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[whalerwrites]

Francis Crozier/Sophia Cracroft, Francis Crozier & James Clark Ross | 1.8k words | Rated M | A/B/O Dynamics

Only three people know Francis’ secret—two of whom, he loves. He’s always had a terrible habit of wanting what he cannot have.

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for the @theterrorbingo prompt A/B/O

[whalerwrites]

hale and hearty | thomas jopson/edward little | mature | 1.3k words

With August comes an Indian summer—the air thick as water, the sky hazy, and all the inhabitants of the seaside village lethargic. The windows of their townhouse are open, but the lack of breeze means no reprieve. Thomas sits, stripped to his trousers as he prepares his shaving kit. He rose early this morning, kicking off the blankets when sleep became impossible in the oppressive heat.

Across the room from him, Edward remains in bed. He lies atop the sheets, fully naked as he fans himself with a book.

{Read on ao3}

for the @theterrorbingo prompt I know you

[whalerwrites]

Francis Crozier/Thomas Jopson | Rated M | 7.9k words

“Will it work?”

Frank doesn’t know. The boat tied to the cliffs is an anomaly; the ironic name Wavebreaker quaintly emblazoning the hull. The peeling red paint on the gunwale is all that breaks the landscape before him: gray sky, gray ocean, gray beach, gray rocks, and there amidst it all, an abandoned old trawler.

“Are you ready?”

Frank starts when, for a brief second, he hears Sophia’s voice in his ear. He turns fast enough that his neck twinges. The voice deepens to the familiar tenor of the young man calling Frank’s name. He repeats his question.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Frank says.

The two of them clasp hands, and when the man turns to smile at Frank, even his brilliant blue eyes have dulled to the gray of the sea.

{Read on ao3}

[whalerwrites]

you flaunted the fragrance of your blossoms

Bryant/Chambers | Explicit | 1.4k words | A/B/O Dynamics

Georgie knows that he is throwing away a career at sea before he’s even properly earned his sea legs, but how can he not? Not when he’s caught the attention of an Alpha whom he’s wanted for over a year.

{read on ao3}

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for @theterrorbingo & @terrorrarepairweek!

[whalerwrites]

the hand that feeds you | hickeyhodgson | mature | <1k words

George didn’t know what to expect. He almost believed that when he left his tent, everyone would be gathered around Billy Gibson’s butchered remains, dressed like a stuck pig on the table. Perhaps with a rolled up ball of cloth as substitute for an apple in the mouth.

But no, the dinner looked as it always looked: stained planks stood on barrels with pewter plates and no cutlery, theirs seats nothing but the crates they hauled on the sledge. The only difference today was the tins replaced by two bloodied bags.

{read the rest on ao3}

@theterrorbingo

[whalerwrites]

salve | goodsir/gore | general audiences | 1k words

Harry doesn’t know how he’ll sleep tonight. He’s used to the cold and even the discomfort of the pebbly ice beneath the tent. His pain lies in his blistered feet, his overused muscles, and the bruises dotted along his collarbone where the sledge’s harness dug into his pale skin. He’s pulled the collar of his shirt off his shoulder to better inspect the marks, and he winces as he prods the welts.

Someone chirps a friendly hullo at the tent’s entrance. Harry barely fixes his shirt and jumper before Lieutenant Gore ducks inside.

{read the rest on ao3}

@theterrorbingo

[whalerwrites]

A household had a routine very similar to a ship. There was silver to  polish, windows to clean, bedding to air out, laundry to wash, food to cook, furniture to dust, floors to sweep, and so on the list of chores went.

Unfortunately for Thomas, much of the routine was left to the maids and butler. Thomas’ only recurring duty was planning menus and answering letters. And were he to interfere with the chores by assisting himself—well, he had attempted that early in his stay at the house, and that had earned him nothing but confusion and thinly veiled scorn. Now, he refrained and slowly went mad with want of anything to do.

Both chapters are up now! Read them here.

[whalerwrites]

Billy Gibson-centric | Rated T | 2k words | A/B/O Dynamics

Billy doesn’t know why he goes to Jopson. They aren’t friends. At least he doesn’t think of them as such. Jopson is, however, a good man. Someone that Billy trusts will guard his secret, as only a good man would. He’s also an Omega, and this, Billy cannot deny, affects his reasoning. The irony of it, that he should trust an Omega with this…

(cw for unplanned pregnancy & abortion)

Read more of my Terror Omegaverse {here}!

[whalerwrites]

let me down easy | Hickey/Gibson | Rated E | <1000 words

Dead bodies are not unfamiliar to Cornelius; not when he has slept alongside them unknowingly or otherwise; not when he has eaten from them to survive hard times; not when he has slid a knife between a man’s ribs for money or for pleasure. But when he sees Billy, motionless on the bedroll, a cavern as deep as a waterless well cracks open inside him…

{Read the rest on ao3!}

for the @theterrorbingo prompt necrophilia

[whalerwrites]

‘Lovely ambiance,’ George says with a smile.

‘A bit much, I’d say,’ John argues.

Edward ignores them both as he knocks on the door, the hollow clang of brass upon brass making his chest clench in anticipation. The butler leads them into the front parlor—dim if not for the low-burning fire and the trio of candles centered on the table.

The other guests are already here: a Mr Bradford, a Mrs Lewis and her daughter Helen, Mrs Blythe of course, and most interesting of all, the woman clad in velvety black from head to toe, her eyes closed as in a trance where she sits in the place of honor at the seat closest to the fire.

‘The medium,’ Edward says in a breath, unable to help himself.

George nudges him with an elbow, trying to quell his smirk. ‘Well, she looks a right serious one, doesn’t she?’

An even lower voice from John, derision clashing with the slight tremor in his voice; ‘A charlatan like all the rest.’

Keep reading

[whalerwrites]

Francis Crozier/Thomas Jopson | Explicit | 2.4k words

Thomas wastes not a second hurrying to his post on HMS Terror — not when it is first voyage in years, and not when his place is specifically requested by Captain Crozier.

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He doesn’t recognize Terror when he first spies her double masts. Her sails are furled, the hull gleaming with fresh paint and metal casing. She looks like a new vessel, rather than a reoutfitted bomb ship. Workmen swarm her deck like bees as they carry crates up the gangplank, and Thomas has to duck in between them to board himself. He checks in with a rather frazzled lieutenant who looks surprised to see him this early. He reads the official summons from Commander Fitzjames before directing Thomas to the hatch.

“You may head down.”                                                                        

“Thank you, sir.”                                                                  

The belly of the ship is bright, the white-washed wood reflecting the late afternoon sun where it filters through the skylights. Crozier is nowhere to be seen, but Thomas has plenty to do in the meantime.

{Read the rest on ao3!}

[whalerwrites]

Edward Little/Solomon Tozer | 3.3k words | Rated E 

Little is speechless when Tozer corners him in his cabin with the proposal that they go to bed together. Little turns him away, well aware that such actions could get them flogged and disrated.

(if only little could take him up on the offer without any consequence.)

or 5 Times Solomon Tries to Get Fucked + The One Time He Actually Does

{Read on ao3}

[whalerwrites]

Harry Goodsir-centric | Gen | <1k words | Rated G | A/B/O Dynamics

A draft of Harry D.S. Goodsir’s pamphlet in which he anonymously appealed for the legal representation of Omegas.

I am in a frenzy and haven’t had the time to properly look over the document I’ve enclosed. I trust your judgment if anything is too emotional, too unclear, too maudlin for public readers. Robert assures me he knows a publisher who will print the pamphlet at a reasonable price, and best of all, anonymously…

{Read the rest on ao3!}

[whalerwrites]

Thomas Jopson/Edward Little | 4.2k words | Rated E | A/B/O Dynamics

It happened in Fort Resolution, though in retrospect, Edward realized it was no surprise.

The trapper acting as surgeon to the men did not have the pedigree of a doctor in England, but as an Alpha, he recognized the familiar, heady scent. He pulled Edward aside after dinner. He kept his voice low, casting a wary eye on what few men remained of the crews of Terror and Erebus.

“Your sick ones are mending nice,” he said, “but I worry about your friend.”

Edward did not catch his meaning. “The captain? He is most hardy of us all.”

The trapper placed his hand patiently on Edward’s shoulder. “No, your friend. You don’t need to be coy with me, Beta. I know puppy love when I see it, and I have seen you at the Omega’s bedside many a night.”

{Read the rest on ao3}

[whalerwrites]

Hard to believe that it’s already been two years since I posted my first Terror fic to ao3 — poised on the edge of the world. Since then I have written extensively for this fandom with my works totaling more than sixty.

To celebrate my Terrorversary, I’ve compiled a masterpost of all my fics, organized by pairing and character. {Find it here!} 

Or you can skip to one of my personal favorites linked right here:

no men but animals

I knew it was love (and I felt it was glory)

a fine lobster kettle

everyday’s most quiet need

A Sunday Aboard HMS Terror

you & me & the devil makes three

Thanks to everyone who has read, commented on, bookmarked, and reblogged my fics as well as just making me feel super welcomed! It has been a real honor participating in this small but passionate fandom. ❤️

[whalerwrites]

Thomas Jopson & the Terror Lieutenants (and one very disgruntled ship’s dog) | Gen | 2.7k words | Rated G

Jopson investigates a terrible noise from the great cabin. He certainly did not expect to see all three lieutenants looking as though they just finished battle. 

- written for @theterrorbingo prompt unreliable narrator

[whalerwrites]

John Diggle-centric | Gen | 2.3k words | Rated G

Diggle recognized the importance of his role on ship, and as he made new acquaintances and friends, he found himself struggling to keep track of the many Thomases on board.

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for @theterrorbingo prompt John Diggle