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The Terror - Prompt Post 1
This is for prompts for all things AMC's The Terror (2018). Go nuts!
Cast RPF also goes here, shine on you crazy diamonds.
Cast RPF also goes here, shine on you crazy diamonds.
If you've filled (or started filling) a prompt, please make sure to link it in the comments of the Fills Post. And if you would like to cross-post your fills on AO3, here is the collection!
If you have questions or comments please contact us in the comments of the Mod Post.
Just to reiterate from the Mod Post, here are the RULES:
1. Be fucking nice. YKINMATO/KINKTOMATO at all times.
2. This meme is CNTW (Choose Not To Warn) but warnings are highly encouraged.
3. Prompts should use this format in the subject line: [SHIP], [DESCRIPTION]
e.g.
Hickey/Crozier, CNC knifeplay
Solo gen can be prompted as well alongside (a) character name and description
e.g.
Gen, Edward Little, having a nice day
4. Fills should use this format in the subject line: FILL: [TITLE], [PAIRING], [RATING], [ANY WARNINGS]
e.g.
Fill: The Last Hour, Hickey/Tozer, E, cw dubcon
5. One prompt per comment please.
6. Multiple fills for each prompt are welcome!
7. You don't have to be anon for your prompts or your fills but we do encourage it because of the vibe. You're also welcome to deanon your stuff by posting on AO3/Tumblr as you please!
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Tozer/anyone, completely SFW snuggling
(Anonymous) 2022-10-07 04:50 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Tozer/anyone, completely SFW snuggling
(Anonymous) 2022-10-08 08:18 am (UTC)(link)Re: Tozer/anyone, completely SFW snuggling
(Anonymous) 2022-10-08 08:21 am (UTC)(link)FILL: *holding him* *is held*
(Anonymous) 2024-06-21 04:20 am (UTC)(link)For Tozer, though, it holds no comfort. He lies stiffly in his hammock, fists tucked into his armpits, staring at the deckhead like he can see straight through it to the Arctic sky above. He can’t sleep. If he tries, all he’ll see is Heather.
Even days later, his throat still aches from inhaled smoke, and from his anguished yells: “You’re crushing him! No! No no no no no—”
Men screaming, roasting alive. Flames close enough to curl the whiskers on his cheek. Feeling Heather slip away. No matter how badly he wishes to, Tozer can’t forget. He’s spent enough waking hours preparing for walk-out that it should push thoughts of Carnivale safely from his mind. But tonight, when he closes his eyes, he’s there.
Tozer curls up tighter into himself. A few hammocks away, one of the privates is snoring. Underneath that is the sound of footfalls, quiet and hesitant, altogether unlike a marine’s. Tozer supposes it’s Armitage. His guess is proven right a second later as the gunroom steward, approaching in a half-crouch, clambers into his hammock alongside him.
Tozer budges up, but not by much. There’s a leaden weight where his heart used to be and it makes him heavy, listless. Armitage, uncomplaining, shifts around a bit. Then silence.
After enough time elapses to make it clear Tozer won’t be the first to speak, Armitage clears his throat. Voice pitched low, he whispers, “Had some chocolate tonight for taking two watches back to back. I tucked away the extra in the pantry for you. If you want it.” They’re so close that Tozer feels the words as much as he hears them, mouthed at his temple, Armitage’s breath tickling his forehead.
He turns his face away.
It’s not that the offer displeases him — God knows Tommy Armitage has few enough favors to give, Tozer can’t help but be touched — but the night of Carnivale crowds in between them, and he can’t see past it. It had been Armitage dragging him out of the collapsing tent, Armitage who bore down on him with all he had to keep him from going back in. Were it not for Armitage he’d have been at Heather’s side, fighting for him up until the end.
The knowledge that it wouldn’t have saved Heather either way presses like sickness into Tozer’s skull. Unconsciously, he clenches his fists; his shoulders hunch up toward his ears. Armitage must notice, because Tozer feels him stiffen as if ready for a blow. Now they’re both lying rigid as corpses, a thought which sickens him further. He imagines the pained look Armitage must be wearing and presses his face into the rough canvas as if he can somehow hide from it.
They lie like that for a while. The cold sets in, and Tozer’s muscles ache, but he can’t move, not even to kick Tommy out. He hasn’t the heart to protest either. He can’t even—
Wordlessly, Armitage shifts to one side, so he’s lying with his chest to Tozer’s back. With his arm tucked under his head, he’s free to wrap his other arm around Tozer, tentative, then with an almost imperceptible relaxing of weight.
Tozer’s first instinct is to shrink away even more, only in the little space they share it’s not really an option. Part of him doesn’t mind; Armitage is warm, after all. It’s just that letting himself be held like this after all he’s done and failed to do — it makes Tozer feel like he could die. Wouldn’t be the worst that could happen, now would it, he thinks bitterly.
A length of silence passes during which Tozer stares at nothing and listens to the hammocks creak. Some of his defensiveness ebbs, unknotting the tension from his muscles; he tells himself he’s tired, and that’s all.
But bit by bit, despite Tozer’s resistance, Armitage passes on his warmth to Tozer through his body, the only way he can. And Tozer melts in it. He’s still heavy as stone and the insides of his eyelids are the color of fire at Carnivale, but his sharp edges have begun to soften and blur, the way they always do around Armitage. He shudders; it’s almost too much. His back itches to shake Armitage off him like a horse throwing a rider. Uncomplaining, Armitage holds him closer. When Tozer at last uncrosses his arms, Armitage’s hand falls naturally over his own and he presses it tightly to his chest.
Not for the first time, Tozer wonders what brought Armitage here. He’d done nothing more to attract Armitage than look good in a red coat, or so he sometimes felt, and yet Armitage seemed happy just to be by his side: now, and the previous nights they’d shared a hammock, sometimes more than a hammock, it was like he’d only ever wanted Tozer to smile, even if it wasn’t at him.
The thought occurs to Tozer that Armitage would have gone back into the fire for him. As soon as he thinks it something inside him wavers, weakens, falls apart. It’s not just that: Armitage had gone back. He’d done for Tozer what Tozer could not have done for Heather.
And now Tozer, not Heather, is here. Diminished and undeserving, perhaps, but here nonetheless.
Safe and warm in an embrace he’s done nothing to earn, Tozer draws one breath, then another. Thickly, he manages to get out, “Stay — will you—?”
Armitage answers with a nod. He is here, they are both here and alive. Nestled together like this, their breathing falls into sync, Armitage’s chest rising with Tozer’s exhale: a familiar rhythm, almost a lullaby. Armitage tucks his chin against Tozer’s shoulder. His eyelashes, brushing the curve of Tozer’s ear, flutter shut. Like drowning men to a rope, they both hold on.