#sorry for the long wait

TOKEN: Clyde… knock it off…

TOKEN:You’re kinda freaking us out.

CLYDE: I’m freaking you out?

CLYDE: Oh well that’s a shame now, isn’t it?

CLYDE: Your puss-filled elephant’s foot of a friend isn’t here right now, sorry to say.

CLYDE:And very soon,none of you will be.

CRAIG:Dude, what is your problem?

CLYDE:Oh,myproblem?

CLYDE: My problem is that this swollen, decaying fistula ratted me out.

CLYDE:Rattedall of usout.

GREGORY:Hewhat?

CLYDE:Yes, I heard it from the latrine.

CLYDE:While this “Clyde” fellow was having a break down in a piss-soaked petrol station washroom, his friend over here was raving all about us to the Devil’s son himself.

TOKEN:Wh–

TOKEN:Heaskedme!

TOKEN:Clyde,what the hell are you talking about–

CLYDE:Shut your mouth!

CLYDE:I’m not Clyde, and I wont even so much as thank you to call me as such.

CLYDE:We were meant to bide our bloody time.

CLYDE:Supposed to escape silently through your brainless meat stick of a friend’s portal.

CLYDE:But now we can’t be so silent.

CLYDE:So dumb as to contact anybody through a ouija board, you truly do deserve everything I’m about to do to you.

PIP:(Nice to see you, old friend.)

PIP:(Sorry to see our reunion couldn’t have been under better circumstances.)

THOMAS: Y-you know, we really don’t need to do this…

THOMAS: W-we… I mean we could–

GREGORY:Thomas, I’ve toldyou.

GREGORY:Keep your input to yourself.

GREGORY: These issues are much greater than your feelings.

TOKEN:D-dude…

TOKEN: Whoever you are…

TOKEN:We’renothere to hurt you guys.

TOKEN:We… we were high, did some stupid stuff, and forgot about it the next day.

CLYDE:Oh yes, you’d think that ignorant, wouldn’t you.

CLYDE:You shredded bits of bloodied placenta have no clue the sorts of things you lot have done, have you?

CLYDE:Maybe not to me, but it really just gives me a reason for all of the things I’d like to do to you. Not that I’d hesitate either way.

GREGORY: Then would you just get on with it already, Estella?

CLYDE:Impatient scrotal sac of a decrepit old man.

CLYDE:[sigh]

CLYDE:I suppose I’ve dwelled within this grotesque husk long enough…

TOKEN: Wait, what are…

TOKEN: What’s happening–

GREGORY:I didn’t even know you’d gone off and squealed so soon.

GREGORY: Here I thought I really wouldn’t have to hurt any of you…

TOKEN:You–

CRAIG:You guys killed Jimmy!

KYLE:Theywhat?!

GREGORY:I told you, that was a miscalculation.

TOKEN:D… Damien told me we all deserved it!

GREGORY: Well, maybe you do, seeing what you’ve done.

CRAIG:Whatwe’vedone?!

STAN: Get your head out of your ass, Gregory!

KYLE:Oh my god what is coming out of Clyde’s back.

CARTMAN:Grody,what the fuck.

GREGORY:Oh, I’ll tell you who’s coming out–

ESTELLA:No, you won’t.

@neverland-in-space requested Crozier and Fitzjames and “I never hated you.”

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The two had just crested the top of a hill, poking at the stones beneath their feet with tools meant for ice. Exhaustion crept in with each step during their trek, but it had been decided the night prior that the topics of their conversation were best discussed in private. So now the two captains stood, overlooking the Terror Camp, far from earshot of the other men.

Now, that was not to say they did not trust anyone but themselves and each other, but the seeds of distrust had already been sewn, and Francis could feel the sharp edge of it, even here, as they paused in steady silence. It was his idea to speak of such delicate matters far from camp, and he had given the younger man little room to argue.

Their topics ranged from the best options for survival, to who they needed to keep a watchful eye on, to their best chances of avoiding the creature, should it return. It was tiresome, and it weighed on both of their minds, anchoring them down in their positions of command. It was up to them, just two men, to ensure the survival of what remained of the expedition.

“Who could have ever thought we would end up here? Like this? Chased by a monster that shouldn’t exist.” Asked James, his voice breaking the quiet as a sad smile overtook his features, his gaze sweeping over the camp below.

Crozier shook his head, “Not I. I doubt any man could have foreseen this.”

So many lives lost, first to sickness, then to a monster, and finally to each other, with the tragedy of the Carnivale. After the first winter, Francis had begun to suspect they would be left with no choice other than to walk out, a notion which Blanky had agreed with, but the rest? Sometimes, at night, as he tossed and turned, he would have a hard time accepting that this was their fate now.

They must have been lost in their own thoughts, for the wind howling passed their bodies was the only sound. Neither shifted their weight against the stones, nor did they speak for the longest time. Both captains just stood there, still as statues, watching, but not seeing, the activity going on in the camp below.

Finally, it was James who moved, the rocks beneath his feet shifting and sliding against each other, while a stray stone went tumbling.

“You know,” he began, pausing as if deep in thought, to choose his next words carefully. “I never hated you.”

Francis blinked his eyes, not against the sun or the wind, but in confusion. An unsteady silence followed, with both men standing wordlessly beside each other. Fitzjames’ eyes locked on the camp, Crozier’s on the other captain. They seemed frozen like that for hours, but only seconds passed before the Irishman’s laughing started.

“You, James, are a terrible liar.”

The man in question seemed to take offense, turning towards the other, “I’m telling you the truth. You were hard to converse with, stubborn, and adamant in your ways. But I never hated you for it.”

“Bull. Word travels fast on a ship, as you know.” He added the last part to make a point, while nodding his head in James’ direction, “I may not have been around when you spoke of ill of me to Sir John, but my men were. And they talk.”

He couldn’t tell if the color rising to Fitzjames’ cheeks was from the biting wind or from embarrassment, but he would wager the latter.

“Well you were…you were insufferable!” He defended, “Always melancholic, brooding by yourself, and spiteful.”

“I was.”

And for once, Fitzjames seemed to be at a loss for words.

“And I would be lying if I said I never talked you down in private company.”

“But that doesn’t matter now,” he jammed his ice pick into the rocks, barely checking if it was stable before raising his hands and placing them firmly on James’ shoulders, “What matters now is that we make the right choices. We have to get these men home. Can you trust me to do that?”

Fitzjames nodded, avoiding eye contact at first, but relenting. “I can. There’s no better man to lead these men out of here.”

“A commander is only as good as his second.” And perhaps that is why Sir John had failed, for Crozier had been insufferable, albeit correct in most matters. If he had been as close as to Franklin as he was now to James, the former captain might have heeded his warnings. “And there’s no better second here. Now, shall we decide how to save these men?”

“We shall.”

Francis let his arms fall to his sides, before turning back to the camp.

Maybe they had hated each other before. No, they did hate each other, a mutual feeling which had interfered with decisions and judgement many times over the course of the expedition. But now, here, looking over a makeshift camp, their men, and a land that wanted them dead, that hatred had evolved into some much more. Something much stronger. Trust, respect, compassion.

Yes, perhaps they had hated each other. But they could say with certainty that now, it never seemed like they had. And when they made it back home, they would tell everyone who would listen that they never disliked one another in the first place.

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Feel free to send me a prompt and character!

Zalmona,VanoraandDraco EdgeworthfromVincent: The Secret of Myersare a Polycule !

Requested by @antgender