THE TERROR RARE PAIR WEEK

11 - 17th November Ask . Prompts . Tags . Rules

[tgtbata]

you know that scene in ‘go for broke’ where tozer tells hartnell not to drop his telescope because it belongs to irving? i’ve decided that’s gay.

irving/tozer for the rare pair requests for @saintssebastian

[winterlain]

fell in love in london out in the rain need you to kiss me and take this pain

[theterrorrarepairweek]

Yes, you! To everyone who’s written, drawn, made graphics, reblogged, liked or left comments on people’s work, thank you so much for supporting the week and the incredibly talented creators who’ve been involved in it. Because this is Tumblr, the tagging system seems to be a bit... temperamental to put it mildly, so if we’ve not reblogged your works it’s nothing personal, do drop us a message and we’ll get that rectified!  The tagging system on the page on the other hand is working perfectly (thanks to the assistance of @transgrahamgore and @transmanscottsummers), and can now be searched for pairings, individuals, ratings and challenge days. We’re still happy to reblog anything made after the end of the week, and again, thank you all so much for contributing - we hit 1000 fics on AO3 over the course of the week and are so happy everyone took part. Fair winds and following seas from your mods, @thecoffeetragedy @theiceandbones @thomasjopsons and @mannisbaratheon

[radiojamming]

Hartving Pushing Daisies AU (RPW - Tender Tuesday)

The facts were these…

[smaragdbird]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Written for The Terror Rare Pair Week - Missing Moments Monday

A Brush of Lips - Thomas Jopson/Francis Crozier

kiss for comfort, kiss for love

[smaragdbird]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Written for the Terror Rare Pair Week - Missing Moments Monday

A Touch of Fingers - Hodgson/De Voeux

A moment in the mutineer’s camp

[smaragdbird]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Written for the Terror Rare Pair Week - Missing Moments Monday

The Moment They Knew - Little/Irving

Edward grabbing his thigh during the command meeting leads Irving to finally understand the Song of Songs

[whalersandsailors]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

here’s the link to ao3 if you prefer reading fic over yonder ❤️

Rating: General Audiences

Relationships: John Weekes/John Morfin Additional Tags: rare pair week, Rare Pairings, Gift Giving, Fluff and Angst, Memory Loss, or the beginnings of it, Implied lead poisoning symptoms

Summary:

An anniversary, during which Weekes presents Morfin with a gift, and Morfin struggles to remember why.

[beatriceinmessina]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Rating: General Audiences

Relationships: Harry D.S. Goodsir/Lt George Hodgson

Additional Tags: I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Cuddling & Snuggling, Tenderness, (I hope it’s tenderness), Hurt/Comfort, Sad men kiss and cuddle and get a good night’s sleep, As they deserve to

Summary:

“But I’m hungry. I’m hungry and I want to live.

The words are so recently spoken, and yet they echo in his head like a phrase from a half-forgotten poem. Something about them is so achingly, simply human-like, yet so full of loathing for the self; he knows that feeling, if not those exact words. They had grabbed him, and he had not fought as hard as he could have, he had not shouted for someone to help him as loud as he should have. He had gone with them because, despite knowing that he will die no matter who he is with now, they would have shot him otherwise. And he wants to live. An overwhelming part of him still wants to live.”

[zipegs]

sophia/francis/james  //  1078 words, g, fix-it  //  ao3 written for the trpw day 7: irving’s funday sunday

Sophia doesn’t know how this came to be their ritual. As with the majority of their relationship, they simply fell into it. It’s something she quite frequently marvels over—how easily the three of them have navigated uncharted waters—and she spares a moment to consider it now, leaning back against James and drawing her knees up to her chest. He wraps his arms around her as if by rote, and she smiles, turning her face toward him so her forehead presses lightly against his chin.

“Are you cold?” James murmurs, touching his lips to her hair, and Sophia shakes her head. The wind has begun to pick up; it licks at her skirts and sends them fluttering about her ankles, and the loose hair from her chignon kisses at her neck. But it is a pleasant sort of breeze, fresh and cool and tangy with brine.

She would have thought, considering how close her men had come to losing themselves out on that treacherous expanse of water, that they would seek to hide as far from its reaches as geography permitted. But mariners remain an enigma to her. For though they nearly came to lose their lives at sea (and even that fight had been hard-won), its siren song beckons them still. At times, Sophia wonders if their veins run thick with salt water in place of blood. She imagines them changelings, babes planted in their cradles by the gods of the ocean, ever heeding the call of their homeland.

It doesn’t matter; she will not feign to understand. There is so much about Francis, about James, which makes her feel othered. They share a bond, the two of them, and the brotherhood of their near-demise—by all rights, they should have sought each other alone. It troubles her, at times—in the early days especially, when she was unused to James’s night terrors and Francis’s general unrest. She did not know how to soothe them, how to aid, whether she ought to redirect their thoughts or engage them. Even now, she fears she is not as practiced at it as she ought to be—but that is why they have each other. It is one among many things which makes their union work; what weaknesses one finds in oneself are amended and supplemented in another.

Keep reading

[mcclintock]

Antarctica, 1841, Francis Crozier & James Clark Ross & some penguins

for the Terror Rare Pair Week

[gigi-sinclair]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

OK, for real, this is my last one for a while. But I couldn’t resist Le Vesconte/Jopson for rare pair week. Even if the poor guys don’t get anywhere.(Also my Terror Bingo square “the hold.” And I would totally have a Bingo if I was doing these in any kind of straight line.)

[whalersandsailors]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Fandom: The Terror (TV 2018)

Rating:  Teen And Up Audiences

Relationships: Thomas Hartnell/Lt John Irving, Lt John Irving/Lt Edward Little (one-sided), Thomas Jopson/Lt Edward Little (background) Additional Tags: rare pair week, Canon Compliant, During Canon, Pre-carnivale but post Sir John’s death, Unrequited Crush, Internal Conflict, Internalized Homophobia

Summary:

John Irving is a man, conflicted; by his duty, his needs, his desires, and his place among the men. He finds some comfort on Sundays, when he hosts a small study for himself and the men. It may be a poor imitation of Sir John’s Divine Services, but there is a distinct shift when Seaman Hartnell joins him one Sunday in late November.

[lookslikeaquentinblakedrawing]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

For The Terror Rare Pair Week 2019: Sadderday

Relationship: Thomas Blanky/Alexander McDonald Tags: Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, post-Carnivale Summary:  He makes many wishes, that first sunrise, but they all boil down to the same one.

[grahamgore]

james x graham | jacob’s invisible world

rating. mature

tags. weird hurt/comfort. body horror. canonical deaths. trans male characters (james & graham).

sum. graham is dead. dead and gone. into the invisible world that only jacob can see and the story sounds wrong when francis uses it for sir john.

except he is there—eyes dull, slops in piece. he smiles sadly and blood spills from his mouth.

notes. belatedly written for @theterrorrarepairweek‘s frightday prompt but surely, it’s sad enough to fit sadderday as well. 

on AO3. (word count: 2037)

[henrylevesconte]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Terror - Dan Simmons, The Terror (TV 2018) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Lt George Hodgson/Lt Henry T.D. Le Vesconte, if you squint Characters: Lt George Hodgson, Lt Henry T. D. Le Vesconte, Commander James Fitzjames, Captain Sir John Franklin, Captain Francis Crozier, Thomas Blanky, Magnus Manson, James Reid, William Wentzall, Pvt Pilkington, Robert Sinclair, Lt Graham Gore Additional Tags: Sharing a Bed, Adventure, Newly formed friendship, Hodgson will never stop talking, Sassy Le Vesconte, Shared biscuits, Minor Angst, impending doom, Le Vescontes POV Summary:

We’ve all seen how Gore’s leads party went. But what happened on the shorter journey between Le Vesconte and Hodgson

Prompt for the Terror Bingo: Goldner’s Tins

Word Count: 4,133

@theterrorbingo

[zipegs]

hartving  //  314 words, m  //  ao3 written for the trpw day 6: sadderday

cws for canon mcd, graphic violence, & body horror

When it comes down to it, dying does not hurt as much as Thomas Hartnell expected. 

Once he has overcome the shock of it, he registers the sharp point of pain in his chest—a starburst flaring just beneath his breast—and thinks it a mercy. He has witnessed his friends’ flesh being ripped in thick ropes from their ice-white bones, has helped gather up bodies bereft of limbs and heads and torsos like kindling in his arms. And though he would not call this death easy—his muscles seize and spasm against his will, and it is difficult to draw  breath—he knows there are far more horrible ways to die.

They didn’t slice off his man parts and punch 23 holes into his lungs with a boat knife. That was Mr. Hickey!

Thomas wonders how it must have felt to wrap your fists around hope and clutch it tight. To have it wrenched from between your fingers by a man you thought your friend—to have it cut out of you, peeled up from your body like the rind of an orange. He, at least, will suffer no such devastation; any residual hope he might have harbored fell from his chest like a dead bird when Lieutenant Hodgson’s men bore Irving’s body back.

“You did so well, son.”

The world has begun to melt around the edges, colors dripping into each other like the first swirl of milk in a cup of murky tea. He has the sense of being submerged; Captain Crozier is a tiny pinprick of light above him, voice thick and warped. It trickles down as though from a distance.

“Go on. Go be with your brother now.”

But for the first time, as his eyes flutter shut and his body slackens, pain receding like a falling tide, Thomas isn’t thinking of him. Not really.

There’s someone else he is hoping to see first.