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Thomas and Francis in their immortal verses :)

Here you go! The immortal old husbands and their happy life. <3

#.// go with the floe (blanky)#.// air so keen & strange (visuals)#.// (gifs)#terrorcaptain #.// hope perches in the soul (ooc)

The Walk - Cheryl/Francis

(starter for @terrorcaptain)

“Are you sure you want to do this, Captain?”

Cheryl stood shivering in the captain’s cabin, wrapped in coats and blankets. She’d been watching him packing up supplies in preparation for a trek across the ice, the only possible solution he and his men could see to the predicament their ship was in.

Cheryl knew better. She knew they were doomed to failure. “There has to be some other way,” she pleaded with him. “Let’s try and contact the natives, at least.”

#terrorcaptain

( @terrorcaptain wrote: “We’re all human, aren’t we ? every human life is worth the same, and worth saving.” )

Harry Peglar could think of one or two lives not worth saving, just from the top of his head. It all made sense now, in some strange way, and it turned his stomach more to think that Hickey might have done that to Irving on purpose and then try to turn on the captain, again. He knew because John Bridgens had told him, as he had taken the place of Henry Lloyd in the sick bay tent.

He glanced over at the small group of Hickey, Aylmore, Male, Manson, and Hodgeson. Hodgeson was right to look defeated and devastated, his career was over and that’s what he deserved. He tried to hide it, but he was sure the contempt he felt for all of them showed on his face. “Every life, sir?” he asked and turned back to look at his Captain. “I’m sorry Captain, but -” no, no he wasn’t sorry about what he thought. If flogging had been enough of punishment he would have supported that. They were all going to die, sooner or later, more and more fell severely ill or exhausted by each day. It was sad and frightening, but some deserved to be put down rather than kept alive. In this case, he thought about Mr Hickey and his band of followers specifically.

Soon they would reach the lead Little and his group had spotted, soon they would be back on the water and hopefully be on their way. Hopefully, someone would make it out of here alive, but he knew it wouldn’t be him. “What are you planning to do with them then, sir?” he asked and nodded in the direction of the formerly separated group that now, suspiciously enough, were allowed to pull a boat together. “With Mr Hickey and the others, I mean?”

#terrorcaptain #peglar | character #( I love this loyal fierce little bean. And I'm going novell heavy again. Tell me if I need to change anything :x )

@terrorcaptain

Francis needed someone to go on walks with him. Mycroft had noted this quite a while ago after having to explain to the other once again that no, he did not want to go on a stroll with him. Of course, this wasn’t because he didn’t care! But rather, he didn’t care for walks and, quite frankly, he was too busy for such a thing even if they were something that interested him.

After a little thought, he had come to the conclusion that his partner would benefit from a dog. Not only would it give him someone to walk with, but also it would give him a hobby to occupy his time with in general. Plus, a guard dog could always be useful, no?

What type of dog was another questions altogether. Mycroft answered it by creating a table of various didn’t breeds he thought Francis may be interested in and weighing up all of their pros and cons. Eventually, though, it hadn’t mattered. He’d put his feelers out for breeders at the start of his search and one of them had gotten back to him to say that they had a litter of puppies that would soon be born. If that was the case, why wait?

A few months later and he had acquired a rather stunning black newfoundland. The puppy - a large, black female - was to be a surprise. Mycroft hadn’t informed Francis of his plan to gift him such a thing, quite like how the other had given him the kitten. He hoped that it would be appreciated. If it wasn’t, well, he supposed it wasn’t too late to return the dog.

Mycroft was late home from work. This wasn’t unusual, so he didn’t expect Francis to think too much of it. Dog awkwardly held in his arms, along with his briefcase and umbrella, he closed the front door behind himself before managing to put the items down and wandering further into the house.

“Francis? Where are you?” Mycroft called, hoping that the other would hear him even if he was upstairs. “I have something for you.”

#terrorcaptain #queued;

[Skillset Meme from @terrorcaptain.]

⚓️ — Sailing -- Francis says this is very important information! ------------

Frighteningly good. ARRRR! in fact.

By the time Thera gets around to meeting Francis in the 1840s, she’s been at sea off and on for literal centuries. Most of this was between the late 1600s and through the 1700s, and while she couldn’t bring a ship into Tortuga all by her onesies, she can definitely take care of herself and her part of the teamwork of it.

She might have a brief learning curve with a type of vessel/rigging setup she hasn’t seen before, and each ship has its own way, but given the chance she’ll be hauling on a rope or up the rigging like a fricking monkey.

She does tend to keep this mostly under her hat until it’s needed or asked about, given that every ship also has its chain of command and a crew who knows it better than she does, and she never wants to embarrass a Captain or crew.

#TerrorCaptain

@terrorcaptain liked for a starter!

Philip sat with his head hung low at the docks, a light drizzle coating his frazzled locks and woolly sweater. He sniffed and hiccuped, shivering slightly under the cold as he waited for Francis’s ship to port soon. He’d been out here since the early morning; no estimated time given for when his grandfather would arrive, but he knew it was meant to be today. It had to be today, or Philip would not know what to do with himself.