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Aidan Gillen || You’re Ugly Too

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Questioning Sentences, Vol. 2

(Questioning sentences from various sources to ask all kinds of muses. Adjust phrasing where needed)

“Have you got no shame?”

“You’re not squeamish, are you?”

“So nobody else knows about this?”

“Have you ever wanted any children?”

“Why did you ask me here?”

“Do you know what you have here?”

“Why are you here?”

“Why do I always get the hand-holding jobs?”

“Why are you always like this?”

“Did you come alone?”

“Why should I apologise for trying to save a man’s life?”

“What’s the matter? You do trust me, don’t you?”

“Where’s your decency? Your compassion?”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Why are you so paranoid?”

“Why are you frowning?”

“Are you doing anything tonight?”

“Would you like a drink?”

“Are you trying to annoy me?”

“Who’s been talking to you about me?”

“Who are you to judge me?”

“What do you gain from this?”

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@pagetreader liked for a turn lyric starter // piddle twiddle and resolve

“I have such a desire to knock heads together.“

It wasn’t even that anything particularly out of the ordinary was happening - camp was camp, soldiers were soldiers, the army was the army. But for some reason (he was overworked, underappreciated, and unable to find the courage or self-preservation to leave), Caleb was right at the edge, with shaky hands and an instinct to fight. It wasn’t even that he didn’t tolerate soldier nonsense - on the contrary, he was a large perpetrator of soldier nonsense - but that he was exhausted, and annoyed, and largely alone.

So he crossed his arms and huffed, as if the soldiers in the street were acting completely out of line instead of just a bit mischievously, and turned away, very nearly pouting.

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@historiavn liked for a turn lyric starter // but mr. adams

Ben Tallmadge, for all his faults, did his best. And perhaps that, in itself, often came across as a fault - in everything he did, he aimed to do it absolutely perfectly, and refused to accept anything less than his standard of success. 

Perhaps that was why, sitting across from Mr. Adams at some fancy dinner or other, flexing his shoulders uncomfortably in his regimental and mentally listing off all of the more productive things he could have been doing in camp, he felt the need to spout off his list of complaints about how unproductive the officer corps could be. 

“If I’m the one to do it, they run their quill pens through it,“ he ranted, eyes blazing. “I’m obnoxious and disliked - did you know that?“

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@annastrxng liked for a turn lyric starter // is anybody there

“Still,“ Caleb drawled, gesturing wildly with his tankard as ale sloshed over the edge and onto his arm. “To England, I say, goodnight forever!“ He was absolutely smashed, and he was definitely shouting, and he was incredibly likely to have the headache from Hell in the morning, but he’d already decided that none of that was going to stop him from having a good time.

“Good night!“ He roared, very nearly falling out of his chair as he gestured for Anna to make a speech next, grinning like he’d said something unbelievably profound.

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@historiavn liked for a turn lyric starter // sit down, john

Caleb had never felt more ridiculous than he did while masquerading as a lobster, and that was saying something, considering how unbelievably ridiculous the scenarios he got himself into tended to be. But there he was, slouched in a seat in an opera house in Philadelphia, beardless and wearing uncomfortably tight and uncomfortably white gaitered trousers, drenched in sweat under his wool regimental, waiting for a chance to excuse himself. 

In retrospect, with a responsible amount of hindsight, he probably shouldn’t have had quite so much to drink, and he probably shouldn’t have forgone water in the heat, and he probably should have prepared himself better for the Philadelphia humidity, and he probably should have had something substantial to eat, but he didn’t. 

So when the intermission came, he tried to stand, and very quickly realized (as the theater began to spin) that he was probably best off remaining seated. But he stood anyway, and stumbled until he found an isolated place to sit, somewhere closer to backstage than audience members were likely meant to be, and slumped down against the wall, pulling off his hat and wig and resting his head between his knees.

“It’s hot as Hell in Philadelphia,” he muttered, as he heard footsteps approach him. “Someone oughta open up a window.“

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Lydia / @sharp-teeth-and-wide-grins said: ❛ I have my own opinion. But I have a feeling you’ll follow your heart. ❜

Oh, he knew she had opinions - and he knew that hers were probably significantly more logical and less reckless than his own. She probably had thoughts that were rational, and thought-out, and productive, and based in some sort of reasonable course of action. And, if he were a smart man, he should probably have listened to them, adopted them as his own, and acted accordingly.

But Caleb Brewster had never claimed to be a smart man.

“If by ‘follow your heart’, you mean ‘follow Benny Tallmadge to Hell and back while only stopping at a minimal amount of taverns and brothels on the way,’ then you’re damn right, m’dear.“ 

He winked, and grinned, and tipped his flask to her, but the joke didn’t quite reach his eyes. Perhaps it wasn’t his best; perhaps there was too much truth in it. In any case, he laughed it off, and took a long swig from his flask before offering it out to her.

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I am so turn brained rn, like for a short (probably lyric) starter from ben or caleb

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Robert Rogers / @sharp-teeth-and-wide-grins said: ❛ And then you’ll see just how much hell I can wreak on your life. ❜

Everybody thought they could ruin Ben’s life, as if he wasn’t an officer in a losing army, as if he hadn’t lost most of his family, as if he didn’t wake up every day knowing he was putting his friends in danger, as if he wasn’t extremely aware of every drop of blood on his hands. It was trite, tired - it was laughable. 

Truly - nobody could wreak any more hell on his life than he already did.

So he leaned in, baring his teeth in a sneer befitting a wet and feral kitten, and stared down Rogers with sharp blue eyes.

“The last person who tried that very nearly lost Setauket,“ more or less, “so I’d be careful making threats, Major.“ He looked Rogers up and down, arching a delicate brow. “Captain? I’d heard rumors you were demoted. Are you even in an army anymore?“

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I’m curious, so…

Reblog this if you write characters from season 1 of The Terror! 

Put your character(s) in the tags.

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@annastrxng said ❛ Are you, insane? ❜

"Insane and unshaven - that’s what Woody calls me, ain’t it? Practically a nickname at this point, Annie!” 

Caleb laughed, loud and unafraid, and leaned back against a bale of hay. Perhaps he should have been quieter, hiding out in Anna’s barn as he was, surrounded by Redcoats and Rangers and Loyalists and whatever else lurked around Setauket those days, but the joy of seeing anybody that wasn’t in the army far overshadowed the fear of Lobsters. 

“I don’t come up with the missions - that’s all old Georgie Washington, and our own Benny Tallmadge.“ He shrugged, and followed it up with a wink. “So, will ya do it?“

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brassandblue·:

At present, levity was one of the things keeping Thomas’ spirits from drifting into the dark. One of the others was—

–the brush of fingers through his hair, actually; the feeling of which tugged at his heartstrings more than usual, here in his sorry state. It was the sort of sensation that made him feel lightened like a giddy schoolboy. Thomas briefly closed his eyes, slightly leaned against the soft touch he’d give his other damned leg to have for the rest of his bloody life.

And then the touch was gone, and the ache for more of it distracted him from the tender soreness of his bloodied stump.

Thomas opened his eyes, silently pursed his lips and tightly rubbed the hem of his jumper between his thumb and forefinger. That seemed to be a habit of his with his uninjured hand now, something to help distract from the pain, like a little tether to keeping what little bit of rationality he had left.

Speaking of which, he had to figuratively bite his tongue to keep it from spilling all the witty remarks it now withheld– like how he had half a mind to tell Alexander to climb into such a bed with him; that he felt right knackered and inclined to tell everyone else to fuck off. Both of those things, he knew, would be marvelously unhelpful.

Instead, he flashed a little (weary) grin. “Exhausted. But–restless, all at once. Not for fear of that damned Creature. It’s more like I’ve the need to be on both feet, making sure everything gets back to normal. Or what ever passes for ‘normal’ now, on this ship,” he added dryly. “As for the rest of me? Exhausted, like I said. Bit lightheaded, but nothin’ terrible. I’ve little to worry about while I’m in your hands, Doctor.”

He was fucking tired. But not so tired that he couldn’t be cheeky.

If Alexander’s smile faltered a bit at the need to be on both feet bit, he tried not to make it too obvious, for Thomas’s sake. The poor man didn’t need his sad pity, on top of everything else that was going on. 

Truly, he had half a mind to send everybody else out of his medbay and climb into bed with his friend and hold him until everything was better. He couldn’t, and he didn’t, but the reasons not to were becoming less clear by the moment. Honestly - who would fault him for it? The man needed comfort - they all did, they all needed comfort - and what was a medical man’s duty but to help his men?

“How’s the pain, my dear? I can find you some laudanum, if you’d like.“ They were dangerously low on pain medicine, but this was an extreme case - he could surely spare some for Thomas Blanky, immediately post-surgery.  “My hands are good, but even I can’t compare with proper opium.“

His smile was soft and his eyes were bright as he quirked an eyebrow and brought his hand back to Thomas’s hair. 

And, of course, he gave in, glancing up at the others in the room and shooing them out, insisting Mr. Blanky needed his rest, before turning his attention back to his patient. 

“What else can I do for you, love?“

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brassandblue·:

Ben watched as the card fluttered awkwardly to his feet, then dragged his gaze to Caleb sprawled out like a hairy, sweaty starfish. At the mention of summer quarters, he at last caved and tugged at his cravat and neckstock, undoing them with a rapidly rising sense of urgency until his collar lay open and he felt he could actually breathe for the first time in hours. 

He then plucked the card up from the ground, tried to toss it at the hat. As if encumbered by the heat, it sadly dropped halfway, inciting Ben to laugh.

“Alright, so, what if– a man who has been really stabbed with a bayonet, as you said– is that man not on his way to death? If we are mostly dead, then wouldn’t that mean our death by heat is certain?” A pause. “And– please, don’t say ‘sweaty mutiny’ again.”

“No, no, y’see - “ He paused. No, Ben made a good point. It took him a moment to think of an argument. “No! Because that man, the poor fucker who’s been really stabbed - he might not die. Folks get bayonetted all the time and hop back up - that’s what the army’s got surgeons for.“

Caleb laughed and tilted his head back to look up at his friend, eyes bright and grin loose. At least Ben had finally started stripping down; the heat was beyond unbearable, to the point that Caleb had been genuinely concerned about Ben’s health, all buttoned up in his officer’s uniform. 

“Hey - how’s about you lose the waistcoat and boots, Bennyboy? Fellows’re dropping dead wearing less.“ Not him, though - Caleb had almost immediately stripped down to the absolute minimum amount of clothing he could wear. “That’s the sweaty mutiny, m’dear - something about the sun in the Middle Colonies broils brains, stirs them up into something seditious. That’s why Philadelphia’s so,“ he wrinkled his nose and shook his hand in a vaguely rude gesture, “like that.“

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‘an offer from a gentleman’ prompts

really just some of my favourite quotes and situations. all pronouns have been changed to they/them so they can apply to anyone but feel free to change them again when you send them.

add + reverse to switch the order of sender and receiver in the actions

DIALOGUE

“I’m so glad you like it. You do have such a knack for picking out my clothing.”

“It would be ungentlemanly of me to allow this sorrowful state of affairs to continue.”

“It’s obvious you would lay your life down for him.”

“I suppose I may be induced to tell you that my favourite colour is _, but beyond that I shall leave you with no clues to my identity.”

“Tonight I am transformed, tomorrow I shall disappear.”

“I want - I want our future. I want every little piece of you.”

“I don’t want to fight you, but I will.”

“I can assure you that the three-to-one odds don’t frighten me.”

“Well, I do not mind a bit of rain. There are far worse things than getting wet.”

“I’ll race you to the door.”

“Each one is meaningful in some way, I’ve collected them since I was a child.”

“You’re just dreaming.”

“I love you, I’ve always loved you.”

“It would certainly be hard to feel worse.”

“Your stomach has been growling all morning. When was the last time you ate?”

“I find you rather refreshing.”

“Whatever could you be thinking to look so adorably ferocious?”

“Are you this charming with everyone or only me?”

“Do I look like a person in a mood to be argued with?”

“I can practically see the steam coming out of your ears.”

“So pretty, like a storybook fairy.” 

“Sometimes I think you couldn’t possibly be real.”

“Be mine forever. I’ll give you anything you want. All I want in return is you.”

“I want you, I want you right now. I want you here. I want you in my bed, I want you tomorrow. And I want you the next day.”

“I have been adrift all my life.”

“If you’re going to kill me, you might as well enjoy yourself while you’re at it, because Lord knows, I won’t.”

“Mock me all you want but I am not exaggerating.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you are exceedingly nosy?”

“I have had enough excitement in my life.”

“Don’t I deserve this one little fantasy?”

“Most of the world are fools.”

“Act surprised you weren’t supposed to know.”

“Were you ever going to tell me that we’d met before?”

“I had to disappear, I didn’t have a choice.”

“I am so angry right now, that I don’t know myself.”

“I just wanted to thank you for having me here, for accepting me, and allowing me to pretend I was a part of your family.”

“We shall make new memories for you, my dear.”

“Have I told you lately, how much I love you?”

“I would have married you no matter what.”

“I had many dreams about you after the masquerade.”

“In my heart we are married.”

“Do you know one of the reasons I was so hesitant to give my heart completely to you?”

ACTIONS

[ TEACH ] : sender teaches receiver how to dance at a ball

[ MASQUERADE ] : sender and receiver unknowingly dance at a ball together

[ RESCUE ] : sender saves receiver from a drunk at a party

[ REUNITE ] : sender and receiver see each other again after years, only for sender not to recognise them

[ RAIN ] : sender and receiver get caught in the rain on the way back from a party

[ BED ] : sender helps a feverish receiver into bed

[ READ ] : sender reads to receiver as they recover from their illness in bed

[ LAKE ] : sender accidentally stumbles on receiver skinny dipping

[ PANIC ] : sender finds receiver recovering from a panic attack

[ BLINDFOLD ] : sender helps receiver remove a blindfold

[ PRISON ] : sender rescues receiver from a jail cell

[ BATH ] : sender and receiver share a bath together

[ HAIR ] : sender washes receivers hair

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Ben + combat

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a little baby polar bear cartwheels into your askbox, holding a snowball shaped letter in its mouth that it wrote and cut out for you with its little bear paws. it hands the note to you: “I hope you’re having an amazing day, with love from a little bear who loves you and believes in you!”

thank you so much, this is adorable! (especially considering the plot of the terror)

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@sharp-teeth-and-wide-grins said ❛ There is much that remains unclear. ❜ from hewlett to ben.

Riding through the backwoods with a horribly wounded British officer on his horse was not Ben’s ideal situation, but it was certainly the one he was in. Edmund Hewlett was, at least, one of the less horrific officers he could be pressed against - the man was gentlemanly enough, and quiet enough, and intelligent enough to not be a nuisance on purpose. They all knew that saving him was the only way to save Abe, so they maintained a casual, reluctant coexistence that worked for all of them. Camped for the night somewhere in Pennsylvania, Ben carefully tied another blanket around Edmund, making sure to check that his hands and feet were properly wrapped up. He froze when Edmund spoke. “Such as?“ It took effort not to sound snappish, and he definitely failed; he sighed, took a deep breath, sat down beside him, and tried again. “Sorry. What remains unclear?“