#titantic au

[theangrypomeranian]

I have to go with boblin titanic au 🤩

:333 so! Linda has been frustrated with Bob about something lately (idk what yet i'll figure it out lol) and things between them have been a lil tense. she starts having these dreams at night where she's a lady in 1912 on the Titanic. little does she know that Bob has been having similar dreams. the dreams are just the plot of the Titanic movie with changes to fit their characters better lol the cast goes as following: Linda as Rose Bob as Jack Hugo as Cal Teddy as Fabrizio

[totchipanda]

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

THIRTEEN roses, so here is a whole scene from the Titanic AU <3

He held onto her tightly as they made their way topside, his arm heavy and warm on her shoulders, hers firmly around his waist. They were both laughing and humming the tune of a popular song, occasionally bursting into the words, off-key and out of sync. It only made them laugh harder. 

The stairwell opened to the deck, blasting them both with chilly air. Inej couldn’t help the shiver that stole down her back and Kaz pulled her closer. “Are you cold?” he asked.

“No, she replied, and made no move to get away from him. It would be highly inappropriate here, on the deck, should anyone see them, but she wanted to hold onto the moment a little bit longer.

Together, they walked towards teh first class entrances, still singing occasionally. Above them, the stars glittered in a carpet of black, as bright as the city lights in Paris or London. Brighter, as far as she was concerned. She broke away from Kaz to stand at the rail, leaning on it as she tipped her head back to look at the sky.

“Isn’t it magnificent?” she said with a content sigh. With the motion of the ship beneath her and the sky above, she could almost forget where she was. And who.

He joined her, facing towards the ocean rather than the ship, pulling a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket. He lit one with a match, taking a long drag off of it before offering it to her. She took it, letting her lips close around the place his had just been, and inhaled.

“They’re such small people, my crowd,” she said after a moment, taking another hit from the cigarette before handing it back to him. “They think they are so big, giants among men, above everything and everyone else.” She signed and turned to face out with him, seeing nothing but the stars and the occasional lift of the water far past them.

“Someday, the bubble will burst,” she finished her thought. “And it will all come crashing in.”

Kaz said nothing and handed the cigarette back. She took it with the hand opposite him, and he laid his hand on her free one. “There’s been a mistake,” he said. Before she could ponder his meaning, he continued on. “You’re not one of them. Never have been.”

Inej snorted, exhaling the smoke into the night. “I suppose I haven’t been,” she allowed.

Across the sky, a bright light burst into being and streaked across the sky. Inej pointed, the cigarette still in her hand. “Look!” she cried. “A shooting star!”

“Make a wish,” Kaz said. There was a softness to his voice that drew her attention, and she found him close at her side, mere inches separating them. He hadn’t looked when she’d pointed, he couldn’t have. Not to be looking at her the way he was now.

She wanted so badly to close the distance between them, stretch her neck just a little and find his lips with hers. Thoughts fired through her head almost as fast as the shooting star had been. She wanted to kiss him, and to be kissed by him, and then –

Inej cleared her throat and leaned away, looking back out over the ocean. “I can’t,” she said, feeling herself starting to close off again, parts that had been awakened by Kaz and the dancing. She took one last pull on the cigarette before throwing it over the edge of the rail, removing her hand from beneath his.

“Inej, wait,” he said. His hand shot out and caught at her wrist. It stopped her in her tracks. “Tell me –”

“I can’t,” she interrupted, yanking her hand free. She looked at him, framed against the sky in his borrowed white dress shirt, the jacket slung over one shoulder. She longed to feel his hair in her hands and the heat of his body on hers. She shivered and it had nothing to do with the cold night air. “Good night, Kaz. And, thank you.”

[purplehoodiesimon]

I just wanted to say to everyone reading Dear Titanic, how did you feel? and leaving kudos and commenting that I love you guys so much, I literally cannot explain how happy I am. It's only my second ever completed multi-chapter fic and you guys seem to love it and I just want to say thank you all for reading it. You guys are the best💜💜💜

[starry-eyed-cryptid]

Gradence Titanic AU

Credence is the the young wealthy son about to head to America with his family and on board he meets the handsome Irish Artist Graves.

They survive, Credence is able to get on a life boat with Graves and they live happily ever after in America.

[scullysexual]

What was originally just going to be a simple epilogue turned into a full blow sequel. Halfway through this a multi-chapter format began and I can’t see this being posted just one big final chapter so now it’s just a sequel which might or might not be a good thing but I guess we’ll see.

@today-in-fic @purrykat @baronessblixen @suitablyaggrieved @sarie-fairy Tagging you guys cause I know you’d want to be tagged haha. Anyone else wants tagging let me know. @kittydurs

I hope you enjoy this as much as you did Jewel.

Sunlight streams through the gap in the blinds. A small bedsit positioned perfectly that the first rays of light are bright enough to wake him up.

Mulder should be grateful for it, really. The first to wake means he’s the first to find a good spot on the pier, leaving the night owls to fight for the remaining places.

It’s been almost three months and this humble life has already proved to be much of a trial. He had underestimated it his whole life. Sympathy for those who lived this kind life he’d always had but the empathy had been lacking. Only now can he truly understand just how hard they had to work.

Beside him, Scully stirs, muttering something that sounds a lot like What’s the time? eyes struggling to open.

Mulder smiles, a hand reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair out of her face as she twists and turns to face him.

“It’s early,” he mumbles into the quiet room. “Go back to sleep.”

He watches as she settles, eyes falling shut once more.

The months passed since the disaster hadn’t been easy on either of them. When they had finally arrived at New York, the world had held its breath- maybe not directly for them but Mulder and Scully had felt it all the same, parting the ship, the miraculous survivors of a ship that couldn’t sink.

His dreams were still plagued with that night; icy water and chilling screams. When he slept, he had no escape- he was back there, clinging onto that rail, watching people drop to their deaths all around him. Sometimes he even saw Scully fall and those dreams had frightened him the most.

He never fell, though. Even when he was in the water, he could never die. Only those around him could die.

Scully fared no better. Sometimes she would just stop, get lost somewhere in the memory of that night. They never spoke about it, it was an unspoken agreement they had made stepping onto the docks. Nobody was aware they had been on the ship at all. After all, Fox Mulder had died and Dana Scully had never stepped onto the ship. It was easier that way, or so they told themselves.

With time wasting away he climbs out of bed. Their mattress in the corner has him scrambling over Scully to actually get out. His efforts to not wake her fail and, as he’s fumbling with his clothes, her eyes open for the second time.

“The pier doesn’t open until later,” she croaks. “Why do you need to leave so early?”

“Got to get the best spot on the pier, Scully,” he says, rolling up his sleeves. His attire had changed in the months that had passed. Gone were the handmade tailored suits he’d wear to dinners, now it’s just a simple shirt and some trousers. Even his shoes had taken a turn for the worse.

“You need new shoes.”

There’s a hint of worry in her voice, they barely have enough to pay their rent and eat.

He ignores the way the leather rips away from the sole.

“They’ll be fine,” he says, reaching over to grab his sketchbook- the only expensive investment he’d made after he lost his original in the sinking. He tries not to focus on that. There’s only a few drawings in this book, mostly personal stuff for when business is low and his hand aches to draw something real aside from the cartoon portraits of people willing to waste their cents.

Now ready, he walks the short distance back to the bed.

“I’ll see you later, okay?”

Scully nods and Mulder presses a kiss to her forehead and then her lips before he grabs the keys and heads out.

The hallway is littered as always, even this early in the morning, people sit on the stairs trying as best they can to sleep. They don’t live here but the landlord does nothing to prevent them from entering, he’ll just go round with a cup and a silent request for money.

“Good morning, Leif.”

It still takes him some time for realise that he is Leif, not many people call him by that name and he’s Mulder to Scully regardless. No, only one person calls him Leif.

Mulder turns to see Susi standing in the doorway of her studio, scantily clad as always.

He smiles, intending on continuing with his journey before Susi’s speaking again.

“You know if you ever get bored, my door’s always open,” she tells him, with her cracked-teeth smile.

Mulder awkwardly nods and smiles, saying nothing. He tries to keep his conversations with Susi brief after their first night here and she had gotten a little too friendly with him in the communal area, much to Scully’s dismay. He had only tried to make friends.

He leaves Susi where she is, unlocking the front door and making his journey to the pier.

 Scully spends her days counting coppers. Better with numbers than Mulder, they agreed that she would handle their funds and that’s how it had been for the past four months.

Yet her heart drops when she’s finished adding and subtracting the money away to find that there isn’t enough to pay the rent and feed them.

In the early days, when they’d discussed what they would do about jobs, the price of Mulder’s drawings had been brought up a lot. He’d argued that the drawings were worthless and if he was selling them at a ridiculously high price nobody could come to him. She, in turn, had argued that maybe the price should be decided on the work put in and the work produced.

It doesn’t work like that, Scully, Mulder had told her afterwards. People pay for what they get, they don’t care about how much effort has been put into it.

Scully could only scoff. How would you know? she’d asked. Everything you wanted has been handed on a gold plate. All Little Fox would have to do is throw a temper tantrum and Mammy and Daddy would cough up.

Perhaps it had been a low-blow but his words had only made her angry. He knew nothing of this, of trying to find a good-enough job to pay the bills. Once upon a time, he’d have inherited some big company, his wealth sealed in that outcome and until then he’d been all nice and cushy.

After a while, after what Scully had said had fallen to the floor, Mulder said, Perhaps it’s best we get away from each other for a while. We’ve been cooped up too long in this room. With that he’d left, leaving Scully to figure it out.

Just like she has to do now.

She stares at the numbers, maybe hoping they would magically change to the right number but no, they don’t, they stay as they are.

She can owe, she thinks. She’ll have to.

He hands the stupid drawing to the woman as the man drops the money into the pot.

The third person. The third person in five hours.

Despite it being August, despite it being lunchtime, the sun high in the sky and pier packed, nobody was interested.

Mulder cracks his back, already sore and aching. Still six hours to go, still a chance to bring home some real money.

“Business not going well?”

Mulder internally groans at the sound of a familiar voice.

“What do you want, Fuller?”

He tiredly looks over to the weasel-faced man casually poking around his stall, his face lacking stress, his hands in his pockets, and a cocky demeanour reminding him all too well of Alex Krycek.

“Just looking around,” Fuller says. “Seeing how the competition is doing.” He picks up Mulder’s money jar and pulls a face. “Ooh, not well I see.”

“You not got your own stall to man, Fuller?”

Fuller laughs. “I’m on a break. See, unlike you, I can afford these little luxuries.”

Mulder had met Fuller very early on. They both fought for the same spot on the pier- the spot Fuller now occupies- and since then it had been a race to see who could get there first. Fuller always beat him, regardless.

“Why don’t you have your little break somewhere else then?”

He goes to push Fuller out of his stall but the little weasel man is quick, hopping out of the way just before Mulder can grab him.

“Careful, Brevik,” he says. “Otherwise you won’t be around much longer to pay that rent.” He gives a sideward glance to the jar again. “Not that you’ll be paying it this month anyway.”

Fuller saunters off then, back to his own stall.

Mulder sits back down on his stall, wipes the sweat off his forehead and looks wearily at the jar himself. He thinks it’s rent day today and just hopes there’s enough at home to cover it.

“It’s Mulder, isn’t it?”

Mulder pauses. His real name being uttered by somebody else…He chances a glance up at the person, not really sure what to think.

“Christ, they said you were dead.”

Mulder frowns at the man who stands before him. He looks familiar but Mulder can’t for the life of him replace him.

The man chuckles. “You don’t recognise me, do you?” he says and holds his hand out. “John Byers, we met on the Titanic.”

Realisation sinks in as Mulder remembers him. He smiles, jumping up from stool and shakes hands with Byers.

“I’m sorry,” Mulder says. “A lot’s happened recently.”

“Yeah,” Byers agrees. He looks at the sign next to the stall. “First class suits on the Titanic to selling cartoons on Coney Island. What happened?”

“A lot,” Mulder says. “A lot happened.”

 They’re meeting lands them in a bar just off the pier. It’s still early, Mulder guesses it’ll start to pack up later.

“Didn’t think you’d survived,” Mulder says.

Byers laughs. “Yeah, Suzanne wouldn’t get on a lifeboat without me. The officer just looked at me and shrugged. What about you? They say you’re dead but you’re here in front of me.”

Mulder chuckles slightly, picking the label off his beer bottle. “I didn’t marry Phoebe Green,” he says.

Byers nods. “Yeah, your father put that in the papers. Said his son had died a dignified death, sacrificing himself to save women and children.”

“Of course he did,” says Mulder, begrudgingly. He hadn’t touched the paper. The headlines were everywhere, the story plastered on every newspaper being sold. He had lived the tale, he didn’t need to read some exaggerated version of it.

“So, you didn’t marry Phoebe because you died, what was the other reason?”

He looks up to the ceiling, trying to figure out the way best to explain it.

“I met someone,” he says. “Someone from the third class.” He hears Byers breathe out heavily but ignores it. “And after a day I knew I didn’t want to marry Phoebe. I didn’t want to marry her at all, I didn’t want to get on the ship but there was nothing I could do about it.” He shrugs, smiling. “Then I met Scully and I didn’t want to be anywhere else after that. I decided I was getting off the ship with her and the only way to do that was to change my name and pretend I died.” Mulder sits back in his seat and looks towards Byers, holding out his hand again. “Leif Brevik, by the way.”

Byers laughs, shaking Mulder’s hand again. “That’s quite the conspiracy,” he says and Mulder shrugs again.

“Listen,” Byers tells him. “I have some friends who have been looking into the sinking.” Mulder’s ears piqued up at that. “We think it might have been an insurance scam.”

Mulder frowns. “What makes you say that?”

“There’s just some evidence that seem to point towards it being a possibility. We have a base not too far away from here, if you want to see.”

Mulder looks from his pitiful jar of money, to the window where he can see Fuller’s long line of people queuing for their portrait. With one final decision, he nods.

 The dreaded knock on the door finally comes. Scully jumps slightly, taking her head out of the medical journals Mulder sometimes brought back with him.

Her stomach squeezing with nerves, she grabs the bag of money and with a deep exhale, opens the door.

Mr Roth stands on the other side, his arms already full with other tenants’ rent.

“You’re rent, Mrs Brevik.”

Cautiously, Scully hands the bag to the landlord. He snatches it- ever one without manners. As he begins counting, Scully’s fingers begin to nervously fiddle with her necklace.

Mr Roth shakes his head, muttering. “Where’s the other $9?” he asks.

“That’s all we have,” says Scully.

Roth looks at her for a moment and Scully waits.

“I want $35 next month,” he says and with that limps off down the corridor.

Scully lets out a breath.

“Better be careful.”

Scully looks up to see her neighbour hanging out of her front door.

“Last tenant who couldn’t pay the second time was out on the streets.”

Scully smiles, saying nothing and retreats back into her house. Maybe it was a time she got a job also.

[tuixlaa]

Ship of Dreams

A long sigh escaped her lips, gazing up at the massive ship apprehension in her stomach. The young heiress looked back to her maid and frowned as if expecting an answer for her unsaid thoughts. The other woman only shrugged as she handled the parcels that’d been in the vehicle with them.  Turning her blue eyes back to the ship, Yue only felt the worry grow in the pit of her stomach, though she was a nervous creature by nature.

“It doesn’t seem that interesting...This is the ship papa is so gungho we take back to New York? It doesn’t look that impressive, as such...I do not see why we have to end our holiday early just for it’s maiden voyage...”

Yue placed her hands on her hips even feeling the slight shame at how childish she was acting. Her lovely lavender purple chiffon dress standing out against the usual white or dark colors common for high fashion at the time. The sash around her waist a deep near maroon purple, adorn with a small bouquet of fake flowers. This crystal covered adornment shimmered against the light of the midday sun. The two tier dress, layered with soft transparent lace, forming a v shape on both layers. Her hat a simple traveling hat with a ribbon tied under her chin. 

The maid only chuckled as she took to directing the labor hands to where the trucks and such where to go. Miss Yue was always one of habit, disliking massive change. Had been such since she was a child, less she thought it her idea. Then she went full steam ahead to do as she pleased. Thus the middle aged woman had often taken to just smiling and ignoring the heiress little quips.

“Kya why can’t we stay with the other classes, look at them they all look so delighted to be here. Much better than sitting around listening to the gossip of the ladies all day.”

A soft breeze had blown her abnormal white hair away from her face, having always have some wisps falling from her bun. Yue watched the third class longingly, they looked as if it was a new beginning, something to be cherish. Most excitedly boarding, massive smiles among them. How she longed to be over there with them. Seeing this as a grand trip, rather than a slow moving ball and chain as she did. Bringing her back to New York, to be carted off to a man she despised. 

Her eyes settled on a rather tall man boarding with the rest, though he seemed somewhat different from the others. Least in the way he carried himself, he seemed to have purpose though not with the glee those around him carried. She watched fascinated until their eyes met, perhaps him sensing himself being watched.

“Madam, it’s time to board.”

starter for @neverparted

[coldtomyflash]

How do you feel about Titanic AUs? I can just see the Coldflash one now... the ship sinking... Barry wanting to save everyone because that's his nature, but being unable to... Len doing his best to make sure Barry doesn't croakboat while he's ushering people toward the boats... them getting caught in a flooding hallway... "Len, this is where we first met." I just.

Do you mean just in general or specifically an AU of the movie?

To be totally honest, I have a tendency to avoid ‘major character death’ fics like the plague. I don’t mind character death in a series itself most of the time (though I’m admittedly bitter as hell about most of the deaths in the DC CWTV ‘verse because they were mostly for shit reasons but - )

So when I see ‘Titanic AU’ I just sort of assume that one of them is dying at the end, freezing to death in the ocean while the other holds on to a door to stay afloat... and my heart can’t handle that ^^; It’s also not a historical event I’m really that taken with, outside of having enjoyed the movie.

All this being said, you seem to have a passion for it, Anon :) And that matters a lot more than anything else. So if you can visualize it so strong already, you should totally write it! It has a lot of meat to it in terms of their dynamic, and there’s a lot you could pit against them if you embedded it in the actual historical context?

(Totally weird and random aside but I’m now picturing a futuristic steampunk / solarpunk / sci-fi kind of Titanic Airship AU, which is the same general concept but in the air instead of over the ocean, or maybe through space.)

[iwt-v]

*nervously clears throat* both thomas and flint MAKE IT TO THE LIFE BOATS RIGHT

Ah. Well here’s a follow up to my Titantic AU drabble:

The cold wet of the morning seeps into his very bones as he walks across the deck of the rescue ship, in a daze. He’s hungry and thirsty but it doesn’t matter. He searches the faces of survivor after survivor, all of them huddled on the deck and looking as dazed as he does. They all look the same; all are the same in their shared trauma and he is no different.

He keeps getting asked if he needs anything, that he should sit down, that he could be in shock. He ignores their words, unable to tell them who he’s searching for. He reaches the end of the huddled masses and still no James McGraw. His heart drops, sinking in his chest like a stone to the bottom of the ocean, where so many lives were lost. He would weep if he had any tears left.

“Thomas?”

The voice has him whirling around, breath catching. It’s James, standing behind him and wrapped up in a wool blanket like his own. Their eyes meet and already he’s nearly in James’s arms. They wrap around Thomas and his legs almost give out from under him. James is sobbing out relief, clutching him as if to never let go. Thomas closes his eyes and breathes him in. And then he knows everything is going to be okay because James feels like home.