May 18, 2023
The Terror memes were fun, so I made some JSAMN ones.
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The Terror memes were fun, so I made some JSAMN ones.
Illustration for @saintseaterrors's fic "On the Other Side of the Mirror (I Found You)" for @jsmnbigbang!
Earlier, wider version under cut because I couldn't decide which one I like better, really.
Hello! I've hit a writing slump. Can my mutuals help?
Please send me prompts for one shot, short fics for your favorite ships you know I write for. I will write as many short fics as I can.
I am stuck, writing a long, plotty, Jopzier fic, and I'm not inspired, and I keep wanting to write other stuff to get the juices flowing, but I want other people to suggest it.
Have a one shot you want to read? Here are the ships I write for:
The Adventures of Tintin:
Haddotin
Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell:
Childerell
Childerstrange
Major Merlin
BlackThistle
Childercelles
The Terror:
Jopzier
Fitzier
Bridglar
All configurations of Mcdonald/Goodsir/Stanley
Goodsilna
Sherlock:
Johnlock
The Hobbit:
Bagginshield
Kiliel
Pacific Rim
Newmann - if it's not too technical. I can't read up on Kaiju timelines right now, but I could fake it for the sake of this adorable ship.
CBS Ghosts
Hetty/Thorfin
Death In Paradise:
Richard Poole/Camille Bordey
Don't be shy! My squicks and things I don't enjoy writing:
Vampires or blood play
Kid fic
Public sex where they might get caught
Angst with no happy ending
Gen fic with no romance or sex
What I WILL WRITE:
Anything else! From T to E rated. Don't be afraid to ask for nasty, nasty smut, or innocent, sweet cuddles.
Best Non-Johnsquared JSAMN Ship (that i decide to include in this poll)
Pineapple Dumpling (Strange/Norrell)
Emma/Bella
Flora/Bella
Childercelles
Major Merlin (Grant/Strange)
Stephen Black/The Gentleman
Segundus/Strange
Childermass/Strange
Segundus/Stephen
Childerell
okay the last one for now: awkward Childerstrange kiss.
John doesn't usually do online dating. He's not good at putting on the thick veneer of total bullshit so many people adopt in order to make others like them and find them fuckable. John Childermass has never particularly cared whether anyone likes him or not, and has never had any trouble in the people-finding-him-fuckable department either.
After a painful breakup with a total narcissist who'd cheated on him, then seven long months spent drinking a bit too much and crying very silently in the middle of the night so no one would see it and bother him about it, he decides that maybe going out with some random bloke from grindr might not be such a bad idea.
He sees the message come in from "Jonathan". Why do people like being called Jonathan? So many syllables. So much work. John clicks on the man's profile and sees a weird-hot guy with wild, curly black hair and piercing blue eyes looking back at him.
Then his gaze drifts lower to the list of personal preferences, likes and dislikes, and he groans inwardly.
A magician? Really?
Who the fuck admits to being a magician on a website? It's so... corny. Or rather, people love seeing magicians perform live (if the magician is good), but if they're not, it gets corny fast.
He looks back up at the man's photo and notes the sexy stranger’s screen name. Jonathan Strange.
John rolls his eyes at the clearly made up handle. The message though, once he reads it, is surprisingly open and honest.
“Hi,
I have to admit I was at first drawn in by your photos, but learning that you’re also a leather worker, a mechanic and a part time artist? You sound like you’d be a good conversationalist. Over coffee perhaps? I’m just getting out there again after the death of a spouse two years ago, so I’m not looking for the love of my life. Maybe just someone to have fun with.
Let me know if you’re interested.
Cheers
- Jonathan.”
John messages him that he is indeed interested, and, preparing himself for the worst, possibly dullest night of his life, he heads to Perks Coffee Co. on the corner across from his building to meet the mysterious Jonathan Strange.
Surprisingly, they have a nice time. Strange (it really is his legal surname! and John adopts it as a nickname immediately, because how can you not?) is a touch arrogant. Bragging about his career as yes, an actual magician. He’s a good one though. He specializes in slight of hand and tricks of the eye that are so streamlined and subtle, that people mistake it for real magic, as nothing else could explain why a shower of gold coins appeared to rain down from above their heads, nor how what they’d assumed had been a fake raven had suddenly taken flight from Strange’s hand in a flurry of black feathers. He’s so good in fact that he’s had to fend off a couple of law suits surrounding claims that he drugs his audience in order to make them hallucinate, for there is no other explanation for the wildness of his act.
Strange assures John that it is little more than a relentlessly obsessive compulsive mind and thousands upon thousands of hours of practice that allow him to do what he does, and reassures John with a cocky smirk that he can’t actually do real, old school wizard magic. He’s just a man, not a sorcerer.
His arrogance would be a red flag for John if the man weren’t so obviously using it to mask a great deal of grief. John can see it radiate off of him in waves when he’s not speaking. His eyes, merry and sparkling like Caribbean waters one second, then when he looks down into his coffee, his face takes on shadows of pain.
“Tell me something about you that you don’t normally tell blokes on dates,” Strange asks, and John is pleasantly surprised by his question.
“Oh, well, I like old books,” he admits with a shrug. He’s leaning against the wall next to the coffee counter, looking at Johnathan Strange through the curtain of his long, undone hair. It’s a tactic he often employs when he wants to stay half hidden before letting people get to know him. “I used to work for a book dealer and he taught me a lot about old books.”
“That’s a wonderful thing to be interested in!” Strange exclaims, smiling. He’s got a pretty smile.
A conversation ensues about John’s favorite old books, and how he’d even begun dipping his toes in restoration.
“How did your wife die?” John asks, thought he tries to do it gently. He often loses touch of what is and is not appropriate conversation on first dates.
“Cancer,” Strange replies, his face taking on that sad look again.
“I’m sorry. That must have been rough,” John says.
“It was. I’m still not really OK about it,” Strange says, which is very honest really, when you’re trying to get in some bloke’s pants. John likes that, that Strange is open about his emotional struggles. It makes him seem more genuine. Strange’s sadness also moves him in a way he’s surprised by. He’s never had a life partner before, choosing to live as an eternal bachelor. It’s easier on his wallet and his mental health. But to imagine falling in love with someone, sharing a life with them, and then losing them. That must be a mind fuck and a half.
“Do you want to come over for a drink?” he asks, for he suddenly realizes he wants to do things to Strange to make him forget his grief... to help him relax, and those things might not be appreciated were he to do them here at the coffee shop.
“Oh, I... yes, yes, I’d love to,” Strange’s face transforms into a slightly loopy smile. His teeth are a little bucked in the front and John finds that he likes that. It mars the perfection of Strange’s cocky, man about town persona, and makes him a bit relatably goofy looking. Which is hot.
“Excellent. Well then, allow me to buy you a coffee and we can get out of here.”
John pays and they both leave, walking the sixty or so some-odd feet to the door of John’s second storey flat. John lets them in and they climb the stairs in silence. John wonders if Strange is eyeing his arse from behind as the man follows him up.
they reach John’s flat, and John gives Strange the grand tour, which takes approximately 20 seconds as the flat is tiny. They end at the bedroom of course. It’s a classic maneuver, one that’s quite easy to see through. Strange looks knowingly at the well made futon in the small side room John uses as a bedroom and smiles. He turns to look at John. They’re both standing in the bedroom doorway, each with one hand on the frame, the other hand hanging by their sides near each other. They lock eyes for a moment, then both move at the same time, closing in for a kiss.
Only, there’s a mix up somewhere. Strange reaches out with his hand, just as John reaches out with his, and their hands collide, this causes John to yelp in discomfort and jerk his head back a little, which causes Strange to miss his lips entirely and smear a wet kiss mark across the top of John’s cheek.
An awkward silence ensues, then Strange smirks, John grunts, and then they’re both laughing. Bending over double with their sides held, laughing at the silliness of modern day seduction and all of it’s ridiculous glory.
As the giggles and guffaws slow and putter out, they end up looking at each other again. John watches, a little breathless from laughing, as Strange’s eyes drift down to rest on John’s lips.
This time, it’s not nearly as awkward. There’s no knocking of limbs or missing of lips. John steps up, loops an arm around Strange’s waist, and brings their mouths together. Strange lets all the air in his lungs out through his nose, and that warm breath brushes against John’s cheek. He teases a little at Strange’s lips with the tip of his tongue and then Strange opens his mouth and shares that wet heat with John in a very explicit sort of kiss.
By the end of two weeks, they’re properly dating. Meeting for dinner after work, shagging desperately at one of their flats, or spending long hours on the phone, talking about everything and anything.
Looking back, John can’t believe he’d planned on keeping Strange at arm’s length. He can’t believe he’d thought of himself as incapable of falling in love again, as he’s fairly certain he’s currently half out of his mind in love. Most of all, he can’t fathom why he’d thought the name Jonathan was too long and had too many syllables. It sounds far far better when he cries it out softly in bed.
i’ve been slowly working on my ChilderStrange fic “The Heartbreak That Aches Far Too Much To Be Shunned“
it is to be a string of fate situation where Childermass dreams of things before they unravel in reality
It's 11pm and time for horny thoughts about ChilderStrange
Childermass forcing Strange to sit in his lap and grind against his leg but he must keep direct eye contact with Childermass the whole time while reciting his studies for that week
Childermass has a firm grip on Stranges waist and the most smug look as he watches Strange. His fingers tug along the edges of his trousers, sometimes wandering down to Stranges thigh
It doesn't take long for Strange to start to lose control over his magic but Childermass scolds him for it.
/Behave/
He's expected to recite everything as the educated gentleman he's supposed to be.
For the pairing ask meme: #15 (kiss on the back) with ChilderStrange, please!
Ever since Childermass found him that night, mind still trapped in the fog of darkness, Jonathan always felt cold. He would wake thrashing, his voice trapped in his throat as if whatever he had seen on the other side of the rain still had its claws in him.
There were nights he would wander, mumbling as if there was something there only he could see and that is when Childermass decided to stay. Jonathan would watch him from the bed, the circles beneath his eyes only growing worse as sleepless nights passed. Until one night Childermass stood to leave and he found Jonathan there, fingers softly gripping his arm.
“Stay.” He barely spoke above a whisper but it had been the first comprehensible thing he had said since being found. Childermass felt an ache in his chest, thinking of the man he once knew and looking upon the man he had become.
“Will do, sir.” Jonathan gave him a weak smile and pulled him to the bed and Childermass did not even bother to change clothes, only leave his shoes on the floor next to them. He pulled the covers over them both, Jonathan facing towards him. Childermass let out a sound of surprise as Jonathan clung to him, pulling him tight against his chest as his body slowly calmed and his breathing became steady. It was the first night Jonathan had felt warm and at long last slept soundly. Childermass felt something open up in his chest, a strange comfort in that moment between them that had him feeling safe and he placed a gentle kiss upon Jonathan's shoulder. A silent promise to not leave, one that Jonathan may never even know about but one made nonetheless.
“Welcome home.” His words were whispered there in the crook of Jonathan's neck and he dozed off with the feeling of another heartbeat next to his.