#robert sinclair

[lordperseus]

Dinosaurs art dump!! I love this little fandom so here is some of what I've drawn for it (from newest to oldest)

[cecenyss]

Okay so the man who signed ownership of his network over to Vox was named Robert Sinclaire.

This name seems to be drawn from a real person, Robert Bruce Sinclair, who was involved in film and theater for his entire life until being stabbed in his home on January 3, 1970 at the age of 64.

He wasn’t involved in news, and Vox died in the 50s, so they’re definitely not the same person. I find it interesting, though.

[hippocrafty]

Today's Ellies - the captains of the maintops and foretops (the platforms on top of the two frontmost masts on sailing ships) and of the holds (the storage/cargo areas).

John Sullivan, Erebus's Captain of the maintop

Thomas R Farr, Terror's captain of the maintop.

Robert Sinclair, Erebus's captain of the foretop.

Henry Peglar, Terror's captain of the foretop (I already posted him with John Bridgens and Thomas Armitage, his 'husbands').

Joseph Andrews, Erebus's Captain of the Hold

William Goddard, Terror's Captain of the Hold.

[necronymie]

the genlock gays really ate this week huh

[thuskindlyshescatters]

o shit u guys

I finally figured out why I didn’t trust Clover in his introduction. 

Yes, yes, there was the context that made me distrust him. But my intuition was reacting to something else. Something like this:

My brain went “ah, hello, sole white guy with antagonistic pragmatism in a new eclectic team drawing attention to an inconspicuous object, have seen this before, Know What To Do”

[polandspringz]

“Maybe this will keep that big mouth of yours shut.” fake Sinclair?

This request has been sitting in my inbox for probably two years now and I finally had a good chance to use it on a Whumptober drabble. Enjoy!

Warnings for: Violence, Torture

Title: Skinwalker

“Maybe this will keep that big mouth of yours shut,” the manhissed with a sibilant grin as he placed his knee onto the chair, right besideSinclair’s hip, and leaned over him as he reached up somewhere above Sinclair’shead, “You should be thankful we have technology that can do this job. It’sslow, but it’s definitely better than me skinning your face off and turning itinto a mask, right?”

Sinclair didn’t respond. His hoarse throat continued to cling to that onescream he had left in his lungs as his body flailed and fought against theknife pinning him down to the dentist chair he had been woken up in.

The man pulled a mobile-like metal device forward overhead,and then from the metal tools and gadgets in it, he selected a round, hollowdevice that would curve perfectly over anyone’s face. He smirked as he took outanother small blade, it was barely bigger than a palette knife, and let themask-device hover in the air as he pressed down on the restrained man’sshoulder and dragged the sharp edge along his throat.

“Haha, I bet that would be fun, wouldn’t it? We’ll have totry it sometime. Maybe if this fails, they’ll let me just do that. Now, makesure you smile nice and wide when wearing this,” he said. He wasnow straddling Sinclair in the chair, crawling up him as he brought the downharder so while it was still dancing along his exposed skin, he sliced littlerivulets open that dripped down and pooled in his collarbone, “I want to makesure when I steal gen:LOCK and kill the rest of the recruits, I look my bestafter all. Or should I say… we’ll look our best. Right, Robert?”

He ran the knife along Sinclair’s chin, grazing itunderneath his lips. He dropped the blade onto him and gripped his face roughlywhen he wouldn’t stop screaming.

“I said I want to see you smile,” the Union officergrinned wildly as his free hand reached behind him and yanked the mask towardshim, “You’re going to be wearing this for a long time. It’s best if youenjoy it.”

The knife slid off Sinclair’s face as the mask was fittedover it, and something within the face-like cast of the metal forced itselfbetween his teeth as the metal closed around his ears, sealing in his eyes,nose, and air. For a moment, Sinclair was silent, shutting his eyes as he triedto breathe and take in the darkness while machines began to whirr faintly inthe background.

Briefly, some rationality came back to his thoughts.

They said you were an important person. You were vital tothis new program. They wouldn’t let you die that easily. They’ll come get you.You just have to survive this and-

“I can’t wait to wear your smile,” the man whispered,and Sinclair felt the knife slide from his neck to his left shoulder, “I’llmake sure it’s nice and big when they take my picture and label you across alltheir systems as a traitor.”

The man watched Sinclair’s fingers twitch lightly againstthe chair. He couldn’t speak from behind the mask. The man sighed.

How boring.

He tapped some controls on his rusty, electronic watch, andthe scanner flared to life, “Well, we’ve only got a few hours of fun left. Don’tworry, I’ll keep you entertained.”

The knife went cleanly through Sinclair’s shoulder. The manbrandished several more along his belt.

“We’ve got just as good regenerative tech as the Polity, butlike everything outdated here, it’s terribly slow. Let’s hope you’ve got theguts to handle it.”

Another knife glistened in the low, green light of themakeshift operating room. It came down and the light was drowned out as it swamin blood.

End

You can also read/comment on this story over on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27150032

[ozcarma]

[ask-genlock]

There’s Always Tomorrow vs The Best Defense