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“This string of killings is unlike anything I have ever seen in my ten years as a detective in the homicide unit. We are begging the public. If you know anything you are asked to contact the authorities immediately…”
“Good evening…” The music quiets just enough for this new voice to be heard. “I am your host, J.C.R, and this… is the Investigator podcast; a show that dares to explore the dark. On this week’s episode, I want to discuss a case that has been unfolding a little too close to home. As of now, no suspects have been named or arrested. Justice is slipping away from these victims and their families... But first, I want to talk about this week’s sponsor!”
James Clark Ross is a popular true-crime podcast host.
His fiancée, Anne Coulman is convinced their new home is haunted.
And his best friend, Francis Crozier is missing. -
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“Be still,” he says, a lit match and a burning fuse in his gaze, and Francis—pinned and beset and gripped with a horrified delight—can only concede.
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A fic that begins as a series of unlikely PWPs between the doctors of the Franklin Expedition, and rapidly breaks down into... something else. Something... weird.
Functions as a prequel (chapters 1-4) and a sequel (chapter 5 onwards) to my doctors/Goodsir-centric fic (Do No) Harm but legible without it.
Ch 18: look, don't ask me. I'm in hell. I'm In Hell.
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James bit into a laden slice of toast with the undamaged side of his mouth. “I thought we agreed that thinking was very dangerous,” he said, and though his voice was light Francis could feel a weight behind it. It was a weight made up of sleepless nights and crying jags; of Francis punching a solid wall and of James shouting himself hoarse; of the unbearable social calls and wrenching letters and pitying looks which they could not avoid. They carried a great many heavy things with them, now.
London, 1848: Francis and James try to put themselves back together.
Chapter 3: In mid-January, snow came to London. Little delicate specks from the leaden sky at first, evolving into a heavier fall over a couple of days, settling in silent drifts across the muted city.
The days were dark, not as short as they’d been the previous month but not lit by twinkling lights in honour of the Christmas season either. It did not compare, of course, to the endless night of the Arctic winter, but the resemblance was close enough for discomfort.
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The Soul Cages by a_shark_swimming for hmshistorian
Fandoms: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons, 19th Century CE RPF
25 Sep 2021
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Thomas Jopson has always been a good boy, especially where his adoptive father Francis Crozier was concerned. But when a chance moment leads to a seemingly small act of rebellion, he finds out how easily bonds can be created - or broken.
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He sometimes wonders if there had been something Master Crozier alone had known; as though some omen, known only to him, had flown across the skies and shown itself in its prophetic majesty to one man alone.
He tries not to wonder this, as it forces him to inquire, in that case, why he had not gone to Antwerp too.We will unite the white rose and the red. Smile heaven upon this fair conjunction.
- Richmond, Richard III, Act V, Scene V.Series
- Part 2 of as well as we myght
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Explorers, they say, are made of hope. What, then, are ghosts made of? (What is the ghost of an explorer made of?) Time, time, nothing but time.
A Fitzier Ghost and Mrs Muir au. My brain was like, can you make Fitzier sadder?, and my heart responded: yes.
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“It’s plain what he needs, Francis. The question is whether he realizes it or not.”
“And what does he need?”
“Oh, the usual.” James is grinning now, impish as a schoolboy. “Sexual stimulation, carnal discipline, perhaps a good paddling here and there.“
Edward Little comes to visit his old captains in the summer of 1853.
Series
- Part 2 of Comforts of Home
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How could he even start this? Begin to explain the feelings he had kept hidden, pushed down for as long as he could remember? That feeling, that desire, that had been inherently incompatible with the life he had built. But he could never make it go away. Now he was dying, and he wondered what was the point of keeping it under wraps. He had told Francis everything already. What was another shameful admission?
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 355
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Kudos:
- 16
- Hits:
- 86
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“Why don’t you lie down with me, Francis?”
Francis’s eyes snap to James again. James’s eyes are closed, still, one hand lazily indicating the pillows next to him in an invitation that borders on—that borders on—
“I won’t bite. Don’t have the teeth for it anymore, I’m afraid.” James smiles a half-smile, satisfied but close-mouthed, and Francis feels guilt like a hot spike driven into his guts. He laughs, weakly. James opens his eyes at the sound.
Francis seeks refuge in the pipe.Francis. James. An opium den. They try to make the pieces fit.
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Known To Those You Love by Phoenixflames12
Fandoms: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
22 Sep 2021
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A text from Henry's parents sends John and Henry reeling back into a past that neither of them want to remember. Fighting through their own anxieties, they try to work their way back to one another.
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untitled (perfect lovers) — [author’s commentary] by caravaggiosbrushes
Fandoms: The Terror (TV 2018)
22 Sep 2021
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Author’s commentary for untitled (perfect lovers), 2019, mixed media, london , my fitzier artists AU ♥
(check the original work for all the tags and TWs )
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Against his better judgement, Francis Crozier goes to a kink convention in Canada to promote his new book. It's the dead of winter, and he has a vague suspicion he should have stayed home.
Then he meets James Fitzjames, and confirms his suspicion is correct.
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The year is 1848. Whether it be missing gooses or stolen brooches, long-time roommates James Fitzjames and Francis Crozier are on the case!
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No-one goes sober in London. So when Francis Crozier gets out of rehab he packs his things and uproots to the country with his assistant, Thomas Jopson. They are searching for peace but something is moving amongst the trees. The villagers won't talk about it, the crops won't grow, May Day is coming and, in April, young men have a habit of turning up dead.
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[ART] The Terror by Val (valveillen)
Fandoms: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
21 Sep 2021
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My The Terror art in one place for your viewing pleasure. Some of the art will be explicit. Multiple ships but also Gen artwork. More tags will be added as I post new art.
comments and kudos are appreciated :^)
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Francis stepped into the bar, stamping her heavy black boots.
She was in a thoroughly awful mood. The last thing she needed was someone bothering her right now.
*
An AU fitzier where they are both lesbians because james fitzjames has a drag king name.
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Thomas Jopson just died. But then, surprisingly, he woke up again. He's in an unfamiliar place, in an unfamiliar time, surrounded by very familiar faces. He's the de facto leader of a band of intrepid heroes-for-hire who specialize in swords, sorcery, and making things up as they go along. They just so happen to be heading to the city of Erebus in hopes of saving it from something terrifying and formidable (even though no one is quite sure what it is). This is going to happen, Jopson soon realizes, whether he has any idea what's going on or not.
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“What would good Sir John say, if he knew what obscenities occupied your mind? If only Sir John could see you now, the spectacle you make of yourself, displayed here, dripping with my spend and still begging to be used.”
Francis has so few delights these days. The particular rosy blush that comes over James’s face when embarrassment knifes through him is one of them, and Francis seeks it unsparingly.
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Just six weeks into the voyage, Francis and James have fallen into a certain easy understanding—but it's not made to last. -
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“My heart for Miss Cracroft’s,” James explained, forcing his voice to sound certain and calm even if he was quickly feeling anything but. Crozier kept staring at him, a thunderstorm growing in his face. The furious silence reigned between them for another minute before James added, “You... eat the hearts of the… young and beautiful…”
The Wizard Crozier’s stare was hard and unbreakable. James could feel the snappings of electricity in the air around them, the hair standing up on the back of his neck. He could feel it now, the sheer power in this man.
“You don’t know anything.”