#the terror fanfic

[made-myself-miserable]

For anyone who's read a Fitzier or Bridglar fic and wants to run off and live in isolation with an old man

#make it canon #will have to provide your own old man i think sadly #the terror #fitzier #bridglar #the terror fanfic #lighthouse AU

[leadandblood]

Everyone go read this if you haven't. That's an order.

I absolutely adore it. Francis Malicious-Compliance Crozier, something I didn't know I needed... Great characterization, amazing dialogue and it's all described so well. I've re-read this like five times already, it'll forever stay in my bookmarks

#francis crozier #james fitzjames #sir john franklin #he's there and it's honestly so fun i love that the author included him #uuuuh #edward little #is in there too #the terror fanfic #the terror amc #the terror #first kiss

[theboarsbride]

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: The Terror (TV 2018) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: John Franklin (1786-1847)/Original Female Character(s) Characters: John Franklin (1786-1847), Original Female Character(s) Additional Tags: Psychological Horror, Human/Monster Romance, Monsterfucker, the collection of drabbles in which Sir John has his terrifying monsterfucker awakening lol, Hallucinations, literally only writing this because i'm down BAD for ciaran hinds not gonna lie lmfao, combining horror and romance in a weird surrealist fairytale folk horror dream way heehee Summary:

while trapped in the ice of the arctic, Sir John Franklin starts to succumb to lead poisoning and has hallucinations of a woman with the head of the polar bear.

- - - - just a collection of quick, short drabbles of Sir John and a Terror self-insert OC I've been calling "Bear Wife" lol... mostly writing this because I wanna kiss Ciarán Hinds really bad and have really feral Simping Needs™ but I also wanna see Sir John peep horrors so..............folk horrormance vibes with scary bear lady🐻❄

#NEW SNIPPET NEW SNIPPET HEEHEE LETS GOOOO!!!!!!! #terror wife posting #the terror #the terror fanfic #sir john franklin #jojo writes

[toomanyassassins]

After a year of work-enforced hiatus, I am back in the fitzier sauce! Readers may take interest in the (currently) 63k piece And I Am Missing From You – a time travel fic centering around a modern James Fitzjames after he gets sent back into time, and must work with a very stubborn Francis Crozier.

#i’m going to try to update weekly #let me know what y’all think! #my fic #fitzier #the terror fanfic #james fitzjames #francis crozier

[notkingyet2]

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

[a-canker-in-a-hedge]

What with one thing or another, it is 11:49. Or: a rainy day at the store.

(Chapter 3! Come get your chapter 3!)

#the terror #the terror amc #the terror 2018 #the terror fanfic #joplittle #thomas jopson #edward little #francis crozier #james fitzjames #fitzier #william gibson #harry goodsir #my writing

[gaunt-and-hungry]

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

[charliemack]

“Perhaps Not“

Hear me out.

Once upon a time there was a Netsilik hunter called Koveyook, travelling with his family. He's just made a new friend! His new friend very hungry and a very pretty. The hunter and his friend exchange gifts! Precious food for precious wonders.

And now, Koveyook's new friend has told him to stay put while he runs off in distress.

Mmmm, thinks Koveyook. Perhaps not.

--

Read it on AO3!!

(Wrote this for Lee almost a year ago. Lost it. Tonight, @bloomrebounds found it (thank u). So I'm posting it before I lose it again.)

#the terror #the terror fanfic #noe this one is relevant to your interests #stg i've been looking for this stupid drabble for TEN. SOLID. MONTHS. #john irving #koveyook

[holycatsandrabbits]

Hello have an old fic, my most popular for The Terror

Chapters: 7/7 Fandom: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Thomas Jopson/Edward Little, Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames, Thomas Armitage/Solomon Tozer (background), Harry D. S. Goodsir/Alexander McDonald (background), John Bridgens/Henry "Harry" Peglar (background), Francis Crozier & Thomas Jopson Characters: edward little, Thomas Jopson, Francis Crozier, James Fitzjames, Thomas Armitage, Solomon Tozer, Harry D. S. Goodsir, Alexander McDonald, John Bridgens, Henry "Harry" Peglar, Henry Foster Collins, Lady Silence | Silna (The Terror), John Irving, Stephen S. Stanley, Thomas Blanky, Tuunbaq (The Terror), Cornelius Hickey Additional Tags: Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, psychic powers, Mind Reading, Clairvoyance, except Tuunbaq is interfering with Thomas’s abilities, Thomas is wound really tight, but you would be too if you had to hear everyone’s thoughts, AU Canon Divergence, Minor Character Death, Jopson & Crozier are close friends, First Kiss, First Time, Love Confessions, Falling In Love, Romance, Secrets, Heavy pining, Lead poisoning scurvy and Tuunbaq oh my, True Love, Happy Ending Summary:

Thomas Jopson is not just a good steward, he's actually psychic. So he knows Lt. Little is falling in love with him.

Thomas sensed that Crozier wanted more water. Well. Crozier wanted whiskey, but Thomas had sat him down years ago and foretold a life spent suffering at the bottom of a bottle— for it wasn’t only minds that Thomas could read, but at times the future— and Crozier had done what it took to break himself of the habit before it got its claws too far into him. He was the bravest, strongest man Thomas knew. So Thomas poured Crozier water and smiled at Crozier’s internal grumblings about Fitzjames and his stories.

Oh, Little thought. I’ve not seen him smile before. There can’t be anything lovelier. He could be the sun on an arctic night. If he ever looked at me like that, I might burn up and be glad for it.

Thomas nearly spilled the water all over Crozier.

DannyeChase.com ~ Ao3 ~ Linktree ~ Weird Wednesday writing prompts blog ~ Resources for Writers ~ Newsletter

#Dannye writes #the terror #the terror amc #joplittle #thomas jopson #edward little #writers #writing #writers on tumblr #the terror fanfic

[theboarsbride]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: The Terror (TV 2018) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: John Franklin (1786-1847)/Original Female Character(s) Characters: John Franklin (1786-1847), Original Female Character(s) Additional Tags: Psychological Horror, Human/Monster Romance, Monsterfucker, the collection of drabbles in which Sir John has his terrifying monsterfucker awakening lol, Hallucinations, literally only writing this because i'm down BAD for ciaran hinds not gonna lie lmfao, combining horror and romance in a weird surrealist fairytale folk horror dream way heehee Summary:

while trapped in the ice of the arctic, Sir John Franklin starts to succumb to lead poisoning and has hallucinations of a woman with the head of the polar bear.

- - - - just a collection of quick, short drabbles of Sir John and a Terror self-insert OC I've been calling "Bear Wife" lol... mostly writing this because I wanna kiss Ciarán Hinds really bad and have really feral Simping Needs™ but I also wanna see Sir John peep horrors so..............folk horrormance vibes with scary bear lady🐻❄

#........guess what jojo diiiiid :D #jojo writes #the terror #the terror fanfic #the terror oc #sir john franklin #i just.... yeah #i got nothing else to say

[jamesjamesonfitzjames]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Terror (TV 2018) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Henry T. D. Le Vesconte/Edward Little Characters: Henry T. D. Le Vesconte, Edward Little (1811-c.1848), Harry D. S. Goodsir, Thomas Jopson, Stephen S. Stanley, Alexander McDonald (1817-c.1848) (mentioned), James Fitzjames (1813-c.1848) (mentioned), Francis Crozier (Mentioned) Additional Tags: speculative biology, Alien Flora & Fauna, Oral Sex, Ned Little learns how to relax and have fun, and it only takes an alien plant and the desperation of starving to get there Summary:

The lichen was confirmed by Harry Duncan Spens Goodsir to be a perfectly ordinary lichen, by all appearances he could perceive and tests he was capable of performing.

...Unbeknownst to Goodsir, this was no ordinary lichen.

Written for Terror Sci-Fi Fest 2023!

@terrorscififest

#amc the terror #the terror fanfic #dundy/ned #nundy #theterrorscififest2023

[van1lla-v1lla1n]

two fics for @theterrorbingo!

sugar on the tongue and salt in the eyes

collins/goodsir, rated m, archive warning: rape/non-con

Collins woke with sugar on his tongue, and he knew that Dr. Goodsir had been with him in the night. // for the prompt sugar.

the warmth of familiarity

sophia cracroft/jane franklin + sophia cracroft/ofc, rated m, chose not to use archive warnings (tags: consent issues, aunt/niece incest)

In winter Sophia’s cold hand slipped up into the warmth behind Jane’s knee. By the fire Jane always burned too hot, the space beneath her skirts like a kitchen in summer, and Sophia’s hands were wild animals seeking heat in the winter dark. // for the prompt opera.

#the terror bingo #the terror fanfic #collins/goodsir #sophia cracroft/jane franklin #cw noncon #cw dubcon #cw incest #i wrote this

[toomanyassassins]

"You're never coming back from this, you know."

James Fitzjames is part of a group of scientists travelling across King William Island in 2005, when a hailstorm and a mysterious bear drive him to a mound of piled stones - a lonely cairn abandoned by civilization and time. All it takes is one touch, and the stones send him backwards into history: all the way to the lost Franklin expedition, where everyone has mistaken him for another Fitzjames, and a surly Captain Crozier refuses to help James in his new-found role as the mens' only hope for survival.

Read on AO3 by knockout_mouse

#james fitzjames #the terror #the terror amc #the terror fanfic #the terror fic #fitzier #franklin expedition #francis crozier

[ferylcheryl]

In which Collins is inexperienced and Goodsir is… not.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39762894

#the terror fanfic #harry goodsir #henry foster collins #the terror #goodcollins