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corleonewrites · 18 days ago

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Wandering winds

AU: The Terror (2018)

James Fitzjames x Original Female Character fanfic

Summary: Alexandra Walton’s life was always surrounded with sea: either it was her walks near the seashore with its cold waters, or deep sea of her senses. Her father taught her to throw herself headlong into it, without fear of being drowned and she used to it since her childhood. She dived into love with the same courageous way. And even when everything and everyone was talking about the hopeless state of things she continued to believe in the opposite: that her loved one will return to her safely.

Chapter 6. Mute music soothes my breast – unutter’d harmony that I could never dream

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Midsummer Sea's Dream was the kind of a party that almost every person from high society talked about, and not only those who were somehow connected with the Admiralty or attended the actual party. There even was a short story about it in the Sunday newspaper, about which our father just grinned. He knew that Alexander was watching his reputation greatly and nothing that could possibly discredit the honor of Walton family name happened there. And never did.

Our whole country mansion and the area around it were decorated with sea-themed details: trees and bushes were covered with sea nets, transparent colourfull cloth covered the ceiling and walls in almost every room on the first floor, when our private rooms were closed with the key. Anchors were laying on the floor and starfishes were laying on tables. And the glasses into which the drinks were poured were in the form of sea cups.

It was one of those parties which almost every young officer from the Admiralty attended and all the ladies did their best to make their dresses look as if they had just come out of the sea.

What I liked about those thematic mansion parties was the opportunity to wear dresses freely. I left the skirt without extra layers of flounces and petticoats, as my costume-dress required lighter silhouette. For example, during Midsummer Sea's Dream my turquoise dress was decorated with small seashells and pearl necklace was shimmering on my neck.

When Alexander and our friends were away in the sea – it was my turn to organise events and a book club was held every month in the mansion. And during these events table in the living room was filled not only with books, but also with selection of dainty sandwiches and scones which were served with clotted cream and jam. Cakes and pastries were served as well. Indian or Ceylon tea was poured into beautifully decorated bone China cups from silver tea pot. At that time 5 o’clock tea just came into fashion and we followed it with admiration and amusement.

Of course, ladies discussed not only books which they were reading at those times: gentlemen were in the center of attention during almost every conversation. Few ladies who were Sophia’s and mine common friends were already married and they talked about their lovely husbands, sometimes maybe too much and too sweet as Sophia and I looked at each other unnoticed by them and tried not to smile openly and roll our eyes.

But the rest of ladies loved to discuss officers on whom they put attention and who were the eligible bachelors. Sometimes even those kinds of ladies’ talks bored me, as generally I didn’t want to tell them about my love worries if they took place, which happened very rarely. After late Mister Charming trampled on my feelings – I didn't want to share with anyone what was going on in my heart as a matter of principle. The exception who knew my love secrets has always been my elder brother.

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The carriage drove into our family mansion on early Saturday's morning – Alexander and I needed to have proper time to prepare for the evening. Father left our city house on Friday evening and for the weekend we were on our own. Even though he retired from his naval duties at the beginning of 1844 – he remained in The Arctic Council and continued to attend meetings and receptions.

Our mansion in the countryside always seemed to be mysterious, with hidden secrets kept from prying strangers. Sometimes it felt like it was another country where only my family lived.

The territory was huge and was surrounded by trees, separating the house from the rest of the countryside. Big stable with horses, because all three of us used to ride them, and it was easy just to take the horse and ride anywhere we wanted to.

It was possible to reach the river without much difficulty, that is why there even was werf close to our mansion, where brother and father practiced their knowledge in building ships. Sometimes I came and visited them when they were there and kindly asked them to show me everything that they were doing: ships and sea always fascinated me and I when I had the opportunity to learn more – I would take it.

Despite the fact that opened sea always frightened me – it captivated me. Such mysterious and big part of nature, sometimes unpredictable and cruel, the depth of which no one never knew – it still cursed me with deep and dark secrets.

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Winter’s Tale supposed to be dedicated to the farewell to winter and welcoming the long-awaited spring. The transition of seasons needed to be shown in decorations as well. This party had a mysterious sense too: all the guests had to wear masks. And of course, ladies' dresses needed to be flower-oriented.

It was amusing to walk around flowers and fake snowflakes with coloured tulle hanging from walls, just the process of seeing the mansion being prepared for the actual event was entertaining.

My exquisite silk dress was in bright navy blue colour, with small cream-coloured flowers around the waist and wide neckline was hanging from the wardrobe. My governess just finished lacing my corset and now I was sitting in front of a mirror, putting a white gold pendant in the shape of a narcissus flower around my neck.

Same flower-shaped earrings and a Venetian mask in navy blue colour decorated with artificial daffodils were laying on the table, surrounded by jewelry box, perfume bottle and lipstick. All those small things finished my look perfectly.

Winter's Tale promised to be one of those parties that could not be forgotten, and every moment of it meant something very personal to almost everyone who attended it. And I was not the exception.

The evening arrived smoothly. Soon the sounds of carriages arriving to the entrance outside and loud voices of guests in the living room could be heard clearly.

I took a final look at my own reflection in the mirror, put perfume behind my ears and on wrists, tied the silk ribbons of Venetian mask around the head and left the room to meet the sounds of champagne bottles being opened in the living room.

Confetti crackers and spiral ribbons were flying around me, when I was coming down the stairs.

When I entered the room – my eyes caught a big circle near the table with drinks and mechanical music player: Alexander, who was wearing his black Venetian mask and a pirate hat gathered our friends around him. Henry Le Vesconte and Graham Gore stood near my brother, laughing at joke that Alexander told. I didn’t recognise them at first among the others as both of them were wearing big masks, which covered their faces.

My eyes spotted Sophia and Captain Sir James Clark Ross talking closely to each other, standing in the quiet corner of the living room, but they never saw my curious gaze. I wondered when would I talk to Commander Fitzjames in such quiet way, sharing our thoughts and deep secrets.

“And here is the hostess of the mansion”, my brother finally saw me and held out his hand in my direction, holding a glass of champagne for me.

I smiled at him, but rolled my eyes: he always loved to make a scene when I finally came down to guests when we held such parties years ago.

"Well, I hope you weren't bored without my presence", I took a glass from his hand and stood in front of Alexander, facing him.

“Oh, surprisingly, we were not”, Alexander winked at me and nodded to his left, where Graham and Henry were standing with their glasses of champagne in their hands, “These gentlemen kept great company”

“Is that so, gentlemen?”, I looked at our friends, pretending to be surprised.

“Indeed, miss Walton”, Graham replied, making me grin at his ‘Miss Walton’, and then he raised a glass of champagne in his right hand and adjusted the slightly off mask, “I’m proposing a toast”

Alexander, Henry and I also raised our glasses, waiting for Gore’s toast. He always loved to say toasts, he was very good orator and always knew exactly what to say at a certain time, to certain people and under any circumstances. In narrow circles, he even had the nickname Cicero in honor of one of the greatest orators and philosophers of Ancient Rome.

"Here's the toast for the hosts of the party, our dear friends Alexander and Alexandra, who not only can organise such unforgettable parties, but they are great friends in life"

Suddenly, I felt uneasy after Graham's words: something was eating me inside, as if something terrible and irreversible would happen that would change life of not only Gore’s, but also Henry's, Alexander's and mine. I wanted to shove this feeling off my head, but with every new look at my friends awoke such burden even harder. Neither laughs of guests nor the music could drown it out.

"...and generally, for all four of us, our amusing company of fine officers and lovely young lady", his last words of toast finally woke me up from heavy thoughts. I wished those thoughts would only remain as my imagination.

"Here, here", we cheered together, trying to drown out the noise from the laughter of the guests, and the music playing on the background.

When our glasses clinked, there was a sound of firecrackers and confetti began to circle around the room. They looked like snow falling in the cold wind of winter. It was hard to imagine that spring was already on the threshold.

“Have all the guests arrived yet?”, I asked Alexander, leaning closer to him and raising my voice so that he could definitely hear me.

My brother looked around the room, and then, as if he saw someone who had just arrived and waved at him, inviting him to come to us.

“Now yes, Alex”, he slightly winked at me behind his mask before I could even ask something else.

“I hope I’m not late for the party”, very familiar low and slightly hoarse voice could be heard behind me, forcing me to turn towards the newcomer.

My soul trembled at that particular moment as I recognized the man, even though he was wearing white mask on his face. Commander James Fitzjames nodded to my company and kissed my hand in greeting manner. But his eyes remained to look at me longer, than it should be.

"You arrived just in time, my friend", Alexander called for another glass of champagne and gave it to commander, smiling, "Welcome to our humble abode, if I may say so", he looked around the living room, grinning a little, and began pointing at the portraits of our relatives and ancestors.

"Mind you, every person in this living room is being watched by these authoritative Waltons"

James also looked around, lingering on each portrait: my great-grandfather, grandfather and uncle.

"I see, so no mischiefs must be managed here, I suppose", he smiled again as if he had something in his mind at that moment, "May I ask, do you have other portraits? And where they are hanging?"

"Oh, yes, father thought that it’d be better to hang our portraits over the fireplace", I nodded in the fireplace's direction, which at that particular moment was too noisy and crowded: guests were having fun, confetti were flying in the air, and the music was just gaining its momentum.

Portraits of me, Alexander, our father and mother were hanging there beside the fireplace. No one knew for how long I used to stand there ang looking at mother’s portrait, paying close attention to every small detail, every paint stroke, trying to remember the face of my mother clearly, and place it in my memory.

“I don’t think that you’re able to see them now with all the noise around the room, but I think you’ll have time for it later, as the evening has just begun”, Alexander finished his glass of champagne, snaped his fingers, and signaled the servant to switch the metal disc on the mechanical music player.

Johann Strauss’ II "Sinngedichte", Op. 1 started to play and suddenly the hems of the ladies' dresses in different colours rustled more and more vigorously: everyone was getting ready for the waltz. My companions disappeared a moment later as they were either planning to continue talking somewhere quiet or searching for ladies to have a dance with.

"May I, Alexandra?", James held out his white-gloved hand to me. Both of us knew that no one could hear us or even be bothered about us calling each other by our first names. From our first interaction it was clear for everyone around us that we were destined for each other.

"By all means, James", I smiled at him, placing my hand on his.

We danced gracefully to all the waltzes of Johann Strauss’ II which sounded that evening. When "Gunstwerber", Op. 4 began – the living room transformed into the Royal Palace just for me and Commander Fitzjames. We were as close to each other as we possibly could, closer than the first time we met during the reception at the Admiralty. He held me even more tight and confident, but he didn't forget to let me lead him during our dances.

The clink of glasses and ringing laughter spread through the living room, but we didn't pay attention to it, continuing to waltz. A garland of tinsel and golden leaves sparkled with bright light, spangles and confetti flew through the air, whirling with us in the same rhythm.

When we needed a break from endless waltzes and mazurkas – we talked. James told me about his life, what was his childhood like, his first sails at the Royal Navy. He never forgotten to ask me questions about my life: it could be understood that commander was curious to learn more about me, not as Alexander’s younger sister, but as the lady, as someone with strong opinion in terms of attitude, life and principles.

I lost count how many confetti crackers burst during dances and talks, how many spiral ribbons were launched into the air, how many beverages were drunk and how many quadrille parties were danced: the euphoria of Winter's Tale and the joy of spending endless time close to James filled me with desire and excitement.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen", Alexander said loudly, his mask was now on his pirate's hat, "I welcome you to join me and my sister outside – this evening should be finished with bright notes."

Everyone was bustling around, talking excitedly to each other. Alexander spent the rest of the time before the party started preparing a mountain of all kinds of fireworks, which were currently set up on the snow-covered lawn near the fountain, not far from the rear exit to the veranda and the stables.

James helped me to put on my fur coat and we headed outside, catching crispy air of the night.

The night was cold, but it felt like no one really cared about it: everyone was already drunk and felt themselves really hot and all the guests stood as close to each other as they possibly could. James stood near me, as if protecting me not only from the crowd, but also from the freezing night. This feeling of being close to him warmed me even more, and the desire of hold his hand was unbearable. And in one second, I thought that I could hear his heartbeat.

As the fire of the fuse approached the box of fireworks faster and faster, it seemed that time was stopping and something truly magical was happening. Those seconds of waiting were always the most exciting things for me.

When the first volleys of fireworks lit up the night sky, everyone exhaled and clapped their hands. Someone began to sing, someone opened a bottle of champagne, and there were sounds of glasses clattering against each other.

Commander Fitzjames and I looked at each other at the exact same second: fireworks were in the reflection of his eyes. Invisibly to others, James put his hand in mine, and I felt light tremble inside me, and it wasn't because of the night's cold wind. With every new explosion of bright fireworks of all possible shapes and colors it felt like the remains of distance between me and commander were exploding, leaving the space behind.

When the show was over everyone cheered but I thought all the guests were cheering for me and James as if we just announced our engagement.

But something was telling me that it all would be completely different when some time would pass. This nervous feeling was crawling inside me and no matter how hard I tried – with every second it was eating my mind more and more.

I deeply wished to remember everything from that evening. Every music piece that was playing, every dance that was danced, every joke, every laugh, every look. I wished to remember faces, those familiar faces of friends who were very close to my heart. And to believe that all those anxious thoughts that I had were only my overwhelming imagination.

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Mechanical music player stopped playing Chopin's Nocturnes, Op. 27: No. 1 in C-Sharp Minor, Larghetto some time ago. Almost all the guests left the mansion, but only one stayed a little longer. Commander James Fitzjames and I were sitting in different sofas in at that time empty living room, the fireplace was gradually fading out.

“It was a very great party”, the man said quietly and I turned his head at him, smiling, “The dances, the talks, I can’t remember a time when I had such a great time”

“Oh, James, you’re flattering”, I grinned lightly, but he shook his head

“It’s not in my nature”, he sighed and suddenly asked, “Have you ever felt lonely, Alexandra?”

It made me pause and had a thought: commander’s question caught me off guard for some reason. I never thought about it. Probably, yes, especially when father and brother were sailing away.

Of course, I had friends, books, and hobbies. And when Alexander returned, we spent our free time together. But even then, I felt lonely. Because I knew that soon he would sail away again and I would be waiting for him.

“I think we can all feel lonely sometimes”, I smiled sadly and looked at James’ beautiful hazel-green eyes, “No matter how many people surround a person during the day, at night they are always alone with their thoughts and yearns.”

There was a silence. No words were needed to be said. James understood my reply and he understood what I felt throughout my life but never admitted it to myself. Not until that night after Winter’s Tale.

With all kinds of shiny tinsel hanging from the walls, with confetti that were scattered on the floor like shiny coins, everything seemed absolutely unreal and deafeningly empty.

"May I speak to you very truthfully?", James asked me, looking into my eyes.

"Please, James.", I simply replied, my gaze was fully on him as well.

"I can't talk to anyone else as openly as I can with you", he said these words quietly, as if he wanted to keep that mysterious moment between us.

James' eyes reflected the fading fire in the fireplace, which gave a magical shine to them.

I didn't know what to say. Probably, no reply needed to be said, as the look in my eyes showed the gratitude and my admiration towards commander as he smiled warmly, never taking his eyes off me.

Sofas separated us from each other by only a few centimeters. James held out his hand to me, and I put my palm without hesitation. He gently stroked my palm with his thumb while I rested my head on the back of the sofa: at that moment, my head seemed to be too heavy from the past day and from the euphoria of emotions that I was experiencing at that tender moment between me and commander.

We sat like that for couple of minutes. There was solitude and sacredness in that moment that we shared. That nocturnal sacredness, the arrival of which I have always been waiting for. Time stood still.

I never noticed when I slightly closed my eyes and fell into sleep. I never felt how James slowly stood up beside me, touching strands of my hair. I never knew how he took me accurately in his strong arms and carried me to my room, carefully laying me on the bed. I never noticed how he looked at me lovingly and admirably for the last time before he left our mansion.

He told me those things later. When the spring of year 1844 came.

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Wandering winds masterlist

#fanfiction #fanfic #fic writing #james fitzjames x ofc #james fitzjames x original female character #james fitzjames x strangers to lovers #the terror fanfic #the terror fic #the terror fanfiction #fic writer #fanfic writing #tv show fanfiction #original character #original female character #james fitzjames #graham gore #sir james clark ross #henry le vesconte #francis crozier

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p0rchc0ll4ps3 · 3 months ago

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Terror (TV 2018) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Francis Crozier & James Fitzjames Characters: Francis Crozier, James Fitzjames (1813-c.1848) Additional Tags: Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Canon, just another one of my post-canon thoughts fics, nothing special here just thoughts really, super intrigued by A. what happens after they return and B. the crozier fitzjames friendship, and kinda a set up / intro for something larger, oh and the ocean yearning. the married to the sea and the boat thing. love that Summary:

After their rescue, when the ice finally lets go, Francis returns to London, to a home that doesn't feel like home anymore.

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Just a small fic I wanted to put up on Ao3! Pleased by this. Hoping to write more in the future.

#the terror #the terror amc #the terror fanfiction #francis crozier #james fitzjames #my writing #my first terror fic... hopefully more to come!!

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notkingyet2 · 11 months ago

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hey do you remember my Jopson/Tozer manifesto?

yeah, some kind soul made a fic of it.

#the terror fanfic #the terror fanfiction #thomas jopson #solomon tozer #jopzer #the terror #the terror amc #amc the terror #terror fic

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gaunt-and-hungry · 1 year ago

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Whist and Whiskey

Wilbur/Ere plays a round of cards with Blanky and Crozier. Some awkward love confessions though refusing to say it outright. Lots of dialogue. Crozier is told how much his crew loves him. Teaser. Unfinished currently. Content Warnings: Alcohol (casual) Word Count: 2,081 (super short)

“Yer bad at this, lad,” And Blanky laughed, busting into a hearty snickering that bordered on drunken amusement. Wilbur leaned back, heavy in the seat. The Wardroom’s patented Illuminator dangled loosely overhead, a sickly orange and yellow glow blossomed around them leaving the Wardroom Cabin’s corners steeped in an auburn shadow. Francis Crozier was, indeed, quite several cards ahead in the game. Each round being played was mercilessly a jagged cut into Wilbur’ ineptitude as he fumbled with the rules and tactics of winning this game. It seemed he was fated to be stuck between the Terror’s Captain and her Icemaster.

“So it seems,” he confessed, sipping from his own glass, brow furrowed at his paltry hand. He was not grasping this as well as he thought he would. Nonetheless his heart was light with amusement at his expense. The flustered fluttering of his body was alight with embarrassment as Crozier watched him squirm in his seat. “Alas, you’ve cornered me right good, Captain.” He flashed a grin that was met in equal measure around the table. “I might have to ask Jopson to play in my stead,” he sighed wistfully at this, shifting again under the keen watch as he adjusted the cards in his hand.

“Are y’going to play a hand or are you going to fold out on us, lad?” Crozier teased. Impulsively, Wilbur played his hand with quick and confident movements which startled both the Icemaster and the Captain.

“Oohohoho?” Blanky chortled drunkenly, his body canting to one side as he half slid out of his seat. “Looks like the lad is trying his hand against ye. That’s a personal insult, Francis,” he drew a card for himself then and then played it out immediately, shifting his hand a little between his fingers.

Francis said nothing to this, simply furrowed his brow and hummed as he was squeezed into a delicate position in their game of cards. “You’ve never played whist is what y’said,” his slur was coming in and out as he teetered on sobriety and tipsy-drunk. He had almost forgotten his drink entirely in his focus; the game slowly turned into a dealing of cards where Wilbur was frantic to keep up. “Oh no, I won’t be letting ye get away so easily,” Crozier challenged. “Ye asked for this, lad. Don’t challenge an Irishman against his own hand of cards.” He was grinning with a mischievous and toothy thing that sent a chilling and knowing light into his eye.

Wilbur felt he had, perhaps, bitten off more than he could chew for some time as he was catching up to Blanky in his hand enough to feel that he may be worth something in this game of cards. “You’ve done it now, lad,” Blanky played his dealt cards between Crozier and Wilbur, an amused look growing on his face as he watched the two of them hash it out between one another. He threw them both for a loop here and there, shifting the tides of either Crozier’s hand or Wilbur’ hand. Eventually he was putting the both of them behind until he was left with the winning hand and he played the highest card in the line. Both Wilbur and Crozier were stunned as Blanky proudly looked at the line and laid down his hands. “Well that’s game, men,” Blanky seemed pleased. “One more round and we’ll see who wins. One for me. One for Wilbur and Francis is also at one. This next round determines the sorry sod that’s groomin’ the dog.”

The joyous pleasantries about the table returned to another ease of shoulders as they shuffled and redistributed amongst themselves. Blanky began. Crozier followed. Wilbur towed. A few hands in and Crozier was behind. Not something unusual per-se but nonetheless Wilbur plucked that cord, “I thought y’said you were good at this game, Captain?” He tested the man. Poking gently as he watched Francis take a very careful sip of his whiskey and pressed his lips together. The glass was half full. The evening was drawing to a close.

“Good with cards, aye,” his brogue drawled a little heavily, “bad with women. Good with cards.” He seemed to recoil in on himself at this, a reflexive thing that had his closest friend glancing at him with a concerned furrow as the air shifted in a way that felt like a downwards drop of self deprecation.

Wilbur looked at Francis. Without thinking, he spoke. “I doubt that. How could you be bad with women?”

There was a terse silence that dipped for that moment and Wilbur realised he had tread where he ought not have. But Francis had opened that door and now it could not shut with the younger Captain’s proverbial foot there. It was too late now and Crozier’s hands laid out his two of clubs with a sharp sound against the wood of the table. “It’s of no matter,” he began before he took a drink, “I have had not much good luck or favour in my recent endeavours,” he smiled painfully. It was a pressed thing full of pain and pity and apology for having even spoken. “I am, as Sir John put it quite cleanly, “Difficult to Love,” so it seems.”

“Nonsense. There’s plenty of men here that love you,” Wilbur shushed him. He was partially drunk himself. “Goodness I don’t doubt Mr. Blanky here has quaked one or two out to ye himself for Christ’s sakes, Captain. Goodness knows that darling Jopson probably is smothering your shirts into his face late at night with how the man looks at you,” he was startling both Blanky and Crozier. Both were beginning to glow a soft ember red from the collar up. Within all lapse of inhibitions, he was quite dead serious as he spoke, smiling, even through his honesty. “I’ve hardly known you for more than a few months here, Captain and I myself-” the fibres of his being seized violently as he caught his tipsy tongue just in time. He froze, pausing heavy in his fluid gesture across the table as he went to play his own card. Wilbur’s flesh flushed brilliantly as he then cleared his throat and sat back nice and slowly. Crozier was fixated heavily on him. “Have…” he was stalling, “seen the way some men look at you. Rich with adoration, Captain,” he took his drink to swallow the awkward slip of his tongue into something more pragmatic.

“Is that so…”

Wilbur coughed out a bitter shift in subject, “Irregardless,” he shifted in his seat the wood creaking gently, “You’ve a good eye I hear. Perhaps you can find love in other avenues, aye? Not all pretty palaces are places we should be, Captain…” He half whispered and watched Blanky play his own hand. The rotation resumed with a terse silence. Wilbur was distinctly aware of the intensity with which Francis Crozier kept flickering his gaze to the younger captain, watching him and weighing him. Distance of sound in the room was filled with the shuffling of cards and the patterned tap of wood they made.

It was their final round and for the mercy of it all, Wilbur shuttering himself against the curious glances. It was Blanky that broke the silence as it was clear the man was going to win between Crozier and Wilbur. “In my defence, Francis,” he played an eight and the addressed man groaned lowly at, a pitiful stare at his own hand. “It’s only been a handful o’ times. You know…”

“Does your wife know, Thomas?” Francis’ face lit up in a cheeky grin, his cheeks suddenly pink and warm in that light of playful talk, “that she’s competin’ with a cantankerous sailor?”

Crozier dealt out a rather paltry card by comparison and glanced politely into Wilbur’s direction to cue him for his turn. “You’ve met her, Francis,” Blanky’s reply was heartfelt and warm, a fond memory pressing into his tone, “She makes you look like a brick with the mouth on her.” Crozier’s grin did not falter as he watched Wilbur mindfully, his hands tucking his cards down a little as he watched the younger man mull his hand. In a sharp moment he glanced to Crozier, meeting the other’s gaze before he shamefully looked down and back to his hand, quickly playing his card of choice. The warmth crawled up his neck a little. His mind worried that he had spoken too much and left himself far too open. His mind struggled to rationalise it under the weight of the alcohol. Crozier’s only glass remained rather topped whilst Wilbur had somehow managed to pour almost all but the bottom down his throat. His hand was a losing one. He knew that. He had all but resigned.

“That, I believe, would be the end of this game, lads,” Blanky grinned widely from his comfortable lean. He threw down his final card running the row to its highest line. Leaning back he planted his hands over his belly quite proudly as the other two examined the board for a moment.

“Christ, Thomas,” Francis’ tone was exasperated. “Were y’holding these out on me?” There was a richness to the two that had Wilbur grinning at their little exchanges, pleased and warmed by their bond as he imagined the years that the two have spent together.

“Course not, Francis. I just know when you’re too bloody hellbent in whatever strange fixation you had with Ere. I bid my good time,” he seemed proud of himself, his broad toothy grin and laugher shaking his whole body. The two losers stared at Blanky and allowed him his victory for a moment until the Icemaster stood, pleased and threw down his remaining hand. “And that, my lovelies, is all I have for ye. Don’t be staying up too late now,” he pushed his chair in and saw himself out after downing the last of his drink.

“So,” Wilbur had begun to clean up the card game, tucking each thing nice and neatly away. Each card was slowly and meticulously plucked from the table. Truthfully he felt a tad topsy with the warmth in his body seeping through his bones. He could feel the buzz and the drink weighing in his mind. His tongue wetted his lips as Francis spoke, “Did y’mean what you said?” the question sat heavily in the air as Wilbur paused.

He gauged Francis carefully. “Bout there being a broader avenue of romantic pursuits? Aye,” he slurred a little. “I meant it. I’m no fool. I have…” He straightened his back, praying his tongue was not too loose in this moment, “I have a sense for these things, you could say. I can… feel it out, if you catch my meaning, Captain.”

“Like an instinct.” It was a statement and not a question but Wilbur nodded regardless, “You have instincts about who’d be privy to unseemly matches and be interested in less than regarded partners?”

“Aye. It comes with the territory. All sorts with pirating folks,” He played it as smoothly as he could, mindful of his actions as he returned the cards to their wooden case. “Why d’ask, if I may?”

“Curious. And yourself?” Crozier gave him the space then and there and Wilbur flushed brilliantly.

“I-... I b-beg your pardon, sir?” He stammered out, eyes searching for something that might be a jest.

“I mean… Oh… Christ, what sort of figures do you see bout the ships… Save for of course both o’my Thomases.” He rubbed his face, fatigue clearly etching itself into the lines on his face.

“Of course!” Wilbur laughed, a terrified thing with wide eyes threatening to go watery in the relief that flooded him. “Ah… M’mind’s not as clear as it could be. I’d have to give that a bit more scrutiny. I spoke my peace for what my memory serves right now. All I’m sayin’ is that there’s people here that do love you. The love is there. I promise. Y’just…” Wilbur offered a vague amount of gestures, “If yer the sort of man to, that is, I suppose. Just… Let it in. Recognise you’re loved. I promise you are. Yer not hard to love, Captain, Sir, you’re not. You’re terrifyingly easy to love, actually, if I may say so.”

“Is that a confession I hear on your lips?” He accentuated that statement with his hands folding over his chest a little as he watched the other closely. Wilbur almost fell over.

#francis crozier #the terror #thomas blanky #oc: ere #terrorverse content #the terror fanfiction #my writing #writing blog #the terror fanfic #original terror characters

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sky-never-shore · 2 months ago

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Best Joplittle fic I ever read ! I love it so much thank you for writing this masterpiece 🥹

Edward retires from the Navy for a simpler life, but things are far from simple when he meets an odd man in the woods.

13k words • Rated Explicit • [Read on Ao3]

For @pooraurora ❤️

#joplittle #joplittle fall fic exchange #edward little #thomas jopson #the terror fanfiction #the terror fanfic #the terror #liam garrigan

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charliemack · 1 year ago

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Purple

Somerset House Ch2

Thomas, devious seducer, has the members of Somerset House over for drinks. He has every intention of placing the idea of leaving their talent agency into their heads - if he can get them to stop whining and complaining long enough to get a word in edgewise. His plans are ruined by the appearance of an ambulance, bringing John's boyfriend Malcolm and also Ned, who has once again been taken out by one of the Teras' pranks.

Read it now on AO3!

#the terror #Somerset House #the terror fanfiction #the terror band au #it is a truth universally known that the only cure for bloviating narcissists is a pack of feral teenagers

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 9 months ago

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Danny was livid.

The Guys In White had been following Phantom around constantly and while they weren't much of a threat, they were a massive nuisance. They had shot him down on Thursday and caused him to crash into some poor kids birthday cake in the park.

On Friday they had accidentally released ghost rats into the school.

On Saturday they had somehow managed to turn Paulinas hair ectoplasm green. She refused to leave her bedroom until it was reversed

On Sunday they tried to commandeer his parents GAV and earned the ire of his mom. They found out exactly why that was a bad idea.

On Monday they bardged into Danny's classroom, interrupting his math test because they were looking for a ghost parrot. It was mostly harmless but kept insulting them in a cheery tone. Danny decided he liked that bird.

We won't speak about what happened on Tuesday.

On Wednesday, he scowled at an agent that had accidentally blasted him and his friends with liquid ectoplasm while they were sitting and eating lunch. It was then that Danny began plotting his revenge.

That night he when ghost and lead the GIW on a while goose chase. Did danny take them across state lines? Yes. Did he manage to pull a massive following of these creeps? Also yes.

Did he plan for his target-the guy he had been leading them to- to already be in cuffs when he arrived in Gotham? No. Not at all.

"Hey, uh..." the words died on his tongue as Batman- The Batman- turned to him with narrowed eyes. Mustering his will, he started again, "Could you let him out? Just for a little bit?"

"No."

"Aw, Cmon!"

Condiment King began raving about something, but Danny didn't particularly care to pay attention. "If you're not going to let him out, then can you at least call the rest of the paw patrol? I wanna ask if they wanna throw mud at evil secret organization people. For enrichment." Danny gave his best, most cheeky smile for extra measure.

"Hn."

#dpxdc #fanfiction prompts #prompts #danny fenton #danny phantom #batman #condiment king #guys in white #maddline fenton beating up government agents #supposed government agents at least #the bats should be allowed to tear apart the giw for funsies #Danny -i have never met a compatent adult- Fenton: Yeah i can totally keep my identity a secret from Batman :D #narrator: he could not #the batgam go ham #not only do they destroy the giw they also terrorize them with stains #danny is so happy #danny is trying to figure out what *hn* means. hes not fluent in Batman

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justaz · 7 months ago

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lol arthur realizes with the other knights after watching merlin flirt and being hit with a wave of deja vu: holy shit you asked me out

merlin and the rest of the knights around a campfire after leaving a village bc lancelot and leon somehow started a brawl in the tavern: ???

arthur points at merlin: after valiant! you asked me to buy you a drink! you were asking me out!

merlin is busy cooking dinner and confused out of his fucking mind: what???…..valiant….oh the knight with the snakes.

gwaine who was slightly tipsy now stone cold sober and sitting up straight against a tree: wait. explain. what do you mean merlin asked you out??

arthur snaps his fingers as he recalls the memory: i apologized for sacking you and you said that if i bought you a drink we’d be even.

merlin now remembering how he had stumbled into camelot, picked a fight with a pigheaded bully which quickly turned homoerotic and flirtatious, and continued their teasing-flirting for days before merlin shot his shot and asked the prince out only to be rejected: oh yeah, i forgot i did that…..wait, you mean you didnt realize what i was asking?

arthur: no?? we argued everyday, how was i supposed to realize you were asking me out??

merlin now abandoning the dinner and staring across the camp at arthur while the rest of the knights watch their back and forth like a game of tennis: to you we were arguing, to me that was very much flirting. i thought you were flirting back so i decided to ask you. then you rejected me

arthur, mentally beating his past self up for fucking up their chance: i didn’t reject you!!! i just didn’t realize what you were asking me. how was i meant to? we fought every chance we got

leon, nudging elyan, glee and excitement riling through him: its happening!!! its finally happening!!! seven long, grueling years is finally paying off!!!

merlin, realizing the misunderstanding and acknowledging the fact that he wasn’t rejected, his flirtations just weren’t noticed - realizing he still has a chance: oh…oh i see. arthur, my dear, our fights were extremely flirtatious. need i remind you of what you said? “do you know how to walk on your knees? would you like me to teach you?” or “i could take you apart with one blow”

arthur, mental capabilities at an all time low: m…my dear….?????????

merlin grinning devilishly as he realizes that his flirtatious persona he had hidden away after falling head over heels for arthur can make a come back: that is what i called you. should i call you something else? say…mine?

percival gags in elyan’s ear: cheesy

elyan hides a laugh: at least they’re finally getting somewhere. better than the hopeless pining

arthur, flushed from head to toe: ah uh no um im uh

merlin thoroughly enjoying himself: oh come now, your majesty. use your words.

#meanwhile leon is praying his thanks to every god and goddess above for their mercy #his pain and suffering is so over #merlin is going IN on arthur who is red as fuck #gwaine is enjoying himself immensely #lancelot pulls out popcorn to watch the two idiots finally get their acts together #flirty merlin x flustered arthur #i think yes #listen. merlin lived in ealdor. a small village of maybe thirty people - four or five being his own age #he was thrilled to be in camelot and have new faces and people to meet #he was definitely the village tease or flirt or whatever #he was gonna be a rake in camelot but unfortunately managed to fall hopelessly in love with the prince of camelot #he burned his dreams of being a rake in exchange for arthur #the issue? arthur rejected his advances. next issue? merlin’s feelings remained and grew #so merlin is a lovesick puppy for a prince who doesnt feel the same and he cant find it in himself to look at anyone else bar a few cases #he and lancelot def slept together at least once. him and gwaine tumbled into bed a few times together #but his heart always belonged to arthur he just never imagined hed get a chance to let his affection be known #now that he knows arthur never knew of his intentions in the first place and was quick to deny he rejected him #merlin is more than happy to let that part of his personality come back and terrorize arthur is a way he hadnt been able to before #hes living his best life rn #bbc merlin #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #merthur #knights of the round table #fanfiction ideas #prompts #headcanon

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