jsmn_kinkmeme | ☆ Round Two!

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kinkmeme

☆ Round Two!

Welcome to the second round of the Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell Kink Meme at

jsmn_kinkmeme!

Below are some basic guidelines, but please make sure you also check out our complete Rules & Guidelines.

Guidelines:
■ Anonymously comment with your request – a character/pairing/nthsome, and a kink or prompt.
■ Only one prompt per post.
■ Fillers please link your fills in the Fills Post!
■ Have fun! :)

Keep in mind:
■ Any kinks welcomed!
■ The fill/request does not need to be sexual or porny.
■ Multiple fills are allowed.
■ Fills can be any sort of creative work: fic, art, song, photomanip, etc.
■ Beware of spoilers! Prompters and requesters are encouraged to warn for spoilers, but this rule is not enforced.
■ Warning for non-con, dub-con, abuse, slurs/language, and other potentially disturbing subjects is encouraged but be aware we do not enforce this.
■ Would fillers please make sure when posting a fill in multiple parts that they thread their comments by replying to previous parts.

Links:
☆ Mod Post
☆ Fills Post
☆ Discussion Post
☆ Misfire deletion requests
☆ Previous Rounds: Round One

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Wonderful idea! I would love to read this!!!

A!A again - I will go ahead on that basis then and start by doing a little light research into formal dances in the early 1800s!

Trashy prompt is ACTUALLY BEAUTIFUL.

I can't. I need. Uh, just so perfect.

(Incomprehensible reply = I might have to write this.)

PLEASE. This prompt has the potential for so much wonderful wrongness.

Strange attends a ball at faerie. This is not such a great idea. Somehow he's hit by the equivalent of a love spell and ends up dancing at the ball in the most desperate state of arousal, passed from partner to partner, even the most civil touch turning him hopelessly on.

Unbeknownst to Strange, Childermass is also there. At some point he joins the dance and steals Strange from his dance partners. He dances with Strange, manhandling him and touching him all over on top of his clothes. When Strange begs for his help, he gives him a choice: either Childermass brings him off right there, with all the lords and ladies watching and all his clothes still on, or they can retire to some private place where Childermass can do any dirty things he desires to Strange. Bonus points for embarrassed/humiliated Strange and no previous sexual relationship between the gentlemen.

The Raven King claims his magician as his own. This involves extremely dominant sex possibly in several realms at once. Perhaps Strange is a virgin by some definition. He hasn't been touched by the king's hand so it doesn't really count? He hasn't had sex with men? He has never completely let go and surrendered himself to another person? Well, the Raven King will take care of that.

oh my god oh yes oh pleeeease oh oh ohhhh

I mean, seconded. Certainly and without any doubt seconded.

OP again here - *squeals and hugs you* Thank you SO much A!A, can't wait to read this :D

I'd read the hell out of this!

I can get behind this!

Oh sweet Lord, yes yes yes!

Seconded (apparently I have a thing for poor Jonathan being dominated)!

Oh my word. I didn't know I needed this until I read this prompt, but HELL YES to this.

Oh my god yes, and thank you anon for prompting this. I was actually tempted to prompt something very similar ages ago but never got round to it, so I'd love to see this filled!

God yes to this ideas! I'm loving that there seems to be more interest in Strange/Childermass now than a month or two ago.

OP would love to see this!

Poor little Childermass! Author, this is so wonderful, realistic, rough and sad, but Childermass is so clever and above everything, you can't help but marvel at him!

Hi! So when you say "half-mad" do I have permission to accidentally mess with the Venice-related canon to fulfill this possibility? (inquiring author wants to know...) Because of REASONS

OP here, and intrigued. You're welcome to do what you need to do to tell this story. Go for it! Whatever inspires you.

SO... This is a thing I very much want to read. I love Jeremy's loyalty in the book and he seems like a relatively sturdy fellow, all things considered... and war is a very difficult thing, you know. Maybe Strange has had a trying time of it or is missing his wife/England/life-as-he-knows-it and Jeremy is just THERE for him because he's awesome like that and sexy times happen.

Additional inspiration from the book:

...there seemed nothing else to do but go to bed - and so they did. Jeremy curled up upon one side of the room and Strange lay down upon the other. Each had devised his own bed from whatever materials had taken his fancy. Jeremy had a mattress fashioned out of his spare clothes and Strange had a pillow formed chiefly of books from Mr Norrell's library.

Anyone else think they would have been much cozier together???

Don't worry, my mind is in the gutter right with you!

....angst inspires me

*opens new text file*

*begins typing*

*laughs manically only on occasion*

Honestly, I've been hoping for a friendship fic for Norrell and Arabella for a while, and this sound like just the thing to bring them together!

EEEEEEEEEE! (OP is excited)

(will be posted to AO3 upon completion) Hope you enjoy it! (actual prompt part of prompt coming soon, I promise)

Part 1: Henry

The Reverend Henry Woodhope considered his life most fulfilling.

His parishioners in Great Hitherden were a reasonably devoted flock whose troubles were manageable, foibles forgivable, manners lovely, and invitations to dinner always warm and heartily meant.

His living - the advowson granted to him by Sir Walter Pole at Jonathan Strange's request - was a generous one, and he wanted for nothing in the parsonage, which was suitably appointed, reasonably near to the church, and the rooms of which managed to be well-lit at all times of day.

His life was blessed in many ways, and every day he gave thanks to God that his blessings outweighed his troubles by miles and miles.

The Reverend Henry Woodhope could not consider himself a lonely man, and in fact Henry Woodhope had never in his life considered himself lonely at all, until the day he learned of the death of his beloved only sister.

=

Not being young, Henry had known loss before. And being a clergyman, he had coached too many people through their own losses already. But the death of his sister - so vibrant and quick-smiling and full of the charm that a lively and inquisitive mind inspires - was a blow to him far greater than he could ever have anticipated. Never in his life had he been closer to a person than to Arabella.

But then to witness the treatment of her corpse at the hands of her husband - a man who had been Henry's greatest friend through the better part of his life - was a torment almost above that which he could stand.

Henry did not cry at her funeral service. He had shed his tears already. But beside that, he had a solemn duty to perform, and the tears on that occasion were reserved for Strange alone. Those tears were sparing and exhausted and Henry was struck by the sudden notion that Strange's tears would taste more of sorrow than of salt.

It was a bitter parting. The frustrated fire of the hope that had enflamed Strange for the past week had burned out into an eerie hollowness that revealed itself in the dull tones of Strange's voice, the empty windows of his eyes, and the strange void of his shadow. Henry had never been so disturbed by a shadow, and he had never feared the taint of magic as he did then.

Henry had tried for the whole of seven days to be both brother and religious comforter to Strange, but it had been all for naught.

They sat together one last time over tea, and spoke almost not at all.

Before he left for Northamptonshire, Henry sat beside him and placed his hand on the man's arm. "Jonathan," he pleaded, "You will find no comfort here in Ashfair. There are…" he almost said ghosts. He almost said, 'there are ghosts here,' by which he did not mean the spirits of those gone, but only the echoes of too many things that had come before. "There are too many memories here. Come back with me to Great Hitherden for a time."

"Oh, and for what?" Strange said- almost spat at him. "For your prayers? To keep house for you? That you might continue your lecturing indefinitely?" Strange made a scoffing sound of derision that was edged with some strange chaos. "Your cold comfort does nothing for me, Henry. And your God did nothing for Arabella."

Henry stood then, and he left. He offered no parting words. He had used up all his words. He had used up all his hope and sorrow and pity and patience. He left Strange with nothing but the empty space beside him on the sopha and the empty cup drained of tea and the emptiness of the man himself.

If Strange was in fact as empty as he seemed, Henry feared what he might fill himself up with again.

=

The return journey to his parish should have felt like going home.

It felt like a betrayal.

Henry thought upon their time together in boyhood: time at his father's parish in St. Swithin's, time at Ashfair avoiding Strange Sr., time with Arabella frolicking joyfully between them in the countryside of Shropshire, all of which they laid claim to as their playground. They were pirates in an old washtub and the rolling Clunbury field of green was their sea. They were Indians tracking the deer through the mild wilderness of Ashfair's furthest grounds. They were witches calling down the rain on a parched afternoon, and returned to St. Swithin's for the well water so fresh and sweet it might have been faeries' nectar.

Henry thought upon their time together as young men: one seeking a well-known path, the other wandering hither and yon as though no path might ever be found to serve him. And Arabella between them, always encouraging and calm and light-hearted and sweet. Henry and Strange remained friends despite the divergence of their livelihoods. 'Stolid Henry,' Strange called him as Henry sought his education and position in life. Henry did not have the heart to call Strange names, but he often thought to himself: Foolish Jonathan, Spirited Jonathan, Sparkling Jonathan. The man could have been a menace to more than himself, but for his natural good-heartedness. Henry sometimes marveled that Strange turned out as well as he did, considering that he grew up in the shadow of an increasingly resentful father, for Laurence Strange had - in the end - proved a worthless little spit of a man clinging to life with the grasping hand of a hardened miser.

Henry thought upon their time together in their later years: himself a curate in a Gloucestershire church with his sister keeping house for him, content in all things but for their joint concern over Jonathan Strange and his wandering spirit. Henry was thankful that spirit had come to some joy and constancy when joined with Arabella's.

But then: there was the magic.

It was far too uncanny, this unholy mix of words and gestures and will producing effects that England had not been witness to in over two hundred years.

And all of it led to this. His dear sister dead of a strange winter wandering. His brother-in-law half-mad with the agony of her loss.

The return journey to his parish should have felt like going home, but when Henry entered the sadly darkened hall, he barely had the heart to light even a single candle, and even that small light seemed like too much at the thought that Arabella could not light her own and stand at his side.

As he made his way up to his bed chamber, his thoughts turned again to Jonathan Strange. He suddenly thought he might never be able to think of anything else. He wondered if Jonathan had anyone to light a candle for him as the darkness came in, or if he'd chased all the servants off in some fit of pique. Surely, he would not think to light a candle for himself.

As he prepared himself for bed, he thought of his sister. Her body was safe in its grave. Her soul was safe with the Lord. She might be the safest of them Henry thought, for Jonathan's mourning was not quite like any Henry had before seen, and Henry himself found such strangely twined strands of love and sorrow and regret and dread before him that he feared a bit for his own self as well.

And as he lay himself down to sleep, he felt loneliness for the first time. For the first time in his memory, he closed his eyes to the night and did not send up anything like a prayer.

=

Henry Woodhope and Jonathan Strange did not see one another again before Strange returned to London.

=

His parishioners were earnest in their condolences at the loss of his sister, but Henry could could not take the sort of solace he wished from them.

His living in Great Hitherden was of only small comfort to him, for it meant he did not have to worry about any practical thing; this only let him turn to worrying about all the impractical things, mostly Jonathan Strange.

His life was once so settled and sure, and now it was like living a part in a play that he had memorized long ago and had lost interest in performing.

But then, just when Henry thought that life had begun to take on its glimmers of hope and joy, he began reading in the newspapers about how the parting of ways of England's two magicians was unfolding upon the streets of London.

Henry worried vicariously until he finally set himself down at his desk to compose a letter, deciding that he ought to put off his worries until he could hear back from the man himself.

He feared that his letter of hesitating inquiry might not merit a response, but Strange replied with surprising promptness. The tone of this letter was distracted, but honest and Strange was obviously eager about the work upon his book as well as the possibility of pupils of his own in the near future.

=

But in too short a time - as soon as his manuscript hit his publisher's desk - Strange disappeared from London altogether. Rumors of where exactly he had gone were filtered through a number of publications, none of which could agree on where exactly he had last been seen. As soon as one of Strange's military acquaintances swore the magician had been seen in Belgium, some other declared the man had been in Geneva. Was it Turin, then? Or Genoa? One witness swore up and down that Strange had been seen in the company of Lord Byron.

Henry gave up on the newspapers altogether and tried (and failed) to stop thinking about Strange at all.

But as soon as he had given up this endeavor, Henry heard from no less than four of his own gossiping parishioners that Strange had gone to Venice and there he stayed with some new acquaintances, an English family also touring the Continent.

Finally, his fears and suppositions could be laid to rest, for Jonathan Strange took it upon himself to write Henry a letter, and in it he put down a great deal about his travels and his new friends, and he wrote in depth about how very cross he still was at Mr. Norrell.

Henry had barely finished reading the letter through before he determined to write back, and in haste he sat himself down to compose a reply urging Strange against all those things he was so susceptible to, all of which boiled down to impetuousness. Henry counseled wisdom, thoughtfulness, forgiveness, and patience.

Mr. Strange's eventual response was unimpressed with Henry's attempts at what he called 'a pastoral rector's holy meddling' and his language displayed no attempts at courtesy or kindliness.

Henry's response was pointed, but still persuasively hopeful.

The letter from Jonathan that followed was full of vitriol and spite, but - despite this - all around the edges of cruel words and hidden between abrupt sentences, Henry could see echoes of his oldest friend's humor and good nature.

But one day, the letters stopped. Henry continued writing, but no more responses did he receive. He wondered if Jonathan Strange's tempestuous nature had perhaps urged him to move on from Venice, maybe even toward home?

These hopes were dashed at the first rumor of madness.

Henry found himself again poring over the newspapers, and while he consumed the outlandish tales of the English magician gone mad in Venice, he did not read with the avid sensationalism of so many, but with the concern of a friend.

So affected was he, that he finally found the truth in himself of what must be done. If Strange's friends in London would not help him, and if his friends in Venice could not help him, then Henry himself must go, for who else in the world was looking after Jonathan Strange?

Without delay, he applied to his local ordinary for permission to take leave from his parish for a time, with the ultimate goal of retrieving his brother-in-law from the hands of madness. While it was not generally believed that God or magic could do the man any good, a temporary reverend was sent to take over Henry's duties in Great Hitherden, and Henry set out for Venice.

Having never been further abroad than Edinburgh, this was something quite out of his usual way, and he should never have afforded it but for the patronage of Sir Walter Pole, who agreed to pay his way and sent with him the hope that Strange would be returned to them in good health and spirits.

This, too, was Henry's dearest wish as he set foot upon the ship that would take him across the Channel.

= (end part 1)

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Page 6 of 91

☆ Round Two!

Re: Norrell/Childermass - dance practice

Re: Norrell/Childermass - dance practice

Re: Strange/Henry Woodhope - Grief-stricken seduction

Re: Strange/Henry Woodhope - Grief-stricken seduction

Childermass/Jonathan Strange, fairy ball, dub-con

John Uskglass/Jonathan Strange, claiming, domination, deflowering

Re: John Uskglass/Jonathan Strange, claiming, domination, deflowering

Re: Norrell/Childermass - dance practice

Re: Strange/Childermass/Norrell voyeurism

Re: Childermass/Segundus - Betrothed to someone else

Re: Childermass/Jonathan Strange, fairy ball, dub-con

Re: John Uskglass/Jonathan Strange, claiming, domination, deflowering

Re: Strange/Childermass/Norrell voyeurism

Re: John Uskglass/Jonathan Strange, claiming, domination, deflowering

Re: Childermass/Jonathan Strange, fairy ball, dub-con

Re: Strange/Henry Woodhope - Grief-stricken seduction

Re: FILL: Childermass/various, 5 times (1/?)

Re: Strange/Henry Woodhope - Grief-stricken seduction

Re: Strange/Henry Woodhope - Grief-stricken seduction

Jonathan Strange/Jeremy Johns (Peninsular comfort sex)

Re: Strange/Childermass/Norrell voyeurism

Re: Strange/Henry Woodhope - Grief-stricken seduction

Re: Jonathan Strange, addiction

Re: Strange/Henry Woodhope - Grief-stricken seduction

Fill: A Strange Madness, Part 1 (of 3?)