1 - 20 of 87 Works by willowbilly
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Summary
Goodsir finds himself married, and must clarify himself to his apparent wife, Silna. She is more than understanding.
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Meta focusing on the trans/queer/Two-Spirit themes of GoodSilna and how sociologically unusual it is for Silna to be unmarried.
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Her Poor Little Puppy by oysterpearl (willowbilly) for 13hemoglobin
Fandoms: The Terror (TV 2018)
20 Oct 2025
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“This is your home, too,” Silna reminds him as they settle in for bed.
“I just want to be good for you,” Goodsir says, setting down the wick tender and sliding his hand along her arm. He is prone as he was tending the lamp, while she lies supine.
“You know I think you’re good,” she signs, her expression wavering between teasing affection and pity. “Do you need me to tell you every day, like you are my dog? Like you are my sweet cute little puppy?”
Goodsir wants to be Silna's dog.
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Qaplunaatut does not have a word for what Silna is, but Goodsir tells them that, just as Goodsir may be herself: Silna’s wife, Harriet, when within the privacy of their home, Silna may likewise dress as Harriet’s husband and also be acknowledged between themselves as the opposite sex.
“But I’m not a man,” they sign to Harriet, to remind her of what they’ve already said about themself being not a man or a woman but a third sex that is between either, and Harriet says:—
“Of course, just as I’m not really a woman,” and Silna does not have the heart to explain themself yet again only for their sweet, compassionate, intelligent wife to still not understand them; to never understand them. It is more comfortable to pretend that there is understanding; that Silna is not naturally, deeply alienated even from their sole remaining beloved one; and that the ill fit of Silna’s new life in Britain does not make them sicken and ache.
Silna is attacked by strangers on the streets of their new land. Then they are comforted by their wife.
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Hickey visits Goodsir the night he loses Gibson, looking to share something.
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Kiviuq's mother, as she knows her, dies. A seal becomes of her.
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Lady Franklin employs E.C. of an evening.
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“I want you so badly,” Goodsir says to Collins in a playful, plaintive tone, reclining demurely resplendent on their bed in his new lingerie: a diaphanous lace-trimmed babydoll of dark green with matching green stockings and panties, suspender belts cutting down across the accentuated bareness of his soft, hairy thighs. “Please, fuck me.”
The Goodsir-Collinses try for a baby.
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But I Got a Spicy Potato Soft Taco by oysterpearl (willowbilly)
Fandoms: The Terror (TV 2018)
27 Sep 2024
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His skull knocks back against the Taco Bell restroom door as he arches, Hickey’s other hand still clamped tight over his mouth, flattening his facial hair. He pants through his nostrils, his lungs flooded with the scent of artificial rose, and he blinks dazedly at his date-rapist, having slid down so they’re of an eye level.
Hickey gazes at Goodsir’s face with rapt fascination. A technician concentrating on his work, nourished by what he does and sees.
Hickey's attack on Goodsir in the Taco Bell restroom.
Series
- Part 2 of Goodsir's Fast Food
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The Bean Burrito Sounded Good by oysterpearl (willowbilly)
Fandoms: The Terror (TV 2018)
24 Sep 2024
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“Good to meet you, Cornelius,” Goodsir says, clumsy with nerves as he arises to shake Hickey’s hand. “Sorry for having been late…”
“No problem, Harry,” Hickey says, grip warm and strong. His profile proclaims his height to be the same as Goodsir’s, but he is definitely a bit shorter. “Eager to know you.”
Goodsir's trusting affection is exploited.
Series
- Part 1 of Goodsir's Fast Food
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Hickey kisses him again, but this one is superficial, sparing him to pant whimpering under Hickey like an animal in the snare. He keeps his half-lidded gaze on Goodsir’s, the cloudy sky glaring behind him, Goodsir’s body laid bare and pinned down for him. The blade sits light, moving up and down with the rapid heaving of Goodsir’s chest.
“What should we do with him, Men?” Hickey asks his Mutineers.
Hickey punishes Goodsir for not joining their feast.
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Des Voeux is the first to finish eating his portion of Gibson. Hickey at the head of the table smiles with saintly beneficence, chewing slowly, eyes cold; Des Voeux nods back in perfunctory thanks and casts a glance around the table at the downcast faces still polishing off their own meat. He wants, now that his belly is briefly full, to have some fun. Des Voeux’s bladder is full, too, and in refusing to join them Goodsir has committed an obvious slight that begs an obvious response.
Des Voeux relieves himself in Goodsir.
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“Let me hold you, sir,” she dares say, her voice cracking with her need after a few minutes of silence suggest that he’ll not respond at all. “Please.”
At this Goodsir does turn his head slightly. Not enough to see her, but in acknowledgment. He nods, and creaks out a plaintive request he be named, “‘Harry.’”
“Let me hold you, Harry.”
Diggle is drawn to Goodsir after they are abducted together.
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Oh, she oughtn’t do this—but she is a failure of a shaman anyway. She needs him, more intensely than she ever could have conceived of before losing him. And Goodsir had not known of her awful, affectionate regard for him. As he must. He must be made to know.
Silna finds Goodsir's soul within his remains and makes love to him.
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Hickey smiles and steps closer; Goodsir draws away, toward Little, who resists the impulse to put his arm around him. Tozer looms behind Little and Goodsir, having laced shut the tent flap. Hickey’s men outside have the guns.
“We didn’t plan for you, Lieutenant,” Hickey says, “so the least you can do to earn your keep is put on a fine show for us, eh? Or I’ll turn you out and order all the men have a go at you. Maybe just slit your throat?
“Get it out, then, go on.”
Tozer kidnaps Little, then he and Hickey compel Little to force himself upon Goodsir.
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Silnalu Goodsir-lu aglaurat aglaktatka qiñiqtuatiguaqłutiŋ iḷisaġama Iñupiat Uqausiat!
Small Silna and Goodsir writings I wrote according to the show when I was studying Iñupiatun!
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She’d fed him and herself raw seal and then stripped them both naked, handling him warmly. She doesn’t bother asking him anything, but her care for his health and happiness is undeniable.
Silna saves and loves Goodsir, and leaves no room for doubt.
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There are puncture wounds clustered on the insides of Gibson's long, wasted-lean thighs, a sequence of old scars and more recent scab wounds, all of them seeped open from scurvy, all in double pairs like upper and lower canine teeth, the fresher ones set in mouth-shaped contusions like purple and lavender and yellow-green flowers mottled across pale flesh.
The placement of the marks is suggestive; some prurient part of Goodsir imagines the activity behind the cause and is shocked, but the larger part of himself is saddened by the fact of it, regardless of however it came to be—Gibson had felt, had bled, and now he was cold, his mouth stuck gaping in a death rictus for nobody had affixed his jaw.
Who might be the secret hematophage? Goodsir is educated as to the signs, realizes that it must be one of the Mutineers, but vampires cannot sustainably feed off the dead.
Goodsir is chosen by the vampire calling himself Hickey.
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Solace Incarnate, On This Wondrous Plane by oysterpearl (willowbilly)
Fandoms: The Terror (TV 2018)
01 Oct 2023
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Steps sound on the stones inside and suddenly Silna's hand grabs Goodsir's, forcing the bottle from her lips before the poison can wet them.
Her eyes fasten upon Silna's, Silna who is right here in her bloodstained gray fur, whose expression is torn with anguished tenderness, her strong slim hands taking the bottle from Goodsir's limp one and setting it on the table so it can't fall, holding Goodsir up as her knees wobble.
Then Silna really seizes her into a hearty embrace, arms crushing her to herself, the breath leaving Goodsir's lungs in one great whoosh. And Goodsir allows herself a single breathless sob into Silna's shoulder, against the cloth which she had procured for Silna to replace the riven caribou pelt, hugging her in return.
Harriet Goodsir is saved in the nick of time by Silna. And then there is a miracle.
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Castoff Shackles, Shared Warmth by oysterpearl (willowbilly)
Fandoms: The Terror (TV 2018)
08 Aug 2023
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“Where’s my bed?” Goodsir asks.
Hickey smiles and pulls out the cigarillo of congratulatory tobacco which his grateful followers have provided him. “You’d see it, if you resigned yourself to the obvious,” he says, using it to gesture at the single bed before pulling out his matches with which to light the cig. His words are mumbled around it through pinched lips: “Consider yourself lucky, really. That you've any bed at all.”
“I will do no such thing,” Goodsir says.
Hickey bids Goodsir join his and Gibson's bed, and is pleased to have his way.