#though rumple in a song costume is getting it no matter what

[impeccablebackside]

It had been a while, but the idea of bending Rumpleteazer in half and making her whimper was not on Mungojerrie's mind as much as it could have been. Of course, fucking her would be the best thing he could possibly ask for, but he truthfully has had other things to think about. Sometimes life just gets busy, and they go long(er) periods between frantic sessions. The ball was coming up, but he realistically did not need much preparation for it. Every year him and Rumpleteazer caused their usual brand of chaos, and they had performed their song countless times now.

In the end, they have always made up for dry spells, and he reminds himself that he is patient enough to wait for his treat. His queen knows just how to reward such good behavior, and he cannot help but drop everything to please her needs when she calls his name in such an alluring way. Just the thought of her sounds and body keeps him going most days.

Walking back to their shared den after a spirited morning of lovingly bothering whoever he crossed paths, Mungojerrie was planning on a quieter afternoon of rest before getting up to the usual shenanigans of his nights. Entering into their little private space, he is surrounded by all of the stuff he has stolen and kept away. Walls full of glittering jewelry, floors full of soft cushions, with one centralized catbed in the middle of it all.

Expecting to come home to an empty den, he is a bit surprised to find Rumpleteazer rustling around inside. As per usual, she is her excited self, humming along to herself as she wiggles around and fiddles with things. It takes a moment, but Mungojerrie realizes that she is wearing her song costume, which catches him off-guard. She usually only wears it during the ball or when they are practicing their song together. Standing in the entrance, he just watches her as she quietly dances around, taking in the sight of her.

Mungojerrie is a pretty simple tom when it comes to things that turn him on, but there is something about the costume that drives him wild. Perhaps it is the significance of it, where they both have near magical sex post ball, perhaps it is the way garters and stockings show off her legs, perhaps the way the leotard squeezes her in all the right places and shows off her perfect ass. Maybe it is just all of those things together, and the fact that he thinks she is stunning to begin with. The costume just adds some extra spice. Her ass though, he thinks as he stares, watching it jiggle a bit with every little move. Maybe that is just it.

"It's about time you showed up. Are ya just going to sit there like a moron?" The words jolt him out of his trance, unfortunately really. Given the surprised look on his face, Rumpleteazer continues, "Did you honestly forgot Mungo? C'mon you know we have to practice before the ball. It is literally in a few days!" It suddenly dawns on him. The ball is indeed just a couple of days away. It must have just slipped his mind.

"Oh alright, you little pain in the ass. How come you didn't remind me? I thought you were supposed to be the smart one?"

"You big orange dope, we're both the smart ones! Look at all this stuff we've stole. You think two dumbasses like us could get this without some whisper of intelligence. What do you take us for?" she blurts with a giggle. The way she smiles, along with the look of fierceness in her bright green eyes, always makes Mungojerrie get flustered. Somehow, at least once a week, they have the same little argument, and they always reach the same conclusion.

"Well, I uh, yeah you are right. Have I ever told you that you are also the beauty behind these operations?" he stammers, trying to sound suave. It is not very effective.

"At least once a week, but I never get tired of hearing it. Now get ready and get yer crap on," she says beckoning to him and his costume with respective paws.

Slipping it on quickly, Mungojerrie is ready to roll. They share a glance before speaking at the same time, "Well c'mon now, let's get on with it." Laughing at the other, they assume their starting position. Running through it, they dance their entire routine up until their cartwheel multiple times, singing each part as if they are professionals. In a way, they are. Moving together as if they share the same mind. Having gone through it enough times, they start to joke around, belting out random names while singing. Mungojerrie introduces himself as Scharrelnelis and Burma Charley, while Rumpleteazer yelps out Tingl-Tangl and Lorrenjopie. Trying out-do one another, they end up in fits of giggles and end up stopping. "Tingl-Tangl? What the hell does that even mean Teazer?"

Which is met with, "I think its better than Burma Charley! How do you even come up that?"

Breathless from all the practicing and laughing, they take a few moments to rest. Slapping her shoulder lightly, Mungojerrie nods to his queen, "Best be doing some of those razzle dazzle cartwheels now."

"Alright, alright. Only a few though. I want to save some energy for later tonight," she nods back.

They roll through two sets, a spectacular array of arms and legs working as a solid unit. On the third run though, they get as far as Rumpleteazer leaping into Mungojerrie arms before she stops. "Oh damnit, ran out of steam," loosening up her body in his arms. She is hanging upside down, her legs up past her tom's head. Mungojerrie holds her there, unsure about what to do next. She had never stopped like that, and he finds it sort of fun to have a hold on her like that. "You can put me down whenever ya like y'know," she yells up to him.

The words fly past his ears, as at that point, Mungojerrie is starting to get a better idea of what he wants to do instead. With a near face full of Rumpleteazer's pussy and ass, his needs have crept up and washed over him hard. Feeling something brush against her thighs, Rumpleteazer is startled by the feeling of Mungojerrie rubbing his face into her center, letting out a quick gasp. With messy kisses and licks, he fights against the fabric protecting his prize. He can feel and smell the warmth of her, and he is determined to get his taste. Taking a few steps forward, he gently throws her down onto the edge of their shared bed. He stands over her, watching. The hunger in his eyes and the way he is licking his lips is a huge turn-on for Rumpleteazer. She wants to be lusted after, but in control, the object of unwavering desire for her partner.

She looks up at him, "Oh no, did my special guy miss this?" her paws running along her thighs, claws pulling little lines in her fur. No matter what, she cannot help but tease him.

Mungojerrie just nods his head over and over, "Please."

Mimicking their song, she hops up onto her bottom and spreads her legs, reaching out with her right arm. "Well, I guess I cannot let ya wait to have 'dinner' tomorrow then," she says, giving him a mischievous eyebrow raise. Inviting him in to close the gap between them, when he is within reach, she grabs him by his croptop and pulls him downward with force. It has been a while for Rumpleteazer too, and she needs it now. Keeping her hold on the tom with one paw, she pulls her costume aside with the other, revealing her beautiful pussy. Giving it a rub, she slides two fingers up and down between her lips before spreading herself open. She is glistening wet, and ready for more. "Now," she commands, pulling his head down until he is forced to kneel to match the level of her hips.

With a big dumb smile, he says, "Alright, I guess it's too late to say to keep yer pants on. What's it that the owners always say? Bon Appétit or something like that?" the last words coming out in a cheesy French accent before he gives her heat a little lick and kiss.

"I swear to the Everlasting Cat, if ya don't shut up and -," she is cut off. Mungojerrie, pent up from the dry spell and this lead up, cannot start slow. He dives in deep with his tongue, lapping her up with a vigorous pacing. "Oh fuuuck, right there. Oh god Jerrie, keep going," Rumpleteazer purrs. She slips her fingers through the messier fur on his head, gripping hold to keep his head between her legs. His technique is incredible, putting his noteworthy mouth to a different use. Rumpleteazer whines as he explores her pussy, kissing and sucking at her clit and folds with messy eagerness. He needs his queen to know how much he wants her to feel loved and happy, chasing her approval.

Drowned out by Rumpleteazer's louder whines, Mungojerrie moans along as he eats her out. Even being the giver is still filling him with so much pleasure that he must let it out. Almost constantly vocal at the best of times, he has a hard time reigning in his excitement during sex. Little reverberations ripple through his lips and tongue as he hums against her. Everything is so good, and she tastes so heavenly, and her cries are golden, and her body is immaculate, and Mungojerrie is just trying his best. Keeping his face buried in her pussy, he needs something to take the pressure of. His cock is throbbing for attention, so he quietly brings a paw down and jerks himself while continuing, never breaking his stride. It feels so good to be where he is.

"You're such a good boy to take care of me, my love," Teazer says between gasps. She is more breathy than he anticipates, but the meaning of her words hit him hard. Praise from her pretty mouth is more rewarding than anything, and he is even more determined to prove himself. He abandons his quest for release, bringing both arms around Rumpleteazer's waist to anchor himself and pull her even closer. Focusing on her most sensitive spot, he takes aim her clit, which gets louder whines out of his queen. Her paws fling out beside her, claws digging into the soft bed as she braces herself. Her legs flail around his shoulders before pressing themselves against his ears. Not long after he doubled down his efforts, Rumpleteazer squeals as she cums on his tongue. Her body tightens up as she rides out the first climax of the day, eventually relaxing while Mungojerrie still licks away, never quite satiated with getting a taste of her.

Pushing his head away, she needs a moment to regain herself. Severing the connection gets a sad whimper from Mungojerrie, but he knows better than to grovel for long. He straightens his back, still on his knees, waiting out for more. Rumpleteazer pulls her legs up to her ears, slowly spreading them apart, "You look like you're in a daze, c'mere and fuck me like ya deserve it." It does not take any extra time for him to rationalize it, leaping up onto his feet and grabbing her at the ankles, pulling her legs open. The look on Rumpleteazer's face is one of joyous excitement and frisky desire, and she squirms in place with anticipation. Bringing his hips against hers, he slides his cock along the outside of her pussy, enjoying the sight of her begging. He is not the only one who can tease a bit.

"Show me how much you want me," he says, pausing at her entrance. Rumpleteazer lets out a sultry purr, trying to sound more composed than she is feeling. Helpless in that position, she can only watch and wait.

With a swift thrust, he fucks into her, eliciting a mewl of approval. He is not so big, but fills her up just enough to make them both gasp. It is the greatest experience in the world for him. She is so soft and tight, and the warm feeling of her around him is utter bliss. Normally, he would start slower, but he is desperate for her body. Desperate to hear her whine. Desperate to get more praise from his love. There is no rhythm or plan in mind. He just needs her. With frenetic thrusts, he fucks her over and over again. Pounding her with fast and deep strokes, his mind is clouded by his lust. "Oh heaviside Jerrie! Ahh!" is all that escapes her mouth in loud cries. Easing the grip on her legs, he drops them down and leans over her, pushing more weight into his fucking. He moans to himself, groaning with each push of his hips, but only he is aware. On the receiving end, Rumpleteazer no longer can compose herself, her whines turning into near deafening wails. She tries to silence her yelps, bringing a paw in front of her mouth, but it is no use. She is not sure if Mungojerrie has fucked her this hard before, and it is definitely worthy of the entire junkyard knowing about it. He is so eager to please her that he is unable to think about anything other than hearing her whine louder. His own pleasure is taking a backseat to her needs, and he would not have it any other way.

Mungojerrie can feel his love clench more and more around his length as he continues on, and based on how her sounds are becoming more incomprehensible as he goes on, she is not far from a glorious orgasm. Neither is he, but the buzz in his mind is so deep that he can only fuck with feral intent. He has been forceful enough that he has pushed Rumpleteazer to the middle of their bed in his pursuits. Grunting, Mungojerrie slinks up onto his knees, wraps his arms around each of her legs, and pulls her hips up. Frantically trying to deepen his penetration, he repeatedly gives her everything he can. Burying his length into her with enough vigour that his balls slap against her asshole. It all becomes too much for her, and with a leg shaking quiver and ear piercing high squeal, Rumpleteazer cums again. The climax ripples through her body, and her pussy squeezes harder around Mungojerrie's cock.

It all feels so good, and knowing he has again made his love fall apart through his actions thickens the haze in his head. It is like he is drunk off of her taste and feel, and he cannot get enough. With a few more thrusts into her, his will breaks. Pumping wave after wave of his cum in massive surges, he starts to fill her up with his hot loads. He knows better than to give his queen a creampie without asking, but being pent up for so long has left him emptying himself into her soft heat without second thought. He cums so much that it starts to leak out of Rumpleteazer with subsequent strokes. Pulling out, his cum floods out of her swollen pussy, but Mungojerrie is not done yet. With a couple jerks of his cock he shoots one final cumshot over Rumpleteazer's pelvis and the outside of her pussy before crumpling down in front of her hips.

"Holy crap Mungo, save some of yer jizz for the rest of the year," she exclaims. Bringing a paw down to her pussy, she feels around the mess left behind, "How much did'ya have in you? Has it really been that long?" Mungojerrie just gives an indistinct hum, his body utterly spent from the energy exerted and from his lengthy climaxes. "Oh man, you got it all over my costume too," she says while wiping away some cum. "Don't just lay there you dummy, help me out. This isn't my splooge," she continues on.

"Alright jeez. It's like you didn't even like it," he says scooping her up by her hips. "I've a good idea how to get you squeaky clean," he beams, looking far more excited than he should.

"Promise me no baths Jerrie, y'know I hate water," she says flatly.

Much like he did to start their endeavor, he drops down to kiss and lick at her pussy again. Even messier with his tongue than before, he smears his face in her wetness and his own cum. Already sensitive down there, Rumpleteazer twiches in reaction as he goes on. Surprising her, he spins her around so that she is straddling his face, getting a playful look from the queen. "Gravity and all, you know," the words coming out muffled against her skin as he winks. Starting up again, it does not take much, but after a couple of minutes, she is cumming yet again on his tongue. This time she is much quieter, subdued from the previous releases. Mostly cleaned out and licked clean, Mungojerrie slips his head out from underneath her hips.

Wearing most of the product of his newest exploit on his cheeks, he lays in glee trying to collect himself. A twinge of jealousy builds in Rumpleteazer, but she knows how to get square with him. "I want a taste too," she says before wrapping her lips around his cock, sucking him off and getting a little taste of what he left behind in her. Within a few dips of her head, Mungojerrie lets go again, bucking his hips into her mouth as he shoots one more small bit of cum against her tongue. At this point, it is all that he has left in him. Pulling her head off, Rumpleteazer crawls overtop of him, meeting face to face for the first time in a bit. She makes two quick passes with her tongue, licking errant cum and her own grool off of his cheeks with the load still in her mouth. Locking eyes, they both grab one another's heads, passionately kissing deeply and swapping shared spit and cum between them.

When they break apart, Rumpleteazer speaks in a sultry tone, holding a paw on his shoulder, "You did so good my pretty boy. No one treats me like you do." She traces little patterns in his fur while continuing, "Nobody can make me feel so special, and don't think I didn't hear you moan for me." Her tone is so alluring, and he starts to get hard again, his girth brushing against her leg. "Really Mungo? Aren't ya running on empty. Could you even go again?" she exclaims, gesturing to his cock.

"Not at all. I'm sorry Rump, y'know I like when ya talk sweet to me. I cannot help it. My brain says enough, but my dick screams for more. It's like a pollicle wagging their tail!" he explains.

With a half annoyed, half endeared giggle, she pats his head a few times, "Well then, who's a good boy? My good boy?" He is, and he knows it.

[singularname]

ooc: cats 2019 was hot garbage that doesn’t belong in the jellicle junkyard. Below are my thoughts and my review. I get pretty technical at points. So here you go. PERSONAL BLOGS DO NOT REBLOG! Liking and commenting and sending me asks about stuff is fine. But please do not reblog. I’m sure more thoughts will come out as I discuss things and such, but these are my first impressions.

positives ( will be above the cut ):

You could tell who the broadway singers were and they stood out.

Munk was good, but I have some thoughts but overall he was good. He was probably the only one that even remotely understood his character, but he still had a few off beats.

Jennifer killed it, no i wont take critiques. Memory was pretty good.

Mungo and Rumple made the debut version of their song likeable (cause I do not like the debut version of their song) yet i have thoughts.

Bustopher Jones (the song) was decent, out of all the reworked numbers it fit the best and didn’t seem to far from the reworked plot or the original, so it was a good middle ground. James did well, he’s no operatic singer, but he did well, best of the non-trained leads at least.

Gus was good but his song was a bit boring he needed someone more to play off of as that is what acting is partially

Skimble may just have been the best part of the whole damn thing. The inclusion of tap into his number was pretty smart. I do wish more of his accent shined through though.

The rundown theater worked it would have worked better if they kept it all there.

negatives ( below the cut ):

Dance was sacrificed for cinamtography which was a damn shame. this musical is one of the premier dance musicals

Munk’s voice at the beginning was far too high, and did not exude power. It got better.

Victoria being the stand in for the audience was stupid and pointless. Especially with the fact that Addressing of Cats was kept in and broke the fourth wall.

Victoria’s acceptance of Grizabella was pointless because the jellicles hadn’t accepted her, she wasn’t even considered a jellicle yet. Her agency in that number meant nothing. If she had been a jellicle it would have been better. A better audience stand in would be the fucking kittens cause its their first ball.

The lack of touching made the touching that was their awkward. It was like they were all afraid to touch and interact with each other. And the CGI didn’t help, like when Munk lifted Victoria off the car at the beginning which looked like he wasn’t grabbing her at all which we know isn’t true.

Tugger had no point in the musical because he sang his number and disappeared, and not by fucking Macavity. Jason could have done more with the character, he had the right voice, but its like he wasn’t trying.

Jenny-Any-Dots was ruined. She wasn’t a respectable cat, and the mice were stupid. Sorry, I mean the idea was cute in theory, I liked that, but the execution was stupid. And the zipping of her skin NO. It just works better with the cats acting it out like they act out skimble’s number or bustopher’s number. It didn’t add anythign to the cats sing the songs about themselves because that idea was dropped when Skimble and Bustopher even sang their songs. Like its a poor idea and poorly executed, especially since the original is like gossip the cats gossiping about who could be chosen.

Who will it be echoed only once? UGH. The chorus was fucking weak in the few moments they were given to stand out.

Speaking of clothing, the clothing choices made no sense, along with proportion of human clothing. If I put a watch around a cat’s neck it would fucking choke. Yet a ring can fit around a cat’s arm? Some of the clothing was too human like all of Misto’s costume (which why was he wearing it the full time? he looked better without it).

The replacement of coricopat and tantomile for the hip hop twins was utterly stupid and useless.

Some of the framing of songs and such especially at the beginning was bad. But that could also be because it takes you about 4 songs to get your eyeballs used to the damn CGI.

Mungo and Rumple were good, but Rumple would have been better if she kept the accent up like Mungo did. I loved seeing them do a burglary, but I prefer the musical version where the scare the cats away under the guise of macavity then have fun in the junkyard.

Growltiger had promise as a song but they only gave us a line followed by a joke so that was stupid. The whole barge shit was stupid. Their were no stakes and we never see the other cats get off the damn barge. Also griddlebone poor poor griddlebone.

The opening number was missing so many things like decent choreography. None of the choreography made them look feline, they looked like humans doing a mix of jazz and ballet. Just turning their hands over instead of open hands would have been a tremendous change. But like I said earlier what choreography there was was sacrificed for cinematography so you could see what you were supposed to see instead of letting the audience watch and see it on their own with some lighting suggestions to draw the eye away from the main dancing.

I think the concept of Skimble’s number was great, but I thought taking them out of the ballroom was stupid. But it was the strongest number and the one besides memory which had the most relation back to the original.

Why were their so many songs and verses cut? Naming of cats named only plain names, not the fun names which is where we get names of our characters from! Like half the cast is named in that number. It made the chorus seem distant and impersonal, along with the lack of touch.

Robbie should have gotten the same treatment as the girl playing victoria he had almost a bigger role than her, aside from her little grizabella moments which all of those important grizabella moments were done in seclusion. Half the reason they have agency in the stage show is because other cats can see her.

The lack of touch! enough said.

Tugger not singing Mistoffelees song upset me. Robbie did good, but he is not Tugger. Mistoffelees song was ruined by all the pausing and bullshit. There was not a climax to the song at all because it was always stopped and restarted. it felt like a dinky kids roller coaster that had no real payoff because Misto has no confidence so when Deuts appears it may not have been because of Misto at all just saying.

Old Deuts was... bad. Judi was pitchy at best (sing talking the lines just don’t work), and just not very convincing. Her presence wasn’t commanding or authoritative no matter how much Robbie tried.

Bomby was fucked three ways to hell. Taylor was okay, but the song Macavity was ruined with the catnip and all the bullshit with that. Macavity is a cautionary tale, and doesn’t fit in with the actual purpose the musical wanted it to be. Her song wasn’t as a good as normal, and it missed aspects that having it as a duet brought.

Beautiful ghosts was absolutely pointless, and quite petty of a song. Perhaps if we knew more about Victoria or she was a jellicle it would have made sense, but it just seemed very disconnected.

I am mourning the cut of Peeks and Pollicles. Because it explain its a dog, so when Bomby says it in Macavity you have a connection to the word. Here it just seemed like a nonsense word. Plus no rumpus cat. Cutting it means that Munk’s normal song was changed to skimble, and i guess misto. Also cutting it means you take a whole number away from the chorus, and thus you loose more personality of the chorus cats.

The chorus seemed absolutely pointless because you never could watch them and focus on them. They were just their not interacting with one another, not doing anything really. All of what makes the jellicles a tribe was taken away because these cats seem like strangers to one another. Not to mention taking away their solos at the beginning is a crime and again takes away from the personality of each individual chorus cat.

Jason should have sang misto’s song cause it would have given him a purpose besides a star to get butts in seats. he was their and i half wanted him to sing the end where victoria did because then he would have had a purpose but nope.

The cutting of so many verses from songs was just a shame. The musical inspires people to take up ballet, and jazz, and tap but all of it was cut for cinematography purposes and to make you look at the main actors in a different shot so their is no inspiration for the dance.

Skimble’s number had an awkward shot on the train bridge that was so far away you couldn’t even see the silhouettes any more.

I mentioned proportion earlier but like the train tracks were way off, i mean we’ve all seen Aristocats right?

Victoria not having her moment after naming of cats was sad. And whatever moment their was ruined by the assassination of misto’s character. Cause it was bad. He never questions himself as being good in the stage show just where his powers come from. But here he has no steadiness in if he is good or not, and he’s just badly characterized.

The kittens had no excitement for Tugger in his song. None of them did they seemed more happy about the milk rather than this hunk in front of them.

Macavity was shit. Seeing him throughout took away from him being mysterious and threatening. Seeing him fall at the end with Griz floating away was absolutely stupid and cartoonish and TS Eliot is rolling in his grave at that alone. Why he is not a zombie yet coming to kill Tom Hooper for fucking his poems up is beyond me. Also Macavity is a ginger cat... but he had no hint of red hair on him at all.

The jellicle ball dance sequence was bad. It wasn’t just that they weren’t cat like it was that what’s his face was trying to do a Sugar Plum Fairy and have them all dance to the quieter notes in the musical which made it seem disjointed. Sugar Plum Fairy works like that because its a light number she is supposed to make you listen for what she’s dancing too not just what you are hearing. This did not work.

The plot was stupid. The competition and stealing of cats was stupid. It was not needed. The had the element of putting on a show and talking about cats getting chosen they didn’t need macavity for more than that, or to make him want to be chosen. Him being a threat alone is good enough.

Munk did not get his fight. That was given to the damn cats on the barge. I am not happy with that.

I wish the named cats were more present in the bigger group. They blended into the background before their own songs, and then they disappeared because of the shitty capturing the cats plot device that was shitty and not needed. It took away from your familiarity with the cats who were present because we know nothing about those cats at all.

A moment of silence for all the chorus cats we don’t see or know, or were written off, and had no interpersonal relationships with each other. Literally the lack of touching between them makes it seem like all these cats are strangers to each other. Robbie tried.

Another moment of silence for Gillian Lynne’s choreography. The nuance she gave to it, that was all lost and gone.

Finally the CGI the hands were inconsistent, as was the face stuff. They had whiskers but they were hard to see, and because they had no nose or mouth (cat versions) defined it didn’t feel right, and we know it was possible to do both since the actors wore makeup.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hey! Er... I was wondering if you could like... recommend me some married!johnlock fic. Also, this is an extra... But I want to say that I really like your blog, and it's one of my favorites (sorry if I wrote something incorrectly, English is not my mother language... Also I'm a little nervous sending this...)

Hi Lovely!

Firstly, don’t apologize for the language barrier! Your English is lovely! Thank you so much for your kind words about my blog!

Next, I’ve made a couple lists before relating to this exact thing:

Marriage and Weddings

Proposals

As for actual fics where they’re actually married? Well, I initially thought I had none until I did this list, LOL!! I’ll also give you some of my “Established Relationship” fics too, just to fill up space! :D

WEDDINGS / PROPOSALS, HUSBANDS, & ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIPS

A Discourse on the Inadequacy of a Duvet by guns_and_poses (T, 1,005 w. || Est. Rel., Fluff, Humour, Bed Sharing, Romance) – Sherlock keeps stealing the covers when they share a bed because he wants John to move closer to him when they are sleeping but of course doesn’t want to ask. John gets annoyed at first until he realises what Sherlock wants and is more than happy to oblige.

This Isn’t About the Bathtub by cypress_tree (G, 1,142 || Marriage Proposal) – John and Sherlock go to Angelo’s for dinner. In both of their pockets are rings they are going to propose with, but the other has no idea. John proposes first, and Sherlock answers by pulling out his engagement ring.

Bringing Colour to the World by SD_Ryan (G, 1,168w. || Est. Relationship, Sickfic, Fluff, Schmoop) – In which we encounter a sick detective, a snuggle on the couch, and a silly fairytale.

Under The Covers by berlynn_wohl (E, 1,221 w. || Est. Rel., Shy Sherlock, Anal, Fluff) – John would have liked to have the lights on and seen everything, but Sherlock was shy, so they did it this way, always.

John Was Nice Like That by hannah_baker (T, 1,307 w. || Est. Rel., Fluff, Body Worship, John’s Bum) – Sherlock Holmes may not ever sleep, but that hasn’t prevented him from having a kip on the couch with John.

here’s to love (here’s to us) by trustingno1 (G, 1,309 w. || Weddings, Fluff, Best Man Speech) – “I suggested that he ask Greg,” John says, “to which he replied, ‘Who?’,” and Greg pushes back from the table, exasperated. “I then made the mistake of suggesting his brother, to which Sherlock enumerated twenty-three reasons that that was a terrible idea.” (John’s best man speech at Sherlock’s wedding).

So, this is normal for us now? by TooManyChoices (M, 1,445w. || Bed Sharing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Est. Rel., Cuddles) – John and Sherlock have been sharing a flat, and a life for some time. This is a story of how the glacially slow movement of their relationship makes another agonising crawl forward another inch.

To Sleep, Perchance to…Cuddle by nerdyandiknowit (NR, 1,563 w. || Sleepy Cuddles, Fluff, Stubborn Sherlock, Bedsharing, Cuddles & Snuggles) – Almost immediately after they got together Sherlock formed this dependency on John-he could not (or would not as John believes) sleep without John being there, in bed, next to him.

A Metaphorical Gesture by cyparissus (T, 1,578 w. || Marriage Proposal, Fluff) – “Sherlock, are you–” the words die in John’s throat and he has to swallow and start again, “Are you asking me to marry you?”

and yes I said yes I will Yes by Mithen (T, 1,662 w. || Fluff, Humour, Est. Rel. Marriage Proposal) – Sherlock has deduced that John is going to propose to him, and he’s ready to accept. If only John would actually get around to it…

Biggest and Best by Sexxica (E, 1,815 w. || Est. Rel., Dildos, Sherlock’s Size Kink, John’s Giant Junk) – John Watson has a huge cock. Sherlock wants it inside him. Part 2 of Tumblr Ficlets Gone Wild

The Marriage Proposal Negotiation by Goddess_of_the_Night (G, 2,161 w. || Dev. Rel., Possessive Sherlock, Insecure Sherlock, Fluff, First Kiss, Post Mary) – Sherlock hasn’t ever really done anything the traditional way, so of course it wouldn’t bother him to propose to John even though they’re not even dating. And the fact that John is already on a date with someone else when he decides to do it? Tedious.

You Know, The Old Saying by songlin (T, 2,248 w. || Wedding, Marriage Proposal, Fluff, Engagement) – “Marry me. I need to have you forever.” Unrepentant husbands!Johnlock fluff.

In Which John is Attractive and Sherlock is Angry by kim47 (T, 2,382 w. || Fluff, Est. Rel., Jealous Sherlock) – Sherlock’s reaction to finding out that everyone wants HIS John, and how he told them to piss off and get their own Watson.

Unwanted by 221b_hound (T, 2,436 w. || Est. Rel., Wedding Rings, Asshole Exes) – In the jewellers to collect their wedding rings ahead of the Big Day, an old friend of John’s spots him. Well. I say ‘friend’.Sherlock isn’t jealous. He’s possibly a little bit grateful. That doesn’t mean Lydia Templeton isn’t an idiot. Part 19 of Unkissed

Let the Sun Fade Out by nothingislittle (E, 2,711 w. || Fluff & Smut, Praise Kink, PWP, Obsessed Sherlock, Bottomlock, Heart-Tearing Love) – “He could warm the sun itself, Sherlock thinks, could heat their flat with just his presence, could brighten the room with one dazzling smile or just the sparkling in his eyes. John is everything, he’s beautiful and he shines, he’s everything.”

Extraordinary by queenoftrivia (G, 2,860 w. || Fluff, Marriage Proposal, Morse Code, Est. Rel, Violins) – Sherlock’s deduced that John’s going to Italy to buy him a violin. Even the greatest detective alive makes a few mistakes.

Engaged by lifeonmars (NR, 3,146 w. || Marriage Proposal, Fluff, Holmes Family, Song Fic) – Sherlock did not believe in marriage, but he wanted to be married. He found this something of a surprise. Part 2 of Damage

And as the seasons change, I love you more by Teatrolley (NR, 3,219 w. || Fluff and Angst, Est. Rel., Marriage / Proposal) – A year in the lives of John and Sherlock, essentially.

Unmissed by 221b_hound (M, 3,235 w. || Est. Rel., Pet Names, Insecure Sherlock, Worried Sherlock) – John enjoys a good brawl during a case, and Sherlock begins to worry - when they retire, will John get bored? Will John get bored and leave. But even if John isn't a genius about cases, he knows a thing or two about Sherlock's panic attacks about them as a couple. With only four days till the wedding, he's not about to let Sherlock continue with this misplaced notion that John will be bored in retirement. Part 20 of Unkissed

Straight Shooter by nefariosity (E, 3,249 w. || Est. Rel., Light Dom/Sub, Military Kink, PWP) – Sherlock has a military kink. John indulges him.

Bagged & Tagged by Regency (T, 3,339 w. || Drunken Confessions, Fluff and Crack, Marriage Proposal) – A very inebriated John devises a clever means of proposing marriage to Sherlock. Unfortunately he’s forgotten all about it by the next morning.

In Nomine by Atiki (E, 3,517 w. || Est. Rel., PWP, Anal, Domesticity, Love Confessions, Sherlock Loves John, Overwhelmed Sherlock) – “Alright?” John asks gently, planting a kiss on Sherlock’s left collar bone, smoothing a hand down his chest and belly until it rests in the soft trail of hair below his belly button. John’s smile is all soft and warm. His hand feels tender and solid and real. A soldier’s hand. A surgeon’s hand. A lover’s hand. Oh. “John”, Sherlock gasps. And that’s where it begins. Written for a prompt on the Kink Meme: The only word Sherlock says during sex is “John”.

Rumpled by WhimsicalEthnographies (E, 3,601 w. || Est. Rel., Insecure Sherlock, Fluff, PWP, Proposal, Bottomlock) – Then, halfway through a documentary on river otters that neither of them was paying attention to–how could John, with a gangly, limp consulting detective practically purring in his lap?–Sherlock suddenly bolted upright, looked at John with a perplexed expression and a crinkle above his nose, and blurted, “Marry me.” Part 4 of Longitudinal Cohort

Happy anniversary by Salambo06 (E, 3,772 w. || Est. Rel., Vulnerable Sherlock, Wedding Anniversary, Anal, Texting, Lingerie) – John inhaled deeply, feeling his cock pulse under the silk gown, and he let his eyes travel on the lean body in front of him. Sherlock was kneeling on the bed, their bed, and the picture had been taken so John could perfectly see his bare chest and pelvis. But what mattered most, what made John harden rather quickly, was the pair of panties Sherlock was wearing in the picture. Black, string over each hip and laces that outlined Sherlock’s erect cock barely hidden under the soft underwear.

Equine Arse Anonymity by Kayjaykayme (E,  3,834 w. || Est. Rel., Public Sex, Coming in Pants, Humour, Halloween, Hand Jobs) – Sherlock needs to speak with suspects at a fancy dress ball. He chooses a couple’s costume for himself and John. It is logical, practical and well thought out. John doesn’t agree and exacts sweet revenge.

Love and Hair Dye by WhimsicalEthnographies (E, 3,920 w. || Est. Rel., Body Worship, Self Conscious John, Voyeurism, Idiots in Love, Smutty Smut) – Self conscious John decides to cover the greys on his head, and the colour isn’t what he thought it would be. Now he’s more self-conscious than ever.

Let me be the wallpaper that papers up your room by Teatrolley (NR, 3,966 w. || Est. Rel., Two Idiots in Love, Fluff, Domestics) – Four seasons in the life of Sherlock and John, really.

subterfuge isn’t subterfuge if you don’t know what the hell you’re doing by scullyseviltwin (T, 4,157 w. || Est. Rel., Fluff, Anniversary) – The entire idea was ludicrous, and terrified John a whole hell of a lot.

Fine Print by mistyzeo (E, 4,224 w. || ACD Holmes || Est. Rel, Retirementlock, Glasses, Oral, Hand Jobs, Bees) – Holmes needs glasses, but he’s too much of a stubborn arse to go get his eyes checked. Watson is used to bullying him for his own good. The glasses have unexpected but not unwelcome consequences for everyone.

Keep Each Other Company by orithea (E, 4,600 w. || Est. Rel., Threesome, Self-cest, Time Traveller Sherlock) – One Sherlock is demanding enough. Two of them are impossible to resist. Part 3 of The Time Traveller’s Flatmate

Unforgiven by 221b_hound (M, 4,721 w. || Marriage Proposal, Victor Trevor, Jealous / Protective John, Jealous Sherlock, Sherlock’s Past) – Sherlock’s latest case is for his ex boyfriend, the brilliant and handsome Professor Victor Trevor. John is not too happy about that. But things aren’t what they seem, an old friend of John’s is involved in the case, and John has a few surprises up his sleeve. Also - a proposal! Part 16 of Unkissed

What Happens in Vegas (is legally binding in the United Kingdom) by  moonblossom (E, 5,051 w. || Accidental Marriage, Friends to Husbands to Lovers, CSI Crossover, Fluff & Porn, Bathtub Sex, Hand Jobs, First Time) – When a case sends the boys to Vegas, John comes out of it with a bit more than he bargained for. Part 19 of Prompt Fills, Remixes, Works inspired by others

Midnight Plowboy by weeesi (E, 5,399 w. || Est. Rel., Fake Vintage Gay Erotica, Anal, PWP, Roleplay) – “Does it feel like I’m sure?” John whispers into Sherlock’s ear. Sherlock swallows again.

All the Flavours, Cherry and More by cwb (E, 6,274 w. || Est. Rel., Lip Gloss, Lingerie, Birthday Presents, Insecure Sherlock) – Sherlock feels a blush rising to touch his cheeks, more sensual than uncomfortable now that he knows John isn’t disgusted by him. No, John is responding exactly the way he had hoped.

Abatement by WhimsicalEthnographies (E, 6,816 w. || Est. Rel., Retirementlock, Fluff, Sherlock’s Self Esteem, Grumpy Sherlock) – “What’s wrong with you? You love the cottage,” John glances over to the passenger seat, then quickly turns his eyes back to the road. Driving was still not his forte, but considering Sherlock still couldn’t properly bend and lift his new knee enough to press and release the clutch, he had to make do. Not that Sherlock hadn’t tried to argue his way into the driver’s seat. “I love the cottage for a week or two, John. Don’t be deliberately obstuse,” Sherlock grumbles, sinking further in his seat. Well, as best he can with a four-week-old knee replacement. “And that’s all we’re going for, love,” John says out loud. But what he’s thinking is, shit. He knows.

Caught In The Act by ShirleyCarlton (E, 7,009 w. across 6 stories || Est. Rel, Voyeurism, Character POV’s, Mastrubation, Switchlock) – This is a series of six scenarios written from the points of view of six different people as they accidentally walk in on Sherlock and John having sex.

Beg for Mercy (Twice) by Solitary_Endeavor (E, 7,060 w. || Est. Rel., Bottomlock, Bearded John, Edging, Rough Sex, Idiots in Love, Canon Compliant) – Sherlock hasn’t left the flat in four days, the itch of impatience beneath his skin too great to allow him to suffer interaction with any human being who isn’t John. This is probably a mercy that goes both ways, as he’s driving even himself mad. Sherlock supposes there is a lesson to be learned here about having himself to blame, but of course he blames Mycroft.

Christmas by WhimsicalEthnographies (E, 7,673  w. || Worried Sherlock, PWP, Drunkeness, Christmas, Est. Relationship) – John feels a lump rise in his throat, and it hits him, again, that this beautiful, infuriating creature is his. Completely, one-hundred percent his.

With This Ring by Quesarasara (E, 9,121 w. || Est. Rel., Marriage Proposal, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, Embarrassing Hospital Visits) – Sometimes even the best of plans go wrong. And sometimes wrong turns out to be exactly right.

the first day of forever by darcylindbergh (E, 11,850 w. || Est. Relationship, Domestics, Light Angst, Insecurity, Emotional H/C) – “I’m going to marry you,” John murmurs with against Sherlock’s smile, and they both giggle in the joy of it. “We’re getting married.”“Yes,” Sherlock says, just to hear himself say it out loud. “We are.” A June wedding. Part 4 of things fairy tales are made of

And if you say the word, I could stay with you by CaitlinFairchild (E, 12,842 w. || Domestic Fluff, BottomJohn / Topping from the Bottom, Fluff and Romance, Dirty Talk, Proposals) – What Sherlock thinks is, On the day I die, be it in a dirty alley at forty or in my bed at eighty, the last thing I will remember is tonight, the way you looked at at me on the snowy pavement, cheeks pink with the cold, breath puffing in frosty white clouds, your heart in your eyes and snowflakes in your hair. I will remember that single perfect moment in my life, that moment I knew I had everything I ever wanted, and whatever happens next, I will die content. What he says is simply, “Marry me.”

Your Eyes in Darkness Glowing by tamed_untranslatable (E, 14,686 w. || Est. Rel., Case Fic, Hotel Sex, Bottomlock, Anal, BJ’s, Porn With Feelings, Homophobia) – Sherlock gets roped into a case in Moscow on his brother’s insistence, but finds that he can’t do it without John.

Never-Ending Cycle by orphan_account (T, 17,211 w. || Christmas, Est. Rel., Proposal, Fluff) – Or, four times Sherlock Holmes attempted to propose to John Watson, and the Christmas Party at which he finally did. Sherlock thinks he’s a miserable failure, John is confused, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade provide some unsatisfactory advice, and Mummy is, as always, the solution. All in a lovely, fluffy holiday theme.

About Sleep and Coffee and the Existence of Fate by Atiki (E, 17,426 w. || Fluff, Marriage Proposal, Humour, 5+1) – Naturally, John was startled when suddenly the ultimate solution occurred to him: Marriage. This was, of course, a bit of a fundamental problem rather than an actual solution. One didn’t simply use the words “Sherlock” and “marriage” within the same sentence. Not even in a hypothetical context. Five times John kind of wanted to propose to Sherlock, and one time he didn’t have to.

Achieving the Together-Coloured Instant by teahigh (E, 20,776 w. || Est. Rel, PTSD, Codependency, Fluff & Angst, H/C, Smut, Demisexual Sherlock, Experiments) – John wonders if this is how it’s going to be: A life speaking in code, because they’re both too stupid to figure out how to say, “I love you.”

The One With the Proposal by kim47 (E, 22,375 w. || Fluff, Romance, Marriage Proposal) – Proposing shouldn’t be this difficult.

a good old-fashioned happy ending by darcylindbergh (E, 32,731 w. || Christmas, Frottage, Comfort, Est. Rel., Fluff, Insecure Sherlock) – For Christmas this year, Sherlock wants to get John something special: something every fairytale deserves. Part 2 of things fairy tales are made of

Where Else Would I Be? by cwb (E, 34,910 w. || Retirementlock, Domestic Fluff, Falling in Love, Parentlock, Fluff and Smut, Reminiscing) – John and Sherlock’s five-year-old granddaughter spends the weekend with them in Sussex. Sherlock happily indulges her whims, and John takes care of them while quietly revisiting the past thirty years of their lives together.

Resistivity and Relative Charge by liriodendron (E, 41,750 w. || Synesthesia, Angst, Case Fic, Romance, Est. Rel., Homophobia, Religious Content, Victor Trevor, Mild Jealous John, Mild John Whump) – In which Sherlock Holmes meets an old acquaintance, John Watson doesn’t enjoy a trip to the country quite as much as he thought he would, and the past absolutely refuses to stay where it belongs. Part 3 of Conductivity

Bedroom Tales by Junejuly15 (M, 49,950 w. || Friends to Lovers, Through the Years, H/C, Military Kink, First Kiss / Time, Romance, Insecure Sherlock, Voyeurism, Post-TRF, Ficlets, Fluff and Angst, Fix-It Fics) – Bedroom Tales is a collection of John and Sherlock ficlets. They are set at various stages of their relationship and are in no particular order. Some are fluffy, some sexy, some angsty, there is hurt and comfort, romance and love. What unites them is that they all play in a bedroom, but not necessarily the one in 221B.

A Love with No Name Series by aceofhearts61 (G to M, 49,955 w. across 20 stories || Asexual Sherlock / Straight John, Est. Rel., Queerplatonic Relationship, Romance, Cuddling, Fluff, Platonic Romance, Domestics) – In which Asexual!Sherlock and Straight!John are platonically in love life partners.

between each beat are words unsaid by darcylindbergh, hudders-and-hiddles (T, 107,998 w. || Epistolary, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Angst, Happy Ending) – On their wedding night, John and Sherlock gift each other with the things they each said when the other could not hear, the things they each put down where the other could not see: a collection of writings that illustrate the way their love for one another has grown over the years. Part 1 of between each beat

Perdition’s Flames by i_ship_an_armada (E, 63,435 w., || Treklock AU, Est. Rel, Genetic Engineering, Angst & Fluff, BAMF!John) – Sherlock would do anything to save him. Risk anything. Give anything. His money, his life. His soul. What he does, though, is change both of their destinies forever. Genetic re-engineering is the only option left. It turns out researchers underestimated the life expectancy and potential abilities of genetically re-engineered subjects. The British government and what would eventually become the United Federation of Planets, however, had not. Part 1 of PF Universe

Breakable by MissDavis (E, 117,627 w. || Established, Fluff/Angst, Depression, Paralysis, Happy-ish Ending) – After John is seriously injured, Sherlock struggles to figure out how to help him, keep himself sane, and maybe, just maybe, get their life back to the way it’s supposed to be. Part 1 of Breakable Not Broken

A Fold in the Universe by darkest_bird (E, 152,869 w. || Omegaverse / Prime Universe Crossover || OmegaJohn / AlphaSherlock, First Kiss / Time, Friends to Lovers, Established Relationship, Angst, H/C, Dub Con, Humour) – Alpha Sherlock and Omega John are in a relationship. Prime Sherlock and Prime John are not. So what happens when a freak fold in the universe switches one John for the other?

Unkissed Series by 221b_hound (T to E, 184,168 w. across 46 works || Established Relationship, Ace Sherlock) – Sherlock returned from the dead a year ago. John returned to Baker Street six months ago. They’ve been in a couple since then. or at least, not NOT a couple. For two smart men, they sure can be dumb. Luckily, an art thief tries to drown Sherlock, Sherlock has a fever dream and things are about to change.

[dynamitekrp]

SEARCHING FOR DAWN . . .

PUBLIC PROFILE

birthday: april 3, 1995 years trained: 5 position: lead vocal

CAREER

2017 king of masked singer appearance, “whale hunting” cover 2018 what’s wrong with secretary kim ost, just a little bit more  2019 the crowned clown ost, tell me  2019 pepsi commercial collab “blossom” 2020 hidden singer, panelist (current, multi episode)

IMAGE

when puzzle debuts, dawon gets a new name. alongside it, she gets a new self. it feels like her stage outfits - ill fitting and poorly suited to her. the polished, youthful elegance of their concept is painted overtop a girl more familiar with bike shorts and skinned knees than lip gloss and tennis skirts. it’s not that she doesn’t look the part. after all the styling, of course she does. she can fake it too - smiles sweetly and brightly on stage, easily enough sacrifices her dignity for aegyo. but it never feels right, never fits. she fidgets against the constraints every so often, pushing at the envelop here and there. 

years pass and her image matures- ostensibly, it grows along with her growth, but even this in itself is a lie. she’s heard somewhere that you end up frozen emotionally at the point at which you became famous, and at least for herself she wonders if this isn’t true. so much of her still feels like she did back then. overeager, brash, over enthusiastic, entirely too desperate to be loved and to feel certain in that love. she’s chasing a high each day that passes, seeking validation in the eyes and on the lips of strangers. 

it’s a catch twenty two, to be loved as dawn and to know that dawn is loved, and to know also and irrevocably that she is not dawn, that she is something wilder and less polished. she hides behind a facade of quiet elegance to disguise the fact that she says the wrong thing at the wrong times, sticks her foot in her mouth as much as anyone - more even. they play up an elegant actress beauty and she hides inside it like a cloak, loved for this image of someone with a mysterious charm. the reality of dawon is much less impressive, an awkward girl who had never been given time or opportunity to grow into herself, a duckling struggling to find her footing, not yet the swan that lisn would claim her to be.

in time, dawn flourishes.  she becomes used to the cameras. a late bloomer, maybe, she grows into the name, that fresh and soft brightness, that promising youthfulness. she’s all the energy of a brand new day and all the softness of early morning bird song. she’s quippy and bright and she learns to strike the balance between funny enough to get air time and so over the top that it’s going too far. dawn does better and better, growing into her costume after all these years. her voice trains up, becomes fuller and more even, stable and clear. she becomes more marketable, more recognizable, and in turn more sought after. 

as for dawon, no one thinks all that much of  her. 

BACKGROUND

picture this: you’re fourteen years old, with skinned knees and a grass stained tennis skirt, bike shorts underneath. your bike itself is at home - you took the bus here, skateboard under your arm. now, it rolls beneath your feet, a clatter-bump over the asphalt as wind rushes through your hair. there isn’t an anime-protagonist character bandaid on your cheek to cover a cut, but there is a scrape half scabbed, hidden on your temple, and when you brush your hair tonight (five quick sweeps that rip through your hair before you tumble onto rumpled sheets) you’ll probably pull the rest off, leaving a smear of blood. your t-shirt is your older brother’s and it’s two big, three seasons too old to be cool. 

but you’re happy. wind burns your cheeks and whips through your hair. you can smell the sunlight as it beats down against the pavement, refracting off the delicate, fractal waves of the han, stretching out beside you. 

the world feels like it could still mean something, like you could have a purpose here. 

it’s that feeling so many young adults have, the feeling of being a protagonist, someone who might have a reason to be alive, rather than simply living as part of cosmic circumstance. as if you might matter. 

this feeling of self importance is naive. 

this hopeful and passionate worldview is dangerous.

it makes you out to be more than you are. 

this is the picture of jung dawon when she is first approached, in her hometown of seoul, at a skate park along the side of the river, by a casting agent for view entertainment. she’s never had a reason not to believe in something better for herself. she’s a child born into positive enough circumstance - a single mother, widowed, by a man she remembers in shadows and the warm impression of his voice. an older brother, doting but overbearing, who looks out for her. she gets decent grades at school, she has a cluster of equally well meaning but underperforming friends, and life is good. youth stretches before her like an endless summer day, with all the promise in the world. 

so when they tell her she’s beautiful, that she’s graceful, and has she tried dancing? can she sing, at all? when she confidently replies “in the shower, sure” with all the wit of a fourteen year old girl and when they laugh nicely along with the joke, it seems like a fairy tale. and that fairy tale seems like her birthright.

she’s always felt different, she tells herself as she skates home, wind rushing past her ears. she’s always known she was meant for something different, something better. this is it, she thinks, holding the business card in her hand that night, under the shadowed canopy of a mosquito net, a not-quite decoration for a not-quite princess. this changes everything. 

and, honestly, it does. 

view entertainment accepts her with open arms and her training begins. what seems promising at first becomes gruelling, what seems like a bright future turns dark, and scandal blots out the time she’s spent clawing her way forward with the company. in the end, she’s traded to lisn like an old toy, a hand me down dress passed on to the next in line. 

lisn trainees resent her, she thinks, resent the two of them, for coming in late to the game, for sweeping into the lineup. so what, they’ve had more time to train. they weren’t even cast by the company, not formally. this is where the imposter syndrome begins. lisn had clearly been seeking out a certain kind of girl - delicate and lovely, strong and elegant. dawon would not describe herself as any of these things, though not for lack of trying. if she’s not dancing or skating she might as well be falling on her face, and she loses her glasses almost as much as she loses her phone. she’s a disaster on two legs, she has trouble making friends, and half the time she’s too cooped up in her dorm or in the practice room to try. 

debut is hard. 

they tell her it will be hard, but it’s worse than she had ever imagined. it’s exhausting right out of the gate- even before that, starting with the diet they put them on to get them slimmed down for the music video, and dawon is lightheaded and spiralling off stage. no one cares, of course - they all are. she starts to wonder if she’d ever even really wanted this at all, if this had been a good plan. 

but it’s too late to turn back now, she’s got seven years on her contract and a world of performing and struggling ahead of her. time is kind to puzzle. debut goes well and things only look up after that. slowly, dawon settles into dawn. for awhile, she loses herself. it’s a blur of days, of practice, of obsessively reading every comment she can find about them, about her. it’s vocal training until she’s raw and ragged, it’s dancing until her knees lock up, it’s dragging herself from schedule to schedule until she’s on an iv drip. 

time passes, and she grows. she bears up under the pressure with a resolute and stubborn tenacity. she claws herself up after each set back and oh, there are many. she dedicates herself to her group, to her image, to her lies. to the picture of a girl like the dawn, dew fresh and blue skies clear. soft sunlight and the distant, abating mist. the buyout is sudden, for her, so tunnel vision focused on the present that she barely thinks of the future, hanging on from one day to the next. going back to view should feel like a triumphant return, but all she can remember is how these halls had once held so much hope for her, of how different the world had been back then. brighter, warmer, clearer. the future had seemed so simple. work hard and then succeed - how could she have imagined such a simple world to be true? it had been the story told her at bed time and by teachers, that anyone can succeed with effort, that she was special, that she was meant for great things. but now, in upheaval and uncertainty, dawon knows that no one was meant for anything. dawon knows, most of all, that she knows nothing. staring, aching-limbed and exhausted at the darkness of the ceiling, she can’t help but wonder. 

had she really wanted this? had she known, back then when she’d signed her youth away, what she wanted at all? 

[ramajmedia]

Once Upon A Time: 10 Hilarious Memes Only True Fans Understand

We might have finally closed the book on Once Upon A Time, but that doesn't mean fans have completely forgotten the show that gave our beloved childhood stories a whole new life. The premise of the series was brilliant, and even though it went through some troubled times and some questionable plotlines, we're happy to say it holds a special place in the heart's of every true fan out there. After all, how can anyone remain indifferent to a show that brought back all the characters we grew up with?

Related: 10 Once Upon A Time Characters Sorted Into Their Hogwarts Houses

Many people will agree that it was more than the time we said goodbye to the magical world of Once Upon A Time. But even though that's true, we aren't prepared to completely put it to rest. Fortunately, there is more than enough room for a couple of rewatching sessions. And, of course, memes! Let us all remember the magic and laugh at the same time while we take a look at ten hilarious memes only true fans will understand!

10 Mr Grey AKA The Huntsman

Way before Jamie Dornan was making half of the world population go crazy with his role as the enigmatic Mr. Grey in the much-anticipated movie Fifty Shades of Grey, he was gracing our small screens. His role as the huntsman was short-lived, but it made enough impact to make some fans really mad when he died.

Considering that the show lasted seven seasons and he didn't even make it past the first one, we say there's a good reason to be mad. It's not like his character was vital to the story or anything. He didn't even have that much dialogue. But he. Was. So. Hot. it just seems a little bit unfair, but maybe it's time to get over it. Or not.

9 Does My Hair Look Okay?

Yes, yes - we know she wasn't actually checking out her hair for fashionable purposes. The girl just wanted to make sure she was in the right reality. You know, as opposed to the one with unicorns and women with tails. But it's still pretty funny to assume that the first thing Regina would do after waking up from a dark curse would be to check her haircut.

Mostly because that is so Regina. Both this Regina and Regina George. Maybe it's a name thing? Either way, say whatever you want about the woman, but one thing is for sure - she has her priorities right!

8 Pun Intended

Remember Peter Pan? Not the cutesy, lovable child our parents used to tell us stories about. Rather the one who was Henry's great-grandfather, Bae's grandpa, and Rumpelstilskin's dad. If you think your family tree is messed up, watching Once Upon A Time will probably make you thank the heavens for what you got in the cards.

Related: Once Upon A Time: 10 Hidden Details About The Costumes You Didn't Notice

Either way, Peter Pan was an idiot. He was a full-blown villain, that made for a very confusing, albeit very entertaining third season. It's like he actually made this joke, but you know what? He might as well have because it's not exactly out of character for him to be extremely annoying. Do us a favor and never leave Neverland. Thanks!

7 Who Wore It Better?

Rumpelstiltskin was one of those characters you both love and hate. You know, sometimes you love to hate him, other times you hate to love him. And that friends, is a great example of both amazing writing and a fantastic performance. Even though everyone is Storybrooke managed to be some measure of messed up, Rumpelstiltskin takes the cake.

But one thing's for sure, the man knows how to be stylish. Even when his skin is green and full of weird marks, he still delivers some iconic fashion moments. Even more iconic than Prince Charming himself who, let's face it, is a tad bit boring. Maybe hire a stylist?

6 I Have The Perfect Solution For You!

If you've never been slightly obsessed with a television show before, chances are, you're not human. Slightly is already a very tame term, considering just how overboard some fans can go when it comes to defending their favorite series. Or talking about it. Or loving it in general.

Related: Once Upon A Time: 10 Best Costumes On The Show, Ranked

The thing about Once Upon A Time fans is that you can't rest assured they are all very peaceful souls. They just happen to enjoy a sprinkle of magic in their lives, and that a-okay. Just be careful not to insult the show too much. After all, you never know when a poisoned apple might make its way towards you...

5 Go Emma!

In all honesty, our hearts will always go out to Emma. Jesus, the woman has been through some serious hardships in her entire life. Not only did she have to give up her child for adoption, she has to deal with him coming back years later. Along with the revelation that she is Snow White and Prince Charming's daughter, of course!

However, through it all, Emma has somehow managed to stay sane and thrive. She eventually accepted her fate and found a middle ground to co-parent Henry with Regina. Plus, how much cooler can a mom get than Emma Swan? That's straight-up impossible, so congratulations to our good boy Henry!

4 Hey, I Just Met You...

How many variations of this song have we all heard by now? Probably thousands. But we're willing to argue that none of those hit the mark quite as this does. Where else could you find such a perfect situation, that it's both implausible, tragic, and hilarious in its ridicule? Leave it to Once Upon A Time!

Related: The Myers-Briggs® Types Of Once Upon A Time Characters

Let's all take a second to make sure we show Emma Swan enough love and appreciation. What would any of us do if we heard and witnessed the things that she did? Probably consult several therapists. Not Emma though! She embraced all the craziness around her, and thanks to that, we got seven awesome seasons.

3 Bae?

Call your boyfriend, girlfriend, husband, or wife. You can even call you pets. Just be sure to let them know that they are officially canceled because the one and only Bae is in town! Remember him? Henry's father, Emma's first love of sorts, Rumpelstilskin's son before he went all dark mode?

We would truly like to know if the name choice was intentional or not. Probably not, considering that at the time the expression "before anyone else" still wasn't mainstream. But it's just one of those rare instances int he universe where everything aligns so perfectly...and it's all in a name!

2 Just Shut Up, Snow

It's probably one of the longest-running gags amongst fans of the show. Snow White is a lot of wonderful things, okay? No one can deny that she loves deeply, fights for the well being of others, and is braver than most heroes out there. Plus, she's at the center of one of the most beautiful love stories ever depicted on television.

But the woman can't keep her mouth shut. To the point where it's detrimental to others, and to the point where it actually brought about her own near destruction. For the love of all that's holy Snow, put an Apple on it. Or just kiss Charming. Anything but letting sounds get out of your mouth.

1 BuT I'M a MoNSter!!

Rumpelstiltskin is the ultimate sad boy. It's not like we can't sympathize with him, he did go through some pretty horrible things. But wasn't there a better way to deal with it? Either way, that's beside the point. What matters here is that he actually thinks no one can love him, even when someone does. Clearly.

Do you know who really does love you, Rumpel? Despite every horrible thing you did throughout the course of the show? Your fangirls, Rumple. Your fangirls love you. Three clicks on the Internet are enough to prove it- - maybe consider bringing that self-deprecating tone down a notch?

Next: Once Upon A Time: The 5 Best Relationships (& The 5 Worst)

source https://screenrant.com/upon-time-hilarious-memes-fans/

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine Valentines Challenge Drabble - “A First Look to Remember” (Rated G)

Kurt and Blaine didn't get married in the barn. They opted to wait, to grow back together slowly, stronger. Two years later, they're taking their first look photograph on a bridge in Central Park. Blaine's waiting for his fiance to arrive ... scared that Kurt might have changed his mind. (1832 words)

Written for the Klaine Valentines Challenge Day Three prompt "One and Only". Inspired by this video. Also uses some lyrics from the song but slightly reformed, if that makes sense. 

Read on AO3.

Blaine looks at his watch. He looks at the sky. He looks to his right off the bridge and into the water, briefly searching for koi. He looks at the photographer standing a few feet in front of him, checking his light meter and repositioning his tripod; then at Santana, leaning against the railing and scrolling through her Twitter feed. He looks at the ducks swimming by and the people peeking over, curious as to what’s going on in Central Park today. Blaine looks down at his polished black shoes, noting one tiny scuff that he should probably bend over and buff out. But he can’t. If he bends over, he might see behind him, and he can’t do that. Not yet. He looks anywhere and everywhere to avoid turning around. Because behind him is the direction Kurt is supposed to be coming from, escorted by Brittany since he’ll have a blindfold on.

“Where is he?” Blaine mumbles, fighting for the strength to resist when all he wants to do is look over his shoulder and check for signs of his fiancé. “Is he here yet?” Blaine asks Santana, who was appointed his escort. Actually, she appointed herself. She said that wherever Britt goes, she goes, especially seeing as Britt’s in her second trimester. “You’d tell me if he was coming, right?”

“Look, waffle cone,” she says without looking up, “you’ve asked me nine times in the last five minutes. They’re not here yet. I told you I’d tell you when he showed up, and I will.”

“Waffle cone? Your insults don’t even make sense anymore.”

“Well, excuse me. I’ve got a lot on my mind. I’ll Google appropriate cut-downs for vertically disproportionate men later.” She looks at him with enough sympathy in her eyes to stop him from firing back with a curt remark. “Look, I’ll shoot Britt a text and ask her for an ETA if that makes you feel better. Just stop fidgeting, sit tight, and we’ll have this sneak peek photograph done in a jiff.”

“First look photograph,” Blaine corrects.

“Same diff.” She snorts. “Does it really matter?”

Yes, it does, he thinks petulantly. He raises his arms to cross them, but forces himself to stop midway and hang them back at his sides. He can’t wrinkle his suit before Kurt gets there. Kurt will kill him if the pictures come back and Blaine looks rumpled.

Blaine was hinky, mildly superstitious about seeing his husband-to-be before they were wed, but Kurt insisted. Technically, Isabelle insisted. She wanted their photograph to feature as the center spread in the April issue of Vogue, just in time for wedding season. She convinced Kurt by reminding him that it would be a wonderful opportunity to showcase the two new tuxes that he designed for his first ever fashion line (not that Kurt ever needed convincing to be photographed for Vogue). On top of that, it was wonderful free publicity for Blaine, who just recently landed his first big role on Broadway as Dewey Finn in School of Rock.

Still, Blaine thought that a first look photograph might take away from the spontaneity of the moment during the actual ceremony, the romance of seeing the man he was going to marry for the very first time, walking down the aisle in his tuxedo, ready to pledge his life to Blaine’s.

But waiting on that bridge for the past twenty-eight and a half minutes with his stomach tied up in knots, Blaine is kind of glad they opted for this instead of having the picture taken at their wedding.

It would be a thousand times more painful to be waiting for this moment … and be left at the altar.

Kurt wouldn’t do that, Blaine assures himself, looking at his watch, then checking his phone. Kurt loves you. He wants to marry you.

No calls, no messages, but now Blaine knows that Kurt is thirty-two minutes late.

Calm down, Blaine, he thinks, rolling on his heels and counting down from ten. There’s a million reasons why Kurt might be running late.

But a little voice inside his brain finds a reason to insist that maybe Kurt isn’t planning on showing up at all.

Blaine doesn’t know why he’s scared. They were smart about this – mature. They didn’t rush into a wedding the second they got back together (even though there was an offer made). They took their time, took it slow. And it paid off. They’ve grown back together over the past two years - grown stronger. But Blaine has been here before, in this place in his mind wondering what this would be like, waiting for Kurt to become his husband.

He’s been here before, wondering if Kurt will stop loving him, cut ties and leave him forever.

But Kurt has forgiven him. And the second time, Kurt asked Blaine to marry him. He said that the past was bad, but it’s over now. All of it behind them. He was ready to move forward the way they should have from the start – together. Side by side.

Kurt said he was ready to let go and simply be Blaine’s.

Then, Kurt gave Blaine a ring and dared him to do the same.

And Blaine broke down and cried.

He said that maybe he wasn’t worthy to be Kurt’s yet, but he would be. He’d find a way.

And now they’re here.

Well, Blaine is here, waiting for Kurt …

… afraid that Kurt changed his mind.

Blaine is about to ask Santana if Brittany ever answered her text, but Santana is looking past him with a proud smile.

“There’s my gorgeous girl,” she says. “Oh, and your fiancé.”

The photographer starts snapping off shot after shot with a handheld Nikon. Blaine clasps his hands together in front of him, vibrating in his shoes. “How does he look?”

“He looks …” Santana shakes her head, trying to find the perfect word … or the perfect jab, more likely. But she manages to surprise Blaine with her answer “… indescribable.”

“Here we go,” Blaine hears Brittany say as footsteps approach, each one echoing through the planks to the space beneath their feet, accompanied by a swishing of fabric. “Now, I’ll just walk you right up to your future hubby, and … stop. I think this is close enough.”

Blaine can hear Kurt talking to Brittany but he still can’t see him. Blaine peeks at the reflection in the water, but Kurt is standing too far away from the edge of the bridge for Blaine to see. It’s driving him crazy.

“Okay.” Brittany speeds past Blaine, giving him a double thumbs up as she walks by to join her wife out of the shot.

And then, the two of them are alone on the bridge. Blaine’s heart, no longer content to putter evenly in his chest, leaps to his throat to pound like mad.

“Hey,” Blaine hears Kurt whisper.

“Hey,” Blaine answers over his shoulder, sighing a mixture of excitement and relief.

“Alright, boys,” Santana calls out. “On the count of three. One, two … two and a half … two and three quarters …”

“Santana!” they both yell.

“Alright, alright.” She sniffs in, clears her throat, stalling on purpose. “Three!”

Blaine turns around, giddy and happy and nervous and sick, his heart a useless lump in his throat, his head spinning so fast that it takes a moment for his brain to catch up. But when it does, Blaine looks at Kurt … or he thinks it’s Kurt. He can’t exactly see his face too clearly through the square of fine mesh. But he heard Kurt’s voice. That has to be Kurt.

“Kurt?” Blaine chuckles. “Are you … are you in there?”

“Hi.” Kurt waves a stunted arm. “It’s me.”

“Thank goodness. But, you’re, uh …” Blaine can’t help snickering. It’s just too ridiculous “… you’re a dinosaur.”

“A T-Rex,” Kurt clarifies from within his inflated costume, the lightweight fabric puffing out around him with the help of a small fan (Blaine knows since he’s worn inflatable costumes like that at Six Flags, even though they’re forbidden to talk about it). With the sunlight behind him, Kurt looks like a dark shadow inside - the skeleton of this hulking beast.

“Yes, but, why?”

“Because I wanted to see you laugh. You’ve been so nervous lately.”

“I know,” Blaine agrees, hoping to dismiss it. “It’s just … wedding jitters.”

Kurt shakes his head … or tries to. The whole dinosaur body wiggles left to right instead. “I know you, Blaine. You’re not nervous about the wedding. You’re nervous about you and me.”

Blaine sighs. This would be so much easier to discuss if he could see Kurt’s eyes. “I don’t want you to think for a second that I’m unsure about this.”

“I know you’re not.” The sun shifts, and even though Blaine still can’t see Kurt as more than a silhouette, he can make out Kurt’s smile. It glows, even in the low light. “But us moving forward isn’t about me forgiving you, because I have forgiven you.”

“Then what is it about?”

“It’s about you forgiving yourself. It always has been.”

Blaine nods. Kurt is right. He knows Kurt is right. The hardest thing for him, the thing he’s struggling with most even after numerous long talks with Kurt, and friends, and counselors, is forgiving himself. He’s still not sure if he can completely, but the first hurdle is jumped and won. Kurt has forgiven him, and it’s not just words. He proves it every day.

“And I know that it might be difficult to do right now,” Kurt continues like he’s reading Blaine’s mind. And he might just be. Kurt has always known Blaine better than anyone. “But you don’t have to do it alone. I’ll be with you, right beside you, every day.”

“I love you, Kurt-a-saurus.”

“Rawr,” Kurt growls, waving tiny arms. “That means I love you, too.”

“Well, if it’s alright, would you de-lizard so I can give my fiancé a hug?”

Kurt chuckles nervously. “Yeah, um, about that.”

“What?”

“I’m … not … wearing anything under here.”

“Really?” Blaine steps in close, trying to peek through the mesh. “You’re not?”

“Kidding, kidding. Here, let me …” Kurt unzips the costume from the inside, and Blaine helps peel him out of it. Another pair of hands joins in as Brittany tries to speed up the process, holding the legs of the costume so that Kurt can climb out without snagging his cuffs. As soon as he’s free of it, he’s in his fiancé’s arms, wrinkles be damned, with Blaine’s mouth finding his. He sniffles against Kurt’s lips, tears that are both sorrow and happiness dampening his cheeks.

“I love you, Kurt,” Blaine manages between kisses. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, Blaine Anderson “… Kurt rests his cheek on Blaine’s shoulder and runs a soothing hand up his spine “… and I’m pretty sure I always will.”

[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.