#nahaerya

[laughablelament]

Sigh... I don't go here but I've been dared. Hello, @cold-boy-tapes and please enjoy. No particular order and no guarantees. I based these picks on fic and gifs from @nahaerya. Judge me mercilessly.

Tracks and characters under the cut.

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Immigrant Song, The Expedition

Good Times Bad Times, Graham Gore

Ramble On, George Hodgson

Black Dog, Neptune

I'm Gonna Crawl, Thomas Jopson

The Lemon Song, Henry Le Vesconte

When the Levee Breaks, Francis Crozier

Dazed and Confused, Edward Little

No Quarter, Cornelius Hickey

Kashmir, John Franklin

Houses of the Holy, John Irving

What Is and What Should Never Be, James Clark Ross

In My Time of Dying, Harry Goodsir

Stairway to Heaven, James Fitzjames

[the-golden-vanity]

You really outdid yourself with that Hickey/Jopson. Idk how, but something more in that verse? Delicious :D

Thank you so much! I’ve written two Hickey/Jopson fics, so I’m not sure which one you’re referring to, but this could be a rescue AU continuation of either/both, as well as of my Crozier/Jopson fic Answered Prayers:

Even out of uniform, he’s unmistakable, broad shoulders and trim waist and limping gait as he stalks around London on his master’s business. (I, of course, am on nobody’s business but my own.) He looks well, better than when I saw him last, but it would be hard to look worse.

He’s not seen me yet, so I whistle a few bars of “Spanish Ladies” to catch his attention. He whirls around on his good leg, and as his eyes meet mine, they seem to glow with pale fire.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve, showing your face where people recognize it.” He doesn’t even bother with his pretty, trained accent. He knows we both know what he is.

“I’m a new man, now,” I tell him with a smile. “I haven’t been Cornelius Hickey in a long time.”

“I don’t give a damn what you call yourself these days,” he says through gritted teeth. “I can’t run after you, so I’ll have to let you go, but if I see you creeping around again, I will have the captain’s pistol on me, and I will not miss.”

I laugh, and his face grows thunderous. “It’s lovely to see you again, too, old shipmate.”

I walk away, satisfied that he’ll think of me for days.

[theremustbeabear]

IrvingConte for the drabble game? :D

send me a terror character/ship & i’ll write a drabble about them

When Henry comes up behind him and purrs, “Excellent wings, little angel,” John nearly jumps out of his skin.

He turns on his heel, face beet red from both the drinking and the fact that Henry is altogether too close to him, and stumbles backwards. “I— er— thank you,” he stammers, politeness winning out over all else, and he wishes he knew how to tell Henry to keep his distance.

Henry, of course, does not keep his distance, and saunters closer, hooking his fingers into the ropes criss-crossing John's chest to keep him from escaping again. "Did you tie these yourself?" he asks, and his tone is light, but in this dark corner that John had thought he was alone in, with his body so close to John's that he can smell the drink on his breath and his touch ghosting over John's too-hot skin through his clothes, it feels sinfully intimate. It feels like a solicitation.

"Yes," John blurts, for lack of anything else to say. "George—that is, Lieutenant Hodgson—helped with a couple of the trickier ones, where I couldn't reach, but mostly, yes." Henry's eyes are piercing, and John sweats. "He's a very— a very good friend, George is. A very good man. Devout. Godly." He hiccups.

Henry raises an eyebrow. "He's dashing around outside, three sheets to the wind, in woman's dress."

John flounders, and the first thing he can come up with to say is, "So is your captain."

For a long moment, Henry stares at him, and John begins to silently fret that he's overstepped. But then, Henry laughs, and he yanks on the ropes of John's costume to pull him flush against his body. "Well," he replies, slow and honey-sweet, "that just means that there's nobody here to tell us off, hm?"

John tries to speak, but the only noise that comes out of his mouth is a pathetic, desperate squeak.