#tozer

[jirving]

Light of my life, Solomon Tozer <3

[irvingcoded]

real quick and dirty solving sketch after frederic william burton's "the meeting on the turret stairs" ......

[leadpoisoningprincess]

I'll be like one of your girls

[haredjarris]

the way tozer is like “why are they surprised that heather is still alive? he’s a ROYAL MARINE” as if whatever good ol’ english skills needed to be a royal marine also mean you are impervious to having your skull cracked open. rip solomon tozer you would have LOVED those manipulative made in the royal navy adverts

[manicpixiedreamjop]

oooohhhh 28 - "I know your friends" with either solittle or armitozer please! <333

(Putting this one under a cut bc it got a bit long!)

“What the fuck happened to you?”

It’s not as if Edward has any say in where Sol goes or what he does, as Sol had been kind enough to remind him on his way out the door earlier when Edward had asked where he was going (“None of your fuckin’ business Neddie, you’re not my boyfriend and you’re not my mum, so fuck off, yeah?”). He feels justified in asking now though, as Sol stumbles through the door just past one in the morning, lip split, brilliant black eye blooming on the right side of his face.

“Got in a fight, didn’t I?” says Sol, tugging open the fridge and leaning into it, pulling out a beer and immediately holding it up to the bruise on his eye. His eyes look slightly out of focus, and Edward doesn’t know if it’s from the injury or if he’s been drinking already too.

“With who?”

“Does it matter?”

“Your face is bleeding, Sol,” says Edward, shoving himself to his feet and walking across the kitchen towards him. “So yeah, I’d say it fucking matters.”

“A friend,” snaps Sol.

“What friend?”

“You don’t know him.”

“I know your friends.”

“Can we not with the third degree, right now?” asks Sol, and this time Edward is sure he’s drunk. Better that than concussed, he supposes. “My fuckin’ head is killing me.”

“Do you think it’s because you got punched in the face?” asks Edward, but he softens his voice, taking the beer out of Sol’s hand with one hand and turning his chin towards the light with the other. The bruise is nasty, but the cut on his lip isn’t as bad as it had looked when he’d walked in, only crusted with old blood, already mostly closed. “Come on, Sol,” he continues, even softer this time. “What’s going on with you?”

Sol lets out a long, slow breath through his nose, and finally looks at Edward properly, eyes big and far softer than Edward ever gets to see them when Sol’s sober. “Was seeing someone,” Sol says finally. “Didn’t work out.”

“They did—” Edward says, forcing himself to stay calm, to push down the anger rising in him, sure it’s the last thing Sol needs right now.

“I thought—” Sol starts, but he cuts himself off too, shrugging awkwardly. Edward realises all at once that his hand is still on Sol’s chin, but can’t bring himself to move it, especially not when Sol leans into the touch. “I don’t know what I thought,” he continues after a moment, and then, before Edward can say anything else, Sol leans forward and kisses him.

He tastes like blood and whiskey, his several days of stubble scratching against Edward’s chin, and Edward is already opening his mouth and leaning back into the kiss before he quite processes what he’s doing. Because they don’t do this, him and Sol. They’re flatmates, they’re old friends, and maybe they’ve gotten off together a few times when they were drunk, and maybe Edward fantasises about getting down on his knees and sucking Sol off every time Sol comes home from the gym all flushed and sweaty and grinning, but they don’t do this. Edward has never even dared allow himself to want this.

“Sol,” he says, pulling away, forcing himself not to react to the small, disappointed noise that Sol makes. “You’re drunk.”

“And?” asks Sol. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want you. That I haven’t wanted you for… for fuckin’ ever.”

“You’re drunk,” Edward says again, as much to himself as to Sol. “And bleeding, and… Let’s just get you cleaned up, alright? We can talk about this in the morning.”

Sol stares at him a moment longer, eyes still wide, before his face hardens again and he steps back, holding the beer can back up to his eye.

“I can deal with it,” he says tersely. “I’ve had worse.” Edward doesn’t know if he’s still talking about the black eye or not.

“Sure,” says Edward, taking a step back as well. “Yeah. I’ll just… leave you to it then.”

“Cheers,” says Sol, and then he’s stepping away, out of Edward’s orbit, and down the hall towards the bathroom.

[georges-chambers]

give me ur top 5 terror ships and the main reason they make u feel so many feelings 🥰

Thank you so much for this ask, I'm very excited to share all of that!

5. Hickey/Crozier

While I do ship them, I also just love watching their whole dynamic and interactions as characters because of the way they're opposites on many levels yet also extremely similar. Or at least, they start similarly. And while I think a lot of how Hickey felt about Crozier was either exploitative or at the very least that he would be like any of the other captains/officers, and useful to exploit but nothing else, the longer the show went on and the more Hickey seemed to just kind of be losing it, the more he also seemed absolutely fixated on Crozier in a way that did become something else. He had so many opportunities to end everything, as did Crozier, but neither did, and why could be a lot of different reasons.

4. Hickeygibsontozer

I put this instead or just HickeyTozer or HickeyGibson because I honestly can't choose between them and feel like the dynamic between the 3 of them post-mutiny would have absolutely been even more interesting if Gibson did survive longer. I feel like Hickey and Gibson were very often alternating between showing actual, very real love for each other, and hurting each other first from miscommunication (Hickey risking punishments and encouraging Gibson to as a form of showing love, Gibson trying to stop all of both out of self-preservation and because he Didn't want Hickey to be punished, among other things), and then later just hurting each other much more deliberately because both were fucked up enough truly only for each other. It really is wild how out of the 3, Tozer is probably the least fucked up, mostly just because he seemed to initially turn to Hickey out of respect, seem to want to turn away from and leave him out of fear, and even then, even after so much, he would lean into Hickey's hands at his face in a way that still suggested he took more comfort in him than he probably expected he ever would. Also, had Gibson lived longer I feel like he would have had way more actual control over the mutineers in a way which may have lead to Tozer being surprisingly loyal to him in a similar way.

3. Goodsilna

I think Goodsir and Silna's whole relationship did initially start as something of a studying thing, at least on Goodsir's part, but what was both good in general yet bad as far as he may have seen it was that he was fairly quickly unable to keep seeing her as just that. It seemed like throughout a lot of interactions, other characters would be very quick to easily discuss her or others as not 'real' humans in at least some way, but Goodsir still seemed unable to think of Silna that way, whether that was when he was trying to learn her language to better communicate with her and (it seemed) out of just wanting to know it, or even when that was much later and he was forced with never talking to nor seeing her again, causing her death, or leaving his own people behind. They're another pair that I just like the dynamic of a lot even not as a ship. I also feel like Silna did think of Goodsir in a different way to many, understanding him in a similar way to how he understood Collins, and offering him the comfort and possible support no one else seemed to. I very often think about aus in which Goodsir did come to realize how the real problem Was more than just how English people were there, but what brought them there, and that they would not be much better if he were able to get back, so he just joins Silna and her people in the way Crozier did.

2. Fitzier

This one is harder to describe just because I feel like so much has already been said about it but I'll say what I like anyways. I like how the whole time, it seems like Crozier is always a representation of all the true knowledge and just understanding of things that Fitzjames first hates because it makes him feel like even more of a fraud but comes to take so much comfort in that it starts to result in him opening up to Crozier in a way Crozier so quickly and so completely comforts and accepts. It really feels like only those circumstances allowed for that which is painful because Fitzjames like Needed that with someone, and yet that was almost definitely the only scenario in which it would've happened. So a lot of them as a ship is sort of doomed from the start not because they wouldn't be good, they would be perfect, but what brought them together would always also doom them. (This isn't to say I don't like fix-it fics or similar I adore them this is just what I think of them in canon).

1. Jopzier

I do know that they were supposed to be read as having a father and son dynamic but I gotta say I still don't really see it. There's an amount of devotion Jopson has to Crozier in general that goes beyond what seems like any actual relationship could have, and even after if not especially when he is promoted to lieutenant, it seems like him being Crozier's steward was just the most convenient way for him to actually express and make something out of those emotions. And Crozier does seem to care so much about Jopson too, but he seems unable to understand that Jopson would, really, love him that completely just because he's him, and not because he felt it was his obligation as his steward to do whatever he could for him, or maybe his obligation as a lieutenant. Which results in a distance between them that Crozier put there only just because he already thought it was there which agonizes me but I do love it.

I feel like saying the only reason I didn't put Bridglar here despite it being what I'm currently most focused on is because I do like them but they're whole dynamic is actually healthier and so much genuinely better than whatever the hell is going on with a lot of these ones that what's fucked up is the circumstances they're in, so I feel like even if you removed them from the Terror I'd love them.

[nomilkinmyteaplease]

Solomon Tozer // Carnival

[evangelho-inegociavel]

Continuamos buscando a Deus! #Deus #jesus #tozer https://www.instagram.com/p/Ci5KwCbMTok/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[hymnrevival]

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[irvingcoded]

armisolving sketch comm, based on @midwrites's spectacular showstopping sublime fic DAMN YOUR WIFE I'D BE YOUR MISTRESS (JUST TO HAVE YOU AROUND)!!!! ✨✨ ✨

[leadpoisoningprincess]

thinking about how tozer goes from only ever calling hickey "mr hickey" to screaming "CORNELIUS" when he's chained to the boat

[mfhbc]

Real or unreal?

Tozer Devotionals, http://tozer.bibleverse.cn/2024/03/22/pseudo-faith/, Checkout app at: https://itunes.apple.com/in/app/tozer-devotionals/id1463201827?mt=8

[saints-who-never-existed]

“In the war film, a soldier can hold his buddy—as long as his buddy is dying on the battlefield. In the western, Butch Cassidy can wash the Sundance Kid’s naked flesh—as long as it is wounded. In the boxing film, a trainer can rub the well-developed torso and sinewy back of his protege—as long as it is bruised. In the crime film, a mob lieutenant can embrace his boss like a lover—as long as he is riddled with bullets. 

Violence makes the homo-eroticism of many “male” genres invisible; it is a structural mechanism of plausible deniability.”

–Tarantino’s Incarnational Theology: Reservoir Dogs, Crucifixions, and Spectacular Violence. Kent L. Brintnall.

[manicpixiedreamjop]

26 Solving for the prompts? :3c

“You’re going to jail for this.”

John started, looking around to see where the voice — strangely casual for its harsh words — had come from. He’d been certain he was alone at his little bench, tucked away in the corner of the park with his book, but he had forgotten there was another smaller path coming out of the trees behind him, connecting them to the other half of the park. He heard the man speak again before he came into view.

“You are. You’re going to jail. And I’m not going to do anything about it. They’re going to come and accuse you of theft and I’m not going to cover for you.”

His words were firm but slightly condescending, as if explaining something to a particularly stubborn child, and it wasn’t until finally he stepped out of the trees that John understood what was happening.

The man — the broad, hairy, unquestionably handsome man — had perhaps the largest, fluffiest dog John had ever seen with him, a tiny plush rat clamped delicately in its large jaws.

“Are you listening to me?” asked the man, still looking very seriously down at the dog. “You’re going to do hard time, Bear. Years, maybe.”

The dog, unsurprisingly, did not reply.

John let out a shocked little laugh before he could stop himself, and the man finally looked up, noticing for the first time that he and his dog were not alone.

“Well, shit,” said the man, fixing John with a grin that made his insides feel as if they were about to turn to jelly. “Look at that, Bear, you’ve got a witness to your crime. Now I’ll have to turn you in, can’t make this nice gentleman an accomplice.”

“I could be an accomplice,” John choked out, despite never having been an accomplice to anything in his entire life.

“Yeah?” asked the man, looking John up and down, taking him in from his sweater-vest to his freshly polished oxfords and smirking. “To what, tax evasion?”

John wanted to protest, but he hardly could, not when his boss quite literally had been arrested on charges of tax evasion not two years earlier.

“What’s he done, then?” he asked instead.

“Stolen this rat from one of the other dogs at the park,” said the man. “It’s so small and she’s so big I didn’t even realise ‘til we’d left already.”

“I walk through there,” said John quickly, words coming out of his mouth before he even had time to consider them. “On my way home. If you like I can put it on a bench or something. Maybe they’ll come back for it.”

“Oh, I can—” the man began, before pausing, seeming to consider something. “Yeah, alright,” he said finally, squatting down in front of the dog. “Guess you’re not a narc after all. Drop it, Bear.”

“High praise,” said John, and the man’s smile came back again as he caught the rat that Bear deposited gently in his hands.

“I’m Sol, by the way,” he said, getting back to his feet, stepping towards John, closer than he needed to reach out and hand him the slightly damp toy. Their fingers brushed as John accepted it. “We’re here Mondays and Fridays usually. If you want to let me know how it goes.”

“Sure,” said John, not quite understanding what he meant by it. It was only a stuffed rat. Why would John need to let him know how it goes?

It wasn’t until Sol and Bear had said their goodbyes and walked away that the realisation hit John that Sol might have been flirting with him. It wasn’t until John had dropped the rat on a bench and made it all the way back home that he allowed himself to accept that he didn’t think he would mind if Sol had been.