for some reason or other and fish sir John asked him to dinner but he did some complicated semi subconscious fish movement that implied the he would have except he didn't want to see fishjames and then fishjames emerged from behind sir John and was offended but Tobias Menzies's deep ass voice coming from this little fish was so jarring that I couldn't focus. And then I talked to someone who implied that part of the typical terror watcher experience was turning into a fish and going to live in the terrebus caves and that I wasn't a real terror fan because I was still human

[desertas]

coping by making a relationship chart of all the terrebus officers