#the desperation for crozier's notice!

[notkingyet2]

Jopson and Hickey have such delicious parallels and i specify "delicious" because noticing all their parallels feels like chewing tinfoil

[captmuldoon]

'He sees something in me. Could lead anywhere. Anywhere.'

[captain-poodle]

i started a rewatch with my bestie and i noticed a couple of small details that i feel like is very fitzlittle. people have probably already pointed these things out but shrug anyway.

i think Little is very endeared to Fitzjames from the beginning. like Fitzjames posturing while wholly obvious is also reassuring from someone in command - like Fitzjames functions outwardly as someone who feels very secure in his command and kind of reassurances the structure going down from him in turn. When Fitzy is essentially just peacocking at dinner, Little plays along with it which i think is very adorable. like im sure everyone else was hmm'ing and ahh'ing at the appropriate turns (sans crozier lol), but Little really digests the story and makes a remark that thematically bolsters Fitzy's story! like it must have felt nice to be the person making a clever comment, but it's not like he was the storyteller so there isnt an immediate social reward for making the best comment. BUT Fitzjames enjoys it! He gives Little a gay ass little poke for the comment and Little smiles to himself in a way when someone you like gives you a compliment and it kind of makes your heart soar.

And after Franklin's death when Fitzjames is like barely holding it together in the room with them all present, Little visibly reacts with pain & sympathy to Fitzjames's emotional outburst. Like everyone looks mournful, and they also seem to be quietly trying to not draw attention to the fact that Fitzjames is like on the verge of a breakdown, but when Fitzjames finally snaps Little full body flinches! He looks so sorrowful for a moment before returning to a more schooled expression, like he seems to really react specifically to Fitzjames sadness and not the group sadness in general. Idk im just yapping lmao.

anyway one-sided FitzLittle where Little kind of adores Fitzy and wants him to like him and Fitzy does but not enough because we all know Fitzjames only has eyes for old geezers. Little who watches his handsome and kind commander and likes his stories and desperately wishes to reach out and comfort him but Little is a quiet worrisome man who reminds Fitzjames too much of an insecure Crozier.

2nd half (where i finish) in reblogs 👇

[rowenablade]

Thinking about how Jopson looks at Crozier during the “I’m going to be unwell” scene. How convincing his mother to get clean was probably an extremely painful conversation, if he was able to convince her at all rather than just forcing her into it. How he had to take away the only thing that made her happy. How she probably begged him for laudanum at some point. How she might have accused him of not loving her, of wanting her to suffer. How she might have died before she got a chance to thank him and forgive him.

Thinking about Jopson watching Crozier’s drinking problem get worse, and wondering when he’ll have no choice but to intervene. Seeing everything, seeing the signs, desperately hoping someone else will notice them too. Feeling ashamed of himself for even hoping this task won’t fall to him, that he’ll be spared having to make another parental figure hate him.

And then Crozier calls a meeting, not just with Jopson but with several men who outrank him. Lays out the situation in no uncertain terms, puts the blame squarely on himself, warns them it’s going to be hard but that he’s determined to get through it. Promises to survive and assume command again, when he’s fit for it.

The relief Jopson must have felt, when he realized he wasn’t going to have to be the only adult in the room, not this time. No wonder he threw himself headfirst into taking care of Crozier. “It is you, sir, who is teaching us.” God, he loved Captain Dad so much.

[leadandblood]

https://www.tumblr.com/leadandblood/779995800823529472?source=share it's the same scarf. Lydia knitted it for Crozier a long time ago. Crozier didn't voluntarily share it, Edward just snapped and took it after Crozier's drinking got bad enough that he spilled whiskey on it one day.

(Thomas obviously took it and cleaned it right away and tried to hide the whole event from Edward but Edward found him trying desperately not to cry over the washing tub and made him say what happened and took it. Thomas could have stopped him but he gave in. The thought of Crozier getting it dirty again and him being unable to get the awful smell out this time was too much to risk.)

*falls off the chair then scrambles to my feet*

HODGEPODGE.

*Shakes you really hard*

HODGEPODGE YOUR MIND. AAAAAAAAAAA

Edward hears the soft whining Tom does when he's alone but still trying not to cry, because he didn't close the door very well and comes into his cabin without knocking. "Haven'tyou got places to be, lieutenant?" "Why were you crying, Tom?" "Wasn't." "Thomas... what happened to the scarf? Tell me."

Jop is conflicted about the scarf snatching because on one hand it's not Edward's scarf but also.. he Will take better care of it.

I'm thinking about how much Crozier would protest Edward taking it. Saddest thing would be if he didn't even notice. I'd legit cry. But I bet he would notice. "A word with you, lieutenant." He says as he gestures for the others to leave. Uh oh...

[valtsv]

your terror tma au combines my absolute two favorite pieces of media ever so i am very very very interested to hear more about your crozier ideas…..

what other entities have touched him? addiction + how he came to be on the expedition seems like web to me but maybe he’s also got some vast going on

how did he pull himself out of the lonely? does he ever get a little foggy and someone helps him out of it? ouch. quote unintended

and very important: how does the flesh fit into the whole cannibalism deal?

yeah i agree that crozier's definitely susceptible to the web (considering how he was convinced to sign up for the expedition, his alcoholism since addiction has web associations in tma, his initially being taken in by hickey's false persona which is blatantly intended to flatter him, and the way his alcoholism causes him to unintentionally set up a lot of the later tragedies that befall the expedition due to poor decision making), although after he quits drinking i think he'd be more resistant to its manipulations (that being said, his rejection of the lonely and acceptance of the mantle of leadership could push him further into the web's arms as an avatar instead of a victim, especially considering how many lies he tells in an attempt to preserve morale). as for the lonely thing, i think he mostly pulls himself out during his rehabilitation from alcoholism, but having jopson taking care of him and his sense of duty towards the men that motivated him to go cold turkey in the first place would function as an anchor that helps him to find his way back. people definitely also notice his lack of presence as time goes on, which is what culminates in the intervention talk he has with blanky and fitzjames with episode 5.

regarding the flesh, i think that it plays a major influence on the entire expedition through the body horror (in conjunction with the corruption) that the men start to experience as they're poisoned by their food, and in driving people to resort to cannibalism out of desperation. hickey in particular courts the flesh despite being aligned more closely with the stranger, and several of the mutineers start to edge towards being its acolytes (hodgson especially develops strong flesh associations, founded in his childhood religious trauma).

[fitzjamesbulletwound]

For the Send A Character ask: Little!

anon thank you, it's my time to shine because I love him with all my heart <3

first impression: honestly ned was one of the characters I was very first drawn to when I started watching the terror, particularly in episode 5. without going into too much detail I know very intimately what it's like to be an alcoholic's least favorite person, punching bag, scapegoat, whatever you want to call it for simply existing in their vicinity and I couldn't help but empathize with him and after that I just paid a lot of attention to him. what I first found just like very compelling about him is how resilient he truly is, even though he spends the majority of the show with his head down and looking miserable he literally never stops going, never stops following orders, never stops trying to keep pushing forward. during one of my early rewatches I was at work listening to the song "polar sirens" which is the song that plays when crozier and silna find the final camp and ultimately find Edward probably minutes from death and it just hit me with this like crushing intensity that like... idk to me? trying that hard to the very fucking end is so gut wrenching and human and admirable and it stopped me in my tracks literally and from then on I just couldn't help but be so attached to ned and so full of admiration for him

impression now: whew well. lol. a lot of what I already said except it honestly just intensifies the more I watch. Edward is the character that becomes more tragic to me the more I watch him and think about him and I just love him very much and part of the appeal of joplittle to me is knowing that he has someone in his corner who gives him support and comfort in a way I think he desperately needs and doesn't really get from crozier. I also have started noticing how much he comforts other people around him even when he himself is breaking down (i'm primarily thinking of his support for hodge after jirv's death) even though we can see how devastated Edward is too and like who was there for him? and beyond that scene and that context you can always spot him in the background taking care of people and encouraging them and that is a very difficult thing to do when you're falling apart. I am also not immune to that gorgeous face of his <3

favorite moment: absolutely the jop promotion scene, it's literally everything to me, it makes my heart ache... um also a new one I noticed is when crozier punches fitzjames Edward fucking body slams his ass into that chair and good for him bitch! this is way too hard because I kinda love every single scene that Edward is in lol. ummm okay i'm going to pick one more and this might sound weird but the moment he absolutely freezes in fear when tuunbaq attacks the terror camp during hickey and tozer's attempted execution just because it's so relatable and it was also a turning point for me with him, on my first watch I actually stood up and screamed at him to run and that's when I realized I loved him lol.

idea for a story: same as jop, I want a post canon fix it where they go through the unbearable slog of working through edward leaving him behind but I want it to have a happy ending pls God

unpopular opinion: hmmm. just something I've been chewing on but I don't know that ned's feelings about crozier are so much that he wants his attention and approval, I think he genuinely just wants him to treat him better and listen to him and see his efforts for what they are if that makes sense? I think ned feels misunderstood by crozier a lot and I think this is so ironic because crozier is known for reading people and being candid to the point of rudeness but he DOES always seem to assume the worst of ned or dismiss him all together.

favorite relationship: y'all already we are living in a joplittle world all day every fucking day baby <3

favorite headcanon: I like to think that it's easier for him to smile and laugh and let loose when it's just him and jirv and hodge or him and jopson :) it is my fondest wish for him at the very least

[avampyone]

Our Separate Paths

Characters: Hemlocke, Tataru Taru and Inamorata Rillemont. Mentions of Mithus Greystone and Cosette Durendaire.

Synopsis: Hemlocke insists on helping Tataru and ends up in a chance encounter with a old friend from his past.

Setting: Ishgard during the events of Heavensward.

-----------------

All words and thoughts failed Hemlocke to describe the feeling that weighed on him to return to Ishgard too soon. The city was as ever a cold beautiful monument that never seemed to change since that fateful day of the calamity. A chilly breeze crept out in an uncanny manner like tendrils that sought to entwine itself around the duskwight’s tall form- to squeeze and suffocate. Such was a feeling he couldn’t shake off no matter how many layers he wore.

There was a time when he was much like the cold ice that engulfed this city, untouchable at the core and seemingly unfeeling, ignoring everything in pursuit of a singular goal. Late at night when the work was finished, he allowed himself to ponder over if that ice had left him completely. All that mattered naught now. The only goal Hemlocke focused on now was to keep out of any trouble. The Scions had more than enough on their hands right now after the events of the Bloody Banquet.

‘He was truly a good and honorable man – General Raubahn did not deserve that.’ Hemlocke thought wistfully to himself with a sigh of impatience to follow. All the while, he trailed closely on the heels of Tataru whom he had been tasked to aid. She fervently rushed around the Jeweled Crozier with the pitter patter of her boots hitting in quick succession against the stone streets below, skillfully dodging the legs of passerby’s that gave her no notice. With a squint of concern and frown lining his expression, Hemlocke took several quick paces forward with the languid wave of his arm to flag her down, coming to stand to block her path in his desperation.

Naturally, Tataru easily bounded off around him, “Miss Tataru, please allow me to escort you through here – It would be imprudent for a young lady to be seen walking alone..” To that, she turned to him with a light furrow to her brows and her small hands waving in the air in a frantic gesture “Look, Hemlocke..You must stop with all of these formalities! We’ll get nowhere just standing about all day. We must hurry and see what we can do to help out our comrades!”

Tataru wasted no time at all in hurrying off to the next stall to make arrangements with another Ishgardian merchant to order more supplies. Heaving out another sigh, Hemlocke threw his hands up to acquiesce to the persistent lalafell in the humbling knowledge he would fail if he tried to go toe to toe with her. Hemlocke took one small step forward in her general direction, but found himself frozen to the spot to hear the delicate rasp of a voice he knew very well.

“I-I cannot believe if. I would know your eyes from anywhere! It’s really you..Serap-“

“*Don’t* say it!” There was a timbre lined with the rise of hot anger that came uncharacteristically from Hemlocke in a growl of warning, those crimson eyes narrowing upon figure of the lithe elezen woman with fair hair. Such an outburst drew the glances of wary onlookers. He straightened himself to full height, adjusting the lapels of his jacket to regain his composure. The gleam of his eyes descending into a somber haze in their half-lidded guarded state, “My.. apologies, madam. Please if you would call me Hemlocke now- The man you knew before died in that fire. It is as simple as that, Lady Rillemont.” The directness of his tone would stand for no argument in this.

Despite the initial shock, Inamorata beelined towards him to press her gloved laced hands against the front of his chest. Her lovely eyes shone out pleadingly upward at him, like pale jewels of blue with the sheen of unshed tears, “You would treat us like strangers now?..We cried for you. Even, Mithus..! You had everything you sought for. Your engagement to Lady Durendaire, earning her love after so long and freedom from Gloucent... Why did you throw it all away..”

Those frail eyes searched over him, brimming in a concern that came naturally to Inamorata. She always been far too sweet for the likes of Ishgardian society having been married off to a drunkard of a man. Her along with the rugged Mithus, a former lancer turned gardener, he'd become close with the long years after his tutor had been dismissed. His only consistent lovers and confidants. There was nothing particularly remarkable about the either of them that would garner the attention of those that sought perfection- but to him, they exuded nothing but the pure honesty of themselves. Such a trait he had always admired and envied.

Ultimately, a love blossomed between Inamorata and Mithus that he stepped back from to see cultivate, not feeling the same even if he was grateful for the trust he had in them. Thinking on this, Hemlocke brought his hands up to cover her own in a light squeeze. He brought the lady’s knuckles close, bowing his head to press kisses against most affectionately. His thumbs grazed over after to urge warmth back against the chill he felt in her lacy hands, “..She loved my striking looks and the idea of me. It’s always been about appearances, love. But, never mind about me. I trust you are both well..?”

Hemlocke’s question ended with him bringing those hands back in her own space with a steady nod. She offered a smile even if it weighed heavy with emotion, “Yes, very well – My husband drank himself to death not long after the fire. With my new fortune, Mithus and I were able to marry. We have a little one of our own and another on the way..” The merry way of which she spoke of all these pleasant events with a maternal press to her abdomen eased something in Hemlocke. How could he look upon this return to Ishgard with such discomfort now? To know his old friends were in good health and well taken care of.

A genuine smile uplifted his features, murmuring silent gratitude to the Fury for watching over them so, “That’s wonderful to hear and I’m truly happy for you both.. For me, there is much that has changed..much I cannot tell you without risking you all. This is the last you will see of me.” Good byes had never been easy for Hemlocke even as easily he made the motion to turn away from Inamorata to head back towards Tataru.

The voice called out to him one last time giving Hemlocke a pause in his step, “Did you find happiness..?” It came out quiet but hopeful.

It would have been easier to lie. Yet, he had made the promise to try to live as honestly as he could in his new life even if he found the truths of the world outside weren’t always so easy to face, “I am content enough..I have the opportunity to see the world and hone the abilities I found I have as not to be a detriment to others. You have your own paths to follow now, so take care of one another, mm? It is all I wish.”

Hemlocke found his way back to Tataru, drifting along through the thrums of merchants and customers with none of the rush he had before and a noticeable droop to his shoulders. Even with his best efforts, the lalafell noticed this change in him with a press of hands to her hips and waggled her finger at him, “Oh, come on, no need to worry so for the others..We have to do our best in the meantime, right? And maybe we can stop for some Ishgardian tea on the way back!”

Hemlocke couldn’t help but to perk up a little to that, coming to kneel to reach and grab a few of the bags she had to carry. If he were to be honest with himself, perhaps there was more he missed about Ishgard than he had realized now that the heavy feeling in his chest had eased to some degree, “Aye, I would like that very much.”

[charlesdesvoeux]

top five terror men (this is a command)

I got another ask which is about my favorite tertiary characters so these will be excluded from my ranking so here's my top 5 terror guys (main and secondary characters edition)*

1. John Irving: as I said in my pinned post I am a JIRVGIRL AT HEART. idk man everything about his character is delicious to me. the self-denial and subsequent mixture of self-righteousness ("I'm better than you bc I can repress control myself") and self-loathing ("I'm horrible bc I feel these things and I'm going to hell I'm not good enough") is just. chef's kiss to me. he makes me crazy.

2. Cornelius Hickey: my baby my cult leader my everything. one of the more overtly "villainous" characters but he was so masterfully written and portrayed that he feels like a real human being; i feel like I can *understand* why he does everything that he does, every loathsome action, we understand why he thinks what he thinks why he made the choices that he made. even if the show gives us very little information on his backstory we can fill in the blanks- the "bugger Nelson, bugger Victoria" speech is so telling!!! I love him beyond words.

(Jirv and Hickey are my top 2 characters even including my pet tertiary guys)

3. Edward Little: I was really struck on my second watch by how much *rage* he's repressing, which is something I hadn't noticed my first time around (when I didn't even register his existence until like ep 5). this is in many ways a show about the failures of the people in charge- from the Admiralty picking goldner cans bc of the low price and not sending rescue earlier, to Sir John's hubris and Crozier's MANY failings as captain- and when our boy ned gets put in charge what does he do? he fails ❤️ which was not entirely his fault, the guys' reluctance to go save crozier is due to them both being tired as hell and probably not liking crozier all that much. his relationship to crozier is also fascinating to me, he's soooo eldest daughter coded I felt it in my bones (also an eldest daughter, also a flop). he hates what crozier put him through in eps 4 and 5 due to his faulty leadership, but I think he also develops respect for him due to trying to kick his addiction and everything that followed after they left the ships. by the time crozier gets kidnapped I think he genuinely really respects him. and, you know, dutiful to the end!!!! essentially refusing to die until the captain came to relieve him of his duties!!!!

4. Thomas Jopson: after the eldest faildaughter comes the golden child!!! fascinated by this guy. he gets many moments of tenderness which the other guys (with the exception of crozier and fitzjames) don't really get as a rule, but we see in his confrontation with hickey that he's no pushover. i find the contrast between these 2 fascinating; I think they came from similar origins but their life choices led them to develop vastly different outlooks (one isn't more valid than the other btw!!!!). aside from like blanky he's apparently one of the few guys on Terror who really knows what he's doing which is also commendable. I also just find characters who occupy "servant" positions really interesting.

5. Solomon Tozer: my dog-coded boy!!!! the breaking of solomon tozer is one of the most fascinating arcs in the show for me. at first he comes off as confident, sarcastic (his interactions with hickey as they bury david young!!!), one of the lads (im not British sorry if my usage of the term is cringe). but then one by one the marines fall (bryant killed by the bear, heather with his brains poking out of his skull, alive but not alive) and finally we get the tragedy of carnivale and his desperation to save heather which of course he's unable to do. that's always what tozer wants to do, he wants to save everyone, he wants to protect. the alienation of the marines from the rest of the men is also fascinating to me. and he falls under the spell of hickey bc of this desperation to save the people he cares about and himself and they develop that weird as hell psychosexual shit that makes me crazy. love them forever.

*main character: actor in the opening credits. secondary character: not in the opening credits but gets a relatively substantial amount of screen time/lines/a story arc more generally.

[unintentionalgenius]

fuck it friday.

@kitkatpancakestack tagged me in a fuck it friday on march 10th (!!!) and today I am rising from the dead to post this excerpt from an absolutely unhinged The Terror Pacific Rim AU im working on. I'm still not committed to finishing it but I'm so obsessed with it rn and so you all must suffer with me

“She served us well,” Crozier comments, perhaps as conciliatory as he knows how to be. “She looks good as new, standing here.”

She looks small, he can’t help noticing, for all she towers over him. He would’ve thought, not very long ago at all, that she was the biggest thing in the world; but that was before he saw her sister go up against a kaiju, and fail. Crozier is just like her, his mind offers up without prompting, and it’s true; the man used to be on billboards, larger than life, he and Ross together telling stirring tales of going up against not only these interstellar invaders but the very elements. To meet him in person, though, he’s just a man, and shorter than James expected to boot. It’s difficult to say how hard the life of a Jaeger pilot wears on a man because as of yet, none of them have lived to be as old as Francis Crozier. Crozier’s no good as a test subject - it takes only hours around the man to realize he’s pickling himself in a barrel of whiskey, and not very slowly at that. He’ll turn to jaundiced leather before he’ll roll over and die, just out of spite.

The man James was just a few months ago could only dream of reaching the heights Francis Crozier seems to take for granted. Standing in the cold of the Jaeger bay, he cannot even truthfully say he wants it anymore. He has seen what kind of decisions a man like that has to make, and he’d be just as happy to do his little part to save the world by, say, recycling cans and bottles. Whatever it takes so that no one ever looks at him as they breathe their last ever again.

A breath shudders out of him against his will; it fogs in front of his face but he hardly notices. He flexes his fists once, then again. His chest is a sucking vacuum, and nature abhors a vacuum, but he cannot seem to incite his diaphragm to inhale, no matter how desperately his brain screams for fresh oxygen. It goes on longer and longer, until he truly thinks he may see the edges of his vision beginning to dim - and then he sucks in a sobbing breath, undignified in the extreme. He has to rest his hands on his thighs and hang his head.

“It was - it was - “ he cannot find the words; there may be no words for the depths of existential horror he has so lately been required to confront.

“I’ve seen it, Commander,” and for once, there’s not a trace of disdain in Marshall Crozier’s voice; just pity, plain and simple. “I know.”

[galaxxiwrites]

Hello! How about some first date headcannons for Aymeric, Estinien, and Haurchefant? Please and Thank youuuuuu

No problemo mi amigo! :D

First date (ft. Aymeric, Estinien & Haurchefant)

Aymeric de Borel

The first date with Aymeric is...rather an accidental one.

The two of you were patrolling the city streets of Ishgards, as per usual.

Having done this since your newbie days as Temple Knights, the two of you had grown quite intimate not only with the streets and its residents, but with each other.

Tensions between you two were rising, you were well aware. However, neither of you made the first move. That is, until today...

Today's route included walking through the Jeweled Crozier.

Your eyes wandered through the stalls of the shopping district when your eyes landed on a piece of golden earrings, most likely made of triphane.

Aymeric noticed your glance and walked closer to the stall, bringing you along with him.

He made you try on the earrings, and his eyes widened in delight as the triphane earrings suited your features perfectly.

Without hesitation, he bought them for you. You, however, protested as you both were on patrol and weren't supposed to be messing around like this.

"Forgive me, my dear, but those earrings really suit you."

You heart beat at an incredible rate, even more so than usual.

Aymeric...just complimented you? It didn't quite process in your head, yet at the same time you couldn't help but carve the memory of his smile into your memory, treasuring it like gold for as long as Halone let you lived.

"Let's keep this date a secret, okay?" He whispers with a wink before continuing to walk down through the line of stalls, with you trying to regain your cool as you followed along.

Estinien Wyrmblood

Your first date with the dragoon was a hard fought one...quite literally.

You've had your eyes set on the Azure Dragoon for a while now, and I mean training-for-the-Temple-Knight-a-while.However, Estinien was a fickle man who prefers to be by himself than mingle amongst the crowd.

So to get his attention, you had to give him what he wanted—sparring training.

It didn't help much getting you close to the dragoon, but it did at least get him to remember your name, albeit he seemed quite annoyed with you. Unfortunately, you always lost.

Today however, you had the courage to finally make your first move and made him bet with you: if you lost, you'd stop bothering him. If you won, well, you'd finally have your date!

It was a hard battle, but for a split second he faltered, gaining you the win.

You were so thrilled that you embraced him without realizing, and gladly you weren't paying attention to him, else you would have noticed the small smile decorating his usually stoic lips.

"Alright, you win. So, what do you propose we do?"

He sighed when you realize that you didn't think THIS far ahead. So, he made the decision for you instead.

He brought you to the ravished town of Ferndale, and told you of the tragedy that befell its inhabitants.

Haurchefant Greystone

Your first date with Haurchefant happened in the comforts of his office at Camp Dragonhead.

You two had recently started dating, but your busy schedules would often clash and thus couldn't make any solid plans yet. You were an astrologian in the Observatorium, while he was the head knight incharge of Camp Dragonhead.

Today however, you had the chance of visiting him at his office as your last task of the day was to deliver some paperwork to the son of House Fortemps.

You were giddy, as you barely had any time to meet your lover. It was also a nice way to surprise him after a long day, you had thought.

When you walked through the doors of his office, he reacted just how you expected him to— surprised and ecstatic. Although tired, as evidenced by the bags under his eyes, Haurchefant greeted you with a big smile and a large, warm hug, both of which were desperately needed after trudging through the cold evening of the central highlands.

He quickly brought you over to the fireplace and grabbed a blanket and two cups of hot cocoa for the both of you.

"This feels like a date, doesn't it, my love?"

He said as he nuzzled his head at the crook of your neck. You hummed softly in agreement, and you both just basked in the silence, enjoying a peaceful moment im each other's embrace.

[slow-burn-sally]

Why I ship it so hard. A completely unasked for breakdown of my deep and abiding love for Thomas Jopson and his deep and abiding love for Captain Francis Crozier

I am lonely on this little rarepair ship and have been left with no alternative than to scream into the void about all my feelings. And my feelings are that Captain’s steward Thomas Jopson is deeply in love with Francis Crozier.

Crozier: “Not only must you draw the tightest possible curtain around what is happening, but you must also care for me, as I will not be able to care for myself.” 

The camera focuses in immediately on Jopson’s face. His eyes are trained steadily on his Captain. He’s already completely, 100% dedicated to doing whatever Crozier needs. 

The other officers are looking at Crozier with confusion, worry, discomfort. Not Jopson though. The very next thing out of his mouth is:

This was actually the first time I really noticed Jopson. Yes, you see him helping the Captain dress, snipping that thread on Crozier’s sleeve with his teeth (a very good example of the level of intimacy between them). And you see Jopson in the background, serving the officers their dinner. Fetching chairs for people to sit in. He’s sort of a muted character until this moment. His only real standout quality is that he’s astoundingly pretty.

Then we get a front row seat for how completely dedicated he is to his Captain’s well being during this scene at the end of ep 5, and the convalescing scene in ep 6. How he gently and carefully combs Crozier’s hair. How he puts a cold cloth on his forehead. He scolds him for wanting to drink more than his small allotment of water, and basically acts the doting nursemaid. 

When Crozier tells Jopson to just let him lie in his own filth, that it will teach him a lesson, Jopson gently replies:

Every word he says to Crozier is full of fondness and kindness and respect. He isn’t just cleaning Crozier up and keeping him alive. He’s bolstering his self esteem and ensuring that the other men see his Captain at his best, even when he’s been brought low. 

When Blanky asks if Fitzjames wants to speak to him about Crozier, earlier in the episode, he says “If this is about Crozier, Jopson’s a regular mongoose. Keeps us all out most of the day.”

We can see that Jopson is highly protective of his Captain’s time. He wants him to recover, so he actively shoos men away from Crozier’s door. He isn’t just cleaning and feeding Crozier and combing his hair. He’s actively deterring officers (who outrank him) from entering the Captain’s quarters so that Crozier gets the rest he needs. This man is dedicated. 

During the carnival, when one of the men thoughtlessly spills alcohol onto Crozier, Jopson is there to push the man away. Crozier’s own, personal body guard. We see none of this protectiveness from any of the other stewards. It’s not to say that they aren’t protective of their officers. Only that the camera is always focused on Jopson’s dedication to Crozier in particular. 

While the Captain stands on a platform and addresses the men, Jopson gazes up at him lovingly

Later, in ep 7, when he thinks Crozier doesn’t need him any longer, he’s miserable, and says Crozier should have fetched him to help him dress, and for his trouble sleeping. Again, none of the other stewards are showcased as being this tirelessly dedicated to their officers. It’s a repeated thing in the show. And yes, you could argue that he sees Crozier as a father figure, and most people do, but honestly, I think it’s a bit much. There is something going on here that goes beyond that. 

At the end of Jopson’s life, (which I will NOT be providing screenshots for, because I find it deeply upsetting), he thinks that Crozier has abandoned him. He crawls from his tent, reaching for his Captain and calling for him. He is clearly delusional from pain and lead poisoning, and sees Crozier at the end of a long table, set with sumptuous food, and he crawls along it, swiping dishes of food away with sweeps of his arms in his desperation to reach his Captain. This is a man who hasn’t eaten properly in probably weeks, if not months. He’s starving and mad with pain and he is symbolically pushing away food in an attempt to reach for the man he loves. 

There are more subtle ways to portray a father/son dynamic. And Jopson never once mentions his own relationship with his father. He talks about his mother, and the absence of any mention of his father could mean that he sees Crozier in that light. But then why not just state that? 

Nope. This is the devotion of a man who is deeply in love with his Captain. Crozier’s feelings for Jopson may stop at a fond regard for a man he sees as a son figure, but Jopson’s feelings for Crozier? Off the charts romantic dedication. 

That is all. I’ll go back to writing fic now. 

[bilbobagginsomebabez]

dipped at "the viewer knows things Hickey doesn't." you seemingly got caught up in Hickey's ego trip and just missed a lot. i'm going to use the dog as an example and then i'm done. hickey complains about the dog twice.

[1]

[2] "Earning his keep" is a reminder that he's the bear warning system. Hartnell is not an officer or high ranking. This is common knowledge among the men, and this is before the dog is dead. The viewer learns that the dog is a bear warning system at the same time well after Hickey. and if he were soooooo smart, he wouldn't have killed his alarm bell.

[3] Here's where hodgson tells him outright and he ignores it. because he's just. so smart. apparently.

Hickey is literally delusional. He thinks he can start a new empire with the bear's power despite the fact that there's no fucking food. He ignores basic facts that everyone is aware of in order to feed his delusions. Crozier is an alcoholic, sure. But he endangers Blanky's life for real once and quits cold turkey.

Hickey isn't a supergenius. He murdered a kid to join a voyage that was taking volunteers. He's conniving and ruthless and to a certain sort of man in a state of extreme desperation, that can be persuasive. his conniving nature is what makes him pay attention to and catch details others do not, but he doesn't know how to understand or interpret what he's noticed. so it does not make him smart.

hickey is so incredibly, fantastically stupid. i'm just obsessed. like this is his big moment right here.

crozier's processing a long, miserable career that mostly brought him a lifetime's worth of empire-induced trauma, the VERY recent deaths of two of his closest friends, and the responsibility of trying to keep his men alive so he's sitting there like "just. why the actual fuck have you brought me here. your mutiny was successful; typically you don't go back to kidnap the captain" and hickey's acting like lex luther about to reveal his master plan.

like getting trapped in a car ride with your kid cousin who hates you after they successfully played a prank.

[tealin]

Temperatures

As always, when you see one of these posts pop up you can head straight over to twirlynoodle.com/blog to see it properly formatted and with pictures. Tumblr didn't even take the crosspost last time so I don't know what's going on!

It’s all well and good to share photos of Antarctica – after all, it is a beautiful place, and we are predominantly a visual species. The photos can give you a sense of what it looks like, but not what it feels like. If people know anything about Antarctica, it’s that it’s cold. But how cold? And what kind of cold?

I cannot speak to the full range of Antarctic weather.  I was down for exactly a month, in early summer, and aside from the first week, the weather was unusually calm and mild.  To my great disappointment, I didn't see a single blizzard!  But I did get enough to compare the feel of Antarctica with other places I have been, and I hope that by making those comparisons here, I will bring you a little closer to understanding quite literally what it feels like to be there. 

Temperatures are misleading.  A number can only give you an impression of what one might actually feel when one steps out the door.  Humidity, sunshine, and wind are external factors that affect the perception of temperature; this can be further influenced by how much sleep or food you've had, BMI, resting metabolism, your accustomed climate, where you've just come from – so, 6°C can feel different from one day to the next, or to two different people standing side by side.

There are roughly two types of cold: dry and damp. The influential factor is water, because it takes a tremendous amount of energy to make water change temperature – this is why it takes so much power to boil a kettle, and why we bring hot water bottles to bed instead of hot gravel bottles. In dry environments, there is less water vapour in the air to suck up the heat coming off your body, so you get to keep more of it for yourself. It may be well below freezing, but you will feel the cold merely as a sensation on your skin, where it meets the air, and not something that goes right through you. Damp cold, because of the energy-hungry water in the air, feels a lot colder. It’s not enough merely to cover your skin, you need layers of fabrics that have moisture-repelling properties (wool is key; cotton is useless). Your precious body heat will leak out through any weak point in your clothing. Because of their different properties, dry air can be much colder than damp air and yet feel more comfortable. In my experience, damp cold is the worst when it’s above freezing, because below freezing the air can’t hold so much water. Damp climates, however, tend not to get much below freezing, so when people from damp climates imagine very cold temperatures, they imagine the insidious cold they know, only much much worse. It’s not necessarily like that.

Even the objective numerical value of a temperature presents a problem: my historical sources, and the United States of America, report temperatures in Fahrenheit, while the rest of the world operates in Celsius.  Scientists prefer the metric system, but McMurdo is an American base, so it's functionally bilingual.  I tend to think in Celsius, but as the historical record was in °F and I wanted to be able to compare what I was experiencing with what my guys experienced, I paid more attention to °F while I was down there.  In this post, I will report actual temperatures in both, so you can look at whichever one you understand best. 

When I left Britain in mid-October, we had been having a very mild autumn, after a hot summer.  My hopes for hardening up a little on the way to Antarctica were dashed when Vancouver, though objectively colder, felt merely fresh and delightful, I assume because it was unseasonably dry.  LA is always dry in the autumn and usually hot, so that was no surprise; Christchurch however was much warmer than expected, and because it wasn't as dry as LA, felt even hotter.  After several days' delay there, I feared my blood was much too thin to be hurtled into ice and snow. 

It is regulation to wear one's Extreme Cold Weather gear on the plane to McMurdo.  Aware that I'd just had a fortnight of heat to thin my blood, and that they were just coming out of a cold snap down there, I was only too happy to take this precaution.  When the plane landed, everyone piled on their balaclavas and tuques, and when the door opened, an icy-looking fog formed as our pent-up breaths met the cold air from outside.  Here we go, I thought.  As I approached the gangway I braced myself for the smart of cold air on exposed skin and the stiletto keenness as I inhaled, but . . .   

. . . it was fine. 

In fact, it was so fine that when I was allowed to change out of my ECW, I put on my street shoes, not even my cold-weather hiking boots.  I knew dry cold from Utah and Alberta, but I was coming to understand that in an Antarctic context, “well it was -20, but it was a dry cold” isn't a joke, it's just a statement of fact.  +6°C(42°F) would be miserable in damp Cambridge, but -6°C(21°F) was quite comfortable at McMurdo – if it wasn't windy, one could happily go about without a coat.

One always had a coat to hand, though, because the wind could turn up at any time, and it made a big difference.  The first time I went to Cape Evans it was so mild as to be balmy – I was in snow pants because they were required for the snowmobile, but on top I stripped down to just my base layer and a medium-weight sweater, and was even a bit warm in that.  It was -1°C/30°F, but I could happily have sat down to a picnic. 

Before we left, I wanted to make a quick trip up Wind Vane Hill.  I got hot climbing it, but while on top, a breeze kicked up, and before long I was wishing I hadn't left my jacket at the bottom.  The reason I have my hands tucked in my snow pants bib in the above photo is because they were beginning to feel quite nippy.  I always had a jacket with me after that, even if I cursed its dead weight the whole time.  (It was usually my trenchcoat, not the big red parka, for this reason.  I will go into more depth on clothing in a future post.) 

A similar thing happened on my Basler flight.  I'm afraid I don't know the actual temperatures where and when we landed – we were at the inland extremity of the Barrier, though, so everything I'd read told me it ought to be noticeably colder than McMurdo.  It might well have been.  But the only clue that it wasn't a perfectly warm summer day was that the slightest stir in the air breathed ice on my hands.  It felt much the same at the much higher altitude site of CTAM.  The interior of the continent is even drier than the coast: apparently, in the absence of wind and on a bright sunny day, this makes temperature barely perceptible at all. 

A windless day is a vast exception in the case of Antarctic weather, though, and besides chilling a human body, the direction of the wind makes a big difference to the objective air temperature.  A north wind, arriving from over the open sea, was comparatively mild.  Most of the time, however, the wind was from the east to south, coming cold off the icy interior.  This sends it funnelling through The Gap straight at Hut Point. The Hut Point Wind was infamous in the Heroic Age; even now it can be a pleasant day at the station, but one must remember to kit up just to walk around the corner to the Discovery Hut. 

It did make for some great photos, though, because if the conditions were just right – which they were a few times in my month there – the wind would kick up some freshly fallen snow and things would look so very Antarctic.  The funny thing was, on the days when it looked quintessentially polar, it was actually comparatively warm.  The snow was so powdery that a fairly light wind could lift it, so it didn't have to be brutally windy to look brutally windy.  The cold really sets in when a high pressure system stays in place for a while and keeps the air still; if there is turbulence, there is warmth, and if a weather system moves through – such as the kind that delivers snow – the temperature rises considerably.  So in order for there to be fresh snow to blow around, there will have been a recent warm spell, whereas if it's starting to get cold again, the new snow will have compacted enough not to blow around.  The strongest winds I encountered in Antarctica were at Cape Crozier, but you'd never guess it from my photos, which haven't a speck of drift.  I am sure there are exceptions to this, but this was a dependable pattern in my time there. 

Above: two images of light snow blowing off just after a snowfall, when it was comparatively warm. Below: 30-knot winds at Cape Crozier, but you'd never guess.

One of my oddest temperature memories was in one of those balmy drifty situations.  I had been asked to give my history lecture over at Scott Base, and I was to wait for the Kiwi truck at a designated pickup point on the road coming over from The Gap.  There are three official categories for weather in Antarctica: Condition 3 is when everything can operate as normal: it can be cold, it can be windy, but visibility is fine and the ordinary precautions will see you through.  Condition 2 is when things are starting to get serious: drift and/or winds are reaching dangerous levels, extra precaution is necessary, and venturing outside is discouraged.  Condition 1 is when everyone is required to stay indoors except on vital business as merely venturing outside is a life-threatening risk.  During my month there it was always Condition 3, but within the hour of my pickup a Condition 2 had been declared on the Scott Base side of The Gap.  My ride said she would be coming anyway, as she would be overwintering and needed the practice of driving in Condition 2, so I went up to meet her.  I was hoping I would finally get a blast of Antarctica, but it gave me a surprise.  For one, it was warm.  And, yes, it was windy, but not desperately so, and the wind had a damp sweetness that, weirdly, made me think of swelling streams and crocuses.  The Condition 2 had been called purely because of the drift, which was obscuring the road and therefore made driving more hazardous than usual.  It was surreal to hear my driver checking in with her radio operator as if she were chasing tornadoes when it was really quite pleasant out.

My first few days at McMurdo were by far the coldest of my whole visit.  When I first visited the Discovery Hut it was -18°C, or just below 0°F, and rather windy on the way back.  That was when I learned that one can be feeling really quite cosy all over but one's outermost extremities can still suffer the cold – I distinctly remember wondering why my fingertips were tingling when I felt so warm, and a little while later my toes went numb and I had to stamp them back to life.  The dryness, not sapping your core heat, can lure you into a false sense of security, and nab your digits while you're not looking. 

After that, daily highs mostly hovered around the freezing point, and lows rarely dipped as low as -10°C/+14°F.  This was really very mild – indeed, the people who'd been down since September could often be seen flitting about in t-shirts – and was an amusing irony for me personally.  Twice in the past I'd visited Calgary in search of 'Antarctic' cold and hit, instead, a relatively mild spell; it turned out that in Antarctica I was getting exactly the same weather that I had thought un-Antarctic in Calgary.  Not only was it the same weather on paper, but it felt exactly the same as well – the light, fresh kiss of frosty air on one's cheeks, surprising warmth in the sunshine but a breeze to keep you honest, and even the same granular texture to old snow.  Altitude can give you the same feeling, as the thinner air cannot hold as much moisture as it can at lower levels, so if you've not been to the Prairies but have been on a ski holiday, you can use that as a reference point as well. 

It is much harder to draw parallels with damper climates.  At home in Cambridge, I have a sort of 'misery zone' between 4°-10°C (40°-50°F) where it's too cold to be warm, but not cold enough to be crisp, and the damp seems to seep through every layer to reach in and chill. As the thermometer plunges towards freezing and below, it is, ironically, more comfortable weather, because the colder the air is, the less moisture it can hold.  In Britain I have sometimes found myself taking off layers as the mercury falls.  When imagining Antarctica, people often extrapolate from their own experience of cold temperatures: If your base measure of cold is the 'misery zone' in a damp climate, such as Europe or the Eastern US, then you may think 'If 6°C feels like this, then -6° must feel that much worse' when in fact all the other factors at play can make it preferable.  Even the cold days on my arrival at McMurdo were nicer, experientially, than a misty morning in deepest February back home.  At one point, Cherry describes Antarctic summer weather as resembling a crisp sunny morning in September, and indeed from a British perspective Antarctica often felt more like a bright and breezy 13°C (55°F) than anything closer to freezing.

This gave me some perspective on the early explorers.  If they had spent their lives on this chilly island, and then travelled to Antarctica over a chilly sea, they would be coming at it with all the assumptions one acquires from experience with humid cold.  Finding not an amplification of your worst experiences, but instead a wonderland where the thermometer seemed to exist in a different reality – certainly the case when they arrived in midsummer – would encourage some overconfidence that we might consider reckless.  Some, like Scott, had been down before and knew how deceptive the weather could be; his journals are full of chiding his team for not taking Antarctica seriously.  But there were many who were new to it, and even after an Antarctic winter, sheltered as they were in an insulated hut by the sea, they did not fully grasp how dangerous things could get inland and how narrow the margins were.  A breeze may be thrilling when it brings the truth of -10 to exposed skin warmed by the sun; when the truth is -40 it's instant frostbite.  While I didn't get temperatures that low, my experience with higher ones can, I hope, help me imagine how that would go. 

The dryness that made the cold so bearable granted me a reprieve from an opposing worry.  Outside of Britain I generally find buildings overheated in the winter – I have to remind myself to pack light 'inside clothes' or else I suffocate.  This is especially the case in the States, and McMurdo being an American base I foresaw having to strip five layers off and put them back on again every time I entered or exited a building.  They may have been overheated, but I don't know – dry air saps the potency of heat as well as cold, so it was as comfortable to wear three layers as one, and that saved me a lot of time in the cloakroom.  Thanks, Antarctica! 

I had got so used to the nip in the air that I thought I'd be inured to cold for the rest of the winter, but once I was back on this cold damp North Atlantic island, the misery zone was as potent as ever.  I may not have picked up thermoregulation superpowers in Antarctica, but I did come back with two secret weapons: merino wool base layers, and an utter disregard for my appearance so long as I was warm.  I highly recommend both to anyone in a disagreeable climate. 

[efrmellifer]

Hunger

It was common in the Temple Knights, and found just as often, if not more, in dragoons. It depended, really, on the scale of exposure.

Exposure to what was the first question that rose to mind, but wasn’t the answer obvious? For a thousand years, they had struggled against the dragons, spillage and spray leaving them awash and at risk of contagion.

The heretics may have drunk deep of blood, but the upstanding protectors of Ishgard would only ever see low doses, if any.

But it was still enough.

The cause was never questioned, and consequently never explained to them; it would raise too many questions of how but a few drops of blood accidentally taken in through some form or another could engender a change.

But it was hardly noticeable, so it hardly needed explanation.

A little more primping, a heftier appetite for both dinner and dalliances. What was that, in the grand scheme?

No need to pay it any mind, it only happened a few times a year.

In fact, it followed the changing of the seasons, and always coincided with a lull in the aggression of the dragons, back when the dragons had been so aggressive. It had almost been as if the dragons were tending to matters of the home as much as the knights were.

But still, it wasn’t given much thought. A licked lip, a wiped mouth, smearing the contaminant past the gums and into the system. But it was so little that they never grew scales, never had a full transformation.

They just sat at their desk, light fading, and ached.

Or at least, one man did.

Aymeric had been experiencing this rut like an antelope stag from the Black Shroud for years now. If he thought about it (he tried not to), he always figured he’d been careless staying clean after a battle, and just been lucky to keep living long enough that with the passing of moons, he found the sway of a lady’s skirt something that drew his eyes as he wandered the stones between forums, or the stairways between the Pillars and Foundation.

He’d never catered to that whim, never bagged and bedded anyone who had crossed his path during the episodes. A second bowl of soup was nothing but a few gil. But scratching a carnal itch by using another person? He never would have forgiven himself.

And then, for a time—for a year and a half, in fact—it had gone away. The war was raging, stoked to a frenzy with the addition of Hydaelyn’s Chosen Hero throwing her weight with the Ishgardians to push back. There was no time for soup and sexuality, when man and dragon alike were fighting for their lives harder than they had in a thousand years.

Coincidentally, this had all begun then. From the first moment that dragon flesh and aether had passed the lips of Thordan and his knights, the die had been cast, the generations following set up to fall in exactly this manner.

As Hraesvelgr had consumed Shiva, all the knights of Ishgard had now consumed minuscule doses of myriad dragons. And they had felt the effects, quarter after quarter.

It was for the best, perhaps, that lusts were renewed several times a year. The ranks always needed filling, and without this internal goading, who was to say the stress of living this way wouldn’t have killed any such desire?

Either way, it was no good for Aymeric, still stuck in his office trying to read the last few reports and only thinking of what was waiting for him at home.

Etien. Even thinking her name came out in a sigh, like a warm breeze.

He missed warm breezes. He still remembered what they felt like, how they would skitter across his skin as the grass swayed against his ankles. Back when there was grass, rather than the few plants that pushed up through the snow.

Oh, spring winds, the first breaths of the earth waking again. Golden sunshine, verdant leaves and shoots.

All of this was reminding him of Etien, and how equally warm and welcoming she would be, on her toes and stretching to peel his coat off as he came in the door.

How obliging as he laid her on the bed with the kind of care usually saved for porcelain. The way she leaned back on bent arms, and her knees fell apart as he leaned in to kiss her, so he could slot himself between her legs with ease.

The height difference was never unnoticeable, but as he hung over her, and she reached up, closing the gap between them, he could ignore it. While he kissed her neck, across her collarbone, he could ignore it.

As he made his way down, undoing her clothing and kissing every new ilm of exposed skin, on his way to--

Aymeric nearly snapped his quill in half in frustration. He’d just have to come back to these in the morning. Fury willing, he’d be better able to focus then.

He stopped by the Crozier before going home, bringing back with him a variety of food that didn’t need preparing, and some fruit, hoping he made it back before Etien got into the kitchen.

He didn’t want to wait for her to cook something, good at it though she was. He wanted to eat this bread and cheese, and the fruit for something of a dessert, so he could get to what he wanted to follow.

Well, if Etien was amenable. No good leading her in a dance she didn’t want to do.

She was waiting, as Aymeric had expected, when he came in the door, closing it behind him.

“Hello, darling,” she cooed, stretching upward to meet him halfway for a kiss. He lifted her the rest of the way for something a little more passionate than the usual welcome-home peck, and the desperate ache he’d been ignoring came flaring to the forefront of his mind again like a lit match.

He dropped the bag of cheese and apples and fresh bread, pressing Etien against the wall.

She gasped as her back made contact with it, quickly throwing her hand back so her head didn’t follow, then settled her arm around Aymeric’s shoulders again when he’d gotten his leg under one of hers for support. He wasn’t going to be moving now, not without dropping her, so she had better hold on tight.

But it was clear she didn’t need to be worried about being dropped, as one of Aymeric’s hands slid down the wall and settled by Etien’s hip, catching her and tugging her against him, until her legs were draped over his hips and she was fully wrapped around him.

He broke from her mouth, sweeping the curtain of her hair over he shoulder so he could get at her neck,  first murmuring how he’d been burning for her all day, then nibbling at the sensitive skin.

He felt her thighs already twitching as her voice calling his name ascended into her higher and breathier tones, the thrashing of her tail softly thudding against the wall from time to time.

“Is it,” he asked between kisses to the base of her neck, “all right with you,” more heated presses of his lips to her skin, “if we stay here even as we follow this to its conclusion?”

“You haven’t even taken off your coat.”

He hummed against the side of her neck. “Wanted you too badly.”

Etien wrapped her hands around the coat’s collar, tugging it off him as best she could. “You’ll overheat if you keep it on—Aym--” she exhaled hard, whining as he sucked the side of her neck. “Take me with your boots on, I don’t mind, but I won’t have you drop to the floor hot and dizzy because you wouldn’t take off a fur-lined--”

He let her slide to the floor again, then shed his coat. It lay spread out there, keeping the apple now rolling from the bag company as Aymeric lifted Etien into her prior position against the wall.

Still, her tail swished, seeking something to curl around as his hand crawled up Etien’s thigh, all the way up to her hip, catching her underwear on the tip of his finger.

It was a slow process, hooking the material and then dragging it down. Some part of him almost wished he was doing this with his teeth, but he’d already brought her down once. Again, and it would be teasing.

And Aymeric had no desire to tease Etien, nor to delay this congress any longer. So he let his hand graze over her hip, seeking greater purchase on the fine fabric.

“Gods, just tear it,” she breathed.

Aymeric blinked.

“Go on,” Etien purred, running the very edges of her teeth over the cartilage of his ear. “I believe in you.”

He winced as he heard the material tear, but the garment did fall away, leaving Etien exposed, with her skirt all rucked up between their bodies.

Instead of cheering, she just bit his ear again, humming lowly with an equally low and twice as sultry  “excellent work, my darling. What else did you have planned?”

Oh, it made his knees weak, the way Etien spoke to him like that.

Though now he was trying to figure out how to keep her against the wall without holding her up with his hips, while he freed himself from his trousers.

She unhooked her legs from his hips, hanging free from his neck. “I’m strong,” she murmured. “If I’m not too heavy, I can stay like this.”

With a nod, Aymeric took his hands off her, undoing and tugging aside his clothing. He was rather proud of the speed at which he’d done so, considering he was being very much distracted by soft lips and sharp teeth against his throat.

But he guided Etien to being wrapped around him again, kissing her full on the mouth again, refusing to pull away until he was desperate for air.

When he broke and had gulped a breath, he looked into her eyes, her pupils blown wide.

“Ready?”

Etien nodded, pulling Aymeric to her again—his mouth, and his hips, too, with a swift cross of her ankles.

[annecoulmanross]

The premise: AMC’s The Terror (2018) is almost perfectly set up to be a structured as a classical Greek tragedy, or, ideally, a series of three tragedies.

Three requirements of a classical Greek tragedy:

The play is performed by only three actors and a chorus.

The three actors perform all of the dialogue roles between them.

All of the action of the play takes place on a single day (in the space of no more than twenty-four hours), and always in the same physical place.

Obviously this last requirement is the hardest to achieve with the events of the show sprawling over two years or more, but with a trilogy of three tragedies, you could narrow the action down to three key days: (1) Franklin’s death, (2) Carnevale, and (3) The day the mutineers lure the Tuunbaq and everyone but Crozier dies. I could focus on the structural elements that would allow for these three days of “action” but I’m more interested in the implications of the first two requirements: basically, can you stage a version of The Terror with only three actors? The answer is that – barring action sequences which would never be staged in a Greek tragedy anyway, because all true action happens off-stage – yes, yes you can. So, let’s talk about logistics.

Core Casting Divisions:

ACTOR 1 = Franklin (also: Goodsir, Blanky, Little, Bridgens, Tozer, etc.)

ACTOR 2 = Fitzjames (also: Lady Silence, Hickey, Jopson, Peglar, Stanley, etc.)

ACTOR 3 = Crozier (also: Collins, MacDonald, Hodgson, Gibson, etc.)

Beneath the cut: how this casting breaks down, scene by scene; and the implications of these casting divisions, complete with a lot of rambling thoughts about – among other things – gender, masculinity, and (amusingly) Rome.

(Also, I want to thank my dear friends, fellow terror-classicists, and everyone who has so patiently talked terror-meta and terror-thoughts with me, including, but in no way limited to, @kaserl, @catilinas, @rhavewellyarnbag, @paramaline, and @endofvanity – your wonderful thoughts about this show have been enormously helpful as I’ve played with the narrative mechanics here!) 

+

Casting, Scene-by-Scene

A basic outlay of all major dialogue scenes in every episode (a “major dialogue scene” is a scene with more than one character, minus “fight scenes” because action never happens on stage in a Greek tragedy), with the roles of the three actors listed in 1-2-3 order, and an “x” to mark when an actor doesn’t appear in a scene.

01x01 – “Go for Broke”

Franklin – Fitzjames – Collins [Discussing the ice]

Blanky – x – Crozier [Crozier complains, part 1]

x – Jopson – Crozier [Crozier complains, part 2]

Strong – Hickey – Young [Young’s illness revealed]

Franklin – Fitzjames – Crozier [Fitzjames’ storytelling]

Goodsir – Stanley – Young [Treating Young’s illness]

Franklin – Fitzjames – Collins [Collins’s dive]

Goodsir – Stanley – Young [Young’s autopsy]

Franklin – Fitzjames – Crozier [Franklin’s decision]

Tozer – Hickey – Manson [Burying Young]

Franklin – Fitzjames – Gore [The pack has arrived]

(Notes: This is an incredibly cleanly written episode, and the casting is correspondingly clean. Franklin and Fitzjames almost always appear together, as do Goodsir and Stanley; both pairs are “leader and subordinate,” but the roles shift, with Actor 1 as Franklin and Goodsir, and Actor 2 as Fitzjames and Stanley. Actor 3, meanwhile, plays three characters with foresight: Crozier, who foretells the pack ice through his knowledge and by listening to Blanky; and Collins and Young, through their more supernatural visions.)

01x02 – “Gore”

Franklin – Fitzjames – Gregory [Checking the engine]

Bridgens – Peglar – x [“Here comes the lending library”]

Franklin – Fitzjames – Gore [Gore’s sledge party departs]

Goodsir – Peglar – Gore [Gore’s sledge party]

Franklin – Fitzjames – Crozier [“Repairing bonds”]

Irving – Hickey – Gibson [Irving’s discovery]

Franklin – Fitzjames – Hodgson [Hodgson’s sledge party returns]

Blanky – x – Crozier [Remembering Parry’s expedition]

Irving – Hickey – Crozier [A shared drink]

Goodsir – Lady Silence – Crozier [The death of Silence’s father]

Goodsir – Fitzjames – Crozier [Goodsir explains how Gore died]

Franklin – Fitzjames – Crozier [Franklin discusses how Gore died]

Blanky – Lady Silence – Crozier [Lady Silence’s warning]

(Notes: As the show adds complexity, so does the casting. Irving appears as a new role for Actor 1, paralleling Franklin in his religiosity; Gibson appears as a new role for Actor 3, paralleling Crozier in being a person with whom Hickey.... uh, flirts.)

01x03 – “The Ladder”

Hartnell – Morfin – Weekes [Preparing Lady Silence’s father, part 1]

Goodsir – Morfin – Weekes [Preparing Lady Silence’s father, part 2]

Hartnell – Lady Silence – Hodgson [Returning the totems to Lady Silence]

Goodsir – x – Des Voeux [“Burying” Lady Silence’s father]

Little – Jopson – Crozier [Little’s worries about the Inuit]

Irving – Hickey – Gibson [Gibson asks for Irving’s counsel]

Franklin – Fitzjames – Crozier [The sledge rescue party proposal]

Blanky – x – Crozier [Crozier’s mutiny plan]

Irving – Hickey – x [Irving’s warning]

x – Hickey – Gibson [The break-up]

(Note: The sequence in the hunting blind is nigh-impossible within this casting, since it features predominantly three separate characters all played by Actor 1 – Franklin, Goodsir, and Tozer. Imagined poetically, one could say that this is an omen of the violence so soon to come in the physical space of the hunting blind, since violence cannot be depicted on stage in a Greek tragedy. Conceived practically, one might argue that this is because the hunting blind is a hotbed of toxic masculinity, where the masculine Tozer baits the patriarchal Franklin into remaining with the marines, and teases Goodsir for his “feminine” caution.)

Franklin – Fitzjames – Crozier [The death of Franklin]

Chambers – Morfin – Weekes [“Silver swan”]

Blanky – Fitzjames – Crozier [“It’s technically not mutiny if I’m in charge”]

(Notes: This episode mainly functions to round out the first third of the show’s narrative, so the main parallels are familiar. We do, however, have a range of important sequences featuring the new-to-us characters Morfin and Weekes; we begin to get to know more of the men, rather than just officers. Morfin is played by Actor 2, which could be evidence to argue that Morfin was once lashed was for sodomy – cf. “Actor 2,” below for more.)

01x04 – “Punished as a Boy”

x – Jopson – Crozier [“You hear everything, Jopson”]

x – Fitzjames – Crozier [“Does not one bring one’s habits to Terror?”]

Goodsir – Stanley – MacDonald [Tending to Heather]

Tozer – Hickey – x [The idea to kidnap Lady Silence develops]

Little – Fitzjames – Crozier [The plan to “get” Lady Silence develops]

Hartnell – Hickey – Crozier [Questioning the kidnappers]

Johnson – Hickey – Crozier [The lashing]

x – Hickey – MacDonald [After the lashing]

Goodsir – Morfin – x [Morfin’s headaches]

(Note: The scene “Morfin’s headaches” is really interesting to me, because it causes overlap problems all over the place: Morfin MUST be played by Actor 2, because his death scene must have Goodsir (1) and Crozier (3) in it, but Actor 2 also plays Fitzjames and Stanley, both of whom are also in this scene; this is the scene in which Fitzjames and Stanley have their one significant conversation, in fact, which it hurt me desperately to lose. I think there’s something in this scene about thwarted connections – Morfin reaching out to Goodsir, Stanley reaching out to Fitzjames – and that may be why it all tangles up here, why the casting system breaks down and fails here, as it does.)

Irving – x – Crozier [Men shifting to Erebus]

Goodsir – Lady Silence – Des Voeux [Feeding Lady Silence]

(Note: Goodsir sure does have a lot of scenes with Des Voeux in these early episodes. I’d never noticed this, and I’m not sure what to make of it.)

01x05 – “First Shot a Winner Lads”

Little – Fitzjames – x [Sending Lady Silence to Terror]

Goodsir – Stanley – Des Voeux [Goodsir asks leave to go to Terror]

x – Fitzjames – Collins [The requisition of spirits]

Goodsir – Hickey – x [Hickey’s wounds]

Little – x – Crozier [“How fares the raft of the Medusa?”]

(Note: Little and Blanky almost never interact, so the fact that they are both Actor 1 rarely causes problems. Losing Blanky in this scene is tragic, though, BUT this does create an interesting parallel between Crozier’s failure at being a mentor for Little, and MacDonald’s greater success(?) at being a mentor for Goodsir, below, since both are Actor 1 as mentee & Actor 3 as mentor scenes. )

Goodsir – Hickey – x [“Does that really work with anyone?”]

Goodsir – x – MacDonald [Doctors bonding over teeth exploding]

x – Hickey – Gibson [The proposal]

Irving – Hickey – Manson [Storing Hornby’s body]

Goodsir – Lady Silence – Crozier [Interviewing Lady Silence]

Blanky – Fitzjames – Crozier [The punch]

Blanky – Jopson – Crozier [Blanky’s amputation]

(Note: Jopson is holding Blanky’s hand during the amputation. That’s my justification for having him here. I just like it, that’s all.)

Little – Jopson – Crozier [Crozier’s detox plan]

(Note: Obviously, there are additional important people in the “Crozier’s detox plan” scene, and one is loath to ignore Fitzjames, for example. But this is the beginning of Jopson’s core arc, so he takes priority, and Little receiving Crozier’s gun is weighty.)

01x06 – “A Mercy”

Irving – Fitzjames – MacDonald [The provisions remaining]

Blanky – Fitzjames – x [The Fury Beach™ Scene]

x – Jopson – Crozier [Tending to Crozier, with Jopson’s backstory]

Hartnell – Hickey – x [Hartnell’s new charter]

Little – Fitzjames – x [Carnevale as a “last hurrah” before the walk-out]

x – Stanley – Collins [“Flurried thoughts”]

Bridgens – Peglar – x [Xenophon’s Anabasis]

Goodsir – Stanley – x [Goodsir’s discovery re: the tinned goods]

x – Jopson – Crozier [Going to Carnevale]

(Note: We’ve just had seven (7!) entire 2-person scenes of either (a) Actors 1 and 2, or (b) Actors 2 and 3, bouncing back and forth – this would keep Actor 2 very, VERY busy. Actor 2 also plays no less that five (5!) different characters in here, almost their entire core repertoire of Fitzjames, Hickey, Jopson, Stanley, and Peglar, omitting only Lady Silence, who will also show up later in this episode. There’s a lot more to be said here, but I’ll just note that we start and end with scenes of Jopson caring for Crozier – a classical ring structure – with Stanley failing to care for Collins placed at the center.)

Blanky – Jopson – Crozier [Crozier arrives at Carnevale]

x – Hickey – Des Voeux [“Unless you want that ripped off?”]

Little – Fitzjames – Crozier [Crozier’s speech at Carnevale]

Goodsir – Lady Silence – Crozier [Lady Silence returns]

x – Stanley – Crozier [The fire begins]

x – Hickey – MacDonald [MacDonald’s death]

Goodsir – Fitzjames – Crozier [After Carnevale]

01x07 – “Horrible from Supper”

x – Fitzjames – Crozier [What the men have packed]

Tozer – Hickey – Gibson [The mutiny plot begins]

Goodsir – Morfin – Collins [Morfin stumbles]

Blanky – Jopson – Crozier [Goodbye to Terror]

Goodsir – x – Collins [“Terrible from supper”]

Goodsir – x – Crozier [Goodsir wants hunting parties]

Tozer – Morfin – Crozier [Finding Fairholme’s fate]

(Note: For casting reasons, Fitzjames doesn’t appear here, though he’s very much present in the show’s version of the discovery of Fairholme’s remains. One might derive some AU scenarios for this (what if Fitzjames didn’t know about the destruction of Fairholme’s rescue party?) or one might contemplate what it means for Fitzjames to be present or not, when, notably, the numbers of how many men have died that Fitzjames writes on the Victory Point Note addendum in the next episode ONLY tally if Fitzjames forgets – or purposely omits – Fairholme and the men of his sledge party.)  

x – Fitzjames – Crozier [The Hand Touch™ Scene]

Little – x – Crozier [“The men deserve every gold thing there is.” ]

(Note: Crozier and Little will have to also discuss Tozer’s recommendation to arm the men as a past event, since Tozer can’t be in this scene with Little already there, when they’re both Actor 1; more on this in the next episode.)

Goodsir – Morfin – Crozier [Morfin’s death]

Goodsir – Lady Silence – x [Goodsir gets comfort-cuddles]

Hartnell – Jopson – Crozier [Hartnell is a good boy.jpeg and so is Jopson]

Little – Jopson – Crozier [Jopson’s promotion]  

Tozer – Hickey – Hodgson [Bringing Hodgson into the mutiny]

Irving – Hickey – Koveyook [Asking for help]

01x08 – “Terror Camp Clear”

x – Fitzjames – Crozier [Victory Point Note addendum]

(Note: The scene where Crozier questions Hodgson poses some problems, since both are Actor 3. The details may simply have to be elided into other scenes. This episode has several such issues, including, tragically, Hickey and Jopson’s scenes (Actor 2), and, unfortunately, Little and Tozer’s scenes (Actor 1). What this does show us is some new dynamics in the overlaps – Hickey and Jopson are Crozier’s “prodigal son” and the obedient elder son, respectively; Little and Tozer are what happens when leadership goes wrong, in two very different ways.)

Goodsir – Lady Silence – Crozier [Discussing Irving’s mutilation]

Little – Fitzjames – Crozier [Leaving Little in charge]

Bridgens – Peglar – Collins [Bridgens the doctor]

Blanky – Hickey – Crozier [Interrogation at the scene of the crime]

Goodsir – Lady Silence – x [Mourning friends]

Tozer – x – Des Voeux [Noises in the fog]

Little – x – Hodgson [Hodgson’s worries about the Inuit]

Blanky – Fitzjames – Crozier [Realizing the camp is armed]

Goodsir – Lady Silence – Crozier [Sending Lady Silence away to safety]

x ��� Hickey – Gibson [Mutiny planning]

Little – Fitzjames – Crozier [Arresting Hickey]

Little – Hickey – Crozier [The hanging]

Diggle – Hickey – Gibson [The mutiny sledge leaves]

Tozer – x – Collins [Collins’ death]

(Note: Even before Goodsir is kidnapped by the mutineers, like Penelope ambushed by the suitors, this episode gives us none of the Goodsir – Fitzjames – Crozier dynamic that stabilized the end of Carnevale; Bridgens has, in many ways, already taken over for Goodsir in becoming the “doctor” for the crew, and he will bloom into having two vitally important and devastating Bridgens – Fitzjames – Crozier scenes in the next episode. For now, Goodsir has three major scenes with Lady Silence: the last they will ever have together.)

01x09 – “The C the C the Open C”

Bridgens – Fitzjames – Crozier ["Blank pages now”]

x – Fitzjames – Crozier [“More than god loves them,” part 2]

Tozer – Hickey – Hodgson [Hodgson joins the mutiny]  

x – Fitzjames – Crozier [Fitzjames falls]

x – Hickey – Hodgson [“Veal Cutlets Tomata”]  

Goodsir – Hickey – Gibson [“(Tr)eating” Gibson]

Little – Jopson – Crozier [Little proposes leaving the sick behind]

(Note: The last time we saw these three together, it was Jopson’s promotion, and the time before that, it was “Crozier’s detox plan,” and Jopson was promising “I got you” to his captain; now it’s the other way around. Little acts as a pivot around which circumstances turn, rather than an agent in and of himself in many ways. Like fellow Actor 1 character Franklin, Little is thrust into a position of leadership for which he isn’t truly ready, and then his choices are slowly cut off from him – but where Franklin’s choices are cut off by fate, and the ice, Little’s are largely cut off by the opposition of others: first his captain, in vetoing the plan to leave the sick behind, and then by the men, in voting to leave the captain in Hickey’s clutches.)  

Inuit Leader – Lady Silence – x [Not enough food to share]

Bridgens – Fitzjames – Crozier [The end]

Little – Golding – Crozier [The funeral]

Blanky – x – Crozier [Forks]

Bridgens – Peglar – x [“Can we sleep?”]

Tozer – Hickey – Armitage [Making mutiny camp]

Goodsir – Hickey – Hodgson [Feeding mutiny camp]

(Note: So technically Tozer is visibly in this scene, and Hodgson’s not, but in a Greek tragedy he would be visibly on stage, so I’m calling that fair play.)

Goodsir – x – Hodgson [Hodgson’s Eucharist monologue]

Tozer – Hickey – x [Tozer’s plan to return to the ships]

Bridgens – Peglar – x [The C the C the open C]

Tozer – Pilkington – Armitage [Discontented mutineers]

x – Jopson – Crozier [Foley’s cow]

Little – Golding – Crozier [A false report]

Hartnell – x – Crozier [“Go be with your brother now”]

Little – x – Crozier [“We will live”]

01x10 – “We Are Gone”

x – Hickey – Crozier [A Wednesday]

Little – x – Le Vesconte [A vote]

(Note: For you Dundy fans, this is literally the first time I’ve found a place for him; I could perhaps have gone back and put in the short “benjo” scene, but alas, some things aren’t meant to be – the primary people listening to that announcement are Hickey (2) and Gibson (3) and Le Vesconte clearly can’t be Actor 1, since this, his star scene, is with Little (1). Dundy really does come out of nowhere, narratively speaking, even more so than Hodgson in many ways.)

Goodsir – x – Crozier [“This place is beautiful to me”]

x – Hickey – Crozier [“I forgive all of them”]

Diggle – x – Crozier [Escape plans]

Tozer – Hickey – Crozier [A doctor a day keeps the doctor… well]

Tozer – Hickey – Des Voeux [Next steps forward]

Tozer – Hickey – Crozier [“You could have just joined up”]

Little – Lady Silence – Crozier [Captains losing ship and crew]

Inuit Leader – Lady Silence – Crozier [“Silna”]

Inuit Leader – Translator – James Clark Ross [“Aglooka”]

(Note: Working chronologically such that James Clark Ross appears only at the end but not also at the beginning, as per the rules of Greek drama, our Actor 2 ends the story in the role of the Translator. Something very poetic about that.)

+

Implications of the Casting System

Basically, my argument here is that, in a pinch, you can retell the narrative of AMC’s The Terror (2018) using only three actors, with relatively minimal problems of overlap, and that’s FASCINATING.

In part, these core casting divisions (Actors 1, 2, and 3) are purely pragmatic – we have scenes that require, e.g., Franklin and Fitzjames and Crozier to all make important statements, so those three have to be played by different actors. And it fractals out from there – e.g., Blanky and Crozier have numerous significant scenes, so they can’t be the same actor, and you can’t lose the “Sir John Ross Never Knew How Close He Came” Fury Beach scene, so Blanky and Fitzjames can’t be the same actor, which means Blanky and Franklin MUST be. But sometimes these spiraling casting necessities make for very cool accidental overlaps as a result of the pragmatic necessities of so small a cast. 

(Also, for the classicists in the room, I first mapped this out while watching a production of the Bacchae, so that tells you something about my headspace.)

So, interesting things about what parallels these actors might play out:

– Actor 1 predominantly plays very masculine men in very traditional masculine roles (Franklin, the paternal leader; Blanky, so rugged and grounded in himself; Little, the stoic with depressive tendencies who’s bottling up his emotions; Tozer, who is, um, Tozer). The exception in many ways is Goodsir. The thing is, Goodsir is one of most feminized men in this show, given his role as a medical care provider, his warm softness, his initial apparent lack of physical courage (it’s an abundance of reasonable caution, Tozer!), and his Penelope-like role in later the Odyssey narrative. But Goodsir has to be played by a different actor than most of the other characters in this show with a dubious relationship to Victorian British masculinity (Actor 2, see below), because he shares scenes with them! Goodsir and Hickey MUST be played by different actors (not to mention Lady Silence). So here we are, with Goodsir amongst the “manly men.” Even Bridgens is fairly traditionally masculine, if only in his physical appearance and his classical education.

Other interesting parallels: If I had to give a real, classical answer to the “why is Goodsir with this bunch” question, I think it has to do with the shift from the Franklin & Fitzjames & Crozier “First Triumvirate” of the early episodes (brief Roman digression, but the Roman “First Triumvirate” would be Franklin = Pompey, Fitzjames = Crassus (well… Cicero), Crozier = Caesar? …hilarious) to the Goodsir & Hickey & Crozier “Second Triumvirate” of the later episodes (Goodsir = Lepidus (I’m SORRY), Hickey = Antony, Crozier = Augustus). Basically, Goodsir has to take Sir John’s place as the representative of (or spokesperson for) the brittle British empire and its hapless inadequacies, once Franklin is gone (more on this is “Actor 2.”)

Also, you know, re: Blanky and Sir John, both men lose a leg. Do with that what you will. (“Good one leg man” and “Bad one leg man” indeed.)

– Actor 2 predominantly plays figures whose masculinity is either queered, problematized, or non-existent. (Fitzjames, who crossdresses, who carries his legacy like a woman’s beauty – easily lost over time; Lady Silence, who is rarely if ever treated like a woman within the narrative, but, in fact, is one; Hickey, whose queerness and violence are intertwined; and Jopson, whose life is defined by dedication to a career that places him in feminized roles.) Peglar, despite his sexuality, is one of the more traditionally masculine characters this actor plays, but what can I say, Peglar is fragments, and fragments, as we know, are gay-coded. Stanley is also, on first glance, a more masculine outsider, but the gender binary of live men and dead men prevails in this show, and Stanley’s been dead inside since long before he ever set foot on Erebus. This is also where one might argue that the flogging to which Morfin alludes is a punishment for sodomy, and that mentioning it to Goodsir is a specific attempt to find a kindred soul, and/or an attempt to flirt. 

Other interesting parallels: Fitzjames and his masks, both literal and metaphorical, and how those masks are desecrated by Hickey along with Fitzjames’ body and boots; Hickey and Jopson as the opposite ends of the spectrum for father/son relationships with Crozier (I know this means we can’t have that Hickey & Jopson scene – I can’t account for it, I’m sorry too!). But back to Fitzjames and Hickey, this parallel also makes interesting sense re: the two “triumvirates” in show (Franklin & Fitzjames & Crozier and later Hickey & Goodsir & Crozier) because, in contrast to Franklin and Goodsir who are representatives of the British empire, Fitzjames and Hickey are places where the British empire is most visibly broken, Fitzjames because of the lies he’s had to tell about his origins, and Hickey because he’s the eternal outsider, literally trapped outside the tent. (Well, and the lies Hickey’s also had to tell about his origins! Though that’s his own damn fault in many ways.) Also, Fitzjames is technically “Crassus” in his triumvirate, and he does play on tropes of wealth and privilege and inane military campaigns in the east, but he’s mostly, actually Cicero, mutilated by Hickey/Antony, who also steals his mask – aka boots/severed head – to prove his cruelty and co-opt power.

This actor has to do A LOT of work, as a friend of mine once said. But also they play all three of my favorite characters, so I adore them.

– Actor 3 predominantly plays Crozier. (Crozier is the main character of this narrative, we can’t avoid that; he’s part of both triumvirates, and a vast number  of the significant scenes include him, so his actor is stuck playing just Crozier much of the time.) Apart from that, however, I love that one of the natural overlaps is for this same actor to play Collins, whose connection with dreams and visions parallels so interestingly with Crozier’s foresight and foreknowledge.

Note: Because of the tragic structural limitation of “one setting only.” I’ve not included any of the characters back in England, apart from James Clark Ross, since he does eventually make his way out to the Arctic. If I were to include the contemporary England scenes (omitting the flashback scenes), it would have basically this set up:

ACTOR 1 (overlaps with Franklin) = Lady Jane, Barrow Jr.

ACTOR 2 (overlaps with Fitzjames) = Sophia Cracroft

ACTOR 3 (overlaps with Crozier) = John Ross, James Clark Ross, Dickens

Actor 3 is potentially the most interesting of these, because Crozier doubles with James Clark Ross re: life experience (Antarctic hand tremors!) and with John Ross re: being a harbinger of things to come. Actor 1 is intriguing also, though – less, I think, for doubling Lady Jane with her husband, which I do ultimately like quite a lot, but also for the other parallels offered, e.g. Lady Jane and Goodsir. (Did you know Lady Jane once dissected a giant squid? Goodsir would have loved it!) 

This has been your “a Terror-obsessed classical scholar tries to make a tv show into a Greek tragedy” hour – thank you for joining me!