#dilapsum

[travelingxsong]

“Guess what, Janie?”

“What is it, dear?”

“I’m adopting some of the expedition lads as our sons!  Congratulations, our sweet Eleanor will be getting older brothers!”

*was totally not prepared for this*

[travelingxsong]

‘ you have to live . ’ (james for sir john!)

[angst starters // accepting]@dilapsum​

“It is a miracle, that I am even still breathing now.”

Sir John weakly smiled to the younger man, whom he had grown so fond of like a son. But his face soon grimaced into grunts in pain with any movement he made (even as simple as sitting up to recline against the headboard of his cot). He had finally been released from the sickbay after days of recovery. His neck and shoulders were bandaged to cover his severe coal burns. His right leg… what used to be his right leg, was - well… he was informed the carpenter Mr. Weekes was nearly complete in preparing for him a new prosthetic. And Dr. Stanley and Mr. Goodsir (along with the kind assistance of Drs. Peddie and Macdonald) were assuringly diligent with ensuring there were no signs of infection.

Unfailing he tried to maintain a strong face before his men, as expedition leader and the hero of arctic exploration that he was. He was resolute to display himself as undeterred by the tragedy which he vocally deemed a minor setback, as opposed to a real disability. Yet something had undeniably changed about Sir John.

“I must reiterate that I am eternally grateful for your rescue, James.”

Fitzjames arrived within mere seconds before what John was sure to be his icy death. After being dragged along the ice at the Tuunbaq’s mercy as though he were the prey played by its predator before the meal. Thrown into the ice hole through the pack which he himself instructed to be made. As though he had ordered his own grave to be dug for him… His life quite literally dangled on the thread of rope tied to that pot of coals that held him above the water, about to snap. And while the burns seared through the neckline of his coat, it was the only thing that held him from plummeting down the icy pit into the consumption of dark sea. And when that rope did snap, Fitzjames and the other men had arrived in time to haul him back up to safety and to be rushed back to the ships.

“But worst come to worst, I know you shall make a very fine captain.” He shouldn’t speak as such, with such resignation as though his days were numbered now. And perhaps it wasn’t only the near-death experience to cause such. He had come face to face with that monster that wanted him dead. But the Tuunbaq’s permanent scars were not only physical. Sir John’s pride lie shattered, his heart filled with irreparable remorse. His hands trembled against his will. He brought up his wife Jane more often than usual. Oh, how he missed her. His countenance, when alone, portraying a visible sense of awareness to the grim reality. Regret filled in his eyes amidst holding on to every display of fortitude and composure for the sake of his men.

It would seem perhaps even a part of the old captain felt undeserving to still be alive.

And as Erebus was lame, so now was its captain, too…

[prodigil]

i want to help. /from henry peglar!

the haunting of hill house.  /  accepting.  /  @dilapsum

HE  WANTS  TO  HELP.   well,  most  people  did.  most  people,  sam  was  sure,  were  good  people–some  were  burdened  down  by  the  merit  of  responsibility,  and  survival,  and  things  that  could  mean  the  difference  between  the  life  of  someone  cherished  over  the  life  of  a  stranger.  he  understood  that.  he  absorbed  an  onus  of  responsibility,  in  the  end,  that  was  never  really  his,  shouldering  the  atlas  of  the  longevity  and  safety  of  people  who  lived  their  lives  utterly  oblivious  to  the  dark  skittering  up  their  bedroom  walls.  those  people..  they  wanted  to  help,  too,  when  the  curtains  were  drawn  away,  and  the  fear  was  exposed  as  a  raw  nerve  awash  in  bright,  surgical  light.  here  is  where  you  cut.  it  makes  it  all  better.  but  sam  was  no  god  damned  surgeon–more  like  a  butcher,  if  he’s  going  to  be  honest  with  himself.  

he  wants  to  help,  so  sam  punches  through  some  thin  windex-smelling  glass,  unconcerned  as  it  shatters  into  sharp  patches  like  a  glittering,  morbid  jigsaw.  he  fists  a  sword  into  his  hands,  standing  at  once  like  some  anointed  knight.  it’s  some  dead  man’s  scimitar,  and  sam  feels  some  part  of  himself  ache  at  the  desecration–buff  for  the  academics  that  he  was.  why  the  hell  did  it  have  to  be  a  museum?  

‘  the  only  way  you  can  help  is  with  one  of  these.  but  i  need  to  dip  it  in  salt  and  holy  water  first.  ‘

[sweetbitterbitten]

“ has a true word ever left your lips? ” crozier for chevely

“My dear Captain Crozier, I can tell as many true things as you’d like. You have only to ask.”

[sweetbitterbitten]

“ we all carry our sins. ” crozier for jane eyre!

Was it love that was the sin? Or the leaving? To betray what she was, for the sake of selfish joy…was it not the more grievous? To live in untruth, which would no sooner corrupt the happiness than would her departure? She could not go against that which was at the heart of herself, even if the heart itself cried out at it.  But hers was strong, and it would endure; a different creature altogether, shaped by adamance - sustained by will, comforted by silence, and perhaps, some companionship. “Burdens are for people…what water is for fish. Inescapable. And entirely natural. We swim in the same pond, Captain Crozier.”

[travelingxsong]

1, 3, 9, 11

[multimuse q’s - accepting!] @dilapsum

1. is there a muse that you wish gets more attention?

Lady Jane Franklin

She’s such a fascinating battle-axe of a woman that I’m excited to throw into more situations !! Pre-Franklin Expedition when she’s governor’s wife of in Tasmania? Or when she’s newly married to Sir John and traveling the world?? Or throwing her with some Jane Austen peeps and when she’s still Jane Griffin and so in love with Captain Franklin who’s only recently been paying attention to her?? (And I’m sure when I finish reading her bio and get to the chapters Post-Franklin Expedition that list will grow lmao.)

But to give the other muses a chance, Irving always deserves more screen time, and I haven’t really gotten the chance to explore Collins or Hartnell’s personalities at all yet. (Collins has gotten some attention, but Hartnell is a completely blank canvas)

3. which muse is the trickiest to get into character for?

Tied between Sir John, Collins, & Hartnell!

NGL, Franklin-Expedition-Sir John is a challenge because I’m not used to writing a character who’s an old exploration hero with wounded pride still recovering from losing his post as Governor of Tasmania and making bloody awful hubris judgment calls w/o his wife around. XD

Additionally, Henry Collins I feel I have to be in a certain mood to get his character. And that’s just normal scuba diver Collins. Him post-carnival is a whole ‘nother beast to itself.

And then Hartnell is tricky because I still have yet to fully grasp his character!

9. why were you drawn to each one of your characters?

I didn’t even really notice Lady Jane at first viewing of the TV show except for when she roasts the Admiralty and that sweet flashback scene w/ Sir John. It wasn’t until someone on tumblr said: “the REAL Lady Jane Franklin…” that I suddenly got all “Wait srsly?? WHO IS THIS LADY??” And then once I started reading up on her, she instantly clicked as a more ambitious more mature more badass and more adventurous version of my mainblog OC. And reading her biography only solidified it!

Sir John ironically didn’t draw me at all. But now he just suddenly showed up thanks to Jane! XD

Specifically, the scenes of Irving with Jacko and him singing at the carnival drew me to Irving lmao. He’s such a sweetheart, and apparently, the TV show made him out to be more on the assertive side compared to historic Irving or excerpts of the Terror book where he is literally sweet as sugar! (And described as : “… the bulky mittens, Welsh wig, and layers of cold-weather slops make young Irving look something like a saluting walrus…”) xD

Collins because he’s such a tragic figure and I want him to enjoy happier times and really enjoy his scuba diving for a change.

Hartnell, for the same reasons as Irving & Collins. Such a sweetheart and deserved better!! (And deserves a happy life with his new brother Jopson and dad Crozier)

V Adams & Eveline Johnson were actually the original muses of this blog before the Franklin Expedition peeps took over… oops! But they’re from a great mobile video game called Lifeline: Whiteout that I wanted to write it’s sequel to and someday I will finally get around to it! :)

11. Is there another muse you’ve been thinking of adding or writing for? who?

Oh wow, there’s so many!!

Lt. Hodgson, but he’s by far the most difficult out of everyone to get into character. Dr. Macdonald is another cuz he’s such a precious bean. And also Jacko/Neptune/Fagin. Once I thought of Goodsir but there’s already a lot of great Goodsirs here on Tumblr. And of late sometimes even Sir John’s daughter Eleanor has crossed my mind a couple times!

[travelingxsong]

❝The days are longer.❞ (francis for sir john!)

Circus P Starters || Accepting!

“Ah, Yes. That they finally are.” Sir John let out a puff of smoke from his pipe. As in these hemispheres, the brutally dark winter nights which never gave way to dawn if only for a few minutes were now long behind them. And they were to be met with its reversed twin soon.

“Summer is nigh upon us when the sun shall shine daylight all hours. Then hopefully this ice shall give way to our freedom.”

‘And if it doesn’t?’ He could almost predict Crozier‘s refuting objection.

And yet still Sir John hoped so dearly that the ships could finally break free. That they could sail to safer waters - more importantly than destiny or victory or scientific discovery - but to at last sail away from this treacherous place. And away from that — that monster.

Sir John then clenched his hand to a tight grip around the handle of his cane as he rose to steady himself on his feet. With a nod to Crozier, he limped over to the rear windows of his cabin, having still becoming acquainted with his new prosthetic, since...

His gaze was watchful. Almost even paranoid in his surveying.

He had a hunch what Crozier was really looking to discuss - a rescue party, most likely. But Sir John’s back was not turned to Crozier out of disagreement. Only pensive reflection, and so Sir John would not display the flash of terror on his face from had happened - what he had experienced of the creature. This was surely no mere Arctic bear, and if it was - it was some residual monstrosity of ancient prehistory. Worse. What it was both physically and mentally capable of... even outsmarting them - was nightmarish.

“Have you made progress inquiring of miss... ‘Lady Silence’ as the lads call her - on more information on the creature?”

And what it wants from us?