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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

So there's that moment, that "what do you think they'll do with us now" moment in episode 4(?), where Grant looks out at the battlefield of bodies and you can see him almost break down and swallow back tears. I just want Strange to comfort him so much. Even if it's just a little cuddle where he encourages him to let the emotion out into his shoulder - I want it.

How could anyone possibly deal with such a sight? How would Strange cope with seeing strong snarky Grant who can make light of anything, with a trembling lip and wet eyes? For once I want it to be Grant who needs comforting and for Strange to be happy to give it to him.

PS: I'm sorry

Don't be sorry. I now need this like air.

SECONDED (so so much)

No need for sorry, I am totally with you on this, OP. I think it's pretty well-established in the fandom that Jonathan is a wonderful cuddler, and I can't think of anyone who deserves comfort more than Grant, who just stepped around the body of De Lancey...

This is a lovely prompt, and I really hope someone takes it up.

who just stepped around the body of De Lancey
Oh goodness this just hit me right in the feels.

Would love to see an emotionally crippled Grant for a change and good old Merlin just being there for him. Yes yes yes. Loving this prompt. I am a sucker for post!battle angst

YES PLEASE

I just happen to have this moment in gif form in my drafts and now I'm really sad:

http://38.media.tumblr.com/a7960891f6ff66579b80f6de922117ee/tumblr_ntjxbcj4I11tcyhldo3_400.gif

http://38.media.tumblr.com/b6da83ba01b1c8af8f7651a4fe648b2c/tumblr_ntjxbcj4I11tcyhldo1_400.gif

http://33.media.tumblr.com/1d4dc689604ddce47fb0708f901e252f/tumblr_ntjxbcj4I11tcyhldo2_400.gif

(The way he swallows in the third one will end me.)

And the way he blinks in the second, too! God it breaks my heart
~~My hands itch to smooth his hair and wipe blood from his face~~

Yes, the blinking, oh god. And it's snowing too, he must be cold. He wasn't wearing gloves, was he? Poor Grant.

I think is ash from the the previously burning building that Strange extinguished rather than snow, as Waterloo was fought in mid June.

Do we know how badly he'd hurt his arm? only I just realised its in a makeshift sling in these gifts.

Is it ash? Ah, you're right. I still want to wrap him up in a blanket and be gentle with him. He looks so unhappy.

Yes, his hand is bloody and bandaged.

That will need some h/c too no doubt! Some gentle washing and bandaging from Strange and some pained hisses and mumbles of "just get on with it man" from Grant (who'd rather not bother the medic when other men have much worse injuries but has difficulty bandaging his own hand.)

Aaand maybe Grant is a little too overcome with pain and stress, biting his lips, and he can't hold back some bad temper, and Strange having never done this tricky medical stuff before is nervous and therefore quite snarky, so it all leads to a rather clipped "Stop acting like a child, or do I have to kiss you through the business?" For which he later apologizes, of course.

Oh God, now all I can think is Strange saying "you'll be asking me to kiss it better next!" and Grant just being all wide-eyed about it in a "...that would be... acceptable..." kind of way.

Re: Strange/Grant h/c after Waterloo

(Anonymous) - 2015-09-13 18:48 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Strange/Grant h/c after Waterloo

(Anonymous) - 2015-09-13 19:37 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Strange/Grant h/c after Waterloo

(Anonymous) - 2015-09-13 20:42 (UTC) - Expand

Would the OP mind if there was mention of past Grant/De Lancey in the fill? I've got an idea and a little bit written, but wanted to see if OP would be okay with mention of another pairing, the fill would still be Grant/Strange as requested.

Wow okay, I'm so sorry I took so long to get back to you potential-A!A

I would love a mention of past Grant/De Lancey as I ship those two too!

I do hope my lateness to respond hasn't put you off!

Not too late at all :) I'm still working on it - I hand write then type, but I've had about zero time thus last week for writing anyway. Hopefully I'll have it to a point where I can post by next weekend at the latest.

What great news! Thank you!

*whispers* ..any news A!A? <3

I was hesitant to post this, because I absolutely do not want to discourage the other anon from posting a fill, but I hope there can just be two fills for this lovely prompt. I also worry that I've wandered a little from the original prompt, because it's not directly after the battle but later that night and some Grant/Strange/De Lancey crept in. I hope this is alright with the OP! There is definitely comfort though and and Strange is the one doing the comforting so I hope that will be enough to fill the gap until the other fill is posted!

We Shall Remember Him

It is the middle of the night when Strange wakes up and sees the candles still burning. Grant is no longer in bed beside him, but sitting hunched over his desk in his nightshirt and writing. Whatever he is writing cannot be happy because he frowns over each page and the act of writing itself must be painful: his bandaged right arm is out of the sling and moving the pen more slowly over the page than it usually would.
“Grant?” Strange asks from the bed, “what are you doing at this hour?”
“Writing, go back to sleep.”
“After the day we’ve had do you think I’d let you stay up all night? What are you writing?” Strange gets out of bed and goes to the desk.
“Letters,” Grant answers, “to the families of the men who died.” He looks bleak.
“Surely they can wait for the morning, my love?”
“No, I am too slow at writing to wait until then. I don’t want them to be left to wonder why they have not heard. Since I was not asleep, I thought it better to be busy.”
“Were you thinking about him?”
Grant nods and his eyes shine brightly in the dim light.
“Please,” says Strange, “stop this writing and come to bed. I will help you in the morning and you are only hurting yourself.”
“I can’t,” Grant shakes his head and picks up a fresh page. He dips the pen in the ink and then stops, head bowed.
“You can.” Strange takes the pen from his hand and lays it down. “You can.” He takes Grant’s sore hand and kisses it. “Come to bed.” He kisses Grant’s forehead.
Grant follows when he tugs him gently up and pushes him to the bed. He curls obediently on his side when Jonathan wraps himself around him but his shoulders shake. He cries almost silently, as a man cries when he weeps alone and fears being overheard. He muffles the sound of his ragged breathing against the pillows. Strange can only stroke his hair, his shoulder, wrap him in warm arms and hold him close until he stops, worn out and red eyed.
“Forgive me,” he says.
“What needs my forgiveness? A man may grieve.”
“He would not want me to cry. You do not cry.”
“No indeed, he would probably be complaining what a mess you made of the pillows.”
Grant makes a sound: half laugh, half sob. “That sounds like William.”
“I know. I miss him, very much. I expect, well, I expect I will do my own crying by and by.” Strange has to stop. His eyes are stinging. “He would want me to look after you.”
“As he would want me to do the same for you.”
“You knew him longer, you have more right to cry for him.”
“Perhaps I knew him longer, but he did not love you any less.” Grant is weeping again, tears running down his face unnoticed. “And I am sure he would object very strongly to you denying it.”
“I know, but I can be brave for a while and then you will have to do the same for me one day. Lest I do something mortifying, like weeping during one of Wellington’s speeches.” Strange gathers Grant close, tucking him under his chin. “I have you now, you may cry as much as you need. William would understand.”
Grant does just that: perhaps it is the idea of William, watching from some far away, unknowable place (as preached in church and the funeral service they will both have to survive somehow) or perhaps he has just reached the limits of what a man might endure, injured and bereaved on the same day.
Strange holds him: a pillar of strength who holds steady when Grant clings to him, who says not a word about the dampness of the front of his nightshirt. When Grant is quite worn out he fetches him water and tucks him into bed. He opens his arms and lets Grant settle against his chest, with his head resting on Strange’s shoulder.
“I keep seeing him, as he was today,” Grant says softly, “I wish I could remember him how he was before.”
Strange tightens his hold, just a little. “Then I will remember him for you, until you can do it yourself. His bravery, his daring and his appalling sense of humour. The way he laughed and the way he used to fuss at the curls on his forehead when he went out. The way he woke us up too early and how quickly he could fall asleep. How bad he was at billiards, but how much he enjoyed playing. How much he enjoyed watching you lose for a change!”
“That’s true enough. Do you remember when he drank too much wine, and tried to pretend to Lord Wellington that he was perfectly sober?”
Strange laughs. “Of course, how could I forget that? That’s how he would rather be remembered, I’m sure.”
“Oh yes, I’m sure!” Grant shifts a little closer. His head is growing heavier on Strange’s shoulder. “I wish he were here.”
“So do I, my love, so do I. At least we have each other and are not alone.” He feels Grant’s body relax against his. “Could you sleep now, do you think?”
“Perhaps, but I’m not certain I want to. I saw too many things today I’d rather not re-live.”
“Then,” says Strange, “you should sleep and I will be here to wake you if you do.”
Grant does sleep, eventually. Strange, as good as his word, does not.

Another fill! (I'm not the potential A!A from above either, so fingers crossed this prompt will get a THIRD fill too!)

18 June 1815

Just a date. A Sunday.

30,000 men dead

A statistic.

Numbers and dates are nothing compared to being there.

Being there, standing at the precipice of Hell, is much too much for one man to comprehend. Bodies scatter battered, smoking soil all the way to the horizon. The uniforms decorating the corpses, their colours and ranks, mean nothing, for they were all men. All alive. Gone now.

“The war is over,” Wellington says. His hat bears the cockade colours of Britain, Spain, Portugal and Prussia. For these are all his men.

Everything within Grant tells him it isn’t over. If it was over, why would his heart still race, and his lips still tremble? He clenches his jaw to stop it. His broken arm is held in a sling made of a strip of shirt. He can’t feel it. He feels nothing. Your body becomes no more than a host at times like these. It walks, talks and breathes, but your mind is elsewhere, trying desperately to understand.

Strange doesn’t think he remembers how to undress, let alone wash. Mud is caked into his skin, hair and clothes. There’s blood on his hands. How dare he go about changing his clothes, washing and eating, when men are lying dead? Amongst the multitude of carcasses, some men remain alive. The thought haunts him. Strange could return home now, the ghosts of the battle following him at every turn. Had Grant not been injured he would be needed for the advance toward Paris, but he’s in no fit state to fight. Strange realises very quickly that Major Grant is in no fit state to do anything.

The Major is silent as they board the ship that will return them to England. There he will stand beside men, women and children who know nothing of Waterloo and its carnage. They will never see the piles of groaning bodies first-hand, know the stench of death and gunpowder, or hear the deafening, heart-stopping sound of a cannon. Perhaps they might shake his hand, thank him for his bravery. Perhaps he might be promoted, now the position is vacant. Grant wants none of this.

Merlin’s hand is on his thigh and he has no idea how long it’s been there. The swaying of the ship has become a comfort. Grant has been watching the waves split behind it, spreading out to leave a frothy trail in its wake. Strange is worried about him. Grant is never like this. He’s always cheerful, always in control of himself. Right now, he looks like he wants nothing more than to throw himself overboard. He’d like to say something to him, offer some words of reassurance – we’re going home, we made it – but he doesn’t have the energy to pretend he feels a thimble-full of happiness for either of those things. Instead he kneads his fingers against the Major’s thigh, just enough to show him he’s here.

As they watch the waves together, the coast of France slowly fading into the distance, Grant rests his head on Merlin’s shoulder. His arm is starting to hurt, the whipping cold of the salt-wind on his face beginning to sting. The shock of Waterloo is subsiding and here, in the safety of the ship beside the warmth of his friend, it’s finally starting to sink in.

The losses.
The bloodbath.
It happened. It was real.

When Grant lets out a single sob Strange turns immediately to wrap his arm around his shoulder. The Major’s face presses into his neck, his eyes screwed shut. He would like to scream until his throat is sore and smash his fists into the deck until the bones crumble. He wants to ask why. Why, why… why? And he’s shaking, with anger and horror and every emotion he’s ever felt all at once. Merlin is gripping him tightly, both arms around him, holding back the shaking and the shouting and the breaking down – holding him together.

Grant’s good hand grips at Strange’s coat-tails, fingernails digging into cloth as the screams he’s keeping at bay release as mere whimpers from a body wracked with guilt. Clinging, like a small blind animal clings to its mother, he stays in Merlin’s embrace. He would like to stay here until their return to England, until the end of time, because leaving it means facing it: everything.

Grant realises Merlin is shivering too, and not from the cold. The two men, sitting on the ship’s quarterdeck and surrounded by soldiers, are both weeping quietly into each other. Once they return to England, this kind of behaviour will be unacceptable. Heroes don’t cry like children. They stand tall and accept their praises with poise and solemnity. They remember their fallen comrades and share stories of war.

Until then though, the soldier and the magician will cry all they want.

*slow exhale* *hard swallow*

I'm not the OP, but thank you, A!A, thank you for writing this beautiful piece. Strange's hand gripping Grant's thigh with no overtones of sexual desire is incredibly moving. Thank you for not letting Grant lose it in an uncharacteristic fit of passion, because Grant wouldn't, he would hold back as much as possible, which just makes his whimpering and his clinging even more heartbreaking. Key word: guilt. Key detail: Wellington's cockade. Key sentence: "The Major is silent as they board the ship that will return them to England." Grant without banter, without his words of comfort or explanation, is truly horrible. I send you many sad hugs through the ether.

Beautiful and heartbreaking...
Not much of a comfort here - for both of them (still, I believe they both would cope).
Thank you, A!A, it's so sad and yet so delightful.

This is stunning. Absolutely beautifully written and perfectly executed...and in so few words! I take my hat off to you a!a, you have some serious skill!

This made my heart ache which I should've expected after reading that prompt but you did it so elegantly I can't even be angry at you for causing me such pain!

This line in particular really got me and I'm not sure why. When Grant lets out a single sob Strange turns immediately to wrap his arm around his shoulder.

I think I could just envisage it so well? And the whole atmosphere on the ship was just so well captured I was completely enthralled. What lovely writing. I'm now going to curl up into a ball and think about how I want to hold that lovely Colonel and stroke his hair until the end of time.

Goodbye world.

Absolutely beautiful. A wonderful, heart-breaking piece of superb writing. You captured the essence of Grant's and Merlin's pain and trauma perfectly. Thank you for this!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

☆ Round Two!

Strange/Grant h/c after Waterloo

Re: Strange/Grant h/c after Waterloo

Re: Strange/Grant h/c after Waterloo

Re: Strange/Grant h/c after Waterloo

Re: Strange/Grant h/c after Waterloo

Re: Strange/Grant h/c after Waterloo

Re: Strange/Grant h/c after Waterloo

Re: Strange/Grant h/c after Waterloo

Re: Strange/Grant h/c after Waterloo

Re: Strange/Grant h/c after Waterloo

Re: Strange/Grant h/c after Waterloo

Re: Strange/Grant h/c after Waterloo

Re: Strange/Grant h/c after Waterloo

Re: Strange/Grant h/c after Waterloo

Re: Strange/Grant h/c after Waterloo

Re: Strange/Grant h/c after Waterloo

Re: Strange/Grant h/c after Waterloo

Question for the OP. Re: Strange/Grant h/c after Waterloo

OP's response RE: Grant/De Lancey

Re: reply to OP's response RE: Grant/De Lancey

Re: reply to OP's response RE: Grant/De Lancey

Re: reply to OP's response RE: Grant/De Lancey

Re: Strange/Grant h/c after Waterloo - FILL

Fill: Going home (1/1)

Re: Fill: Going home (1/1)

Re: Fill: Going home (1/1)

Re: Fill: Going home (1/1)

Re: Fill: Going home (1/1)