the lost boys @boysgone - Tumblr Blog

sing a sea shanty and then cry because it’s too depressing and reminds you of your own life

terrorcaptain‌.

Francis stood quietly where she had pulled away from him, completely unsure what to do with himself as he listened to Lady Jane’s continued mourning cries. He was desperate to keep his eyes on Sophia as if it might be the last he saw of her but something in him twinged with such a guilt and dread that his own gaze averted from her and instead landed on the polished wood at his feet. His chest aching with a cold dread, too cold for any number of layers to combat against.

With her trembling voice, Francis’ eyes burned with tears that he could not allow to fall. He could not quite look to her, not when he felt that he had no right to be upset for her anger and grieving, he had time to process Sir John’s death, Sophia did not know the truth until moments before, they were not his tears to steal. He gave her his hand limply, just squeezing back when he feels her trembling. She was shocked and sad, that was to be expected, whatever fanciful reunion he had imagined with her had to be forgotten, reality once more demanded it.

“I am fine.” He told her quietly and looked back to her, his eyes stung with a pink hue. “Just sorry, for everything.” With another squeeze at her hand, he tried to bring the other up to cup at her cheek, “For all of this, your dear Uncle…” Leaving on the expedition in the first place, asking her more than once for something he feared she would never agree to, “The worry and pain you have gone through and now to deliver you another burden of sadness. I wish it were all different.”

for how many times sophia had practised squashing down her emotions, and being that perfect companion to lady jane in her husband’s absence, it was startlingly difficult for her to quench the flames of anger burning within her chest. no rational thought, no calming breath could ease the desperation which kept spilling from her eyes, and seeping from her trembling hands. like the pendulum of a grandfather clock, her feelings for francis swayed back, then forth, then back again. happiness, frustration. anger, that it was him and not sir john who had been blessed with returning to london. happiness again, that at least someone had returned.

she leant into the warmth of francis’ firm hand against her cheek, and closed her reddened eyes. a final few, small teardrops rolled onto her cheeks as she did so. ❛ oh, francis, ❜ she repeated again, soft and slightly broken, as her tired eyes opened and she was faced with the captain, looking just as heartbroken as she felt. ❛ francis, darling, this is none of your doing. do not apologise for something you could not stop, ❜ sophia requested softly, ❛ i beg your forgiveness, for being so coarse. for not being able to— ❜ she sniffled, and lady jane wailed once more— ❛ for not being able to control myself. to keep this until i am in private. ❜

francis looked so sad. so heartbroken by the moment. sophia could tell how much he must have missed sir john, too. for him, he had been dead for so long, now. sophia had still had the blessing of hope. ❛ i am glad that you are here. alive and well. that is all i can ask for now. that i have your company. ❜ she lay her hand atop francis’ on her cheek, and gently intertwined their fingers before drawing his hand away, and pressing it against her chest. ❛ your strong reserve will aid lady jane and myself through this grief. ❜

#— innocence died screaming ⋮ sophia cracroft.#terrorcaptain

terrorcaptain‌.

Her shock was painful to witness, he knew she had been expecting to see Sir John aboard, alive and well. Part of him still wished that he were there to greet her if only to see her smile and not recoil from him as she had. Sorrowful eyes stuck to her as she trembled and absorbed what he had told her, unaware of what thoughts it were that were passing through her mind that perhaps his and Sir John’s places should have been switched, though that one probably would not have surprised him.

The anger he felt was justified, even if it was not at all his fault what had befallen the other man, he had promised her that he would bring him back safely to her and he had failed. “He was too unwell.” He lied, “The cans of food we were given were tainted somehow, the food at Sir John’s table was equally likely to be tainted.” It was at least half a truth, he remembered pulling out the remnants of lead bullets himself. “There was nothing that could be done for him out there, Sophia, I am sorry.” He tried again gently, apologetically and wishing in his own mind that he was still in the Arctic, to spare her the news and him delivering it so poorly.

“I broke my promise to you and I am sorry… I’m sorry.”

sophia could not quite bring herself to look upon francis in her distraught state, but she closed her eyes and gave her best attempt to calm the deep sorrow of a sea which welled in her chest. she did not cry, or shed a single tear more for sir john, or the rest who died in the arctic. as upset as the finality of his death made her, sophia could not cry more. not after so long, not after her sadness so quickly turning into something bitter within her. why had god abandoned sir john, out of all those men? him, who was the most deserving to come home to lady jane. to her.

but it was cruel of her not to delight in francis’ return. even after this all, it had been she who had sent him on the exploration. and it should be she who was glad to see him back, unharmed and seemingly well. considering their past history, it was the least she could do. the least she would do. welcome francis back with open arms, as the survivor he now had become.

❛ i know ❜ her voice still very much trembled, but it was more contained by now, and she dared direct her gaze back at the other. ❛ i know, francis. ❜ sophia tilts her head, as her expression changes to something resembling pity. she reaches, tentatively, for one of his hands. ❛ i am sorry, i let my emotions best myself momentarily. the shock— i suppose it was so violent i— oh, francis ❜ she bows her head, then, and shudders softly. her hand trembles, much like her lower lip. ❛ i am so sorry. you have been through so, so much. you must tell me, did the food also affect you? are you well? ❜

#— innocence died screaming ⋮ sophia cracroft.#terrorcaptain

theterroramc

New still of Matthew McNulty as Edward Little by Aidan Monaghan

#— haven of a human spirit ⋮ lt edward little.#OH MYGOD

terrorcaptain‌.

Francis’ heart was racing in his chest as he lead her aboard, his throat running dry as if forbidding him to actually tell her the truth or simply that the words refused to surface. It was ridiculous really, he had told countless crew members of bad news on the expedition, that their friend had perished in the fire, that they were unfortunate to fall foul of that horrid creature, that scurvy had taken a sibling, but telling Sophia news he knew would undoubtedly cause her pain was not something he found himself the strength to do.

Lady Franklin’s mourning wails at least grounded him in the idea that it would be cruel to take her further and not prepare her, as her hand snatched away from him, Francis stopped and looked to her sadly. With her retreat, he took half a step to follow but stopped himself from reaching to touch her again, as much as he wanted to. “Sophia.” He called to her, barely a breath on his lips as he feared he might never have the chance to say her name to her again. That was a selfish thought though and he swallowed hard to try and find the right words to say.

“Sir John fell ill and passed away aboard Erebus while the ships were frozen as part of the pack.” He confessed at last, or rather as he had constructed the lie with his Second and friend, Sir John had not been dragged into an icy hole by a creature beyond comprehension. “I am terribly sorry. So truly sorry for your loss.” Suddenly it was as if Francis forgot how it was he was supposed to deliver such news to people. “I did not want to reveal such cruel news to you in such a crowd.” He attempted.

Sophia’s pale, delicate fingers trembled where they covered her mouth, their pads pressing desperately into the skin of her reddened cheek. Her mouth— it was suddenly so dry as if deprived of water for days on end, and her eyes, they stung bitterly. She had, on previous occasion, cried for Sir John. For his departure, for his disappearance. But the news of the Franklin expedition having been found— it had rejuvenated in her the hope of seeing her dear Uncle once again.

But now that hope withered and died in her chest, where it left in its wake a stinging pain and such fierce desperation that Sophia was certain she may faint. She heaved in a breath against her tightly laced dress, which gave little mercy to her trembling body. “I understand,” Sophia breathed past her hand, which quickly returned to tightly cover her mouth. She glanced at Francis, only to have to avert her gaze as tears threatened to spill from her eyes.

The heartache which Sophia had felt for the entire lost Franklin expedition returned tenfold. Why, out of everyone, did Sir John not return? Why was he the one upon whom befell the ill fate? Why not someone else? Why not— Why not Francis?

“How could the Doctor’s not save him?” she asked in a clipped tone, “Why did they not save him? Francis you— You promised.” To look at Francis, alive and well, did not give her much peace. He promised to bring back Sir John. He had promised, and he failed. “You promised.” Sophia could not help the tear which rolled onto her cheek, which she quickly wiped away.

#— innocence died screaming ⋮ sophia cracroft.#terrorcaptain

"--- James?" Soft frantic call from a Lieutenant still half asleep as the door creaked open, allowing entry for a good doctor. Bleary eyes focused, and then Le Vesconte murmured an apology. "Thank you, Doctor. I am well, really." Oh yes, absolutely, except for the slight fever and the headache and the urge to burrow under James' covers, never to come out until this blasted cold went away. --- Dundy

‘unprompted’ asks that i love // accepting always <3

McDonald, upon Commander Fitzjames’ request, extended his rounds from the sick bay of the Terror to the Officer’s mess hall, where, in the cabin closest to the Captain’s quarters, he found Lieutenant Le Vesconte. “Commander Fitzjames relayed to me the news that you are feeling under the weather today,” he explained with a soft smile as he saw that indeed, Le Vesconte was looking rather pale.

“Have you been resting well, this morning?” he inquired as he sat. The chair, which Fitzjames had abandoned earlier that morning, still in its place beside the cot, was a convenient place for McDonald to assess the situation. He pressed the back of his hand to Le Vesconte’s forehead. “Indeed, you are quite hot. Have you drunk anything?”

#aflockcfravens #— the arctic wind howling ⋮ ask.#— a flood of blood to the heart ⋮ dr alexander mcdonald.#— awaiting rescue ⋮ queue.

"You're playing with him." (@SOPHIA RIP)

unprompted asks that i love // accepting always!

Sophia, who was sitting comfortably atop a picnic blanket in the shade of a large sycamore tree, looked up to see who was speaking to her. In front of her, many of the upcoming Franklin Expedition’s leading officers were mingling among important Admiralty members in the summer heat. The skirts of her steel blue dress ruffled as she shifted slightly, and her gaze returned to Francis, who was standing in a group of men some way’s away.

“And who might you be?” she inquired pointedly, without looking back at the man. He was clearly stepping out of line, even speaking to her.

#dauntlessgrit #— the arctic wind howling ⋮ ask.#sopia vc: git tae fek #— innocence died screaming ⋮ sophia cracroft.

terrorcaptain‌.

Utterly delighted to see her, Francis practically forgot about the dread of having to tell her about Sir John. Once she draped herself over his shoulders, he was sure to catch her and hold her in close, part of him could not quite believe it but he was blindly happy all the same to be in her arms and for her to be in his once more. He leaned into the hand at his cheek and smiled to her and to himself too, how could he not? He had been quite sure that none of them would ever even see English soil again let alone set foot on it.

He laughed when she embraced him again, once more holding her in close with a tight squeeze and a settling sigh to keep his own tearing eyes under some control. Smiling at her a little lost when she pulled back to speak to him again, thrilled and fluttering with the thought that she had missed him, nodding to her before he froze and felt reality come crashing down at the mention of her Uncle. His smile faded and he very gently went to take her hand in his, trying to hold it to his chest so he could keep her close.

“I will take you to the Captain’s quarters.” He assured her and slowly moved to start to lead the way, cutting through those excited and curious to see them all back and filling himself with a cold dread as he thought on what on earth he could say to ease the news to her. He tried to keep her close to him as they walked but would not tell her of Sir John until they were at least out of sight of the crowds, to allow her some privacy to absorb the news.

Sophia followed gladly, a reserved smile still lingering on her face as they went, her hand held tightly against Francis’ chest. She wasn’t entirely sure if she wished to smile more, or to smile less, as her emotions were almost getting the better of her. It had been so long, and oh how she had missed Sir John. And Francis, of course.

She had not – not properly, at least – set foot on a ship since bidding farewell to the Franklin expeditions almost half a decade ago. It was an unfamiliar feeling, being led up the rickety bridge onto the deck, and then down below it, into the darkness of the ship.

They were no more than a few steps away from the ladder when a horrible wailing rattled through the air. In the relative silence of the ship, it sounded almost haunting.

“Francis,” Sophia whispered, frozen in place. She recognised the sound to be Lady Jane’s weeping. Oh, she recognised it far too well. “Francis.” With a quick movement, she pulled her hand away from his and tucked both her arms tightly against her frame. The tears which were but a moment ago those of happiness now were quickly turning into those of panic. “Tell me this instant. Francis, you must— You must tell me is— Is he—” she could not say it, but instead lifted a hand to cover her mouth and looked away. Sir John was not among those rescued, was he?

#uh-oh #terrorcaptain #— innocence died screaming ⋮ sophia cracroft.

toooftenobsessed

#— until the poets run out of rhymes ⋮ sir john franklin.

dauntlessgrit‌.

Men fought and bickered like school boys when they weren’t kept busy. They always had and always would. But now wasn’t a time when they should find themselves without something to occupy them unless they were actively trying to avoid working.

Following a moment after, hands coming to the railing as he looked annoyed down on them.

“If you want to claw like Brick Row whores, I’ll send you off t'bloody Whitechapel myself and there y'can stay!” His barked comment cut through the commotion, stilling it immediately. Yorkshire intolerance for disobedience ringing down in reprimand. “I suggest the both of you report to your new passion in life, in rigging, before I do it anyway.”

“Watch y'selves.” As the warning was heard and received, his head inclined towards the doctor, returning to conversational. “Nothing a few hours of rigging won’t fix.”

Perhaps it was due to his often very mellow nature that the men did not pay heed to the Doctor’s warning. Or command. Was it even a command? He himself was not entirely sure, not being used to having to deal with such matters aboard a ship. Alexander McDonald’s lips pursed together tightly and bent into a slight frown as the fighting continued.

That was, until Mister Blanky’s roaring voice silenced them and half the harbour into looking at what all the commotion was about. The men, with their proverbial tails tucked between their feet, scattered off to duty and Blanky as if he had not said a thing, returned to his conversational style. The Doctor’s brows drew together and he huffed. “Must you use such lurid language so loudly, Mister Blanky,” he complained softly, and sighed, “Half the port is wondering what bunch of degenerate monkeys we have onboard because of such horrible commotion.”

#blanky what the fuck #— a flood of blood to the heart ⋮ dr alexander mcdonald.

OPEN / DR ALEXANDER MCDONALD

A commotion breaks out above deck. Fits of indistinctive shouting, then men running to and fro above the head of Doctor McDonald, who is doing his best to prepare the ship for its long voyage into the Arctic. This includes mainly inventory and arranging medical equipment so that it is easy to access in times of emergency. The medical office aboard The Terror is not the most vast, and situating everything in a handy yet neat manner is proving a challenge which the Doctor is determined not to let best him.

The expedition has not yet left port from Scotland, and this level of disquiet among the crew is far from the ordinary. In fact, it is mildly concerning McDonald, who now abandons his work and heads up to the deck to see what all the shouting was about.

He sees, on the dock, what almost looks like a fight. “Hey!” he shouts, as he jogs to the railing, “Hey! What are you doing?! Everyone, stand down!” He has not the official right to shout such things, but since no other officer seems to be present, he thinks he must. Matters seem to be getting out of hand.

#open starter #— a flood of blood to the heart ⋮ dr alexander mcdonald.#— awaiting rescue ⋮ queue.

terrorcaptain‌.

There were so many people, too many questions being flung from every angle, Francis was sure he should have dressed as a ships boy adorned with hat and scuttled off. Hard for a Captain to hide though and indeed as the accidental Commander of the expedition, he could not quite make his way through the crowds all too easily either.

Of all the voices that shouted at him and around him though, there was one he had actually been listening for. He did not quite want to get his hopes up when he heard her familiar tones but as the question came, who else could it be other than Sophia?

His heart filled and rose to his throat for a moment, but crashed back down with an icy blast when it dawned on him what it was he would have to tell her and what it was supposed to have meant if he had brought the other man home. He could not resist turning to see her any longer and did so with an air of sadness despite how very glad he was that she was at the dock at all. His eyes landed on her and for a solid moment, everything else seemed to melt away, nothing else mattered, she was stood there in front of him after so long! He cracked into a smile and nearly purred her name off his lips. “Sophia.”

God in Heaven. Francis looked like a different man; his clothes hung off of him like those of an orphan boy’s, his cheeks were hollow, his face pale yet sunburnt all the same. But it indeed was him. He was alive, and back home, and that filled Sophia with so much hope that she could almost burst at the seams.

“Francis!” Her hand flew to her dress and bunched its layers of fabric up so that she might all but run the last few steps to him, and drape herself over his shoulders in a tight embrace. She squeezed him tightly, her face buried into the chest of his greatcoat, which exuded the smell of sea-air and the cold. It was so familiar. “I was afraid you might never set your feet upon English soil again,” Sophia confessed, slightly teary-eyed, and with a hand pressed against Francis’ cheek.

But this must mean that Sir John was somewhere aboard, too. That Francis has done his duty, and that everyone she cared for was home safe again. She smiled and embraced him once more. Even after everything, she had not forgotten how comfortable it felt to do so. “But here you are,” Sophia marvels with a smile, “After so many years, here you are again. I have missed you ardently. And Sir John. Lady Jane has done everything in her power for you to come safely home. She must deserve some medal after all of this. But— Could you lead me to Sir John? I have not yet seen him and I think I cannot pass this crowd without some help.”

#francis you are ADORABLE i could cry #— innocence died screaming ⋮ sophia cracroft.#terrorcaptain

theterroramc

The Terror: S01E03 - The Ladder

#— innocence died screaming ⋮ sophia cracroft.

payne2481-deactivated20260202

We are all Sophia now.

#— innocence died screaming ⋮ sophia cracroft.

OPEN / SOPHIA CRACROFT

It had come as a surprise, but more so as an immense relief to hear that Sir James Clark Ross’ rescue expedition had indeed succeeded and that the men of the HMS Erebus and HMS Terror were returning home.

The news had only reached Lady Jane Franklin and Sophia Cracroft, Franklin’s niece, moments before the arrival of the lost expedition. They had just enough time to make it to the port to watch the welcome party and to greet the men themselves.

Out on the dock, it was chaos. Shouting, men and women crowding to see the men who had been thought lost to the Arctic. The papers were all there, of course, their journalists rowdy and competing for the first chance to interview the survivors, or Ross, who had brought them home.

Lady Jane had been escorted through the crowd, but Sophia had been left behind, and now couldn’t quite make her way through. She pushed her way as best she could, and kept an eye out for anyone she might recognise.

“Pardon me! Excuse me!” She called, as she spotted the back of someone who may be more knowledgeable about the situation than herself. “Pardon me, but have you seen Sir John Franklin as of yet? I’d very much love to see him.”

#open rp #— innocence died screaming ⋮ sophia cracroft.