#gnawing off my own arm i’m so obsessed with this song & video

[nonamefangirl]

Loveless - I Love It When It Rains Music Video

[aellynera]

Hi love! Can you do a Oscar Isaac x reader where they do the buzzfeed video reading thirst tweets and he gets jealous of the tweets? Thank you so much, I love your page. ❤️

Hello lovely Nonnie! I’m sorry this took so long, but I finally got super inspired to finish it. It’s not Oscar Isaac per se (I don’t do RPF) but I thought about it a bit and I was like...but I will do a Llewyn AU. So that’s what I did, and here it is, and I hope you and whoever else reads it, enjoys it! (note: most of the tweets came from various Thirst Tweet videos on YouTube, but there are a couple I just made up.)

I Want Llewyn Davis to Blank Me in the Blank (Llewyn Davis x F!Reader, Modern AU)

Word Count: 1300(ish)

Warnings: Some language, sexual references but nothing graphic or explicit just suggestive, floof.

- Llewyn isn’t sure what a BuzzFeed is, and to be honest, he’s not even sure what the hell a thirst tweet is. 

- You’re always teasing him that, if the world suddenly loses all technology tomorrow and the internet and social media disappear, he’ll be the only one who will still be able to function, and he’ll probably be a lot happier.

- You’re not wrong.

- He hates social media. Doesn’t understand what the point is really, why so many people are obsessed with it. Yeah, he technically has official accounts on all the major platforms, mainly because you insisted and set them up. They’re just placeholders and he never uses them.

- The only reason he’s even here to do this media gig is because you asked, all wide puppy-dog eyes and gnawed-on bottom lip, and he knows that you know he can’t say no to that.

- Not that he ever really wants to say no to you, but sometimes...

- Now he’s almost one hundred percent certain he regrets it.

- You’ve tried explaining the concept to him, probably like twenty-some times, and you’re trying again now, but as you lead him into the studio it pretty much goes in one ear and out the other.

- People don’t know you’re together, so he’s annoyed by that on top of everything else, because he can’t call you any of the usual pet names that roll off his tongue like melted butter.

- No angel. No baby. No sweetheart. It fucking sucks.

- "It’s not a serious thing, Llewyn. Just...fake it till you make it. Make jokes about it, it’ll be fine,” you tell him.

- You sit side by side at a little table, a couple feet apart, and a production assistant put a little metal bucket in front of each of you.

- Llewyn gives you a weird look. You just shake your head and smile this cute little smile that he does his level best to ignore because, well, you’re in public and nobody knows.

- Then the tweets come out of the buckets.

- Things I requite in a man: five nine, pisces, grammy nominated, llewyn davis. That’s all i ever need.

- Why is Llewyn Davis so attractive? He’s like 30 years older than me and I’m a lesbian but he still gets me hot and bothered.

- I cannot believe Llewyn Davis invented being sexy.

- Llewyn Davis got thicc lips and thicc hips

- I want Llewyn Davis to be my daddy but not in the fatherly kind of way.

- There’s a lot more, but honestly, they all sort of blend together.

- He manages to laugh them off and make some clever comments but he shoots you a look that’s part confusion, part disdain, and really annoyed. You just shrug.

- But then the tweets start coming out of your bucket, and Llewyn’s brain instantly regains its laser-focus.

- First, because everyone calls you by your online handle, which drives the nail further into Llewyn’s coffin because of his inability to actually call you cute names night now.

- Secondly, who do these assholes think they are, talking about his girl like this?

- Hello? Maker? Can we talk about how you put the heavens in AngelEyes’s eyes, because it’s starting to cause some serious problems over here. Kthx.

- I want to lick cherry-flavored jello off AngelEyes fingers, why does life have to be so unfair?

- Sit on my face and suffocate me, AngelEyes.

- AngelEyes’s boobs are a gift from whatever deity you choose to believe in, and if you’re an atheist, well, then more tits for me.

- I’m pretty sure AngelEyes could get all my children out of me, and I’m willing to take that challenge.

- Llewyn’s kind of tuned out, trying not to pay any attention to all the dirty things the world wants to do to you, but his head finally snaps up and his arm does too and his little metal bucket goes crashing to the floor.

- You (and everyone else in the studio) just stare at him.

- “Could I...” he clears his throat, “could I speak to you, for just a minute? Like, out in the hall?”

- “Okay?” you say slowly, but stand up and head towards the door, with him right behind you.

- The door barely has a change to swing shut behind you before Llewyn is on you, frantically pressing his lips to yours in a soul-sucking kiss.

- “Llewyn, what are you doing?” you hiss when you finally break away for air.

- It took quite a few minutes before you absolutely needed that break and you’re fairly certain people are going to come looking for you any second because you have to be taking a lot longer to “talk” than Llewyn implied.

- “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to sit there and pretend all those tweets are okay”

- He’s pressing you against the wall and you can’t help the slightly impish smile that comes to your face. “I have a pretty good idea.”

- Llewyn glares through narrowed eyes. “This isn’t funny, AngelEyes.”

- “I was listening to all the ones people said about you too. Don’t get so worked up, Llewyn, it’s all in good fun.”

- Llewyn snorts.

- “Baby, are you...jealous?” You raise a brow at him.

- “I have half a mind to just take you up against this wall, right now.”

- “You’re jealous.”

- His mouth is suddenly a breath away from yours again, and he murmurs, “I just want people to know that you’re mine. And to know that I’m yours. And to never read a single thirst tweet ever again in my entire life,” before his desperate lips are back on yours.

- This time, he pulls out of the kiss first and you rest your head on his shoulder and try to catch your breath again.

- He’s checking something on his phone - replying to a text from his manager Snap or his sister, maybe, you’re only vaguely aware that he’s actually on his phone at all.

- But then you feel your own phone vibrate in your pocket.

- You pull it out and immediately almost drop it.

- “Llewyn. You...you didn’t.”

- Llewyn looks at you with a completely innocent face. He slides his phone back in his pocket and hooks a thumb towards the door. “I don’t know what you mean, sweetheart. Come on, we should probably get back in there before they send a search party.”

- You barely have time to process the notification that Llewyn Davis (@ folksingerwithacatofficial) has made his first tweet! Check it out! and even less time to actually read it before Llewyn disappears through the door and you have to follow.

- But it there was a picture - you didn’t even know Llewyn knew how to do that. And if he had an extra minute, he’d be inordinately proud of himself.

- It’s from a friend’s rooftop party a couple weeks ago. You’re behind him with your arms around his shoulders, kissing his cheek, and he has his eyes closed and a happy, content little smile on his face.

- There’s no way anyone’s going to look at it and be like, ‘oh they’re just friends.’ But the caption definitely clears it up.

- Never been happier than I am w/AngelEyes by my side. Aren’t enough words to say how much I love you, baby. Maybe I’ll just write you a song or ten.

- You head back into the studio, about to shove your phone back in your pocket, your face burning hotter than the sun, but it vibrates again and you see the corners of Llewyn lips turn up, even though he’s pointedly not looking at you.

- There’s another tweet.

- Now go get some water y’all and stop talking about my girlfriend’s tits. At least give her ass the credit it deserves too.

- Llewyn pretends not to notice when, five minutes later, everyone’s phones and laptops and tablets start blowing up with notifications and reactions. He just pulls you into his lap and kisses you softly on the cheek.

Everything Taglist: @anetteaneta @autumnleaves1991-blog @be-the-spark-flyboy @damerondjarin @deeandbobbymcgee @huxdameron @iflostreturntobudcooper @itspdameronthings @jitterbugs927 @leto-duke @littlebopper96 @reysflyboy @rosemarysbaby13 @spider-starry @veuliee @waatermelon-sugaar @woakiees @writefightandflightclub @yourbucky084

Llewyn Taglist: @santiagogarcia

>>join my taglist here<<

[iwillbeinmynest]

Liar- Tony Stark x Reader(f)

Authors notes: I’ve been wanting to write this for a while, now. And praise the Lord, I finally had a moment of peace to get it all out. So here it is. My song fic for Tony. Also, Because I have so little time, I didn’t review this as heavily as I usually do, so please excuse any discrepancies.

 Here is the link to Youtube for the song. Its called Liar by The Arcadian Wild and it’s amazing. You can also find it on Spotify.

 Lyrics are in italics. 

Notes/Warnings: None really. Maybe some self doubt and lack of sleep. mostly just tension and stress. And because it comes with reading things I write, angst.

I sense there's trouble ahead.

It's clear by the signs and warnings

that should tell where all blame is due.

So why are they pointing at my head?

 He can fix this. He’ll fix it before its a real problem. That’s why he’s on the team, right? He’s a problem solver.

 Hydra had made themselves public yesterday. They released a video saying that they had spread all over the globe and had infiltrated thousands of governments. They claimed to have the ability to hack into anyone’s life and ruin them if they opposed Hydra or whatever future plan they unleashed. They threatened everyone’s lives and the lives of those they cared about.

 It scared Tony to his core. He was worried about his friends, sure, but mostly, he wanted to keep you safe. He was Iron Man. Surely, hydra was coming for him soon and he knew the best way to get at him was through you.

 If they got to you, he’d never survive it.

 Tony chewed on the end of his pen while he tapped and fiddled with the hologram in front of him. If he could just fix this in the next day -the next two days- then things will be okay. His failure with Ultron flashed in his mind but he shook it off and kept working. This time would be different.

 It had to be different.

All have been led astray.

We've all fallen short in some way.

Please understand I'm ashamed.

and I beg of you, please find your grace.

 “Tony,” You sighed his name. “We can handle this if it becomes a problem. Remember the last time you jumped the gun on a world crisis?

 Tony shook his head and huffed. “Ultron was a fluke. Is no one ever going to let that go?”

 “For all we know it’s just a bluff and they’re just trying to scare everyone.” You tucked yourself into the covers beside him and noticed the tension in his forehead and shoulders. “You need to relax a little,” You cooed. “It’s nothing we can’t handle.”

 Tony shook his head again. “This is different. If I can just configure the program to find the discrepancies before-”

 You silenced him with a hand on his arm. “Stop.” You said calmly. “Don’t over think it. You don’t have to work yourself to death over this, Tony. No one is in danger, right now.”

 “Right now.” He repeated. “Why wait till there’s a problem when I could potentially eliminate the problem completely?”

 “Because people have tried that before.” You wrapped your arms around his waist and he sighed. He knew you were on the edge of frustration so, he choose to drop it with you. “One man can’t take down all of Hydra. Don’t take on that burden by yourself. You’ve seen what it did to Steve.”

‘Cause I'm not in a right state of mind.

I just wish I had strength to admit it.

My stubbornness will put up a fight,

but I don't deserve to win it.

I'm left in the dark pondering my mistakes,

but in the light I swear I will,

deny it all.

 4:54 am.

 Tony finished his fifth cup of coffee and collapsed into his favorite chair. He closed his eyes and let out a heavy breath. Why couldn’t he figure this out? Why wasn’t he smart enough to save everyone? Especially you. If nothing else, he wanted it to work for you.

 “Boss?” FRIDAY called quietly. “It’s five in the morning. Shall I start your morning coffee?”

 “Is it actually morning if you haven’t slept?” He mumbled.

 “I believe so, Boss.”

 “No.” Tony grunted as he pushed himself up from his chair and started turning off his computers. “No, coffee thanks. And tell the Mrs. that I don’t feel well and that I’ll be sleeping in this morning.”

 “You do realize she’s already awake? She’ll know I’m lying when she doesn’t see you beside her.”

 “I know. Tell her anyways.” He chewed the inside of his lip as he looked at the monitor that displayed his prototype. He rolled his eyes at yet another fault in the design and switched off the screen.

 He shuffled quietly through the compound and back into your room. He yawned as he crossed the threshold and swallowed hard when he found you walking out of the bathroom with a heavy look of disappointment on your face.

 “When did you leave?” You crossed your arms.

 “Right after you fell asleep so, ten thirty? Somewhere in there.” He walked to his side of the bed and kicked his shoes off before wrapping himself in the covers.

 You felt your lip quiver and the sting of tears pricking your eyes. You took a deep breath to steady yourself. “There’s a meeting today at ten. You can’t sleep through it, we need you there.”

 “I had FRIDAY set an alarm for me.” He muttered with closed eyes.

 As upset as you were, you leaned down and kissed his head before heading out on your morning run.

I sense deception to come.

Honestly, truth and I are never one.

‘Cause I am the lying man

and I have made you my next victim.

 Maybe he was right. Maybe you should be more worried about this. But you’re an Avenger and so is he. The two of you can handle anything. If only he would actually let you be around to help. You knew of his past even though you’d only been with the Avengers for a few years. He was Tony Stark, everyone knew his past, he was a pretty public guy.

 But this, this crazy plan he had, if anything went wrong it could do a lot of damage. And as much as you didn’t want it to, his faults and failures always flashed to the front of your mind when he got like this. He obsessed and wouldn’t sleep and he’d be so tired that he would make a mistake. And mistakes for Tony Stark were as big as his victories.

 You stopped mid-run and tried to catch your breath. This is Tony. This is the man you love. No matter his past, you loved him and you would support him, right? He’s got this under control.

 He can handle this...

I need you to see through my act,

to tell me I'm wrong,

to take off the mask,

or else I'll be left in the lie.

I'll deceive my way straight to demise.

Sleeping was useless without you beside him. He should have slept when he had the chance.

 Tony tossed and turned and wrestled with the monster gnawing at his stomach. Something was wrong. Why weren’t you as terrified of Hydra as he was? Why did he seem to be the only one panicking about them rising into power. He kicked at the sheets, suddenly feeling like he was on fire. Why was it so hot, all of a sudden?

 He needed you.

 He needed you to remind him who he was.

 But he had blown you off when you tried earlier and then he ran away to his lab the first chance he got. Because that was what he did. He obsessed over something so much that he forgot that you were the reason he did anything. He kept missing moments with you.

 And there was no one to blame but himself.

‘Cause I'm not in a right state of mind.

I just wish I had strength to admit it.

My stubbornness will put up a fight,

but I don't deserve to win it.

I'm left in the dark pondering my mistakes,

but in the light I swear I will,

deny it all.

 I am the host of this hostility.

I'm the master magician that makes you believe

I'm real, I'm not fake, but in reality

I'm a lying man.

 “You can’t fix this by yourself, Tony.” Steve said sternly with a hard finger pointed his way.

 “I’m not saying I can.” Tony smiled. “I’m just saying I think I have a solution. Look, I know the whole Ultron thing comes to mind but this is not the same situation.”

 “Isn’t it?” Wanda interjected. “You’re worried about the world, Tony. You were worried then and you’re worried now. That’s what drives you.”

 “Okay, no mental probing before noon, remember?” Tony squinted his eyes at Wanda and she tilted her head to the side incredulously. “Of course I’m worried. Hydra called up out in the video two days ago. They’re coming for us and those we love so, yes you’re right, I am worried but that doesn’t compromise the sincerity behind this project.”

 “Your project isn’t fool proof and what if it takes on a life of it’s own?” Steve cut at Tony again. Tony threw his arms out and they landed back at his sides with a slap. Steve ignored his fit and continued. “Are we going to take out another city trying to correct your mistakes?”

 Tony snapped and cursed at Steve. “I have this under control! I won’t release it until it’s perfect but I need help making it that way!” Tony huffed and covered his insecurities with a smile. “I’ve got this.”

My life's become this grand game of deception.

My mind's ignored all my heart's good intentions.

We all feel this tension.

We all have our own illusions.

 “It’s not like I’m the only one here with city sized mistakes under my belt.” Tony crossed his arms and pursed his lips. “Cap you’ve lost plenty of people in your severed lifetime. Barnes- well we all know about your past. Nat? Wanda? Y/N?” Tony looked around the conference room and nodded when Steve and the silent parties avoided eye contact. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Don’t pretend I’m the only one here who’s messed up. We’ve all got problems, at least I’m trying to change and make sure more people don’t die. Excuse me for thinking you’d want to try and do that, too.”

‘Cause we're not in a right state of mind.

We all wish for the strength to admit it.

 Steve sat in the floor of his room with his head in his hands. All his lights were off except for his bedside lamp that cast an eerie shadow beside the super soldier. If only the memories would quiet. If only he could forget her face, then maybe her passing would be easier. He reached into his pocket to pull out the rusted compass that had helped guide him during the war. The picture was new; the old one had rotted away but, it was her. He still had a few friends; some old, most new. But without her he felt a little less than.

 He wished she were here to tell him what to do. She always knew what to do.

Our stubbornness will put up a fight,

but we don't deserve to win it.

 Tony sat in his chair. The lab was dark, save for the hologram emitting a pale blue light across Tony’s face. It was finally done. He’d run the tests over and over and everything had come out the way it was supposed to. So, why was he worried to present it to Fury?

 This had to work. Hydra can’t control the world. He had to be the one to fix this.. It has to be him. If it’s on his friends heads, or worse yours, he’d never be able to forgive himself knowing he could spare everyone the pain. He couldn’t let there be another Sokovia.

 He crossed his arms and rested his forehead on his elbow. He’ll rest for a few minutes, then, he’ll ready the presentation. Just five minutes.

No we're not in a right state of mind.

We all wish for the strength to admit it.

 You stood in the black hallway, watching through the glass as Tony finally lay his head down to sleep. Thank goodness, you were worried. He’s been working non-stop on this.

 You turned on you’re heel and marched down the hall.

 “FRIDAY?” You called.

 “Yes, Ma’am?”

 “Print out all of Tony’s work. I’m taking it to Fury.”

 “Now, Ma’am?”

 “Yes and cancel Tony’s alarms, let him sleep. I’ll present it for him.”

 “Are you sure?” FRIDAY asked. You never responded.

Our stubbornness will put up a fight,

but we don't deserve to win it.

 “Director Fury,” You offered a small smile. “I know Tony has had some issues before but, this time is different. I’ve seen his work and I’ve seen the tests and diagnostics. This plan: it works.”

 Fury pursed his lips and looked down at the file you’d set on his desk. “You do realize how this looks don’t you?”

 “Yes, Sir, I do.” You nodded, all traces of your smile gone. “But I’m not here as his wife, I’m not even here as his friend. I’m here for him as a teammate. He can do this, Sir. I support this completely.”

 Nick stood from his desk and looked you hard in the eyes. You prayed that he couldn’t tell that you were lying. You were here as his wife. You were here because Tony needed a win. And you were here because you wanted him to be right about this.

 “Does Rogers support this?”

 You swallowed hard and looked down.

 Nick nodded and picked up the manila folder stuffed with papers. “You know we have computers, now right? You could have emailed me all of this.”

 “I know, Sir.”

 “Stop calling me sir. I’ve known you since you were seven.” He gave you a gentle grin and you returned it. “There’s a lot in here.” He said after looking through some of the sheets. “This is a lot of work. That video only came out three days ago. How’s he doing with all this on his plate?”

 Suddenly, it hit you. If you were wrong about this, you’d take the blame.

 Well, at least it wouldn’t be on Tony.

We're left in the dark pondering our mistakes,

but in the light I swear we will,

 “He’s fine.”

deny it all.

 “We’re fine.”

Deny it all.

Tagging:

@whothehellisbella @themcuhasruinedme

Forever Tags:

@heismyhunter @beccaanne814-blog @tatortot2701 @pickledmoon@whimsicalrebirth @marvel-lucy @thisisthelilith @james-bionic-barnes@thedreamingowl @poemwriter98 @kimistry27 @annie-lujan @buckyandsebsinbin @lilasiannerd @gypsy-storm-15 @cassiopeiassky @earinafae @the-stuttering-kiwi @obsessedwithatwell @shortiiqt16 @shifutheshihtzu @elaacreditava @nikkitia7 @theonewithallthemilkshakes @gallifreyansass @storytellingwanderer @palaiasaurus64 @iamwarrenspeace @engineeringgirlcve @magnolia-wanders @carameldaemoncakes @canumoveyourseatup-no @melconnor2007 @movingonto-betterthings @bxckytrxsh @fantasticmiraclehologram @kapolisradomthoughts @iamwarrenspeace @melconnor2007 @yesiamdeliciouslycaffeinated

[somebodyhelpthenotdeadfreds]

Day 8: The Swan Princess

@thesilverqueenlady this one is a good one :) more Black Swan inspired, actually please read the rest of my series here. oh, and listen to this video when you reach that point in the fic. you’ll know which one. enjoy!

Jack hadn’t been the same since Will and Hannibal went over that cliff and never resurfaced. They were alive, he just knew that they were, even though they were declared dead. Purnell told him to drop the case or else finally retire. He chose to drop the case.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

He had borrowed Will’s imagination and he had broken it. Then dragged him back when he finally got out of this life, dragged him away from Molly and back into Hannibal’s clutches.

And now he was gone. If he wasn’t dead because of the fall, Hannibal was probably torturing him wherever they were. He shuddered to think of what Hannibal would do after Will tried to kill him this time.

Jack owed it to Will to find him. To set things right.

It had become an obsession that ate away at him, day after day. It interfered with his other cases, it gnawed at him as he tried to sleep. So many fuzzy photos, so many grainy videos.

His biggest break was finding Dr. Du Maurier in a classy apartment in upstate New York, in a nondescript neighborhood, not thrilled at the prospect of an interview. Her long blonde hair was shorter now, in a jagged cut, and there was also the small matter of the fact that she only had one leg. She downed two painkillers with a glass of Chardonnay as he sat in front of her.

“It still hurts,” he asked, but phrased it as a statement. She only scoffed at him cracking open a fresh bottle and pouring another glass, even if she refused to offer him a glass as well.

“Amputate a leg, you can still feel it tickling, twitching where it once was. An itch you can never really scratch, there’s nothing there. I still remember how it tastes,” she said passively, staring into her glass. “Nothing washes that taste out.”

“Dr. Du Maurier-”

“It tasted like pork. Isn’t that funny? Like pork. He did it Kalua style, roasted ti leaves and all. I think there was some pineapple juice in the marinade for it, some roasted peppers, something tangy. Maybe that was just my flavor, though. You know, women eat pineapple so that they taste better, that probably has something to do with it, I ate garlic before that dinner.”

Jack interrupted her, uncomfortable with how blasé she was about her situations. “Bedelia,” he stated firmly, using her name to get her to look up at him. “Hannibal- where is he?”

“Don’t you mean they?”

“I-”

“You don’t want to admit it,” she sighed, taking a long sip. “You don’t want to admit it to yourself, Jack Crawford. Will Graham’s not eating oysters for Hannibal, he’s eating pineapple and drinking cranberry juice.”

“What are you-”

“I was still high after dinner, but I’m pretty sure they christened my guest room, I heard it,” she groaned, taking a slug right from the bottle. “I’m hoping I can wreck my liver and poison my blood so I taste real bitter if they come back.”

“You’re not making sense, doctor.”

“I’m not, Jack?” she snapped. “Get it through your skull, and give up on them. The Will Graham you knew was never real. And you will never catch them. You found us in Italy because Hannibal wanted you to, he wanted Will to. You think he’ll let you find him now, with his ultimate prize finally in his arms? It’s like a shit ballet, going round and round the stage but we all know the ending anyway.”

Jack said nothing. “...I have to find them.”

“I’ll send flowers to your funeral, then. Goodbye, Jack.”

                                                       ***

“Jack?” Brian asked hesitantly, knocking on the doorframe to his office. Jack only glared from behind his laptop. Brian knew what he was doing, he was searching the crazy conspiracy side of the Internet looking for pictures, videos, any sort of proof of either Hannibal or Will’s existence. It was getting scary, watching stoic Jack Crawford stand on the precipice of mad obsession.

“Jack, we found something on the Lance case, could you-”

“I’m busy, Brian, I’ll be down later.”

He couldn’t hold back. “Jack, please, you need to stop doing this. Just - just let them stay dead. Maybe - maybe they deserve each other.”

“Out,” Jack growled. Brian bit his lip and nodded, leaving the room. He shook his head to Jimmy outside, who had sent a questioning look.

“He can’t let them go, he’ll look at every grainy photo and video there is. I’ve seen better pictures of Bigfoot than the ‘proof’ he obsesses over.”

Meanwhile, Jack had received a new email, with an attached video and a note:

Stop looking, Jack.

Angry, and with nerves jumping, he clicked on the video crudely titled Rothbart and the Black Swan.

The screen lit up with a scene of a costume ball, elegant in nature, probably no more than a hundred people in attendance. It was apparent that the camera was placed up in a balcony above the ballroom, and was scanning over the crowd. The timestamp dated it. Two weeks ago today. From the muttering of the cameraman, somewhere in Italy. Tuscany? Venice? It was unclear.

The camera chose to zoom in on a man in an fancy crimson suit jacket, a cape and mask to match, his hair back in a slight ponytail. There was a fencing sword in a scabbard by his leg. Maybe it was real, maybe it wasn’t, none of the guests seemed to not notice or care. He was finishing his drink, handing the glass over to a waiter before crossing the room, in search of someone. The camera zoomed in and out of focus, obviously trying to avoid detection until it finally stopped on the man bowing to another man, offering his hand for a dance.

Jack examined this new player carefully. Short brown hair, left long enough for it to curl. The black feathered mask covered his features well, and he had what appeared to be an engraved hunting knife strapped to his thigh. But what really struck Jack was how the man was dressed all in black, complete with a cape that looked as though it were made of raven feathers.

He accepted the man’s offer as the orchestra struck up the next song. Jack found that he recognized the song, and it tugged on painful memories.

It was Scène: Allegro, Tempo di valse, Allegro vivo, of Swan Lake.

When she was alive, Bella had loved the ballet. One of Jack’s fondest memories was taking her to a production of Swan Lake for their anniversary, and seeing her eyes light up with the stage. And he would admit, it was a beautiful performance, and no performance had been as memorable as the first time he saw it. He remembered Bella gasping at the ending, where the prince and his love, the White Swan-

lept into the lake together to avoid being separated.

Jack’s eyes widened in horror and realization as he watched the mystery pair danced so in tune with each other. It was uncanny. They flowed together as though they were two halves of one person. For a while the man in crimson led, then his partner took over, and they switched back and forth over and over again with no discernible pattern, always changing, always turning, but never stepping out of place.

The song. The song. Scène: Allegro, Tempo di valse, Allegro vivo. It was the song of the Black Swan’s dance of deception.

And the man in the crimson suit was dancing with his own black swan. They were fooling the crowd, all of them.

The black swan looked as though he was being led, but instead was leading with such obvious, controlling ease it was though he was born for this role. He was composed, lithe, but - but he felt dangerous, almost as though he could turn around snap at any moment.

The man spun his black swan around when he was leading again, twirled him away before bringing him back even closer. A hand possessively gripping his partner’s lower back, as the partner had an arm around his neck while holding the other’s hand.

When the crimson prince spun the black swan out again, the swan stared directly into the camera. Jack looked back and saw deep, piercing, familiar blue eyes.

If you stare long enough into the abyss, eventually the abyss will stare back into you.

He spun back into the arms of his crimson prince, clutching his shoulder with his black glove tight enough to rumple the velvet. It was passionate, it was carnal.

Will.

(Odette could only turn back into her true self if she won the love of one who had never loved before.)

Will was never the white swan, with the darkness fighting to take over. No. Will was always the black swan, and now he had shed his white, downy feathers for long, thick black ones.

It felt as though the dance went on forever, they danced around the room in hypnotic circles, twirling in time to the music, faster and faster, only focused on each other. Jack’s vision was blurring with black feathers, the music sounded like wings flapping, tearing at his skull. Will was transforming before his eyes as they spun faster and faster. He was becoming a real black swan, his arms became wings, embracing his darkness along with - with - Hannibal.

Hannibal was never the damn prince in this story. He was Rothbart, he had transformed Will, but not into a pathetic little thing. A helpless little swan became a confident, horrifying force. He was his.

And then, just like that, the music stopped on the crescendo. The prince dipped the swan into a final pose and held it. Then he pulled him back up, only for the swan grip him by the collar and yank him down into a hard kiss.

Around them, the crowd clapped, and Jack felt like clapping as well, as his veins filled with cold dread.

The swan broke the kiss first. Blood was smeared across his lips, and the prince’s lip was bleeding from a bite. But he was smiling, looking proud. The swan was smiling as well, leaning close to his prince, not even turning as he snatched a piece of pineapple off of a waiter’s tray. He slowly ate it, slowly dragged the toothpick out between his teeth. He winked.

That was enough, Jack couldn’t stand it any longer, he pressed ‘pause.’

He closed his eyes to try to calm down. He took a deep breath and reopened his eyes, hitting the play button again.

But there was no prince. There was no swan.

They were never there. They were never there. 

He was losing it.

He was losing it. 

But then he heard choked sputters and the camera turned around. The cameraman’s eyes rolled back and went cold, his body jerking like a dying fish. The engraved knife from earlier was removed from the man’s chest. Jack squinted in order to make out the face of the killer, but all he saw was the Black Swan staring into the camera as the prince pressed kisses down the hollow of his throat. The Swan smiled, a gloved hand tousling the other man’s hair and murmuring something in French.

He smirked into the camera, before suddenly reaching out and sending the camera smashing into the ground, causing Jack to physically jump out of his chair. He swore loudly, slamming the laptop closed, slamming that chapter of the case closed.

La commedia è finita. The comedy is finished.

Jack’s dreams were filled with images of black feathers and crimson velvet and bloody lips and blue eyes, with Swan Lake playing in the background.

Tomorrow: a excuse for me to write Will with a southern accent.