#three Croziers

[froggerland]

Fun fact: Anyone can be a father figure if your issues are bad enough, even a guy who’s 2 years younger than you!

Interpret this however you like, ship art or just Fitzjames being kind to his coworkers beaten up and neglected eldest daughter

Also (banging pots and pans together): LET EDWARD LITTLE CRY ON SCREEN LORD KNOWS HE DESERVES TO!!

[arcticclimes]

[lisondraws]

domestic bliss be upon them

[spelacchiotto]

"Does one not bring one's habits to Terror?"

[maedhrus]

"Although perhaps, we shall never be [...] intimate friends [...], still I would not wish a better." (x)

[representative-democracy]

happy day after valentines day beloveds <3

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[dragons-and-pandas]

To jopson, jfj is a homewrecker, and that is very funny to me

[abrahamvanhelsings]

crozier being kidnapped and telling goodsir not to worry because edward will be there on the morrow, completely sure of it, like it's inevitable. edward in fact immediately going to rally the men to get crozier back and finding they held a vote without him and it's been decided they'll leave without crozier (and without the sick). edward having the choice between being left alone with no chance at crozier's rescue or his own survival, or taking up his duty and leading the men onward. crozier in hickey's camp believing in edward's sense of loyalty and edward not showing up, not knowing how edward fought for him. crozier showing up at the final camp seeing edward mutilated but alive like he told him to, only to die. thinking about edward's absolute sense of loyalty to his captain and duty towards the men tearing him apart and it never saves anyone

[peglarpapers]

this is one of the funniest lines from the book because it is just objectively not true. francis what the fuck are you talking about

[widevibratobitch]

Since we're both as unwell about him as we are I consider you to be someone who knows a fair amount and what do you genuinely think the real James Fitzjames would feel if he saw the Terror's depiction of him? (As in watching the whole show)

HUH good question. first of all i think he'd be a little discombobulated by the very experience of watching a tv show but personally i choose to believe he'd at least be happy he was made into one of the main characters?? and that so many cool and sexy insane people are obsessed with him now <3

having said that. as much as i love show!fitzjames they did nerf him down A LOT. they robbed him of the joyous whimsy that was such a characteristic trait of the real jokester supreme fitzjames (show!fitzjames also has little to no relationship with his irl lieutenant buddies which. sad.)

we also know now that. most probably. he was actually fully english so i can only imagine he'd be Not Pleased about the cairn scene to say it lightly lmao imagine you and your adoptive family making significant efforts throughout your whole life to disguise the fact of your illegitimate birth and then 150 years later some people make a high rating show where they babygirlify you not only spill your secret to the millions of people watching (or secrets, plural, and make you call yourself a fake as a cherry on top lol) but they also get it wrong and make it Even Worse (from a victorian englishman's perspective) like stop guys he's already dead lmfao

having said that. he would have loved the britannia costume and the your nails are a terror line. i know he would.

[leadandblood]

So few it won't even show up in the suggested tags wth :'c

[eastgaysian]

^ cornelius hickey

^ james fitzjames

[daincrediblegg]

for the three-sentence fic: how about Francis Crozier + Lady Terror and any au setting you choose 😊

hmmm... western au stuff it is 🥰

It was nearly noon when Francis emerged from the Sheriff's Station that day. The Main Avenue was all abustle, as he'd expcted, from the sound of the hammers near the railway station still being constructed on the far end of the street- the same that echoed the pounding in his head like the rhythm of an ancient and terrible drum that threatened to make his head explode.

And it was this same reason that brought him to the street in the first place. Down to the Saloon to find the hair of the dog that bit him, since he had none left himself, and by Deputy Jopson's account, they were not likely due for a new shipment of this particular supply for a few more days yet. He would, of course, prefer to keep his vices away from such a public house, but if it meant making his head ache a little less, and a little fire in his belly so he might attend to that so-called Mr. Hickey currently locked in their cells, it would do for him to shame this walk.

As he shuffled along, and kicked up dust from the poor makeshift road ahead of him, he chanced a glance towards the general store, only to find a woman just stepping out, and making way towards her horse.

He'd hoped this wouldn't happen. He'd hoped that perhaps he would miss her entirely. Of all these witnesses to his shame, he'd least wanted Miss Sinclair to bear it , but perhaps, for the sake of deepening that same shame, he deserved it, to be seen in such a state by the little entrepreneur.

She wore a periwinkle dress that day- the kind that reminded him of pretty little wild flowers in springtime. He should like to walk in the garden of her, if only he were brave enough to tread there without fear of crushing them under his horrible heels.

The clank of something falling to the ground pulled him from his grim reverie, and the knock of something gentle against the toe of his boot.

An errant can, it seemed, had decided to escape its owner. Though it pained his head to bend down, he plucked it from the ground, and turned it over in his hand. Peaches, the label read. Since when did they carry peaches?

When his gaze rose over the brim of his hat again, to find the owner of this errant can, he found Sinclair's dark eyes directly on his, and it made his stomach jump. It was one thing to observe the woman at a distance, and another entirely to be seen by the darkness that made him feel naked from within with their warmth.

He approached slowly as he might a spooked mare, his step more gentle now. Sinclair's eyes never left him, it seems, as he stood before her, and handed the errant thing to her. She smiled.

"Thank you, Sheriff."

And that sound in her voice. As sweet as those peaches, and twinged just the same with concern, for him no doubt, for he was sure it was a sorry state that he was in.

"Miss Sinclair..." he uttered, on the cusp of whispering more. And how he wanted more. How his eyes sparkled down at her for wanting more. To skip the saloon entirely. To accompany her back to her house just outside town. To talk. To dine, perhaps, even to...

These thoughts he swallowed, exercising the muscle for its ventures in the not too distant future. Swallowed them to make room for what he needed. "Good day to you," he said as he twitched the corners of his mouth into the best smile he could manage (which was not much of one at all), and tipped his hat before passing her by. He could feel her eyes still as he paced faster towards the saloon, and his heart ached for it. But this was not the day for it, and it was better to spare her from him anyhow.

THREE SENTENCE FIC ASKS

[hetchdrive]

I have finished May We Be Spared To Meet On Earth and I’m being so normal about it (lie)

[maedhrus]

“we reconfigure. we reinvent. we rearrange.”

THE TERROR + modes of ethics | cont.

[luminiera-merge]

heis called mr blanky becaus . he makes people feel warme and comfyie just by being there:)