there's no new mornings for us

ed. xix. gif maker. main: @submariini

[queenoftheimps]

The Terror really is the wildest fandom to be a part of, there's regular plot updates on a story that ended 150 years ago and sometimes that update is PEGLAR WAS CARRYING HIS OWN JOURNAL, I REPEAT, HENRY PEGLAR WAS CARRYING HIS OWN JOURNAL

[ohcaptains]

[gawronka]

Terror in the moomin universum

[grahamgore]

i finally saw frankenstein i love toxic yaoi

[adamnagaitis]

its been a year since i last asked this, and the terror fandom may well have changed and reshaped, so, without further ado,

when did you first watch the terror?

2018

2019

2020

2021

2022

2023

2024

2025

Voting ended onNov 28, 2025

[isuggestlandback]

One of my grandfathers was a dentist. The other was a fisherman.

I had a bonus grandfather who was a trucker.

What did your grandfathers do?

[hmantegazzi]

Ok, an unusually high number of people in the comments have relatives that probably have a Wikipedia article with their name.

[isuggestlandback]

I hope you don't mind if I share this, but this is a very good point!

[moonrver]

RIP Robert Redford. Imagine passing away and people's first reaction being to post pics of you looking insanely hot. Icon.

[ryebreadgf]

movies used to be about real things like robert redford and paul newman looking at each other

[reginaldkoettlitz]

actually how did everyone in the polar exploration tag get into polar exploration ... what are we all doing here for real

[versustennysonianos]

Call for Translations & Creative Works

In 1845, Sir John Franklin set sail from England with two ships and 128 men, seeking a Northwest Passage from the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean through the labyrinth of straits and channels now known as the Canadian Arctic. Neither Franklin nor any of his men returned to England alive. Following Franklin’s death, the poet Alfred, Lord Tennyson composed an epitaph for a cenotaph erected for Franklin in Westminster Abbey. Tennyson considered these four short lines one of the best epitaphs he ever wrote:

Not here: the white North has thy bones; and thou, Heroic sailor-soul, Art passing on thine happier voyage now Toward no Earthly pole.

This epitaph captured the hearts of Victorian poets and antiquaries so thoroughly that one of Franklin’s nephews was able to compile a volume of 165 distinct translations of the epitaph, mainly into Latin and Greek. Inspired by these Versus Tennysonianos (“Tennysonian Verses”), published in 1882, we are seeking translations, adaptations, and creative reimaginings of Tennyson’s epitaph to be published as a part of a digital zine. 

Please send all submissions to [email protected] by November 1st, 2025, with all the components of your submission in an appropriate file format (e.g. use .docx files for the text aspects of submissions, and .png files of at least 2000x2000 pixels for images). Your submission should include: 

Your name. (If you prefer not to be named, you may omit #2 and you will be listed as “Anon.”)

A short biography of yourself (not more than 100 words). 

Your translation or adaptation—either text or images or both. 

A short translator’s note (not more than 600 words).

In the spirit of the original volume, we may print up to eight works by any given contributor. We welcome works in all languages and idioms, using all reproducible visual media. In particular, we seek translations that question the hero-worship underpinning Tennyson’s words and the imperialism that forms the foundation of nineteen-century polar exploration such as the Arctic voyages of Franklin. 

We cannot offer financial compensation to translators at this time. In acknowledgement of the harm done by British and American polar explorers to native communities of the circumpolar north—if there is sufficient interest to motivate the production of a physical volume—any proceeds will be donated to the Nunavut Food Bank, the Qajuqturvik Community Food Centre, and the Oxen Network. Many thanks to Terror Camp for identifying these organizations. 

If you have any questions, you can contact us by email via [email protected] or send us an ask here on tumblr!

[grahamgore]

who of u in edinburgh rn visiting dean cemetery bc we found ur bob goodsir and irving notes 🥰🥰

[rossierexchange]

Rossier Exchange is back for 2025!

Rossier Exchange is a prompt-based gift exchange focused on Rossier, ie the relationship between James Ross & Francis Crozier of AMC’s The Terror Season 1 (2018)

Sign ups are now open on our AO3 Collection, and will remain open until June 14th!

Signups close: Sat 14 Jun 2025 11:55PM EDT Assignments sent: by Thu June 19th by 11:55PM EST Assignments due: Sat 23 Aug 2025 11:55PM EDT Works revealed: Sun 24 Aug 2025 10:00AM EDT

Signups are on our Ao3 collection!

[hansdown]

oh my favorite trope? two people who go through something so unique and agonizing and entirely beyond words that they have no choice but to create a bond that transcends all other types of love, thus acting as the sole point of understanding for the other person in a world that cannot fathom what they’ve been through

[cryptotheism]

surely no one in academia cares at this point

You must understand that historians are not allowed to cum unless they're calling someone a crackpot fraud.

[cryptotheism]

Imagine you spent six years of your life and 120,000$ to read every word that anyone has ever written about a particular Catholic priest from 1602. You go through dozens of shit roommates and brushes with mental breakdowns just so you can write one genuinely authoritative paper about this guy.

and then some dickhead Tumblr funnyposter says something mildly reductive about your guy on the internet for a joke. And the joke isn't even very funny. You'd wanna kill that guy with a rock.

[writingsforwinter]

Poem 1 of December's daily poem challenge.

By Meggie Royer

[catilinas]

hey girl did you know that uhhhhhh on the eve of your departure i sat beside you on the kitchen floor you said darkness has no virtue of its own it’s only darkness what is lost is lost you were tired of metaphor i once crawled along the ruins found you up above the timber line where the mountains stood before us like a bride narrow wide the sun was honeycomb it turned your white hair gold i don’t want your voice to move me i don’t want to be cracked open i don’t want the knot to loosen in my throat to place a landmine down a rabbit hole i am no pale-faced saint i’m like a dog always barking at a ghost

[catilinas]

hey girl did you know that. well. um. you know i don’t go easy i never made a myth of your disease i hedged my bets with every soul i ever loved except for one honey all i know of hope is throwing stones into the void i don’t want your voice to move me i don’t want to be cracked open i don’t want the broken headlight flicker the bright pines the silver sigh of the moon behind you when i find you driftwood bones in fog and smoke the pull of the yoke a knotted oak a joke a hymn we only spoke and never sung those of us born in loss you know we only trust the light on the horizon when i find you i don’t want your voice to move me

[stewy-hosseini]

Enough! Melshi! I said, that’s enough!