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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
William Heather/Edward Little | 1.1k words | Rated E
Private Heather pays Edward a visit in his cabin.
- a fill for @theterrorbingo for ‘William Heather’ as well as my final fic for last week’s rare pair event :)
the collection has CLOSED! thank you so much to everyone who contributed to this year’s round of TRPW! there are 109 amazing stories in the collection (possibly with a few late arrivals to come) so please take your time working your way through them and leaving kudos & comments ❤️
Masterpost for Azzy’s The Terror Rarepair week 2021 fics
Monday, February 8th; prompt “Greenhithe” Pairing: Solomon Tozer / William Heather https://archiveofourown.org/works/29290266
Tuesday, February 9th; prompt “Beechey Island” Pairing: Charles Best / William Pilkington https://archiveofourown.org/works/29314383
Wednesday, February 10th; prompt “Frozen In” Pairing: William Hedges / William Jerry https://archiveofourown.org/works/29334624
Thursday, February 11th; prompt “You astonish me” Pairing: Stephen Stanley / Alexander McDonald https://archiveofourown.org/works/29361762
Friday, February 12th; prompt “The Walk Out” Pairing: James Walter Fairholme / Charles Des Voeux https://archiveofourown.org/works/29380902
Saturday, February 13th; prompt “After The Expedition” Pairing: Graham Gore / John Morfin https://archiveofourown.org/works/29399082
Sunday, February 14th; prompt “Valentine’s Day” Pairing: Henry Le Vesconte / George Hodgson https://archiveofourown.org/works/29441673
@terrorrarepairs2021
more erebites for the terror rarepair week, this time with fluff, for the "valentines day" prompt:
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
The Terror Rarepair Week 2021, Day VII: “Valentine’s Day / free space”
Summary: George Hodgson plays piano for an underground club. When Henry Le Vesconte comes on as a singer, George's world is thrown out of joint, but that might not be such a bad thing, life-wise.
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29295633/chapters/72342237
The Terror but Orpheus/Eurydice AU
FanficTitle: Lovers’ Dirge as Played upon the Lyre (Teen, 6k words)
Pairings: George Hodgson/Edward Little, Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames, mentioned Peglar/Bridgens and implied Gibson/Hickey
Summary/Tags:
(Hodgson as Orpheus, Little as Eurydice, Crozier as Hades, Fitzjames as Persephone, Jopson as Charon, Erebus Lieuts as the Fates, Neptune as Cerberus, and a bunch of other charas a human townsfolk, Romance, Grief/Mourning, Angst, Unhappy Ending)
A map leading to the Underworld.
George gasps, lays the page down on the table delicately, for fear it might dissolve at any moment. He pulls an atlas from his shelf, matches the maps within, takes a magnifying glass to it. Everything looks sound. The only difference is one thick dark circle, but even as George stares at it the blackness seems to shift, bits of color surfacing than diving back within again. The spot is on flat paper yet seems to have depth: limitless, promising, horrible in its unknowability.
Terror and Erebus, it is labeled in Bridgens’ recognizable steady hand.
CLICK HERE TO READ ON AO3
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Terror (TV 2018) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Lt George Hodgson/Lt Henry T.D. Le Vesconte Characters: George Henry Hodgson, Henry T. D. Le Vesconte Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, Gift Giving, Hand Jobs, Victorian Flower Language Summary:
George had washed his back, between his fingers, the nape of his neck, while Henry cried. He couldn’t bear being touched by anyone of their rescuers, couldn’t look most of the crew in the eye, and spend almost every moment at Captain Fitzjames’ sickbed. It had taken some ungentle needling, a spot of man-handling and at the end a stern order from George to get him in the tub. It would be the first time he washed Henry, but by far not the last. “Comforting,” called Henry it as George had soaped his hair and beard, the foam taking a sickening shade of grey, grit under George’s fingernails. “Overdue,” answered George with a gentle pull on Henry’s hair and Henry’s face had slackened for the first time in weeks. The strain seeped out of him like the dirt running down his back in rivulets and George had been a bit less tender with rubbing soap into his scalp after that.
Sneaking in on the last day of Terror Rarepair Week with Hickey x MacDonald, because nothing says romance inevitable tragedy.
