#of course it's about JS&MN

[adellagreen]

[cosmogyros]

I cannot express how weirdly perfect it is to be reading House of Leaves and Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell simultaneously. Of course the two books are drastically different, but so much about them seems in parallel, too. For instance, I reached these two points in the books at almost exactly the same time (spoilers ahead):

JS&MN: "Time and I have quarrelled. ...Madness is the key"

HoL: "...I sensed in them all kinds of adventure. To reach their meaning would require a great journey..."

It's like the two books are riffing off each other, tipping a respectful wink in each other's direction... remarkable.

[thinkanamelater]

The Lover (JS&MN - Segundus/Childermass Segundus/Strange fic)

Rated T

Background (implied) Childermass/Strange. Light angst. Modern AU where they're all miserable and Childermass and Strange cheat on each other ✌️

Also on AO3!

Peering from his tiny window, he instinctively reaches for the box of cigarettes. He should quit, he thinks idly, but his hands are faster than his brain and are already lighting one.

He inhales deeply. His head is spinning.

He should quit.

He exhales and disguises a sigh behind the smoke, gives himself one, two, three seconds and lets his lips kiss the end of his cigar again.

Kiss. He wants to kiss him.

Them.

Him.

He wants so much more, but right now he is thinking about dry, thin lips pressing against his own for a few seconds, before prying his mouth open and making him moan.

Or maybe he needs the full, playful lips that cover his face with kisses, move to his neck and keep going down, down, further down his body.

He never leaves a mark - Jonathan, that is. Segundus usually thinks he might have, this time - he always checks, feverish and still reeling from their encounter - but there's nothing visible to betray their shared passion.

John, on the other hand, makes sure to leave a reminder - as if he could be forgotten, as if Segundus could forget him. Red and purple flowers blooming on the delicate skin of his neck, or chest, or thighs; the parts of his body he favored. Segundus attributed this to his roughness at first, but with time he learned how much John needed to be in control of the situation, and realized the love bites were definitely intentional.

Jonathan saw them, of course; and Segundus knew he did because there was no way to miss his reaction the first time he looked at the hickeys that weren't there the last time Segundus undressed for him. His eyes widened and his hand tightened on Segundus' hip.

Segundus wondered if he was going to mention it, if he would get jealous, or angry; if he would ask for an explanation, maybe. His breath hitched, growing anxious and excited at this thought, but in reality there was no reason for Jonathan to demand anything of the sort.

So the moment passed, and Jonathan's attention moved from the hickeys to what he always wanted from him: his bed, his body, his appetite.

That's how it was, since they met at a high society event - a status Segundus arguably held, though all he had to show for it was his family name. Without the money to back it up, it felt like a rather mean joke, but this time he was glad he attended. He was nervous and awkward, of course, but Jonathan was effortlessly charming and made him feel so wanted; and the bathroom stall was clean and spacious, he didn't think twice before going down on his knees.

The same couldn't be said about the bathroom at the gay bar where he met John, though thankfully he had his car parked close by. The plan was to drive to Segundus' place, which they eventually did; but their short exchange at the bar had been so charged, made them so desperate for each other that they couldn't help themselves and fell into the backseat together, their clothes tugged and pulled and their limbs awkwardly tangled.

They keep meeting in his apartment after that, and at first he feels guilty for simultaneously seeing two people. Does that count as cheating? He has to remind himself that it's just sex. They have a connection, sure, but it's not the same as a relationship.

It's not. It doesn't matter what he wants. (And he isn't really sure what he wants.)

Nowadays, however, he feels guilty for thinking about them as interchangeable, two actors fulfilling a single role.

Or feels guilty about not feeling guilt, not really.

Is it his fault? If they come and go in a dizzying dance, the next step undecipherable for him.

From time to time he'd still get flashes of what seduced him in the first place. John would push the long hair out of his face with an exasperated gesture, or would raise an eyebrow, or laugh his dry laugh. Jonathan would squint his eyes and smirk at him mischievously, or would stare silently at him, almost unnervingly. Segundus’s heart would flutter, and then ache, because the moment would slip like sand between his fingers and they would be done and they would walk out of the door.

They might as well stop existing then, as he didn't know where they lived or who they loved (he tried so hard not to, but of course he noticed the way John seemed to fidget with a ring, except his ring finger was bare; the way Jonathan pulled up his collar and scratched at the hickeys that appeared sometimes on his neck and chest); and when he thought about them, lonely, yearning, he would only remember the skin, the sweat, the passion.

They might be two or a thousand or just one, or even none, late at night when he can't sleep and wishes someone, anyone, would hold him close and keep him warm.

But they never stay the night and Segundus feels a childish pride at never allowing them to, he'd bring up an early morning, or unfinished work, whenever he feels they get too comfortable on his bed, their breathing too slow. He wouldn't outright tell them to leave but luckily he doesn't have to. He doesn't know why he does it, maybe to get back at them, in a way. Maybe because he knows he's going to want it every night, and he knows he can't have it.

He finishes what's left of his cigarette (the expensive brand that makes John raise an eyebrow at him because there's no way he could afford it; but he doesn't have to, because Jonathan only smokes one or two and then forgets the rest of the pack). He's contemplating the pack now, his mind going through the old cycle of just one more, I should quit, what's the harm, I need to stop .

But before he can decide if this is his last cigarette or if this time he's done smoking, really, for good; a knock at the door makes every other thought irrelevant.

And he bites his lip, and he smiles, because his lover is here.

[attempt9000]

Susanna Clarke - The Wood at Midwinter

Beautifully illustrated by Victoria Sawdon

click below

A nice novella to enjoy in the bath - only about 60 pages!

It's a short story with beautiful illustrations, and an afterword from Clarke where she explains where the idea came from that I really enjoyed.

So it begins with two sisters in a carriage, with 2 dogs and a pig, on their way to the woods.

One of them, Merowdis who apparently just collects pets, wants to walk in the woods alone and once this happens, the expected fantastical side to it comes through.

The animals speak to each other, and even though it wasn't very clear whether Merowdis understands them, she did hear and see what the Wood showed and told her.

Despite being so short there were to ideas that I immediately fell in love with:

spiders writing in their webs, or more like, their webs are writing. Imagine the possibilities!

the Woods and forests being a whole, including across time - FMA vibes of the one is all and all is one.

It was interesting to see how her sister called her a Saint, because of Merowdis not seeing the difference between people and animals, and because no one understands what she speaks about so of course, saint is the most obvious possible answer. She seems to be almost part of both worlds - human yet not fully like them either. Knows and communicates with Nature, but it is not one of them either. A bridge between worlds, or an attempt to it. 

She wanted a child of her own, like Virgin Mary birthing the Saviour. The Woods show her a baby bear, which she accepts as the answer to her prayers.

It ends with a description of a painting of her inside the church, sitting on a throne in her ruined victorian clothes, baby bear on her lap.

Like Clarke mentions in the afterword, a woman so focused on following the love she has to give she leaves sanity behind.

This happens in the same universe as JS&MN which kinda makes it all make sense now!

[0utrenoir]

i read both the secret history and js&mn a few months apart and they share some common themes and i remember reading until morning to finish the tartt book (funnily enough it had been recommended by a mutual from my very first tumblr blog, about ten years ago) and of course i made js&mr my graduation project... best book i have read by far, only equalled maybe by mariana enriquez's work. unfortunately every time i recommend it to anyone they are put off by the length. even my father could not finish it. well.

[cobblepottery]

I’m in SUCH an Arabella/Emma mood rn but there’s NEVER enough fic or art to sate me!!!! Let me see the girlfriends!!!! I wanna see Arabella falling in love with Emma as she comes to understand her in Lost-hope!!!! I wanna see Emma wrestling with jealousy about Jonathan!!! Give me the gay!!!

[camgoloud]

3 and 12 for the book ask?

3. What were your top five books of the year?

After my top 3 the competition gets pretty stiff, but I'll rank them:

Nona the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir (of course!)

Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke

The Dispossessed by Ursula K. Le Guin

Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin

The Fifth Season by N. K. Jemison

Honorable mention because I’m not sure if plays count: this summer I finally got around to working my way through the rest of Shakespeare’s tragedies which I hadn’t already read, and oh my GOD why does no one ever talk about Coriolanus... there is simply SO much going on in there. much to think about etc.

12. Any books that disappointed you?

I had multiple people I know irl recommend Mark Prins' The Latinist to me but it didn't work for me ultimately—it had a potentially interesting if somewhat cliched premise but it took some WEIRD turns in the second half and I honestly came away from it thinking mostly: hmm, YIKES, NONE of these characters feel particularly well-written and also that does NOT feel like the way to pace an ending. I didn't love Fredrik Backman's The Winners either, which is a shame because it's the last book in the Beartown series that I've been following for a while. Some of it I think was just the fact that the translation from the Swedish felt really clumsy this time (weird, as the first two were done really nicely I thought! unless i'm misremembering out of nostalgia?) but I also just didn't feel like the conclusion was all that satisfying. Justice for Benji, etc... Finally, I went into A Declaration on the Rights of Magicians by H. G. Parry fresh out of Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell and thus with high hopes, because all the blurbs compared those books to each other—and tbh I thought most of Declaration was like... laughably bad lol. Probably I should have just DNFed it but I kept waiting for it to do something interesting and it never got there... you know how there are all those obvious The Secret History knockoffs that sort of just suck and seem to miss the real Point of that book for all the time they spend just trying to recreate the aesthetics? This was basically that for JS&MN

[end-of-year book ask: send me a number!]

[owl-by-night]

📓

Thank you for the ask :)  I’ve run out of fics with extensive notes so here is a two for the price of one ‘ways I’ve tried to mend the ending of JS&MN’. 

The first one involves Merlin trying to stop De Lancey from dying at Waterloo. He creates a spell to try and look for a way to save him but instead creates a spell that shows him team peninsular forwards and backwards in time, fighting in multiple different conflicts but always coming to a point where William either dies or nearly dies attempting to save Merlin’s life. 

Ungentlemanly Warfare fits in here, and so does the WWI fic that I don’t like thinking about because in that universe William and Arthur never discuss their feelings and Arthur never admits it to himself until after William is dead. There were also some scribbled notes about Afghanistan where Merlin is a journalist sent over to report on the war and goes out on patrol. They encounter an IED and William is badly injured protecting him. In that universe modern medicine saves his life. Somehow, what he sees gives Jonathan an idea for a spell to save him, but I got lost on the details of what that would be and it lingers unwritten in my notes. 

The second fic was one I thought of more recently and for obvious reasons - what is Arabella and Jonathan did have a child instead of just talking about it? How does that change the plot? For a start, Arabella isn’t going to get drawn away into faerie on false pretences. If someone comes to the house in the middle of the night she’s saying absolutely not, the baby has just got to sleep, it’s Jonathan’s turn to get up next and whatever it is can be dealt with in the morning. If Emma needs to see her she’ll go, of course, but will be travelling in her own carriage with the baby, Jonathan and a nursemaid in tow. 

And Jonathan? Well he’s going to welcome the chance to be the doting father he never had (probably going to go too far sometimes but Bell will be sensible about it and remind him that the baby is still too young for rocking horses and whatever else Jonathan wants to buy). He’s absolutely going to write that review of Norrell’s book and finish his own studies. Definitely. When the baby has finished teething. Or has learnt to walk and isn’t toddling around holding his hands for hours at a time. Or busy playing with his books and pretending to read them by turning pages. 

He knows it can’t have been Bell out walking in the night. They were both awake for most of it because the infant Strange has colic. 

With him out of the way it leaves Segundus to be the hero I think, or for Emma to save herself. I didn’t work that part out entirely. I just wanted Jonathan Strange to get his chance to prove he could be the sort of father he wanted to be and live the life he planned. 

[explorersaremadeofhope]

...i accidentally created a really sad js&mn conspiracy theory.

someone please debunk this for me 😂

i realised that the second footnote in chapter 31 makes it sound as though, by the time of the narration of the book (whenever that's supposed to be), John Segundus is no longer alive??

the footnote says that Jonathan, in a letter, asked Segundus to experiment with a particular lost spell on his behalf because Jonathan was too busy in the war to do it and he really needed the spell. it then states that,

"There is nothing in any of John Segundus's surviving papers to suggest that he had any success in his attempts to retrieve this magic".

-- why 'surviving papers'? why not just say that he tried diligently for some time but did not succeed? the phrasing makes it sound as though he's no longer around to be asked about it, and his papers have ended up in the keeping of somebody else. 😬

(i'm sure it wasn't intentional and Susanna just didn't think about it, but i hate that i don't know for sure)

of course, that needn't be a huge problem, depending on when the narration takes place -- even though the book opens with "Some years ago", it could be decades after the events (or not have a set date) -- except that at the very end of the book, it's stated in a footnote that Childermass, when asked if he is Strangite or Norrellite, says that he's both, and nobody understands him. so clearly, he is still alive and well! so why does it sound like Segundus isn't??? Susanna pls i am in distress, it's 5.40am and i can't stop thinking about this

[mjmnorwood]

[I.D. A header image of two pencils on a yellow background, with title reading ‘Authorial Voice’. End I.D.]

Authorial voice is incredibly hard to define. It’s different to character voice and it’s different to style (both of which can change between an author’s works). I think of it is a fingerprint; the particular feel of the text that clues you in as to who the writer is. In this post I’ll give three examples of authors who I think have distinctive voices, then look at some of the elements that make up authorial voice. Fingers crossed it will be helpful for developing your own!

Example 1: Terry Pratchett

      It is said that the gods play games with the lives of men. But what games, and why, and the identities of the actual pawns, and what the game is, and what the rules are—who knows?       Best not to speculate.       Thunder rolled...       It rolled a six.

- Guards! Guards!

Pratchett is one of my favourite authors and it’s no surprise he made this list because he has an incredibly distinctive voice. No matter what book of his you pick up, you instantly know you’re reading Pratchett. His voice is gloriously witty, making use of wordplay and puns. It can also be dramatic and evocative (and these dramatic and evocative passages often lead to yet more wordplay). He always writes with an undercurrent of anger at injustices. I think Pratchett is a great author to read if you’re looking to see how an author’s voice develops. His early works like The Carpet People, even the first couple of Discworld books, have inklings of his distinctive voice, but it shines through so much more strongly in later books, as he writes with more and more confidence.

Example 2: Lois McMaster Bujold

      “Well, let me...” His hand stroked her hair gently, then desperately wrapped itself in a shimmering coil; they kissed again.       “Uh, sir?” Lieutenant Illyan, coming up the path, cleared his throat noisily. “Had you forgotten the staff conference?”       Vorkosigan put her from him with a sigh. “No, Lieutenant. I haven’t forgotten.”       “May I congratulate you, sir?” He smiled.       “No, Lieutenant.”       He unsmiled. “I—don’t understand, sir.”       “That’s quite all right, Lieutenant.”

- Shards of Honour

Some context for the exchange above: Cordelia, the MC, and Vorkosigan are in love, but after a long discussion they have decided they can’t be together due to irreconcilable differences between their home planets. Illyan mistakes their parting kiss for Cordelia accepting a marriage proposal.

Bujold is another favourite of mine, and her voice is completely different to Pratchett. Whereas Pratchett will often digress to add details or make jokes, Bujold is very to-the-point. Her writing is incredibly easy to read. It tells you exactly what you need to know and no more (if she waxes lyrical about something, you can be sure there’s a very good reason). I think the use of ‘unsmiled’ in the example above shows off her voice very well. Technically, it’s not a real word, but it perfectly conveys the abrupt change of expression that comes with Illyan’s confusion. She could have written something like ‘his smile fell away’, but it just wouldn’t pack the same punch.

Example 3: Susanna Clarke

Some years ago there was in the city of York a society of magicians. They met upon the third Wednesday of every month and read each other long, dull papers upon the history of English magic.       They were gentleman-magicians, which is to say they had never harmed any one by magic—nor ever done any one the slightest good. In fact, to own the truth, not one of these magicians had ever cast the smallest spell, nor by magic caused one leaf to tremble upon a tree, made one mote of dust to alter its course or changed a single hair upon any one’s head. But, with this one minor reservation, they enjoyed a reputation as some of the wisest and most magical gentlemen in Yorkshire.

- Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell

Every time I pick up JS&MN (or its companion short story collection, The Ladies of Grace Adieu) I know I’m in for a treat, voice-wise. The long, rambling sentences, the archaic word choice, even sometimes deliberate misspellings of words, all combine to create a very unique voice. There’s a quiet, reserved sort of wit about it, never out-and-out jokes, but small things that make you smile. Clarke’s writing is also a good example of how the line between voice and style can blur. Since she hasn’t published anything that isn’t set in the JS&MN universe, it can be hard to tell what is her voice and what are stylistic choices to capture the milieu of the setting. The stories in The Ladies of Grace Adieu show a lot of variation in style, though (for example one is written as a diary, one like a fairytale), and her voice stays consistent through all of them—the word choice, tendency to long sentences, and that quiet wit are all the same.

Some elements of authorial voice

Vocabulary and word choice. Do you favour simple or complex language?

Sentence length and structure. Do your sentences tend toward the extended, or are they more short and snappy? (Note: varying sentences is important for flow and pacing, it’s just the overall trend towards long or short that I mean here).

The balance of dialogue and description. What occurs more in your writing, beautiful word-pictures or interesting conversations?

Use of literary devices. Do metaphors, similes and the like crop up a lot in your work, or is the narrative more sparse?

Paragraph use. Long and rambly or lots of breaks?

Story focus. Character? Plot? Worldbuilding? A mixture?

+ a whole host of other factors it’s difficult to summarise neatly (tone, stylistic choices etc...)

When it comes to developing your own voice, I honestly can’t say much more than write. Write a lot. You can’t really force voice; it doesn’t have shortcuts, you just have to see where your writing takes you. My one tip is that after you’ve written a lot, look over your work with a critical eye for some of the things mentioned above, and you’ll start to spot parts of your voice. Even though my voice is still very much in development, I’ve started to spot some patterns. I tend to use more dialogue than description, and have short paragraphs. I compared some of my work to a friend’s and noticed how different they looked on the page. Mine was broken up, whereas theirs had long paragraphs of description. I also tend not to use very advanced vocab, so when I do use a fancy word, you notice. Spotting elements of voice in your writing can help you decide what you like, and what you want to put more work into developing.

One final thing: if you don’t have a very distinctive voice, don’t stress about it! It will develop over time, and anyway, there are plenty of writers out there who don’t have very unique voices, but still write amazing, successful stories.

Like this post? Follow for more writerly content! It’ll be lovely to have you along :D

[upstartpoodle]

Evens for the WIP meme ask? Thank you! ❤️

Hi, thanks for the ask! Since the number of WIPs I have are well into double figures, I’ll probably just choose a bunch of random ones for these out of the ones I’ve got on my computer.

2. Post a line from your WIP without context.

Once they had returned home, he had wanted nothing more than to head up to his room and hide, but his uncle’s iron grip on his upper arm pulling him into the drawing room had thwarted that wish. He hadn’t dared fight against the man. Uncle Cary had made it quite clear upon his arrival back from school that he expected to be obeyed in all matters, and George knew his future was far too uncertain to risk provoking his only remaining family member with displays of defiance. 

4. Describe the setting of your WIP.

Hmm, I think I’ll go for my JS&MN AU for this one, an extract of which I have posted here. So this is basically an AU set in the universe of the novel Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell--for anyone who might be unfamiliar with it, it’s a book (and a pretty decent TV adaptation) set in a regency England where magic was once frequently practised but has declined after the Raven King, a medieval magician who conquered the north of England with a fairy army, left his kingdom behind to return to Faerie. The fic is set in Poldark’s s1 timeline, so about fifteen/twenty years before the events of JS&MN canon, featuring Dwight, Ross and Francis as magicians, George as a fairy nobleman from a neighbouring Faerie kingdom, and Elizabeth as a magician’s wife whom George ends up taking an interest in.

6. Search for the word “dream” in your WIP. If you find it, paste the line and explain the context.

I haven’t been able to find it in any of the extracts I have on my computer, but I’m sure it’s probably there somewhere in one of my notebooks. Unfortunately the majority of those are in a box over three hundred miles away so I can’t really check through them ha.

8. What is your biggest challenge?

Actually getting anything finished. Honestly, it depends on the individual fic but for a long time it’s been writer’s block. My undergrad dissertation took a lot out of me and I wasn’t really in the mood for writing for a long time afterwards. S5 airing gave me a bit of a kick up the arse writing-wise though, so I’d say my biggest challenge at the moment is trying to figure out where everything goes in my super long post s5 AU where George gets shot by Hanson. At the moment I’ve just got loads and loads of random bits with only a vague idea of what order they go in and how they join up to each other, and it’s getting to be so long I just keep putting off planning it out properly. Also finishing that last chapter of The Cornish Way damn I can’t even remember when I last updated that I feel so guilty about it ha.

10. How would you describe your WIP’s narrative style?

Well, as I’ve already mentioned I have a whooole bunch of WIPs, but I always write in 3rd person (1st person grates on me, both reading and writing, for some reason--I don’t know why). I’ve got several multi-chap fics in the works, some short, some long. Most of my shorter multi-chap fics tend to alternate between Elizabeth’s POV and George’s, but my long post s5 AU will feature the majority of the characters’ POVs at some point, depending on when they’re needed, though since the fic is George-centric, his perspective is the main one. When it comes to my one-shots, they’re usually either from George or Elizabeth’s perspectives, sometimes both if it’s a particularly long one. I tend to lean towards using Elizabeth’s POV for one-shots for some reason, but there’s a fair few from George’s as well, and a couple of angsty ones told entirely from Valentine’s perspective.

12. Which character do you have the least in common with?

Since my post s5 AU includes Merceron, Hanson and Dr Penrose, I’m glad to say that I haven’t the slightest thing in common with any of those three. But if we’re talking about a main character, I’d say probably Ross. The only thing I have in common with him is a tendency to get fed up at parties ha.

14. Have you chosen birthdays for any of your characters? If so, when are they?

Not really--tbh, I’m not sure how many of them, if any, were given birthdays by WG. I tend to headcanon George’s birthday as being in October, but that’s about it.

16. What would your characters be for Hallowe’en?

Well, I’ve got a couple of WIPs set in the modern era which this could work for, but since one of them is a modern witchcraft AU (in which Elizabeth, Caroline, Demelza, Morwenna and Verity live together in Truro as a secret coven of witches, Francis is a melancholy ghost who haunts the building and they’ve never been able to exorcise, and George, their landlord’s nephew, is their baffled neighbour who only puts up with their weird shenanigans because he has a soft spot for Elizabeth), I guess that’s appropriately Hallowe’en-y ha. For that AU, I reckon Elizabeth would probably dress up as something kind of classy, like as an Ancient Greek lady or a medieval queen, something like that. Caroline would dress up as a witch, I reckon, for the sake of irony (Horace, of course, would have a complementary costume :P). Verity, I think, would make a cute angel, and one of those wood nymph/woodland fairy costumes would probably suit Demelza. Morwenna might dress up as a Hogwarts student or something like that, and Francis insists that since he is an actual, literal ghost, there’s no need for him to dress up. George, on the other hand, absolutely does not do Hallowe’en, but they still manage to drag him down from the flat upstairs, put a pair of little Devil horns on him and make him watch scary films with them. Which he hates every minute of. Absolutely. Totally.

18. What’s easier, dialogue or description?

It depends, but I generally find description easier than dialogue. When I have dialogue-heavy scenes to write, I generally write them out in my notebooks basically in script form so I can figure out where the scene is going and once that’s out of the way, I find it much easier to add all the description in around it rather than having to constantly stop to figure out what the characters are meant to be saying to each other.

20. Post a brief excerpt.

So there’s a whole load to choose from, but I’ve decided to go with this one, which is from a ghost Elizabeth AU I’ve been working on ever since the end of s4 and have been really struggling to get on with because there’s so much bloody angst in it ha :--

The days leading up to Christmas dragged slowly on, and with each long hour that passed, George found himself regretting his decision to allow their initial plans for the festivities to go ahead with ever increasing certainty. The Blameys were neither unkind nor insensitive—quite the opposite in fact; their presence seemed to restore some faint but much needed cheer to Geoffrey Charles, and the company of another boy near his own age had restored Valentine to a fraction of his usual liveliness—but he, who had never been a friend to Verity, and was not well acquainted with her husband or stepchildren, felt the constant pressure of their scrutiny, alongside the horrible awareness of his own inadequacy as their host, whenever he found himself in their company. Verity, in particular, had taken to sending him at frequent intervals, whenever she saw him decline a meal, or else stumbled across him staring up at Elizabeth’s portrait hanging above the mantelpiece in the drawing room, what he had come to refer to in his mind as Looks. Verity had always been a kind and well-meaning soul, but there was a distinct pitying quality to those Looks which he had come to both resent and despise. He could have far more easily borne it if she had scorned his conduct. Her pity, however, wounded what little care he could summon for his pride in the wake of Elizabeth’s loss—he had no need to be reminded of the wretched creature he was fast becoming every time he met her gaze.

Finally, after what seemed like an age, the morning of Christmas Eve came. It had snowed once again during the night, and upon seeing the unblemished blanket of white through the window upon waking, Valentine and young master Andrew had rushed outside, accompanied by the Blameys Senior and Junior and Geoffrey Charles, in order to enjoy it. As the young Esther, whom it had not taken George long to discover was somewhat reticent in nature, had elected to break her fast in her room, that, unfortunately, left he and Verity alone together at the dining table, save for little Ursula, who was playing quietly and contentedly with her own feet in her cradle beside his chair. At barely a few weeks old, however, she was not quite an accomplished enough conversationalist to distract Verity from engaging with him. With a barely audible sigh, George reached for a slice of toast despite his lack of appetite in a vague hope of fending off another Look which he was sure was on the verge of rearing its unwelcome head above the horizon.

“I am glad to see that the boys have regained a little of their usual cheer,” she spoke up suddenly, causing George to pause halfway towards taking a bite out of his unwanted toast; a glance her way confirmed that, despite his best efforts, he was being treated to what could only be described as a Look. “It is a terrible thing to lose one’s parent, no matter one’s age, and certainly not a burden one should face so early in life.”

WIP Ask Game

[thinkanamelater]

A thief's heart (JS&MN fanfiction - Childermass/Reader)

Rated M. Gender neutral reader Also on AO3!

You have lost the battle against your heavy eyes, your mind drifting into unconsciousness, when you hear the door creak open and perceive the candlelight illuminating the room, even with your eyes closed.

You feel the bed dipping under his weight as he sits down next to you, and the smell of leather and ink fills your nose. Under his characteristic scent, you pick up a subtle tone of citrus. Smile to yourself, you remember it's the perfume you got for him. You even paid good money for it, instead of taking it from someone's pocket (where did said money come from, that's a different story).

"Hey" Childermass calls in that low, raspy voice of his that stirs something in your stomach, and you finally turn around to find his dark deep eyes fixed on you.

“Hey” You reply with a yawn, sitting up and stretching. Your back cracks quite satisfactorily and you let out a groan. Though he quickly returns his expression to a neutral one, you don't miss the way Childermass' eyebrows raise up at the noise.

“What do you need?” He asks, setting the candle down. You frown in confusion.

“Why would I need something?”

“I've been here for about five minutes, and you didn't take off either of our clothes” He grins that lopsided grin of his “So I assume you need something else”.

You feel your face going red. He's right, of course, but his bluntness still takes you by surprise, and your mind goes blank as you try to think of a reply. 

He must misinterpret your silence, because he frowns and shuffles closer, cautiously running your hands over your body.

“Are you hurt somewhere?” His voice is merely a whisper.

You gasp at the sudden contact, and shake your head no.

“What is it, then?” He asks again, withdrawing his hands. You miss his touch immediately.

“I needed a bed for tonight, alright?” You finally find an answer.

He keeps looking at you, waiting, and you wonder how he can tell that's not the whole truth. But you're not going to say that you wanted it to be his bed specifically.

You can't explain it. There's something inside you that longs for him, some uneasiness that only settles when you're next to him. (However, deep down you know, even if you had the words to say it, you probably wouldn't.)

It's a funny thing, almost. You've known each other for most of your lives. Tended to countless wounds. You have shared meals, and body heat, and passion. And yet… Well. Burglars and thieves don't thrive by oversharing, you suppose. It's a hard learned habit.

You hold your ground against his intense stare, wondering how much longer you'll be able to resist. You aren't sure if you're ashamed or relieved that your stomach chooses that moment to groan loudly.

“When was the last time you ate?” Childermass says as you break eye contact.

“Take a wild guess” You growl, a little too quick, a little too angry, and immediately regret snapping at him.

It's not his fault that you're still in the streets, and he isn't. Even if that was your choice, even if you're good at your thing, there are still bad days. You hunch your shoulders and swallow your pride. “Sorry” You mutter.

He gives you a nod, a wordless confirmation that he understands, and stands up.

“Stay here” He tells you, and walks out of the room.

You're tempted to do the exact opposite as you're told, your body itching to bolt, your mind telling you that you've walked into a trap, made yourself vulnerable.

But you stay, and wait, like you always do for him. And, like he always does, he shows up again.

Silently he gives you a plate of bread and cheese, and a warm cup of tea. You do your best at not swallowing it down the second it's in your hands, taking measured bites, chewing consciously. Oh, it's good, which makes it harder to control your voracity. Yet you do the effort of savoring each bite. For a moment, you even consider applying yourself to a life as a servant, if only for the prospect of freshly baked bread every day.

You try the tea next, letting out a noise that sounds suspiciously similar to a moan as the hot liquid warms its way down your throat. You almost forgot Childermass is in the room with you, until he reacts to your appreciation with a snort.

Sheepishly, you look up at him. He is so tall, so puzzling. So comforting under his rough exterior. 

“Thanks” You mutter, and after a beat you add “For the food”.

He dismissively waves a hand, but does not say “it's nothing”. He knows as well as you how much it means to you.

He takes off his waistcoat and sits on the bed next to you.

"How did you get here?" He asks, and you put down the plate for a moment, and think he's asking a lot of questions tonight.

You thought it was evident, this is hardly the first time you've sneaked here, and his window doesn't have any bars. Still, he asked you something, and of course you're going to reply.

"Through the window, obviously" You reply with a shrug and go back to eating. Childermass has a curious look on his face, but he says nothing.

You don't know that the house is protected by a dense, complex wall of spells. Why would you? You don't mess with all that magic stuff. And to you, finding Childermass is as easy as breathing.

You've never questioned it, never found it weird when you'd turn a corner and realize "Childermass was here an hour ago", or even "Childermass will be here soon". And you're always right.

You could practically see the line drawn by his steps, could follow him through London if you wanted. Nothing easier than following him inside the house.

These thoughts run in the background of your mind as you reluctantly finish your meal. There's a small part of you (located around your stomach) that wants to ask for more. Your pride prevails, and you return the empty cup and plate. As he takes them from you, Childermass lets his hands brush against yours, and that alone is enough to lit the familiar flame inside you. You give him what you hope is your most seducing look, completed with a roguish smile.

Looking straight into your eyes, Childermass lifts his hand, licks his index and thumb. You whine at the sight of his pink tongue wetting his fingers, take a sharp breath as he reaches for the candle; which goes off with a tshhh and lets the darkness engulf you.

Darkness is your element. You're so comfortable now, you don't have to think what to say or how to reply. You just have to feel Childermass' body, so solid, so hot; taste him and let him explore you, while you rock together in beautiful friction.

"I need to be inside you" he whispers hotly against your ear, and you melt under his voice and his weight. A whine escapes your throat as you spread your legs for him, and let him work his magic.

You're not sure how much time has passed, but considering the soft light coming through the window, tinting Childermass' austere room with pinks and oranges, it must be early in the morning. You don't really care. The passion induced fever has subdued, leaving you sated and sleepy. You're enjoying the sensation of Childermass' warm body still pressed against you, with his bare chest against your back and his fingertips drawing lazy circles on your stomach.

“Are you alright?” You blurt out, surprising yourself. Childermass props himself up on an elbow.

“Why do you ask?” He says, and his fingers find your hip, squeezing.

That's a good question. Why do you ask?

Because this is quite new, and you don't know if you are alright.

This is your first time staying. You've thought about it countless times before, but you never asked, and he never offered.

Maybe this is one of many things a thief just has to take for themself.

Except… A thief knows they can take, but not own. Eventually, everything has to be let go.

“Nevermind” You say after a moment. You are quite tired now, both physically and from your own spiraling mind.

Childermass shakes his head with an amused smile, and lays down again.

You wait until his breathing gets slower, until his hand falls heavy on your side, and only then you turn around to look at him. You study his relaxed expression, the little smile at the corner of his lips, and the only thing keeping you from kissing him is the fear of disturbing his rest.

Still, the desire to touch him is too strong. You allow yourself to cup his cheek gently, and smile as he leans into it in his sleep.

You don't know who stole whose heart first. But one thing you know, is that you're not going to let go.

[nefertiti22002blog]

It’s an AO3 meme!

 Tagged by @anorthernskyatdawn  Thank you!

Total wordcount?

410,419. That’s all my fics getting Mr Norrell laid. With Jonathan Strange usually, with Childermass sometimes. With Childermass and Lascelles once. I’ve probably written more than that in the LOTR fandom, from 2002 to 2008. Just starting to put those on AO3, though, so they don’t count (yet).

How often do you write?

Back in 2015, in the wake of the TV JS&MN series, I wrote constantly. Then it became whenever I found a good prompt on the kinkmeme or from a pal (usually @predatrix-blog). More recently, every few months. I wish there were more Norrell prompts, since I only think of a premise myself occasionally. I think I am fading out but hope to write more. Gilbert is such a delight to write.

Do you have a routine for writing?

I’m a professional writer, so I write all the time. I stick the fics into my routine whenever I get a good idea and some time.

What’s your favorite kinks/tropes/pairings?

My favorite kink is Mr Norrell being reluctant to have sex with Mr Strange, since 1) Strange is married, and 2) he can’t believe Strange would want him. But of course he desperately lusts for and adores Strange. How to get them together in yet another way is my primary concern. I also got into Norrell/Childermass, which was great fun.

Do you have a favorite fic of yours?

The inevitable, impossible question. I write two kinds of fics. Total book-canon, serious stuff, usually in chapters. Also one-offs, mostly comic, often farces. (Still sort of book-canon, as I always ground them at a certain point in the novel’s plot.)

Of the serious stuff, I have come to like MASTER AND MAN the best, which is odd, since it is Norrell/Childermass. Of the comic ones, I guess I would have to say ONE SPELL NOT TO SEE WHAT MY FRIEND IS DOING PRESENTLY. Pure farce and yet very romantic Norrell/Strange. I’m also fond of THE EPIC BATTLE OVER MR NORRELL, the Norrell/Childermass/Lascelles one. Funny and hot. What more could one want?

Your fic with the most kudos?

Alas, people do not tend to read explicit (which mine usually are) fics with Mr Norrell. The most kudos were for my very first fic, Pineapple Dumpling, as we used to call Norrell/Strange. It was a completely book-canon series (10 chapters) about N and S becoming lovers in the weeks after they reunited in the Darkness, JONATHAN STRANGE ♥ MR NORRELL. I have received 27 kudos for it.

That was posted in October 2015, a few month after the series was shown. That month was the height of JS&MN fandom. An incredible number of great fics were posted that month, many of them becoming classics. I still reread other authors’ fics, and many of them are from around that time.

Nowadays people don’t give kudos, let alone comments. I’ve posted many Norrell/Strange and Norrell/Childermass fics since then. These days I get hits, but almost never kudos or comments. Such a pity. There aren’t many Norrell fics by others these days, but I always leave at least kudos and usually comments. People don’t realize how much those mean to authors, however short and ordinary they might be.

Anything you don’t like about your writing?

Not mcuh. I write what I would like to read, and I am always entertained by my own fics—to varying degrees, of course. Some are not as good as others. I guess my main problem in writing JS&MN fics is that I don’t have much imagination when it comes to magic. I usually just do what Jonathan says to Norrell that he did to create his labyrinth: “I copied you and added some refinements.” When I need magic, I copy Clarke and add some refinements.

I have to say that having written first-time sex for Norrell and Strange so many times, my latest fics have struggled to have those scenes be original.I still like them and reread them, but the earlier ones are better.

Now something you do like?

I have to say, I like most everything about my fics. I think I’ve written some very funny stuff in the comic one-offs. I mean, really, ONE SPELL NOT TO SEE WHAT MY FRIEND IS DOING PRESENTLY is pretty darned clever, as well as funny. The same is true of MR NORRELL’S BREECHES and STARK STARING. I think the romance scenes, whether it’s Strange or Childermass, are genuinely moving. The final scene of TWO MASTERS IN THE DARKNESS, when Norrell in the Darkness receives a letter from his former lover, Childermass, still moves me to tears.Even though Norrell loves Strange, and there is no way to bring him and Childermass together permanently and still stay book-canon, I do find Norrell/Childermass deeply satisfying.

Tagging: @jonathan-strangerous; @villainsmatter; @warsawmouse; @nasturtian; @speakingskies; and anyone else who cares to try this pleasant exercise

[ohveda]

I was tagged by @nasturtian to name ten of my favourite characters. Thanks! (And I’m so glad it’s ten of my favourite characters and not my top-ten characters of all time. I don’t have to feel guilty for leaving anyone out!)

My favourites seem to boil down to three types:

Cinnamon rolls

Absolute train-wreck arseholes

Characters I long to emulate because they give zero fucks

With that said, let’s move onto the list:

John Segundus (Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell) - cinnamon roll - Johnny-boy is my current main man. He is so sweet. I won’t go into why I love him as a character, because I will write a ten-page essay without realising it.

The Gentleman with the Thistledown Hair (Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell - book version) - train-wreck arsehole - I have chosen book version because the show version was very different and didn’t do it for me. The Gentleman is absolutely hilarious. He is awful in a way that is so much fun to read. (JS&MN gets two favourites in this list, because it’s my current fandom and I can’t leave it alone.)

Sue White (Green Wing) - zero fucks (with some arsehole thrown in) - Sue White is perhaps my favourite character ever. She is a horrible person, yet somehow I want to be her. I just love the surreal humour that surrounds her. She does not care one jot, even if it means trying to take out a colleague with a crossbow, and I love it.

Tieria Erde (Gundam00) - train-wreck arsehole (who develops a soft cinnamon roll centre) - I initially loved Tieria because he was just horrible to everyone. Not once was I expecting him to get the wonderful arc of character development that he had. Out of all the characters in the show, he grew the most, and I’m just so proud of my baby ;_;

Fëanor (The Silmarillion) - train-wreck arsehole - Train-wreck is the key term here. Fëanor is beautiful, brilliant, (super-fertile), and dazzling in everything that he does. He is also batshit and drives the entirety of the plot. All in all, the very epitome of the phrase “Go hard or go home”.

Sam Gamgee (The Lord of the Rings) - cinnamon roll - While we’re on the Tolkien, I can’t not mention Sam. He is the actual best. And, of course, the real hero of the book. Bless him to pieces.

Tom Pinch (Martin Chuzzlewit) - cinnamon roll - The most pure of all cinnamon rolls! Once again, it was Tom’s arc of character development that really made me fall for him. At the beginning of the book he seems like one of Dicken’s normal, exaggerated comic-relief characters, but then he grows and grows. I still remember getting halfway through the book and suddenly realising “OMG, Tom Pinch is the protagonist isn’t he.” He deserves every good thing ever, because he’s so sweet I could cry. Where is the fandom? Why is there no fandom??

Malcolm Tucker (The Thick of It) - train-wreck arsehole - (Though with more emphasis on the arsehole and less on the train-wreck.) Malcolm is glorious. He is terrifying, fascinating to watch, and has some of the best lines. (And, from a fanfiction perspective, he’s one of the most fun characters to write.)

Monsieur Gustave H. (The Grand Budapest Hotel) - zero fucks (hmm, in the context of the film, that sounds weird) - M. Gustave is so much fun to watch. I love how he can be thrown into any situation and still be suave and charming as if he has everything under control. Honestly, I wish I could master that level of swag. Every time I watch the film I get the urge to start calling everyone “darling”.

Franz d’Epinay (Gankutsuou - The Count of Monte Cristo anime version) - cinnamon roll - I’m going for the anime version because I honestly can’t remember that much about Franz in the book (every character in the book is eclipsed by Edmond Dantès tbh). Poor, sweet Franz in the show has an unfortunate lot. He is so in love and so selfless and it makes me want to cry.

Ugh. I love them all <3

If you too want to share ten of your favourites, then consider yourself tagged!

[haverkampink]

Podcast!! With little ol me! Had a wonderful time chatting with Ken and Dee about historical costuming for the theatre, and OF COURSE squeezed some JS+MN talk into it because Lord knows we need more Regency Fairy Content™.

We chat with our friend Hannah Haverkamp @haverkampink about historical costume design, Bridgerton, the Scarlet Pimpernel, Cinderella 2015, Beauty and the Beast 2017, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, and the obligatory corset scene in every historical film ever.

Check out Hannah’s illustration and costume design work on her official site: https://www.hjhaverkamp.com/

And connect with Hannah on twitter (@hjhaverkamp)!

[jsdefense]

How an Order of Protection can Restrict Your Rights

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