#Binding of Beau

[yashley]

"Beauregard, yes. We are quite familiar."

[astralnymphh]

neck kissing with ellie.

gif creds: elenaxnate/tumblr. short indulgent fic :P romance/fluff.

Like a bee to nectar. Kids to sugar. Sunflowers to sunlight. Your neck is a preserved pollen: captivating, entrancing—it entrances that reddish-haired beau prancing around your kitchen searching for warmth. Branches to perch. Nooks to kiss.

Dying suns encapsulate the hours she feeds; in the evenings, devotion. At your neck, a prayer.

"Wish you'd lay the work off after dinner. Told you I'd get it," she kisses you there, too sweetly.

Cheeky prayers, muffled in your ear, and more so mundane covets. To save you trouble, is her duty. To prove her fondness, is her life's dream. And you never found your place amongst her forests to learn and understand why fleeting dreams of you are what motivated her all those years ago. First at your service, then your door, then your hands, lastly your neck.

For all you know, minds assume reason, and instinct falls short of it. Now, in the resign of autumn, reason dies, and tendency prevails. Tender tendencies.

"Why not together then?" you suggest every once in a while, and your tone curls as you do, "Dishes would get done much faster with four hands."

You fail to see it, but her eyes smile. "Because you distract me," laughingly, she says.

She isn't lying; your presence abstracts her thoughts, and the threads of what she was going to accomplish tangle and fray. Be it reading, painting, or guitar— a cacophony of silvers, oaks and water will languish her focus, and suddenly phantom imagery of you and whatever it is you're doing fills her every nerve. Contemplation departs.

But she loves to distract you more.

And because her laughs are stuffed in the crevice binding neck and shoulder, you giggle too. Not because her words are ticklish, or laughable—other days, her silly dad puns are— but because all you can feel is her mouth and her teeth and her chest to your back and everywhere her hands wander and fuck is it overwhelming. Almost facetious that she is doing it intentionally. An elaborate ruse to convince you time is worth wasting.

Her intentions lie between the fangs. Amusedly love-biting.

It fosters a slight shiver, a love-cringe. "Ellie," you weakly release, and roll your shoulders up as a way to peel her off. "That tickles.."

Don't you dare, babe.

Her nips get noisier. "'Spose to.." she insists in a whisper, laying the boundaries for her lips. They creep up, and up, leaping after your shy-away. "Do you hate this?"

"So much." you quip.

"Then it's working," her breathy giggle is hot against you, and it's contagious. A sound you want to eat and nourish from. "Will this take long?" Doubt already inhabits that antsy tone of hers. "I can't wait to show you what I found on patrol. Like, seriously can't wait."

"Can the kissing wait?"

".."

"Right."

"Shut up," her brows tweak against you, mouthing sass. "Pretend 'm not here," speech dimming, her lips lower into you once more, and find reason again. They pucker, suck, and pepper across plains of damp skin gone cold. Hungrily pulling the taste of your skin through her teeth, and down her throat; soft animalism.

It never stops—she never stops. Not for the moon, not for the sun, not for breath or silence.

"You're weird."

You can feel the evidence forming on your skin already. Phantom marks she embeds so she can admire them later. Revisit and reintroduce her tongue to them in bed.

"I know."

[artsy-hobbitses]

The third edition of printed media for Ties That Bind’s lore and timeline, featuring Jace Zayden (Jazz), Hanley Riordan (HotRod), Seth Wagner (Swerve) and Carina Morales (Chromia) gracing the cover of Rolling Stone! Stories inside feature Laila Badrolhisham (Lightbright) and Beauregard 'Beau' Laorou (Blurr)

Rolling Stone is more streamline in style, so I CAN offer this as a template for those interested.

This is part of a series!

First Edition: TIME Persons of the Year feat. Megatron and OP

Second Edition: GQ feat. Mirage

[finitepeace]

3 months since I finished Hannibal tv show. Not moving on at all from hannigram.

and here are the fics that i read to soothe the pain and pretend that the mess that is hannigram relationship has been tidied up.

Personal favorites are marked with 🦌 <this is supposed to be a stag but then it turns out to be a goat???>

arranged by time setting.

11 season1 fics, 11 season2 fics , 2 season 3fics, 14 post/before canon fics, 5 fics AU, 2 missing scene fics, 2 collections.

Season 1 divergence

Kissable by FragileTeacup |2,5k words | A Season 1 AU ficlet which explores a simple premise: what would have happened if, after Will had gone to Hannibal's house and confessed to kissing Alana Bloom, he had ended up kissing Hannibal? 

Consenting to Dream by emungere | E, 38k words | A seduction through physical objects. It starts with a scarf loaned to Will on a cold day, but Hannibal, as usual, isn't satisfied with anything small.

🦌 Marriage of Inconvenience by FragileTeacup | 3,5k words E | When Will Graham hears that Hannibal Lecter has been threatened with deportation, he's far more dismayed than he ever thought he would be. But a flippant suggestion from Brian Zeller gives him an idea...

Beau Ideal by Gweezle | E, 21k words | will used to be a model -who might be attracted murder-

🦌 Dancing with the Beast by proser | E, 86k words | In order to catch a mediocre serial killer, Will must pose as Hannibal's date for a series of pretentious social events.

La Maison Rouge by Randstad | 2k words, Hannibal starts to show up at Will's house at the crack of dawn to make him breakfast, killing two birds with one stone: cooking is one of his many passions, and, honestly, Will Graham is climbing up the list.

Hyacinth House by bluesyturtle for Azremodehar | 80k, E,  It all starts with an injury Will sustains while sleepwalking. [Podfic] read by justbreathe

Kindling by gleamingandwholeanddeadly (something_safe) | 10k words, e | When Franklyn's advances of friendship become too much for even Hannibal to politely ignore, he enlists Will's help.

🦌 Separately to a Wood by emungere | 13k words, T, canon-divergence in which hannibal proposed to will on their 2nd day meeting. 

Demolition Lovers by thefangirlingdead | 76k words, E, hannibal got found out early, kidnapped will to run with him and will struggled with the usual ‘i love him but he is a murder’.. 

🦌 Small Repairs by Devereauxs_Disease | E, 20k words, divergence season 1, hannigram keeps finding reason to meet each other 

Season 2 divergence

🦌 The Fox's Wedding by thehoyden | E, 11k, post S2 finale fix-it, hannibal took will to japan

Amourette by Petronia | 3k words, E, divergence on season 2 

I shouldn't feel lonely when you're gone by Angelic_Disaster | 28k words, E, amnesiac Dr. Lecter,

Slip the Veil by ThisBeautifulDrowning   21,844  Post-Mizumono, Will heals, and thinks, and follows his heart. 

🦌 each according to its kind by chaparral_crown | 192k words | Season 2 divergence | instead of taking revenge and planning to expose hannibal, will drop everything and run away 

Where All Ladders Start by emungere | E, 43k, season 2 divergence, hannibal regrets and releases will from prison 

Pattern Break by ThisBeautifulDrowning | e, 72k | No, Will was going to deal with Hannibal Lecter on his own terms. The man deserved to reap what he'd so carefully sowed, didn't he? After his release from the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, Will doesn't return to work for the FBI.

🦌🦌🦌 if you will come all the way down with me by coloredink | 7k words, M, they left together with abigail, but at what cost??? 

Season 3 divergence

🦌 their beaks not yet turned red by chaparral_crown | M, 130K words, magical realism, baby lecter!! post 1st half of season 3, hannibal went to trial but his conjugal tryst with will brought a stork delivered gift | After Hannibal is arrested and the trial dates are set, the stork visits Will Graham. With it, it brings a baby, a legally binding birth certificate, and a hope chest full of gifts for her. Nobody except Will thinks this is weird.

A Postcard and a Knife by Canis_cosmos | E, 37k words, divergence from season 3 when chiyoh threw will out of the train to the past and met young hannibal 

post S3 / before S1

God and Glasses by purefoysgirl | 1,1k, G, domestic life of married hannigram 

Lean On Me by OneWhoSitsWithTurtles | 2k words | Written for the airport-related AU prompt: "I fell asleep on your shoulder and you were too polite to move or wake me up AU" with a Hannigram twist.

We Killed a Dragon Last Night and  Sounders of Three by  inameitlater | time travel/loop/groundhog day

🦌 Hear My Soul Speak by DarkmoonSigel | 130k words. WIP. Last updated early 2022.  | An AU about how Will might of met Hannibal differently since they both knew Alana. A dinner party gone wrong or terribly right. You decide. Not Beta Read.

🦌 When the Devil Smiles Back byGoldenUsagi | 26k words |  A remix of Silence of the Lambs, where Clarice finds herself occupied not only with catching Buffalo Bill, but with unraveling the mystery of what exactly happened to Will Graham. And Hannibal knows more than he’s letting on about both.

🦌🦌🦌Bigger than a Breadbox by KatherineKrawl | 4k words, E | Every day at work, Will's lunchbox is filled with decadent creations, prompting questions from curious coworkers. Hoping to solve the matter, he asks Hannibal for a 'simple' sandwich, but quickly learns Hannibal doesn't quite grasp the meaning of this. Or does his boyfriend have an ulterior motive for his lavish lunches?

TKO by sidnihoudini | 16k words Molly deals with the aftermath.

The Shape of Me Will Always be You by MissDisoriental | 279k words, 1st person POV, | post-fall, hannibal left will so will could return to his old life

A Discreet Madness by emungere | 4,4k words, M, post-fall | 

A Damn Slippery Life by Magical_Destiny | 2k words, T, post-fall, molly reacts

Something Else by HotMolasses | 2,1k, T, hannigram talking about that gutting scene...  

🦌🦌🦌 Say Cheese! by Devereauxs_Disease | 6k, M, murder husband’s vacations keep appearing in freddie lound’s tattle crime 

Cold Beds and Warm Cannibals by Devereauxs_Disease | E, 4,4k, smut and overcoming distrusts

🦌Fruitful by Everett_Harte An AU remix of 'Hannibal'. Where they both meet several years before the show, start dating, and get married. And bang, a lot.

AUs

🦌 the true kingkiller by ORiley42 | 41k words, M, there’s even a very well made podfic for it!, hannibal is a mummy and will accidentally freed him. consequence: will fell in love with him.

Ethics & Aesthetics by FragileTeacup | 106330 words, a Regency A/B/O romance | pride and prejudice au

🦌🦌🦌 Remember (that you are) to die by  13empress | 230k words, WIP last updated  2017 | ABO au, amnesiac will woke up with 13 years past experience including being a parent, a one half of murder husband, and a wrongly incarcerated FBI agent 

Oddbodies by toffeecape | E, 72k words | Will is an off-brand sentinel. Hannibal is a reputable guide. What could go wrong?

🦌🦌🦌 Overcoming by purefoysgirl | 547k words, E, A/B/O victorian AU, MY VERY FIRST HANNIGRAM FIC! brought me here and now i'm stuck

Howling Outside Your Door by nobetterlove | 14k words | Content to spend his days on the surgery floor, Hannibal is tasked to present emergency room policy to a Cognitive Science class. He's somewhat reticent, but a single whiff of air changes everything. The professor, Will Graham, is an enigma. A dark bruise covers his right eye and the ripe burnt-sugary sweetness is tainted by a tang of suppressants. How much can finding his true mate really change Hannibal? And when it comes to darkness, where does acceptance lie? 14k words

missing scenes

My Husband by VictoriaAGrey | G, 3,5k words, hannigram being sweet married couple

Mise en Place by WrathoftheStag for Devereauxs_Disease | G, 1,8k, outsider POV -one of the kitchen staff in hannibal’s dinner party- 

collections i'm checking out

In Which Loverboy Lecter Prostrates Himself at the Altar of Will Graham 

Fresh Meat Friday

Hannigram Extended Universe

Trope: From Sex To Love (Valhalla Enchanted) by TigerPrawn | 14k words | the omega prince Charmont is in need of an alpha to see him through heat until his betrothed arrives from a distant kingdom. The recently freed slave one-eyed mute is just hideous enough to be the perfect temporary alpha to service the prince.

Forgemaster by Llewcie | 11k words | Charmont, the newest Dionysus, loses a bet to his roommate Aphrodite, and is required by her to go on three dates with a god of her choosing. Before he even gets out the door, he scathingly insults the gentle, mute Hephaestus, and then must scramble to make amends.

Blood on Steel by MonstrousRegiment | Ella Enchanted/Valhalla Rising crossover, series of 24k words work

[dent-de-leon]

Lucien being so wary and scared of magic because of the hag that desecrated his brother's corpse, because of the blood hunter scars on his own skin that scared his sister away--because of the way his soul shattered at the height of his ritual, torn asunder and scattered amidst the Astral Sea. Because of the nine Eyes that still brand his skin, still bind him to wizards who have always tortured and enslaved fate touched souls like him.

Lucien is taught first and foremost that magic is pain, that it is fueled by unfortunate victims and those with nowhere else to go, that it is always a powerful mage preying on someone vulnerable. Of course he distrusts Caleb from the very first moment, of course he'd see another mage--employed by the Cerberus Assembly archmage who killed him--and loathe all that he is.

"I'm careful," he tells Caleb and Beau. "Especially around practitioners of magic. Have a bit of a history--especially with those that walked alongside such individuals. Pardon me if I mistrust certain aspects of the arcane that might, I don't know, be hanging out in the unspoken wings of our arrangement. So I'm careful..."

When Veth casts Phantasmal Force on Lucien, conjures that image of Caleb in his mind, it really gets under his skin. "Claim the rest. The wizard's mine." It feels very vindictive and personal. And I think a big part of that is just how much of an effect Caleb has on Molly--a perceived "weakness" Lucien hates himself for.

When Lucien tries to tear into Caleb, he experience this very real, visceral pain, feels how much it physically hurts Mollymauk to hurt Caleb. It's only when Molly's soul sees Caleb is unharmed that that pain eases."His forehead tightened, burning with pain, as if something in there was scratching to get out. It calmed as soon as Caleb turned out to be little more than a clever mirage."

When Caleb called Lucien Circus Man, it truly broke all of Lucien's control for the very first time, shook something deep inside. In the novel, it's enough for Mollymauk to manifest before him visibly, and he's terrified. Lucien despising how much sway this lonely little wizard holds over a shattered shard of his heart, how a few kind words are enough to twist him from his life's purpose, threaten the grand vision he sacrificed everything for.

In that final fight in Cognouza, Lucien makes a point of killing Jester and Caleb first. And as Laura points out, Lucien kept targeting them because they were the ones who kept succeeding on their Persuasion checks with Molly. He punishes the Nein every time they dare to reach out to Mollymauk and really break through, every time Lucien can feel his own resolve slipping away.

So he's especially cruel to Caleb, lashes out at him and tries to tear apart this remnant of another life. He hates that a piece of his own heart and soul still feels for this man, that an Empire wizard of all people is still clinging to some broken fragment that "shouldn't exist." "It wasn't me. He's gone, and you will all die and join me." "He's gone. Let him go. Let it all go." None of it ever dissuades Caleb though. He still fights to bring Molly back until the very end; unwavering loyalty, unconditional love. Caleb refusing to ever let go of Mollymauk, even when it kills him. And Lucien...Lucien is still all alone--

Thinking of all the scars Lucien still bears from magic, how the Somnovem admitted being the Nonagon meant he would suffer terribly. "What will it cost?" "Pain and pain and pain. A dear price for a man, a pittance to a king. And nothing to a god, cosmically ordained."

But then there's Caleb Widogast, Molly's, "softness and light." Caleb's gentle touch as all his magic flows through him--stitching his wounds shut and wiping away the blood, anchoring his lost, wayward soul. He is warmth and healing, the catalyst for Tealeaf's first breath--

Caleb using magic to heal both his own broken heart and his Circus Man's wounded soul. "Caleb is going to set his hands on the Transmuter Stone...and think of all the time and energy that went into making him able to destroy and tear down, and how good it feels to subvert that and turn it, and use it to build. And restore. And heal. And I begun to summon up every ounce of learning, and ability, and skill, and inspiration and imagination I have--and channel it into the soul. And fill it with the shared connection that everyone here has, and try to summon our friend back from the beyond."

[mariuslepual]

the fact that ikithon could've just. escaped. lived his shitty little life until his shitty little death, probably delayed with some dark magic. the chaos of the solstice would be more than helpful for that and with the access to the soul's vaults he definitely could've found a spare little anti-scrying necklace lying around. but instead he decided to go after the people (pretty well established that caleb exclusively comes as a package deal, and also he started by fucking up beau's place of work) who got his ass in jail the first time, and when he was rotting away they studied the blade and got even better. the level of living rent free in one's head is astronomical. he organised a whole guided tour of that vault for them. now that's just unhinged. he threatened to reveal the treason of the man who's been suspected of treason, and as a result already in hiding, for almost a decade. icky for real lost his last critically thinking brain cell in that cell. what does he do when his greater invisibility gets dispelled? (very creative btw. truly never before seen. wow) he decides to kill civilians instead of, you know, using his OP demon powers to face his nemesis head on. very mature. what does that get him? he gets bitten in the ass by an enlarged t-rex that's being ridden by a halfling tween of undeterminable age. way to destroy your reputation of a cunning evil genius, mate. you'll forever be known as the kaiju that got its ass bitten. and, in fact, the nein didn't even get him this time! he decided to bind himself to a chaos demon and it imprisoned and/or devoured his withered little ass. now that's just textbook consequences of your actions. that's just a cause-and-effect relationship, babe. cringefail loser. the wizard hubris truly knows no bounds.

[captainofthetidesbreath]

Curious about what every blurb on the CritRole Oracle of the Moon Instagram filter is but don't want to sit there rolling it until you get all of them? Well, I did that for you! Below, the cards are each listed as upright (blue label), then reverse (yellow label), and their names are all bolded. Couple of notes as well. This deck is currently and newly for sale in the Critical Role shop.

The Anvil: To forge. To strengthen. To gather what is needed. The Sword: To wield. A show of might.

The Eye: Divine inspiration. Contemplation. Higher realms. The Hand: Practicality. Labour. The mortal plane.

Moon: A glamour. A beautiful story the truth wears. An illusion. Mirror: A reveal. A bitter truth. Something hiding in the shadows.

Spark: Something is responsible for this. Maybe you, maybe some asshole. Blaze: Sometimes there are consequences. Sometimes they hurt.

Jewel: Wealth. Desire. The thing you want most. Thief: What you seek is not where you think it is, and it may be a tricky quest.

Dawn: There's always hope. And the darkness leads to light.... Death: I mean this basically means death, ok? But that's not necessarily a bad thing! (In the booklet for the deck itself, "Dawn" reads: "There's always hope. And the darkness leads to light. New beginnings.")

The Crone: Experience. Perspective. Maybe like, really long arms. The Maiden: Youth. Innocence. Exuberance. Cupcakes. (It is "The Hag" in-game rather than "The Crone".)

Tavern: Respect. A meeting. Negotiation. Lust: Desire. Indulgence (Depicts the Gentleman, by Molly.)

Joy: Play. Delight. Dance. Festivity. Poetry. Song. Chaos: Chance. A cacophony. Things may have gotten out of hand. (Depicts Jester.)

Love: It binds us, it frees us. What else needs be said? Temple: Consecration. Healing. Awe and reverence. (Depicts Yasha.)

The Fool: The actor. The hero. Cleverness. The Soldier: Authority. Submission. Rigidity. (Depicts Molly, by Molly.)

Dream: The future. Infinite possibility. The unknowable. History: The past. Calamity. Immutable.

Sacrifice: Payment. The fulfillment of a debt. That which is owed. Hunger: Unfulfilled need. An act of survival.

Growth: Life. Blossoming. Of the earth. To plant. Spring and Summer. Rot: Entropy. Things fall apart. To reap. Autumn and Winter. (Depicts Caduceus.)

Bond: Trust. Brotherhood. An oath. A sense of belonging. Betrayer: Deceit. Self-destruction. Weakness. Fear. Loneliness.

Home: Family. Familiarity. A beginning or ending. Traveler: The open road. An unexpected encounter. A stranger.

The Judge: Justice. Righteous authority. Metallic. The Tyrant: Avarice. Tyranny. Chromatic.

The Sky: Safe passage. Uninterrupted vision. The Sea: The lurking danger. Unclear and hostile depths. (Depicts Fjord, Fjord is upwards at "The Sky" and apparently Uk'otoa, then unnamed to Molly, is upwards at "The Sea".)

The Book: Fact. Preparation. Forthrightness. The Rumor: Guile. Wisdom. Improvisation. (Depicts Beau, she's depicted twice in the style of a playing card and upwards on both sides.)

Tinker: Technology. Science. Progress. Discovery. Magician: Magic, beyond mortal understanding. (Depicts Veth as Nott and Caleb.)

Also, for fun, the wiki has an article for the deck as it exists in-game, if you're curious about that.

[envy-of-the-apple]

Hello! I have a little story idea that you can use for your own work (or not, it's up to you). Since English is not my native language, I hope that I will express my thoughts correctly, but if you need clarification on what I meant, speak up! I'll write more!

In manga (anime) we are often told that love is the strongest curse, it was from this phrase (as well as a little from the story of Yuta) that I came up with this idea for the story about Satoru.

The reader (not a sorcerer) works at a convenience store, where she meets Satoru. At first she has no problem with him, as she considers him just another random customer. She smiles politely at him while serving him, despite the fact that she has an unpleasant feeling when he stands near her counter. Politely answers his questions. And it would seem that everything should have stopped there, until he comes again, and again, always ending up on her shift.

Communication becomes more uncomfortable for her when Satoru begins to talk about curses, about various mystical things (at some point she begins to think that either he is taking some kind of hallucinogenic drugs, or he is a member of some sect), about himself ( about being the strongest and all that). And although she has met her share of strange customers, it is because of him that she feels uneasy. And when he starts asking too personal questions, the reader decides that she needs to stay away from him. At first she switches shifts with her co-workers, but this precaution quickly fails because Gojo somehow always knows when she's working. (And no matter how much she would like to go to the police, she cannot, because in fact, apart from the unpleasant feeling that she feels next to him, she has no other charges, since he always pays for his purchases, and puts ridiculously large money in the donation jar)

So the logical step for her was to change jobs, but even that doesn’t work. He finds her, always. To others, he seems like a romantic beau (and no one seems to even perceive her words that he is not completely normal, or that he is pursuing her). Many colleagues encourage her to come to him, talking about how lucky she is. He is rich, handsome, and it would be stupid of her to miss such a chance.

But even despite the fact that in general he didn’t do anything creepy (and rather, on the contrary, gave various gifts, which she had to accept under the close attention of her colleagues, so as not to seem ungrateful) he scares her, especially his words when he talks that he will protect her (from what? from whom?) because he is the strongest and she does not need to be afraid of anything in this world. He swears allegiance to her and that now they are forever bound (hello binding oath), because he made an oath and he will never leave her (that he will marry her, but not now), that when she is with him , she will no longer need to work, because she will have everything she wants. But first he needs to deal with one case before he can devote all his time to her.

And just when she thinks that he will never leave her side, an incident occurs in Shibuya and Gojo disappears and life gets better again. She no longer needs to change jobs and housing, she even finds a guy she likes and lives with him. And everything seems fine, until one day her boyfriend suddenly disappears, leaving only a note for her in their shared apartment, which breaks their relationship; colleagues she doesn’t like either disappear or have accidents at work. At home, she finds things that didn't belong to her (or her ex-boyfriend), expensive trinkets that she definitely couldn't afford. Various paranormal things happen to her that haunt her and for some reason remind her of Gojo. Therefore, when she complains about this to one of her colleagues, she suggests that she go to her friend, who is a shaman and can help her. Out of powerlessness, the reader agrees to this.

She learns from a fortune teller that she is cursed, and that she needs to perform a ritual to rid herself of the cursed spirit that has become attached to her. The reader agrees (even if she doesn’t quite believe in all these mystical things like curses, spirits and all that, but she has few options). And when the fortune teller begins to carry out the ritual of cleansing, something goes wrong, and instead of getting rid of the curse (as intended), the reader suddenly begins to see it with her own eyes, but not immediately, all the hints and oddities are simply ignores it, attributing it to self-hypnosis, that it all seems to her, and that there is no curse, but one night, when she wakes up, she sees Gojo, who holds her hand, putting a ring on her finger, tells her that as he promised , now they are connected forever and that even his death (spoiler for those who have not read the manga) will not separate them (and now he does not need to do any work for his superiors), that all the vows that he gave to her were real and now when he put on she has his ring on her ring finger, they must perform a wedding ritual so that she becomes his full-fledged wife, as he promised to do.

brave of you to assume i have an attention span long enough to read that

i could have sworn the inbox had a word limit...oh well new rule! it needs to be under 500 words

also I don't take fic requests and that includes fic suggestions. no, thank you, I am not interested! i have plenty of ideas swirling in my mind, i don't need another^^

[namorssideburns]

The Beau Monde by mattmurderock

My very first author's fanbind for the wonderful @lightqueer! An excellent marvel comics Bridgerton-inspired regency au with a fabulous framing device and masterful ending!

Work in progress & behind the scenes:

Quarto size, typeset in Scribus using Caslon Antique font in 11pt, 315 pages total w/ handsewn endbands, metal corners, and a simple case binding.

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Welcome To New York

Chapter Two of Sweet Home Alabama

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x OC (Linley Mitchell/Floyd), Bradley 'Rooster’ Bradshaw x OC (Linley Mitchell/Floyd)

Description: It's been seven years since you left Pigeon Creek, Alabama. Seven long, arduous years. Just when everything seems to be moving in the right direction, a seemingly happy event makes you remember how closely the ties bind you to Pigeon Creek.

Themes: angst, love, smut, attraction

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 3170

A/N: Here we go with Chapter two! It's finally time to see who Linley is as an adult and explore a little bit of her life in New York. This is also the chapter where we meet her beau! I hope you love it!

AO3: Cross-posted here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted here!

My Masterlist

Previous Part | Series Masterlist | Next Part

In the seven years since you left Pigeon Creek in the rear view mirror, your life has changed by leaps and bounds. You're not sure when your small hometown went from feeling like your whole world to not being enough. You've always had dreams, and you've always been opinionated. But as you grew up, your dreams and Jake were still the two most important things in your life.

At least, that is, until one dumb decision changed your entire life and ended up losing you your best friend and first love all in one fell swoop. So you left Pigeon Creek and you left Jake behind, and moved to New York City. You lost yourself in your career, working your butt off to become a fashion designer. It’s been a long, hard road to get to where you are now, but you can’t say you regret it.

You wake up the night before your first big debut show at New York Fashion Week, dreaming of the day you and Jake were struck by lightning. You're face down on your workbench and for one short moment, you're not quite sure where you are. But that feeling fades when you see lightning through the stained glass window of the warehouse you and your team are working out of.

"Oh my god." You gather a couple of designs off of your desk before walking up to the floor, checking them for splotches of drool as you go. Your team is clustered around models, carefully measuring and finishing garments to make sure each fits their model to perfection.

"How come y'all let me sleep?" Even after seven years, you haven't been able to lose your Alabama accent. A part of you hopes you never do.

"It was only five minutes. Did you know your accent gets thicker when you're sleeping?" You roll your eyes before comparing the design in front of you to the one on the paper. You make one final adjustment to the cloth on the mannequin before accepting a cup of coffee from your assistant. With coffee in your veins, everything feels better.

"They destroyed Badgley Mischka, did you see, Linley?" You nod ruefully, sure to your bones that the same could happen to you.

As your team laughs, you can't help interjecting. "Yeah, yeah. Y'all are laughing now, but tomorrow that could be us!"

Your words are just enough to have your team erupting into activity again. You forget all about your dream, attention wholly held by the fabric which has the ability to control your entire future. If you send fervent prayers out to the Fashion Gods, Saint Laurent, Gucci and Karl Lagerfeld, your team doesn’t judge you for it. They’re banking on this collection just as much as you are. It's just after dawn when you and your team leave the warehouse. You're exhausted and run off of your feet, but you're filled with contentment at the same time. For better or for worse you’ve made something with your own two hands, a collection from which you adore every single piece. As you walk home, you're filled with a quiet confidence - being a successful fashion designer feels so attainable right now. The city is as quiet as you've ever heard it and the shops are just opening up their shutters as you walk down the street. You can actually do this! 

When you finally, finally get home, your feet are dragging. You only have the time for a quick catnap before you have to head downtown again to complete your final prep for the fashion show. Your apartment is quiet, lit only by the weak light of the rising sun peeking through your gauzy white curtains. You throw the deadbolt home and turn around, only to see flower petals strewn across the pale carpet. Your entire apartment is filled with the scent of freshly bloomed roses.

A riotous wash of colors greets you as you toe off your heels and step onto the plush cream carpet, following the trail of petals into your living room. Vase after vase of bright blooms line the tables and shelves in your living room, the delicate scent lifting your mood instantly. There's only one person who could do this for you.

Bradley Bradshaw. 

When you'd moved to New Y0rk, you'd promised yourself you wouldn't fall in love again - or at least that you wouldn't actively go looking for it. The girl you were, that heartbroken worn creature, you vowed to wipe her out of existence. So you adopted the surname Floyd along with a backstory to match and became a Linley your own father wouldn't recognize. You hadn't expected to fall in love with the New York Secretary of Housing. But under your mentor, you ran in posh circles, even before you got the chance to design your own line for fashion week, and you and Bradley had hit it off.

It hasn’t been a whirlwind romance, at least not in the conventional sense. That wasn’t Bradley’s fault either. Bradley is easy to love. It just took you a while for your brain to convince your heart that you could love him. A part of you still does a double-take when he does things like this for you. You’re still not sure you deserve the pampering, forget the vacations or the parties that you’ve been attending on his arm. It’s good for your reputation, less so for his. After all, the man once known as Rooster in the press for some less than clothed paparazzi pictures on vacation had a reputation for dating models before you.

The red light on your answering machine is blinking and you hit the button to hear what messages you have. It's Bradley's voice you hear, leaving a voicemail so romantic that were you a different, less heart-sore girl, you would have swooned on the spot. As it is, you have to lock your knees, you’re so sure they’re going to give out on  you.

"Hey, Sweetheart." His voice makes you smile giddily as you stand in your flower festooned living room. "Good Morning. There's a rose for every moment I thought of you last night. I know the likelihood that you came home last night was slim to none, so I wanted to do something to brighten your day.  I also wanted to wish you good luck before the show today. It's going to be a hit and I can't wait to see what your gorgeous brain came up with. I love you! Bye sweetheart!"

When a man does things like this for you, how could you not love him?

Mid-morning finds you backstage running around like a chicken with its head cut off. You're so nervous even your nerves have nerves. This fashion show is either going to be a success or the biggest disaster you've ever seen. You've solved about a million disasters, including a blouse that should be purple but is a mauve instead - the yellow spotlight should fix that - when you see Bradley on a video feed of the milling crowd.

He always looks so good, so put together. He's wearing a crisp electric blue suit with a Hawaiian shirt underneath it. Were it anyone else, the ensemble would look garish, but on Bradley, it looks amazing. The mustache and Hawaiian shirt are staples in New York politics at the moment. They're both eye-catching traits that Bradley's dad always, always wore when he was mayor before his death and it's a trend Bradley continued once he became Housing Secretary. Of course, just like his dad, he's also the belle of the press.

"Secretary Bradshaw! Can we ask you a couple of questions? Are you excited about the show?" Your grin is smug and a little unbelieving as you watch him schmooze the press, dropping tidbits about how you're going to knock this line out of the park.

"Please tell me he has a flaw." That sardonic, sarcastic voice? That's Natasha Trace. Both of you had come up under the same mentor, her as a model and you as a designer. She's the closest thing you have to a best friend in New York. 

"He asked to take me to Ireland over the holidays." You can't wait! You've never left the country before.

"Oh, honey, he's going to ask you to do a lot more than go to Ireland with him." She's nudging you even as the other models line up behind her.

"We'll see." You face the models. "We're going to be late! Alright ladies! It's go time!"

It feels like a dream when the curtains come down and the standing ovation rings through the hall. You take a few minutes to clear away your mascara tear trails and to re-apply your lipstick before heading into the crowd. You're immediately mobbed by your friends and industry contacts.

When you see Bradley standing behind the photographer taking pictures of you and your models, Tash included, you're immediately moving through the crowd and launching yourself into his arms.

"Bradley!" He's smiling that grin you love as he wraps you up tight in his arms. The scent of his cologne surrounds you as he holds you tight, holding you up before he lets you drop back onto your feet. 

"Oh sweetheart, congratulations!" You can't hide your ecstatic grin as you stay in his arms.

"Those flowers, Bradley? They were absolutely gorgeous! How did you do it?" You're a little giddy and out of breath just at the sight of his smiling face.

"I just wanted today to be perfect for you, sweetheart." You smile up at him in thanks before pulling away, just a little, your hands still in his own.

"So? What did you think? Do you think the critics will like it?" You can't hide the doubt in your tone.

"Oh, Lin! They're critics. They even hate themselves." His words should comfort you, right? Instead it feels like Bradley's not taking your concerns seriously. But you chuckle it off.

"Well, excuse me, Mr. Bradshaw! I wasn't born with thick skin like you." You're grinning just a little as he smiles sunnily at you.

"That's one of the many reasons why I love you, Sweetheart." His hands cup your face as you rise on your tiptoes to peck him chastely. Of course, right as you're about to pull Bradley over to introduce him to the girls, he's saying his goodbyes.

"Sorry, sweetheart. I've got a meeting across town. But I'll see you tonight, yeah?" At your confused look he continues. "You remember, we have that thing at Lincoln Center?"

That's when you remember, the thought hitting you like a sack of bricks and thoroughly deflating your happy little hot air balloon.

"Oh, right!" You smile wryly at him. "The fundraiser! For your mom! That's tonight."

"I'm afraid so. I'm so proud of you, sweetheart. I love you! Congratulations!" You wish you could say that this is the first time Bradley's had to dip out early for a meeting, but you would be wrong.

You can't help but dwell on it when James, Bradley's personal chauffeur picks you up to take you to the fundraiser a few hours later. Is this what life is going to be like? Feeling like you're never at the top of his mind? Never his number one priority? Sure you get to enjoy perks like chauffeured cars and going to fundraisers and galas, wearing designer brands and diamonds on your neck, ears, and wrists, but are those perks worth never being his top priority? You're jerked out of your thoughts when the car stops and James pulls the divider down.

"His meeting's running a little late. But Mr. Bradshaw wanted me to take you inside so you wouldn't have to wait in the car."

"Where are we?" You don't get an answer to your question. James leads you through a side doorway and a series of plain white-walled hallways.

"He shouldn't be too long, miss. Just go through here." If you didn't trust him with your life and know that Bradley did the same, you'd be a little worried.

There's another suited man waiting at an open door. "Won't you come in, Miss Floyd?"

You walk past his outstretched arm into another bare hallway. But this one has Bradley on the other end of it.

"So, have you decided?" As happy as you are to see him, you can't help feeling just the slightest bit of whiplash.

"About Ireland, sweetheart. Just you and me and a couple hundred of our closest friends and family." You feel even more confused now than you did earlier.

"A couple hundred - Bradley what's going on?" The entire time he's been confusing you, he's led you into a cavernous room.

At a signal you can't see, the lights flicker on, one by one, illuminating shelf after shelf of sparkling jewels. Pretty stacks of robin's egg blue boxes are artistically arrayed to the sides, all bearing the mark of Tiffany and Co.

"Oh. My. God." Your words are a little strangled as you take in the plethora of shiny gems.

And then he gets to his knee right in front of you.

"Linley Floyd. Will you marry me?" Your brian short circuits at his words, an irrational sense of panic clouding your vision.

"A-are you sure? Are you really sure you want to marry me? We've only been dating for eight months!" You're babbling, trying desperately to make sure he's making the right decision while making sure you're making the right decision.

"Of course I'm sure, sweetheart. You know me. I don't make rash decisions. And I don't ask questions I'm not sure of the answer to. So at the risk of being rejected twice, I'll ask you again. Will you marry me?" 

This time, your mouth kicks in before your brian does. "Yes! Yes! Yes!" You're both smiling and laughing as he twirls you around in a circle.

"So pick one." There’s laughter in his eyes as he follows behind you as you try on ring after ring, all in your size. Each is beautiful, but you know each is also more expensive, costing more money than you’ve ever seen, more money than you’re sure you’ll ever see. It’s almost a relief when you pick the simplest one, a band with a singular clear cut stone embedded in it. But your left hand feels heavy in the car afterwards as James drives you and Bradley to the Lincoln Center. 

You can’t name the feeling in you right now. You should be feeling happy and excited. A part of you is giddy and ebullient. But more than that, you’re confused. But you can’t let Bradley see how you feel. So you kiss him softly, relishing in the feeling of his mustache across your lips. As you sink into the kisses, your earlier exhaustion dissipates like champagne bubbles. The divider is up and it feels like you and Bradley are the only people in the entire universe that matter right now.

"I've been planning this for a long time, sweetheart. I knew your show would be great and it'll be great to tell the whole world at the fundraiser tonight, right?" Your stomach lurches a little at the thought.

"I can't wait to see my mom's face when I tell her that we're engaged! Let's call your dad, sweetheart!"

You shock yourself with how fast you snatch the phone out of his hand - he isn’t able to type in more than a single digit.

"No!" You chuckle a little sheepishly. " I mean, um. I haven't seen my dad since I left Alabama. I really should tell him in person. He raised me all by himself and he deserves to hear it from me in person. Please?" You pull out your biggest, best puppy eyes and pout just a little. As always, it works.

"Of course, sweetheart." His sigh is fond as he takes the phone back. "I love that you're that close to your dad."

"Um.. there's one more thing, Bradley." At his nod, you continue. "I think I should do it alone."

"Baby, you know I'm going to have to meet my father-in-law eventually, right? Hopefully before the wedding?"  Now he's looking at you like you’re crazy.

"I know, Bradley. But we've got plenty of time for that, right? And I know my dad will love you!" You cup his cheek gently with your left hand.

"It's 'cause I'm a Yankee, right?" 

You crinkle your nose fondly before leaning in close enough that each word has your lips brushing against his. "Well, it's that and 'cause you're a Democrat." 

You're both giggling as the car pulls up in front of the Lincoln Center. Before you get out of the car, Bradley turns the ring so the stone is in your palm.

"Mum's the word, sweetheart. Just for now." 

The minute you step out of the car, you're bombarded by questions, flashes of light from countless photographs and what seem to be a hundred calls of your name. At the end of the runway is who you would classify to be the epitome of the Wicked Witch of the West, if only the Wicked Witch of the West were less green.

Carole Bradshaw is the current Mayor of New York, ex-First Lady of New York City, and 100% sure that nobody can run her son's life better than she can. So she butts into nearly every part of your relationship with Bradley. He manages to wiggle away by finding a colleague he recognizes. But that leaves you right in her clutches as she pulls you into a hug and takes both your hands in hers.

"Oh, darling, I hear fantastic things about your new line."

You babble your thanks, but you know exactly why her expression changes. Her vice grip on your left hand would hurt if you weren't wholly preoccupied by the cold sweat covering you from head to toe.

"What is this?" She hisses, "Bradley, why is Linley wearing a skating rink on a very important finger?"

She doesn't even notice you trying to tell her to keep it quiet, because all of a sudden she's screaming the words, "You're engaged?!", for all the press and fundraiser guests to hear.

That's when you know you have two huge problems. One, your engagement, your supposed-to-be hush hush engagement is going to be all over the news, you're sure nationally. Everybody will know that Secretary Bradshaw is engaged to you. The second problem? It's that you've never told anyone that you had been married once before. That you're still married, actually. 

It's with a heavy heart that you book the first red eye to Alabama in the early morning hours after the gala. How the hell are you going to get Jake to sign the divorce papers without him finding out that you're engaged? Can you get the divorce processed before Bradley comes to meet your dad? More importantly, are you ready to face Pigeon Creek again?

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

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[garadinervi]

Carolee Schneemann, (1972), Parts of a Body House Book, Women's Studio Workshop, Rosendale, NY, 2020 Edition of 90 [Walker Art Center, Minneapolis, MN. Fondazione Bonotto, Molvena (VI). © Carolee Schneemann]

Contributors: Rachel Helm, Lilah Dougherty, La Niña, Chris Petrone, Natalie Renganeschi, Kelsey Borsch

Printing method: risograph, silkscreen, letterpress, B&W film, hand stamping, stains, and other markings; paw marking with beet juice and mud by La Niña

Printer: Risograph printed by Oddities Prints in Kansas City, MO; Silkscreen by Courtney Parbs, Savannah Bustillo, and Erin Zona; Letterpress and hand interventions by Erin Zona

Binding: Perfect bound and stapled with colophon insert

First Edition: Beau Geste Press, Devon, 1972

[serickswrites]

Distress

Warnings: captivity, torture, restraints, stabbing, blood, physical violence, escape attempt, drugging

Something was different, Whumpee could feel it. They weren’t as hazy as Whumper had been keeping them. Whumpee was still bound, but at their wrists and ankles. And not to anything. 

“I’ve got something new and exciting for our agenda today, Whumpee,” Whumper purred as they walked into the room. “I think you will like it.”

“Th-Th-Thank you,” Whumpee whispered back. If I can just keep them happy, maybe they won’t hurt me. 

“I stopped some of the medicine so you could fully enjoy this.” Whumper carded their fingers through Whumpee’s hair. And then Whumper stabbed Whumpee. Once. twice. Five times in their gut all spread out. Whumpee screamed, the pain clearer than any other Whumper had inflicted on them. They could feel the blood running out of them. 

“Don’t worry,” Whumper smiled as they put a bloodied hand to Whumpee’s cheek, stroking it gently, “this won’t kill you.” They held up the blade. “It will leave some beautiful scars. But it won’t kill you. I won’t let you die, Whumpee.”

“Th-Th-Thank you,” Whumpee managed to get out between sobs. “I know how important it is for m-m-me to be beau-beautiful for you.” Keep them happy. Keep them happy. They won’t guess my plan. Keep them happy. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up then.” Whumper cut away the bindings on Whumpee’s legs. Whumpee could feel the blood pool beneath them. They felt nauseous. “Let’s see if you can stand.” They lifted Whumpee to their feet. 

Whumpee’s knees buckled and they leaned on Whumper. “I-I-I can’t.” 

Whumper scooped Whumpee into their arms. “I do love holding you close, Whumpee.”

Whumpee took a deep breath and headbutted Whumper while grabbing the knife with their bound hands. Whumper dropped Whumpee with a cry and stumbled back. Whumpee’s aching body protested as they landed in a heap on the ground, but they were ready. They plunged the knife into Whumper’s ankle. Whumper howled as Whumpee kicked out at Whumper’s opposite knee, hearing the distinct and satisfying crunch as Whumper dropped. Whumpee glanced around the room, looking for the other restraints Whumper used on them and found the restraints. They cuffed both of Whumper’s wrists to the bed. Whumper was screaming, raging, a wild beast roaring at Whumpee. But Whumpee couldn’t hear them. 

Whumpee found Whumper’s phone and called Caretaker. “C-C-Caretaker?” Whumpee tried not to cry when they heard Caretaker answer the phone. 

“Whumpee? Where are you? I’ve been looking everywhere for you. It’s been weeks. Whumpee?” Caretaker sounded terrified. 

“I-I-I don’t know where I am,” Whumpee sobbed. Please. Please find me. I need you. Help, please. “I th-th-think I’m at Whumper’s h-h-h-house.”

“I’ll find you. Don’t worry. I’m coming. Just stay on the line with me, please, Whumpee.”

Whumpee sighed as they slid down to the floor, absolutely spent. “Th-Thank you.” Whumpee’s body was finally letting go, adrenaline fueled state finally ending. Whumpee pressed a hand to their abdomen, unable to determine which stab wound was deeper. They could barely hear Caretaker. 

“Whumpee?” Caretaker’s voice was a little firmer.

“I-I-I n-n-need an amb-ambulance I-I-I thinkkkk.” Whumpee could feel themself sliding further down, sinking further into the dark that was threatening to consume them. Stay awake. I have to stay awake. I’m dying. No. No, I’m not going to die. Caretaker is coming. Stay awake. 

“Whumpee, stay with me. Please! I’m coming. Just hold on!” Caretaker begged Whumpee. 

“Whumpee! Whumpee!” Whumper was roaring in the background. “Caretaker won’t make it in time. Let me help you! Whumpee!”

But Whumpee could barely hear Caretaker and Whumper. The darkness’s call had become to strong to resist. As they sunk into the dark, they hoped that Caretaker wouldn’t be mad at them for not staying. For not being able to wait. 

“Whumpee, please say something, anything,” Caretaker begged. 

“S’ry,” Whumpee mumbled as the dark finally consumed them. 

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

ROYGBIV TAG GAME

Thanks @buffythevampirelover for the tag!

Rules: find the main rainbow colors in your WIP!

Last time I think I had a lot of TSP, so this will be SOTL heavy

Okay I'll tag @illarian-rambling @mk-writes-stuff @somethingclevermahogony @elsie-writes @willtheweaver @frostedlemonwriter @spitefulbull @infinnative + anyone else who'd like to do this

Keep reading for:

Jack is nimble and quick

George is hungry

Úrsula is reading

Beau is excited

Beau is excited again

Kwasiyaa is going through the portal

Tierney is testing something

Red ❤️- from School of the Legends Year One

He closed his eyes and braced himself for the excruciating pain he was about to feel. But nothing came. Even the light from the flame no longer shone red through his eyelids. He crashed onto something soft with a grunt. He opened his eyes.

Orange 🧡 - from The Secret Portal Part One (Ash POV)

George walked over to an array of buttons on one of the walls. In a streak of orange, he pressed some of them, faster than the naked eye could have seen. Below the buttons was a small alcove, from which he pulled out a meaty sandwich that resembled a cheeseburger, but I sensed wasn't cow.

Yellow 💛 - from School of the Legends Year One

After she finished clearing off her plate, she pressed the pause button on her music. Usually, Úrsula would allow whatever was playing to finish as she awaited Mamãe to bring her whatever dessert she had made, but she had left her book on a cliffhanger. It pained her to leave the music, but at the moment, this was her priority. She leapt on her bed and picked up her book right where she had left off, not bothering to get into her usual comfortable position, as she was too excited. Immediately, she felt her surroundings disappear. She left the confines of the room she’d lived in for the past five years, and entered the world that only existed in the ink forever tattooed on the face of the binded yellowed pages.

Green 💚 - from School of the Legends

Beau shrugged. “A few months? Well, I always liked plants and had a green thumb for gardening, but yeah, I soon found out that I had a gift.” He smiled. “And I got this!” He reached into his backpack and pulled out a piece of paper, holding it out. Jill took it, holding it so Jack could see it, too.

Blue 💙 - from School of the Legends

“So we’ll be going to school together!” Beau was saying, his blue eyes sparkling. Jack was snapped out of his thoughts--not sure if he’d missed anything or not. “Now, hold on,” said Dad, “I think we should talk about this. I’m not against it, but we should at least see if Jack wants to go.”

Indigo 💜* - from The Secret Portal Part One

Almost at once, brilliant colors erupted from the ground, a bright contrast with the indigo-tinted forest. As the portal surrounded them, Kwasiyaa and Dylan’s visions were limited, as the dark world they knew as their home began to fade away against its bright, colorful light.

Violet Purple 🩷* - from School of the Legends Year One

Tierney glanced down at the duvet he was sitting on. He rubbed his hand across it, feeling the familiar static shock. He kept sliding his palm back and forth and back and forth until he heard a crackling sound. He lifted his hand, concentrating as hard as he could, until he saw a spark. He rubbed his hands together until what appeared to be a purple lightning flickered around them. He stood, holding one hand palm-up, curling his fingers inward. A sparking purple ball of electricity had formed in his palm. He laughed giddly, opening his hand slightly so the ball got bigger. His hand shook and the electricity shot upward, blasting Tierney over the bed and causing him to crash onto the floor.

*there needs to be an indigo heart so I don't have to do this

Edit: Forgot taglist because it was so SOTL heavy

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

Enjoy the two paragraphs lol but SOTL is fun too

[dhwty-writes]

The last few days, I had the absolute pleasure of printing and binding spider silk vows by @callingvoicemail. If you want to read an absolutely wonderfully written story about Beau and Essek navigating an arranged marriage that becomes a qpr, go check it out!

I had a field day with it, and tried a lot of new things (using waxed thread, the cutout cover, sewing headbands for the first time, which feels very appropriate for a fic with that title. For the first time, I feel like I’ve actually made a book, probably because it has a cover on the front and a summary on the back.

For the dividers, I designed some vines and leaves with stars, like Essek and Beau's bracelet in the fic. The headers and initials are more spider web-like, as are the brackets around the summaries. I debated a long while if I should put them into the Appendix or no, but then decided that I preferred them in front of the chapters.

More (wip) pictures under the cut:

[copperhawkthoughts]

It’s Wednesday again, Trent Ikithon is up close and personal with Beauregard’s best rear naked choke, and Essek discovers something he and Beau have in common in today’s 32nd instalment of The Nature of Light:

Trent Ikithon is sprawled in the dirt, half on top of Beauregard. She has him grappled like a pit fighter, arms twined around his neck and legs locked over his hips, and though he struggles, her strength is more than a match for one ancient wizard. She barely even seems to strain, but Essek’s skin crawls with referred disgust; Ikithon’s slick hair is in her mouth.

Essek places himself at Caleb’s elbow with barely a thought, and thrusts a commanding hand down toward the felled Archmage. “Stay down,” he snarls, and Ikithon goes stiff.

Beauregard shoves Ikithon half-over onto his face, scrambling out from underneath him. She kicks him back onto his back, and plants herself at Caleb’s other elbow.

Physically ungifted Ikithon might be; his is nevertheless a powerful mind, and Essek hisses as he feels the arcane shackles binding him dissolve. Before Ikithon can do more than twitch his fingers, however, the tip of Yasha’s greatsword comes to rest below his heart, angled to slip easily between a pair of ribs. The skirts of Ikithon’s robes are bunched around his splayed knees, and Yasha plants a heavy boot, still filthy with the grime and dried fluids of Aeor and Cognouza both, on the rumpled silk brocade over his groin.

“I’m not going to do anything, Caleb,” she says, her soft voice with its light Xhorhassian accent gentle. Cold, implacable threat laces her tone as she looks down at Ikithon, “But if you try anything, I will kill you.”

Behind Caleb’s back, Essek catches Beauregard’s slight shiver. Ah. Something they have in common, then.

Read the rest here

[literally-1894]

Parallels Between Kaze to Ki no Uta and Blue Velvet

Whenever I read a manga, I take notes and such on the side as I'm reading it. I went through those notes for Keiko Takemiya's Kaze to Ki no Uta, which was an even more rough read for me than the first time that I read Berserk, and I had a thought; the scene in the first arc which has this page is oddly similar to the scene in David Lynch's Blue Velvet where Frank Booth is introduced. CWs; discussions of drugging, sexual violence, misogyny/patriarchy; everything that happens in Kazeki and Blue Velvet, pretty much.

What happens in each scene is very similar; a horrified protagonist powerlessly witnessing a rape in the other side of the room which they are in. The impact is very similar, one of terror and confusion with a level of the absurd. The thematics are very similar as well, with Frank Booth's sexual violence throughout Blue Velvet *always* being half an attempt at real sexual pleasure, half an attempt at forcibly asserting a position of patriarchal dominance. The parallels are much more pronounced in the OVA, since that's in a semi-cinematic medium rather than manga, but the feeling was always there. Much of this came to mind when I thought to myself about how similar Auguste Beau and Frank Booth are conceptually. They both function as living examples of the Lacan quote which goes "masculinity is the pervert's position", they both obsessively control an otherwise picturesque rural environment through intimidation and shadow power, they both use a mix of blackmail, rape, and mercenary violence to torment and suppress those who pose a threat to them, and they both have a high level of familiarity with drugs, though Auguste doesn't have a cpap machine filled with strong drugs. I'm not sure if a parallel could be drawn between Dean Stockwell in the film and Jean-Pierre Bonnard in Kazeki, though both serve as the other half of their respective shadow tyrant's double-bind. Since Kazeki started a full decade before Blue Velvet, the latter could not have inspired the former and I don't know if manga piracy was advanced enough for it to reach the United States for David Lynch to read after his Dune adaptation crashed and burned. However, if I was to ask this to David Lynch, he'd probably tell me that they were both drawing on the same experiences, emotions, and ultimately societal systems. I remember once joking to my therapist that the plot of Death in Venice happened three separate times in the first Drakengard game and since he's a Jungian, he joked about Yoko Taro having the same "collective unconscious connection" as Thomas Mann. If a difference were to be drawn between Kazeki and Blue Velvet, it might be that the latter is much more optimistic. Despite how horrific, lurid, and simply bizarre Blue Velvet is as a genre pastiche of 50's Film Noir films such as Sunset Boulevard or Double Indemnity, Blue Velvet is ostensibly a film about the hero defeating the bad guy and saving the day. It was set at a point which was deep enough into the Aeon of Aquarius that the segmentary systems of heirarchic violence which sustain patriarchy, portrayed in the film as sexual or mercenary violence going downward from a symbolic father to those who are contained within his regime, had imploded so heavily that Patriarchy was rapidly ripping itself apart and self-destroying. The film, furthermore, takes a similar position to patriarchy to what Marx is described by Bataille as having taken about Capital, where once all of its various obstructions toward Human Development are simply removed, Humanity will flourish once more. With Kazeki, however? It's set during a time when there are some old people who were alive when Mary Wollstonecraft was still alive, when universal suffrage is many decades into the future, when the authoritarian rule of the church and the nobility is *only beginning* to be contested, when colonialism is at its highest levels of brutality (which the manga makes very clear, connecting Auguste's brother's incest and generalized sadism to his position as a colonial official in French Indochina), and in which the development of all of the forces of oppression and unfreedom present will not begin to be possible to assail until the First World War destroys their productive capabilities at least. Auguste Beau isn't as much of a cartoon villain as Frank Booth, furthermore, and has an ability to check his boundless hatred for all which is young and beautiful for the sake of self-preservation, rather than simply erupting into ultimately self-destructive violence at the slightest notice.