#meat breath dope | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

namivinsmoke · 3 years

Text

Breed Me (Garp x Reader NSFW)

Warnings: NSFW, size kink, breeding kink

Monkey D. Garp is not a gentle, nor a particularly intimate person.

Although the increasingly humiliating positions you find yourself in are no doubt carnal in nature, there is nothing in this relationship that can be misconstrued as lovemaking. He is rough with you, demanding and almost predatory. He demands more out of your body than you sometimes think you’re capable of giving. But every time, through one means or another, he pulls you out of the flames and onto the other side.

The rush alone keeps you coming back for more.

Garp warned you that you weren’t ready to take him. That you weren’t physically capable of handling what he had to offer.

‘I think I know my own limits", you’d insisted. And you pushed, and pushed, and pushed until you finally got what you wanted.

That was the first time, and you never got a second warning after that.

Now he forced you to accommodate him, bent you to his will and used you like a delightfully tight cock sleeve whenever and wherever he saw fit. You were little more than a doll in his massive hands that could crush anything they touched. Frail. Helpless. Malleable. You were his to do with as he pleased, and it was his decision whether or not time was wasted stretching you out beforehand.

It rarely was, because he was a man with precious little time to spare.

‘Why should I bother with prep when you were so confident that you could handle me?’ Garp said, amused, but you barely heard his voice over the stricken bleating coming out of your own mouth.

His cock was huge. Easily the biggest you’d ever seen, let alone taken. It was a struggle just to get the head in when your body was trying so desperately to reject the massive intrusion. But Garp was nothing if not stubborn. He pushed into your sopping wet cunt, applied a little more force and leaned into it. You threw your head back to wail up at the ceiling, already sounding like something broken and damaged. Stretching, aching, burning, white-hot static. Even lube did very little to make the initial penetration easy on you. He was just that big.

You clutched at him throughout the agonizingly sluggish process; blindly clawing at his impossibly large biceps, his thick chest, even his neck. No part of him was safe from the bite of your nails while Garp speared you on his cock in torturous slow motion. It felt like you were being split in two, pushed to the absolute breaking point, and when he finally bottomed out inside of you it almost felt like you’d been impaled.

Would you die happy?

It was hard to fathom how one person could feel so incredibly full. You were stuffed to bursting and it left you reeling underneath him, groaning noisily like a bitch in heat. Your pussy only gushed around him all the more when he quietly shushed you, not gently, no. But in the same gruff way, he commanded everything else in his life.

A soothing hand - so enormous and powerful and rough with callouses - tangled in your hair, just at the nape of your neck. It twisted and locked, pulling your head up, forcing you to look at his face. His eyes were like flaming sapphires, burning a hole straight through you down to your soul. Your entire body shook around him, trembled and writhed, shuddered with each laboured breath. And when Garp finally started to move, sliding out until just the tip remained wedged inside your tight little cunt, it felt like he was dragging your guts out with him.

‘Look how well you take my cock … I guess you were right after all.’

Any sympathy he may have held for you, his favourite, gasping, groaning girl, is discarded without a second thought. He slams up into you so hard you see stars. His dick carves into you like he’s trying to dig out his own space (because, really, who else could possibly fill you out the way he does, this is just for him) and you scream out as no man has ever made you scream before.

The proof of all those long hours spent chasing after pirates shows with his stamina - he’s not even breaking a sweat.

The proof of all that fighting shows with the power behind his thrusts - it really feels like he’s trying to force his way straight through your cervix and you’re not so sure he won’t succeed.

The proof of his undeniable lust for you shows with the filthy words he grunts into your ear and whispers against your cheeks - telling you exactly how good your cunt feels squeezing around him and how he’s so proud of you for being able to take all of him.

And through it, all that insidious curve of his, just the slightest upturn towards the halfway point of his shaft, shoves you closer and closer to the edge of oblivion with every single inward push. You pique once, uncontrollably convulsing with a half-choked sob. Garp fucks you straight through it and into the next while, making derisive comments about how sensitive you are. He just continues to pound you into the futon without concern. When your third orgasm bears down on you, his dirty talk takes a sudden, unexpected turn and you listen as if in a euphoric daze.

‘I should just knock you up and be done with it.’ He growls into your neck. ‘These tits of yours aren’t all that big, but just wait until I put a baby in you. Sloshing full of milk and tender. You’d look absolutely perfect.’

Just the simple thought of carrying his child - of belonging to him so completely - violently shoves you over the edge a fourth time. Your eyes start to roll into the back of your head, blissfully doped out as you are, and Garp pauses just long enough to gather your legs in his hands. He pushes, hooks your ankles over his broad, musclebound shoulders and bends you up like a pretzel so that your pelvis is tilted skyward. He pistons into you again, driving down into your sloppy cunt with what feels like the entire weight of his body behind the motion. You’re so incredibly, deliciously sore at this point and you scream in toe-curling ecstasy when he rips yet another orgasm out of you, paying no mind to your ceaseless keening while he chases his own pleasure.

‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Being the mother of my next child.’ He smirks down at you, practically sneering, an almost manic glint in his teal eyes. ‘I could make an honest woman out of you yet … watch your belly grow big and round. How does that sound?’

You’re so far gone with mind-numbing pleasure that your mouth starts flapping on autopilot and you clamp around his cock hard when you realize that you’re begging him to do it. Pleading for him to cum inside you until you’re bloated and leaking, assuring him that you’ll be a good mother and an obedient wife if he’d just give you that chance. Garp's breath hitches at your blubbering words, the sincere desperation with which you speak, and pearly white teeth clamp down on a full bottom lip as he proceeds to absolutely destroy your pussy.

The loud tempo of flesh on flesh clapping together grows louder, faster, harder. He’s trying to eviscerate you and you scream so loud that the entire island surely hears it. Garp almost seems like a man possessed, thrusting into you with such animalistic ferocity, his gigantic, hulking body heaving over top of yours, and you know he’s getting close when his grip gets so tight it feels like he might break your bones. The resulting heat makes you feel dizzy and disoriented as if his high body temperature hadn’t been enough to contend with. But with practised ease, he snaps himself back in control and he jackhammers into you so hard that you start to teeter on the edge of consciousness.

What draws you back to reality is not the guttural howl Garp releases, but rather the sensation of cum flooding your cervix. Your eyes snap open, locking on his heaving figure hunched over you with the slightest sheen of perspiration coating his forehead. He’s still and panting now, holding your hips in place while he empties out his balls and you tremble when spurt after spurt just keeps coming. His cock twitches inside you with each fresh wave of ejaculate, coating your walls sticky hot. He stays like that for a long moment, waiting, as if to make sure his seed catches and takes root.

Finally, he pulls out, slowly so as not deprive your hungry cunt of any of his unnaturally hot semen. You start to ease your legs back down onto the mattress with a devastating groan only to yelp when he delivers a quick swat to the meat of your ass. You look up at him in question, awkwardly keeping your knees bent up towards your chest, and Garp fixes you with a truly wolfish smile as he takes his cock in hand to work it back to life with slow, easy flicks of the wrist.

‘Stay just like that. I have every intention of granting your wish, so don’t you dare spill a drop.’

#one piece #one piece imagine #garp #monkey d garp #garp x reader #monkey d garp x reader

621 notes · View notes

aquilaofarkham · 3 years

Photo

title: the little death rating: T+ word count: 2,409 summary: Two years after his fight with Death, Trevor’s injuries start catching up to him while Alucard realizes that humans are more fragile than he thought.

For @trevorsmellmont ❤️ Thank you so much for commissioning me!

READ HERE

There’s a sharp pain pooling beneath his right arm, coursing through his ribcage. Trevor ignores it just as he’s ignored all the other aches, jabs, and stings over the past two years. Two years of building something better, something sustainable to last far longer than its young, admittedly green founders. Countless days, weeks, and months erecting homes, gardens, and pens for those dumb gentle animals who think the entire townscape is their personal pasture. Not another mistake of allowing them to wander aimlessly straight into the castle. As if heifers need to learn how to craft medicine or conduct what’s being referred to as “electricity”.

The work will never be finished. Even on days like this when the sun burns hotter than any circle in hell. A few drops of warm salt-ridden sweat crawl past Trevor’s pressed lips and into his dry mouth. Pain and thick heat were never enough to stop him before—he tells himself this, barely certain of his own supportive thoughts (a new concept taking root in his mind). Take it slow, don’t push yourself, idiot. This cabin made from the earth will get built eventually. Another family will receive their forever home to fill with lots of babies. Old wounds beg to differ as Trevor’s arms begin to weaken, each movement slower than the last, struggling to keep up with Greta’s superior pace. She’s always known her way around a mallet.

Another bead of sweat gets caught in Trevor’s lashes, sparing his eyes from temporary discomfort. Though it wouldn’t have mattered as they’re already past any sort of respite. He looks for distraction but can only see the blurred shapes coming from a huddle of bodies, despite being a short distance from them. He knows it’s only Sypha and Alucard with the village children, which gives Trevor some relief.

There’s more comfort to be felt when he remembers that one of those little monsters is his own, nestled in Sypha’s lap then placed in Alucard’s gentle arms. She has a name far too long for any toddler to pronounce—Elizabeta Belnades Tepes Belmont—so what rolls off her developing tongue instead is simply “Liza”. She’s innocent now but once she leaves this little man-made paradise and ventures into a harsher world, she will take more after her mother and father. Grabbing whatever life offers with both fists, clawing and biting her way through every obstacle until her teeth are reddened with bloody meat. For the time being, they relish Liza’s soft cheeks, wispy hair, and the way she throws herself at whichever adult happens to be in her nearest vicinity. The other children are helping her socialize by playing games and embracing frivolity; a tactic Trevor remembers from his own upbringing, though with less games and even less frivolity.

“Think you can handle one or two more?”

Greta’s voice manages to cut through Trevor’s mental fog. Funny how she asks if he can “think” about anything especially at this suffocating moment. She must have noticed the way his lips curl into a happy doped up grin while observing his family and couldn’t help but inquire. As any close, loved and valued friend would.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“What’s wrong with looking a bit further into the future? Now that we all have one.”

“Looking is one thing, but seriously suggesting is something else completely. My… performance in certain areas isn’t as up to snuff as it used to be.”

As Trevor says this, things deteriorate and get a bit fuzzier from his eyesight down to his chest. Out of focus. Painful. He keeps talking, keeps ignoring the inevitable. Always ignoring what his own body screams for.

Greta wrinkles her nose at his statement. “There are children present, Belmont.”

“What? I’m referring to the house. I barely managed to get one wall up while you’re already on the fucking roof.”

“So dramatic. You three really do deserve each other. And you’re still young.”

“On the outside, maybe.”

She laughs at his lie, misinterpreting it as another piece of mild self-deprecatory banter he might never be able to live without. Greta says something else, perhaps her own personal jest to counter his, but Trevor cannot hear. Breath grows heavier, forcing out a raspy “it’s fine. It’s just my chest”. Barely able to tell if Greta actually said anything about his sudden condition. Or rather, not so sudden. No, this has been building over quite some time now. His muscles and bones screaming, begging for relief or death, and end to everything—whichever comes first. Feelings that only worsened over the years.

Trevor loses control over his legs, now practically boneless. The collision between his head and the ground is nothing compared to the inner war over his heart. Whether it will finally succumb. Greta immediately calls for help—he thinks without confidence, once again. Trevor can still hear voices, but not their exact words. Not Sypha when she demands to know what happened. Not Alucard when he begs for him to stay conscious. Not even Liza as she cries for her papa.

Then all the chaos in the world fades into slow darkness.

Alucard stands outside the closed bedchamber door, contemplating how often he’s touched Trevor’s body. Lithe fingertips have memorized every crevice, scar, soft and rough spots alike. Not just as a lover with wandering hands underneath blankets in the dead of night. Or a friend who holds him steady on both feet when he needs it. But as this family’s self-appointed physician.

Perhaps the prince of two worlds took after his father after all. “Polymath” is what Alucard used to describe Dracula and the very same word others have referred to him as, mostly in the realm of medicine. He knows more than anyone, little offence given towards the herb dispensers and leech farmers (only to be polite for his own townsfolk). Thus, through the anxieties and trembling hands, Alucard gave Trevor his diagnosis: heat exhaustion along with a muscle somewhere in his chest that decided to go rogue and strain itself.

The son of Tepes, the only local doctor worth trusting, and arguably the co-leader of their little prospering hamlet paces across the hall like Trevor did the day Liza was born. He’s on the other side of that closed door, resting. Bedridden from heat exhaustion and a fucking pulled muscle. It bothers Alucard. This shouldn’t have happened to someone who stood up to the personification of Death and pissed in his eye. A stupidly common and easily treatable inconvenience to the human body shouldn’t be the end of a fucking Belmont.

It shouldn’t—unless Trevor’s scars have anything to say about it. The ones on the inside and outside. Inside, unseen, and untreatable. There’s a harsh revelation to be found there; one which the prince has been purposefully avoiding up to this moment. Alucard can try as he wants, use the tools left behind by his father and mother as though it were their final death wish, but he might never tend to what pains Trevor on the inside. He’s a Belmont, undeniably so, but Belmonts are human despite the many recurring signs pointing to the contrary. Then there’s Sypha with her magic, but she’s human as well. Greta and Liza are still human. Humans are more susceptible to dying easy, little deaths even when they follow world-saving victories.

Where does this leave Alucard? Thoughts spiral down, down towards darker places the longer he nervously hovers outside the bedroom. He’s been known to awkwardly stumble into deflection, insisting he’s only half human whenever certain someones bring up this topic of necessary conversation. Meaning he might as well not be human at all. Not when the bodies of those he loves change so rapidly while his remains petrified. It’s only been two years, filled to the brim with countless hours he wouldn’t ever want to trade for the entire world. But the thought of one night as they nestle themselves into bed and Alucard touches either Trevor or Sypha’s chest only to feel an anomaly within their hearts. The earliest sign that time and age will eventually betray them as it does for all mortals—it could be the one thing to break him.

Alucard stops himself at the opportune moment, right before he starts thinking about his mother and father. Did Dracula ever contemplate Lisa’s mortality? Was the decision to never turn her easy or the hardest thing he forced upon his unstable, immortal conscience? Arms crossed over his chest like a protective cage, fingernails digging into the fabric of his shirt until it hurts, Alucard swallows a bitter glob of spit and reaches for the doorknob. Sypha will have to accept the fact that he couldn’t wait for her. He quietly thanks her for the lessons she taught him. If he needs to talk about something—truly talk, no sarcastic wit or banter, just the raw emotions—Alucard no longer hesitates. He won’t, not as he enters the room and immediately sees Trevor still in bed, not quite altogether there. At least he can manage a decent smile and wave of his hand.

“Evening.”

“How does your chest feel?”

“Still a bit tight, but I’ve been taking deep breaths like the doctor ordered.”

The amount of strain heard in Trevor’s voice worries Alucard. Hopefully the Belmont has learned something from the recent past, so he won’t be stupid and suggest anything having to do with leaving bed or getting back to work.

“I think I should get up.”

“I think that’s a poor decision.”

“Are you saying that as my physician or because you’re letting that pretty little blonde head of yours get too worked up?”

No. Yes. Both? If only Trevor didn’t look up at him with those glassy eyes (can he still see him?) the colour of stained glass windows erected in cathedrals he felt so unwelcome inside. If only that smile, somehow both soft and shit-eating, wasn’t in place of a more serious expression. Then maybe Alucard could voice his concerns without being accused of acting overbearing—an accusation grounded in solid evidence but he’s not ready to admit that yet. Not out loud.

“Normal, healthy adults do not become bedridden after pulling a small muscle in their chest.”

“Belmonts aren’t normal… or healthy in my case.”

Alucard’s brow furrows. “I want to think you’re healthy—” I need to. “—that you’ll live long enough to see the children of this village have little ones of their own. Liza included.”

“God’s sake, she’s only two years old. You and Greta, always talking about looking one step too far into the future. Let her be a child before adulthood rears its ugly maw.”

“Try not to change the subject.”

Trevor lifts his head off the indent pressed into his sweat drenched pillow. “Alright. Fine. I feel much better. I won’t push myself and give my heart some more time to recover.”

No response coupled with broken eye contact; sure signs of Alucard’s reluctance to accept his rather weak assurance. The Belmont has no other choice.

“Come here. Sit.”

Another moment’s hesitation before Alucard complies. Feeling his weight upon the mattress, Trevor blindly reaches for his wrist until calloused fingers grip cool, unblemished skin.

“Now lie down. No, no. Not like that. Place your head right here.” He pats his chest and with a fleeting amount of guidance, Alucard’s cheek fits perfectly between his breasts. Two hands smooth over the dhampir’s curves before one before one rests on his silk smooth head and the other against the small of his back. Alucard lied about one thing: his own body can change in small yet noticeable ways. Without the need to fight for the lives of others, whether today or tomorrow, sharp edges turn softer. Trevor and Sypha have finally let themselves breathe as well, let go, and enjoy all of life’s pleasures.

“Hear that?” He asks Alucard.

“... It’s slow.”

“Slow and strong like it should be.”

Alucard wishes he could bottle up that heartbeat or place it in a box. Preferably a music box to listen to its soothing melody long after its original body and soul are both eventually gone from this world. Who knows? It might make things hurt a little bit less like when he redrew his parent’s portrait or built a much larger nursery where his own used to be. Not a lot, but Alucard could possibly live with just “a little”.

“Speaking of Greta…” The baritone of Trevor’s voice sends deep vibrations through his broad chest, tickling Alucard’s cheek. “She said something about more children.”

“More orphans joining us?”

“No, even though I know how much you love those damn orphans. She asked if we could handle one or two more.”

“What did you say?”

“I implied that she was taking after Sypha’s influence by being wonderfully insane.”

Alucard chuckles in agreement. That sounds like Greta. “You never know. It might be good for Liza if she has a younger sibling.”

With the sound of Sypha’s well timed arrival, he’s mercifully saved from Trevor’s lengthy speech about how patience is apparently a virtue and tirades about his “performance” or lack thereof. Greta reveals herself shortly afterwards with a still crying Liza in tow. So many bodies gathered around one inebriated individual, here for him and him alone. Trevor’s consoled yet exasperated expression directed at Greta in particular says “isn’t there someone more important you could be helping right now?”

Sypha is the first to voice her gratitude after fussing over her exhausting loved one. “I will never be able to thank you enough, Alucard.”

“I think the bed did most of the heavy lifting, love.”

Trevor is given an affectionate, somewhat caring glare in response but his focus is demanded elsewhere once he suddenly notices Liza jumping onto the bed. She snuggles herself between him and Alucard, wetting their shirts with her tears.

“Easy there, you little monster. Papa’s still a bit tender.” Not that she can understand or care.

There’s an aura of relief felt amongst everyone in the room—less with Alucard who smiles bittersweetly. It’s a truth he knew he had to acknowledge before it tore his heart open. Trevor and Sypha will die one day and he will have to bury them. He’ll bury Greta, he might even bury Liza. Not today thank all the gods, or tomorrow, not for the next few decades if fate is kind enough.

But the day will come. And it will be Alucard’s own little death.

#castlevania #castlevania spoilers #castlevania fanfiction #trevor belmont #alucard #alucard castlevania #sypha belnades #greta danesti #trephacard #trevorcard #my writing #*cvfic

218 notes · View notes

capochinootea · 3 years

Text

How the Shishigumi met Baby Louis

Me thinks Baby Louis and Shishigumi wholesome time ^-^

Free

When Free first met Louis, it was in the middle of a shootout. He was 17. Young, brash and bold. A few weeks into the Shishigumi, and he's already considered an elite, impressing those who have climbed the ranks for longer.

It was an unfortunate time when Free was met face-to-face with a child, a herbivore child, no less. Guns drawn, ready to fire at their leader’s command. In all Free’s years of living in the Back Alley Market, this is by far, the most ridiculous thing that has ever happened.

Members of the gang yelled for back up. He was ready. Ready to take on their opponents, but what he sees is a much taller, more mature lion- Ibuki, he realizes, blocking his way, hands extended.

...What?

Confused and slightly irritated, he was handed a child and the lion left to help his comrades. Poor and confused 17-year old Free sat there, as the fawn- aged 6- he guessed- giggled at him, oblivious to the danger they’re both in.

---

Ibuki

Livestock. Ibuki never fancied the business. Even for a gangster lion like him, selling livestock- he thinks of it so immoral. You must be completely fucked down to the core if the mafioso lion has more heart than you.

When news travelled to the Shishigumi of a livestock trafficking ring not having paid their share, Ibuki breathed a sigh of relief. An excuse, he thought.

Finally.

But when he got there, it was like a place after war. It smelled of filth, abandon and decay. The building barely stands, it’s pillars a breath away from collapse.

In it lay a single fawn, blood stained but alive. A living, breathing being surrounded by death, of carcasses and corpses. The fawn looked as though he was the god of death himself, mortalized in a fragile being, cursed to wander the earth, leaving death in his footsteps.

---

Dolph

For a lion who’s lived in the market for more than 2 decades, he thought he had seen it all- the mundane, the gruesome, the ridiculous. Hell, the Shishigumi is proof of that. But somehow, not even the pole dancing mice could top this.Standing there, by the mansion’s gates was Ibuki, a sleeping fawn in his arms, bundled in his suit jacket. If he were any more shocked, his jaw might have hit the ground.

Surely the trip to the livestock trafficking ring didn’t hit Ibuki’s head. If not, then that’s probably not Ibuki at all. He was pretty damned sure that if anyone in the Shishigumi were to replace the old chief (should his ultimate demise were to ever happen- he hoped soon), it would be Ibuki.

Yet he stands there, a soft look in his eyes, the happiest he looked since he joined. He can’t help but feel dumb. The market is just full of surprises.

---

Hino

It was Wednesday night. The mansion silent and empty, its corridors barely illuminated by the hanging low light above . Almost all of the lions had left for the night, sans a few lower goons keeping watch over the gates. Sitting by the hideout’s make-shift home bar, nothing felt out of the ordinary.

He cradled the cheap whiskey in his hands and circled the drink slowly. He watched the drink as it created a mini whirlpool, his reflection on the glass.

His brows furrowed in confusion. Something was amiss. This isn’t right.

His tail moved back and forth, fur standing, mind on edge. Someone foreign was in the mansion. He continued to watch his reflection, but there was no sign of the intruder.

Too late did he realize, as a creature suddenly latched onto his leg. He would've kicked the stranger out of instinct, but when he caught a glimpse of wide ears flinching, the smell of lion on him, all sense of dread died.

Looking down, he sees a fawn, toothily grinning at him, hugging his legs like they were pillows.

“What are you doing here little guy?” Hino crouches, hands folded so as to not hurt the tiny creature.

The fawn giggled, clutching his face in his mini hands. They’re warm, he noted. .

“Mr. Lion!!” He cackled.

And like a child calling for its mother, Ibuki came running up the stairs, his glasses out of place, strands of his mane flying everywhere. He looked like hell.

“Louis!” he called and bolted right after where he sat.

Such a strange sight to see. A huge lion cradling a fawn, no bigger than Ibuki’s hands. A smile found its way to Hino’s flawless features. It’s a beautiful Wednesday night.

---

Sabu

He’s getting old, he realizes. His mane is getting harder to grow, his joints more prone to aches. He wonders if growing old is a gift, with what dangers lurking in the Back Alley Market. You’re lucky if you still have all your limbs intact by the age of 30.

Sitting by the kitchen counter, he closes his eyes. Ah, well it’s not like he could complain. In fact, he’s lucky to be alive, limbs and all.

“Up!”

He cracks one eye open.

..What?

“Up! Up!” Standing there, a creature unlike him. A fawn. No older than 6 he thinks. Clutching what he assumes is a stuffed animal, a small pout laced its face.

He had so many questions.

“Up! Up!!!” The fawn demanded, now running around, making soft tap tap taps against the floors of the mansion.

How youthful, he thought, picking up the child, giggling as his arms wrap around its tiny waist.

“Funny lion man!” it cackles, now trying to climb his head, to touch his mane. He assumes his mohawk is a different sight from what the fawn usually sees.

He still has so many questions.

He let the fawn play with his mane, not minding the strands that now fall against his face, covering his eyes.

“Ibuki!!” the tiny fawn suddenly shrieked, hurriedly trying to climb down from his now lopsided mane. He watches the young fawn dash to the other, who caught him as he propelled himself in the air.

How youthful, he thought again.

---

Miguel

It’s not like he’s not used to the fearful looks most herbivores and even the lesser carnivores give him. He’s big, brawny, a lion through and through. A literal king of the beast. To say he was used to the wary stares, the jealous glares, is the simple truth.

His footsteps alone are enough to spook a sheep down to its very core. He need not speak to intimidate a room full of hyenas, no. Even baring his fangs would be too much.

Which is why he found this whole ordeal completely and utterly ridiculous.

A tiny fawn stood before him, staring up at him. Fearless, he thinks. No! He was awestruck… mouth agape and ears perked up. He looked at him like he’s something to behold.

“Big Lion Man!!!” it cackles.

Odd..

It was so odd.

He felt his heart swell beneath the hard muscle, beneath tendons, flesh and bones. Never before has a creature looked at him with such delight. From a herbivore no less.

---

Jinma and Dope

If there’s any duo more suited to work together in the Shishigumi, the title befalls on one Jinma and Dope. Another successful negotiation. Another night of festivities.

Tonight, the table was decorated with an assortment of meals, meat cooked to perfection. A flawless buffet. An impeccable occasion.

Until Jinma caught a glimpse of movement beneath the table covers. An intruder? A spy? That’s impossible. It just is. He knows no one would have balls big enough to go alone in the Shishigumi headquarters unscathed.

He eyed the table covers with great intensity. He squints, watching the creases of the fabric, waiting to see any sign of movement. Nothing. Not until a foreign tiny hand slipped under the covers to grab a lone piece of meat sat atop the table.

In an instant, he lifted the white sheet, uncovering the thief hidden below the covers. He expected a young lowly canine, or mayhaps a racoon, only to find a giggling fawn munching on the small piece of meat he’s stolen.

“The fuck..” he heard someone mutter behind him. Dope, he thinks.

“Hello!” The young deer greeted, mouth full of meat.

This is weird.

Jinma watches as the fawn finally moves to unveil himself out of the white sheets, walking towards Dolph, who picks him up like it was something he’d done before.

This is so weird.

The two lions watch with their heads tilted to the side. Confused, they see Dolph smile at the tiny fawn he was cradling, who was still chewing the meat he’d stolen.

“The fuck” Jinma mutters.

---

Agata

“What??” Agata squawked, hands balled into a fist. How could they do this? To a lion, barely the age of 16.

“I.. I can’t! I’m not sure how to?” he countered, looking anywhere but the scene before him.

A child, clinging to the cuffs of Ibuki’s suit jacket. A fawn, 9 or 10 years old- by the looks of it.

“Agata, it will only be for an hour or two,” Dolph explained.

Like that’s going to change anything.

“But! Dolph-san, why? We don’t even know who this kid is? I mean.. Why can’t we just give him back to his parents?” He blurted.. The words left his mouth before he could process what he had just said. He prayed to whichever gods listening to him to please not make him babysit a child- and a herbivore child too!

Ibuki furrows his brows, before sharing a look with Dolph, who looks as equally as upset. A beat, and then,

“Louis stays with the Shishigumi,” Ibuki stated, like it’s the most obvious thing.

“You can’t be serious!” Agata whined, his arms flailing. It was a fight he couldn’t win. He frowned.

It didn’t take Agata more than a second to realize that his outburst had caused Louis to hide more behind Ibuki, his teeth bared, eyes burning with passionate hate.

Ah... He really did not like babysitting.

#beastars #shishigumi #beastars free #beastars ibuki #beastars dolph #beastars hino #beastars sabu #beastars miguel #beastars jinma #beastars dope #beastars agata #beatstars headcanon #shishigumi headcanons #my heart #i cant #i love them so much

51 notes · View notes

mirkwoodshewolf · 3 years

Text

A new kind of competition; RA on the Masked singer pt. 2

*Author’s note*

Okay I know I’m kinda doin this out of order but I was posting this part on Wattpad and since it was still in my copying memory I decided to post this part up first but no worries, pt. 1 will be posted up in just a minute. And I wanna tell you all that there will be only TWO MORE chapters left before I finally complete the Rock Angel series. Enjoy this chapter until next time my dears :)

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@simonedk

@queensdivas

@queen-paladin

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@geek-and-proud

@starswin

@queendeakyy

@5sos-wdw

@onebigfangirlworld

@isabella-bby

@labessieisallama

@ssa-sadboi

@naturalswifty89

@wormzteef

@bohemiansweede

_________________________________________________________

*Round 5. THE SUPER 8*

Now it was starting to get serious, this was now the Super 8 and this was the first time this season that 2 people were gonna get eliminated. I took a deep breath and gave a silent prayer to God and Freddie above to give me strength.

“And here to give us yet another star-stellar performance and another few hints as to who this mega star could be under the mask. Here’s the Lioness.”

The LIONESS; CLUE PACKAGE

“What very few people don’t know about me is that I didn’t always have that good of a homelife as a child.” I said as I walked through a child’s room. I took hold of my stuffed lion and hugged him tightly as I continued, “The people who raised me were well—let’s just say they weren’t the nicest of people. The remainder of my childhood into adolescence was toxic for me.”

“Oh my god.” Nicole muttered sympathetically.

“Growing up with that much toxicity it really damaged my self-esteem. No matter how hard I tried, it just wasn’t enough for them.”

“Growing up in an abusive home.” Robin noted. “Wonder if she’s an advocate for domestic abuse?”

“But I knew I couldn’t let myself be buried underneath all that hatred. It took a long, long, long, long time. But I forgave them. Because in a way without them, I wouldn’t have found this inner strength within me.”

“You go Lioness.” Cheered Jenny.

“That’s why for this performance, if you or a loved one is dealing with toxic family members or partners. There’s no shame in admitting they’re in the wrong. Because if you continue to listen to their toxic lies, it’ll only lead you down one way. And you’re too good to leave this world just yet.” I set the stuffed lion down and punched the wall which shattered as I let out a proud roar.

I stood there on stage with the mic on hand as my girl Pink’s “Beautiful trauma” came on and I began singing in a ballad like tone first. Slowly walking across the stage till I came upon a beautifully decorated swing (much like the Black Swan used a couple rounds ago).

*Me*

We were on fire I slashed your tires It's like we burned so bright we burned out I made you chase me I wasn't that friendly My love, my drug, we burn out

I got on the swing and it slowly raised up, lifting me all the way high above the audience as I sang the 2nd chorus. As the mantra part of the chorus came up, silk extended from the ends of the swing and I slowly swung back and forth making the silks dance gracefully in the wind. When the bridge came up, I turned on my semi-good rapping skills. As I rapped out the bridge, the swing lowered me down towards the catwalk that stood in front of the judges.

Once my feet touched the ground and I sung the last verse, I walked towards the judges and sung before each of them.

*Me*

The pill I keep taking The nightmare I'm waking There's nothing, no nothing, nothing but you My perfect rock bottom Beautiful trauma My love (my love), my love, my drug, oh

My love, my love, my love, my drug, oh My love, my love, my love, my drug, oh My love, my love, my love, my drug, oh My love, my love, my drug.

Mmm tough times they keep coming All night laughing and knackered Some days like I'm barely breathing Then after we were high and the love dope died, it was you

The pill I keep taking The nightmare I'm waking There's nothing, no nothing, nothing but you My perfect rock bottom My beautiful trauma My love, my love, my drug, oh

After walking back on stage with Nick standing at my side, he congratulated me on another amazing performance.

“The Lioness is pulling our heartstrings once again.”

“I agree Nick. Especially after hearing that story of her going through domestic abuse that—that’s never an easy thing to go through. But Lioness let me just say you are a strong woman underneath. Because I can tell you’ve overcome that trauma and made a name for yourself.” Nicole told me.

I pounded my heart and raised my hand towards her. She gave me a heart back.

“Now we raided through your fridge and found out just what exactly the Lioness loves to eat.”

“Oh come on Nick this is easy! She eats meat!” Ken exclaimed.

“Sit your butt down Ken!” Nick exclaimed. “Men in Black, bring out the Lioness’s favorite meal.” One of them came pulling out a cooler and sat it right beside Nick and he said. “Alright, let’s see what we’ve got in here.” There was a drumroll before he opened it to reveal a thermos that read JASMINE TEA.

“What’s that say on the thermos?” asked Jenny.

“Jasmine tea.”

“But there’s no food there!” complained Ken.

“To answer your Question Kenneth.” I scolded. That got the rest of the panel as well as Nick laughing. “Any type of food is good for me, but it’s this tea that will give you a clue. As to who I am.”

The audience and Nick ooed. Jenny’s mouth opened widely as she rapidly pounded her stack of notes.

“Jenny it looks like you’ve got something.”

“I do! I do! I do! I do! I do! Okay so in the clue package she talked about her abusive childhood. Rough upbringing, but she didn’t say parents were the ones doing it. And the number code that was given to us awhile back, that 149121. I have been running through my head various codes as to what that could mean. Until the TEA is what gave me the idea.”

“Who is it?!” Ken demanded.

“At least she’s making more sense than you do Ken!” Robin dissed.

“Okay the code actually stands for 11-24-91. And this Rockstar has a tattoo of it on her shoulder with Angel Wings to remember her friend and mentor Freddie Mercury. This is most definitely the ROCK ANGEL (Y/N) KLINE!!!”

“Oh yeah that’s right. She does have a tattoo with that date on it.” Robin agreed with her.

“Nah I’m gonna disagree with you on that Jenny.” Ken said. Oh boy here we go. “Now going off based off the clue package we saw domestic abuse. And on the number code the first few numbers I picked out were 911. This actress started in a movie known as “The Call”. Welcome to the Masked Singer Halle Berry!”

I shook my head and crossed my arms at him.

“Look at her she’s agreeing with me.”

“Ken this is not Halle Berry!” Nick Cannon said. I then waved bye to Nick as I proceeded to walk off the stage but he told me to come back, so I had no choice but to stand there. “See Ken you made the Lioness upset just like you did with Nick Carter last season.”

“Hey like I said before then. This isn’t the first time someone’s walked away from my guesses, and it won’t be the last.”

“I think I might have an idea on who it might be.” Nicole piped in.

“Go head Nicole.”

“Okay so we saw the domestic abuse, growing up in an abusive home. But I also remember from a few weeks back there was a sign that said AIDS. So I’m thinking she’s also an advocate for AIDS/HIV awareness. I’m gonna put my money on Rihanna.”

Oh wow that’s impressive. But sadly she’s wrong. Although I have helped Rihanna with some of her AIDS awareness promotion when the two of us were at a party together for MTV. She told me she wanted to start a campaign for it but had no idea where to begin with it. So I gave her some of my well known contacts and gave her some business advice that I remember learning from Deacy on how to handle everything.

“That’s not a bad guess. But Rihanna’s got a different voice. But whoever you are, you wowed us once again Lioness.” I bowed and blew them a kiss as Nick told me that I could head backstage.

“The judges are slowly but surely getting a grip with my identity. But I’m not ready to go home just yet. And if I somehow make it through, I’ll give them a performance that’ll definitely throw them off my scent.”

Thankfully, I was safe from being unmasked in this double elimination, however Seashell and the Yeti weren’t as lucky.

*Round 6. THE SPICY 6*

It’s down to the wire now. This song might just make me or break me, especially since it’s the hardest song I’ll ever do in my entire singing career. But like Freddie and I always say, “It’s go big or go home darling.” Plus this is another special performance that I’m dedicating to.

“Now then we actually got to sit down and actually talk with this Megastar. Here’s what we managed to find out about the Lioness.”

THE LIONESS CLUE PACKAGE AND INTERVIEW.

This clue package showed me getting my mask taken off but I still had a black face cover hiding my entire face.

“Oh yes that feels so much better.” I praised at feeling the cool air on my face. The Producer then asked me.

“So how has it been being the Lioness so far?”

“A lot of fun. She’s given me the courage to do things I never thought I could do before.” The screens would show some of my previous performances from getting on a wrecking ball to being lifted well over 10ft above an audience.

“What would winning the Masked Singer mean for you?”

“Well I’m not just doing it for myself. But for my pride as well. Especially my dad.”

“You’re dad?” I nodded. The screens would then show me walking around my den with a picture of me and a shadow figure of a male lion.

“Not related by blood but he’s been my father figure for as long as I’ve known him. In fact without his love, I never would’ve found true love on my own. My husband, my kids, even my grandkids. They wouldn’t have existed had he not given me the love that I was denied growing up.” I stroked the picture of the shadow figure of the lion beside me. The screen also showed my real family with my husband lion, 4 adult kids and 2 young grandkid cubs.

I pressed the frame up to my mouth and gave it a kiss, the screen even made a kiss sound effect as little hearts danced around it.

“So Papa Lion, this song is for you. I love you so much and thank you for everything you’ve done for me.” I blew a kiss to the camera as my clue package and interview ended.

The ballad opening for “I don’t wanna miss a thing” by Aerosmith came on and I took a deep breath. This was it, but you’re doing it for Roger here (n/n). Even though he won’t know it, this song is for him. I opened my mouth and soon began singing.

Once the bridge came around and the most difficult part of the song came on, I unleashed every ounce of alto rawness I had within me and just belted out that last yeah which made fireworks rain down from the ceiling and the audience seemed to enjoy it.

*Me*

I could stay awake just to hear you breathing Watch you smile while you are sleeping While you're far away and dreaming

I could spend my life in this sweet surrender I could stay lost in this moment forever Cause moment spent with you is a moment I treasure

Don't want to close my eyes I don't want to fall asleep 'Cause I'd miss you, babe And I don't want to miss a thing

'Cause even when I dream of you The sweetest dream will never do I'd still miss you, babe And I don't want to miss a thing

And I don't want to miss one smile I don't want to miss one kiss

And just stay here in this moment For all of the rest of time Yeah, yeah, yeah!

Don't want to close my eyes Don't want to fall asleep 'Cause I'd miss you, babe And I don't want to miss a thing

After finishing the song, fireworks came up behind me as I punched my fist into the air and panted from within my mask.

“Oh my god where did that come from!?” exclaimed Jenny.

“The lioness taking us to the far reaches of outer space with Armageddon!” Nick proclaimed as he came up beside me.

“I wanna say something first Lioness. That was probably your best performance ever.” Robin told me. Oh my god seriously? I knew I had cracked up on that last ‘yeah’ but to hear him say this was my best performance surprised me. “You really laid it out on the line tonight with probably the hardest song but you executed it phenomenally.” He praised.

I bowed my hands in gesture to him telling him I wasn’t worthy.

“Alright now let’s see just who amongst our panel is the Lioness connected to.” The judges all looked up and soon my chute came down towards Ken but Nicole intercepted it from him and she said.

“Oh it’s for Jenny.” She passed it to Ken who passed it to Jenny and she saw the silver charm of a birthday cake.

“A birthday cake.” She told the crowd as she held the charm between her fingers.

“Jenny. I wanna thank your husband for performing at one of my kid’s birthday party.” At that the crowd got all suspicious and Jenny’s face was gaped wide in shock.

“Is Donny doing things behind your back?” Nicole accused Jenny.

“I hope not.” God these innuendos kill me. “Okay so apparently you know my husband Donny. But I-I don’t remember him ever telling me he performed at a kid’s birthday party.”

“What about the entire New Kids on the Block?” asked Robin.

“Possibly. Was it just my husband or the entire band that performed at your kid’s party?”

“You know she can’t answer that!” Nick snapped playfully.

“I’m sorry but I gotta know!”

“Alright panel. What’s this clue package doin for you?”

“Okay well in the clue package there was the picture of her family. I saw four grown kids and 2 grandkids. If she really is a grandma then I still gotta go with Rock Angel. Because her daughter Kelly just recently gave birth to a baby girl last year during the pandemic doing an at home birth.” Nicole said.

“Yeah and in the clue package she spoke about a father figure. And I read somewhere that she considers Roger Taylor from Queen her dad.”

“Okay, okay panel.” Damn they are starting to see it now. But I hope this performance keeps me in the game. “Well, all we know is was that was yet another killer performance. Make some noise for the Lioness. Go ahead and head on backstage.”

The judges really are seeming to close in on me. I really don’t wanna go home at this point but if I do then it is what it is. I still had a lot of fun doing this show and it was an amazing ride.

But at the votes, I was surprised to see that it wasn’t me that was going home. But the Russian Dolls, after doing Elton John’s song “I’m still standing”. I thought they did a hell of a lot better than me but I guess it’s not always the voices that count, but how you execute the performance.

Now it was onto the Semi-finals.

*SEMI-FINALS*

I’ve come too far to end this journey now. The Semi-finals is the last step to ensure that I can secure my spot in the finals. And I have just the song to get me there.

“Week after week she has astounded us with pure, unadulterated vocals. But can she claim her spot for the finals. Let’s dig up some more clues on……the Lioness.”

THE LIONESS; CLUE PACKAGE:

“Being in this competition has taught me a lot about myself. On one side there’s the Lioness I present before the media, when I preform or out in the public. Then there’s the Lioness I am around my pride. A mother, a daughter, a grandmother. And I think that’s really the best job compared to my career.”

“She’s definitely a family woman.” Jenny stated as she took down some notes.

“I wouldn’t be anywhere without my family. They are my rock. Even those that had left me I still see them throughout my life.” I stood before a funhouse mirror maze and saw various shadows surrounding me. “And it’s their voices that give me the courage to continue the fight. So for this performance I’m gonna pull out all the stops and just allow you all to see the real me. Nothing but my raw vocals. I’ve fought to hard and I’m just not ready to go home yet.”

The stage screens were lit up with a rain animation as well as rippling water. I stood there alone with the mic and the spotlight down on me as I sung the song that was once offered to me for the Original movie, but I recommended the Producers to Christina to do the song.

As the song grew more fiercer with the soft drumbeats and my voice became more powerful and intense, I could feel tears filling my eyes once more. I was gonna get to the finals even if it costs me my voice.

*Me*

Look at me You may think you see Who I really am But you'll never know me Every day It's as if I play a part

Now I see If I wear a mask I can fool the world But I cannot fool my heart

Who is that girl I see

Staring straight back at me?

Why is my reflection

Someone I don’t know?

There's a heart that must be free to fly That burns with a need to know the reason why

Why must we all conceal What we think, and how we feel?

I won't pretend that I'm Someone else for all time When will my reflection show Who I am inside? When will my reflection show Who I am inside?

At that last belt which I held longer than I ever held a note before. A 9 full seconds which made the crowd go berserk. I could see some people wiping their tears away as I sung the last couple of notes before finally ending it with a bow of my head.

“Heartfelt! Lioness once again pulling our heartstrings.”

“Okay I just need to say this Nick.” Ken said.

“Go ahead Kenneth.”

“Throughout this entire competition especially when it comes to the Semi-finals, it all comes down to who wants it most. And Lioness—” he wiped his tears away. “You didn’t just show us that you wanted a spot in the finals. You proved you’re worthy of the Rock Gods!”

Aww Dr. Ken. I blew him a kiss and patted my heart and he blew me multiple kisses back.

“For once I agree with Ken.” Robin said. “If people didn’t get teary eyed when you performed Whitney Houston’s hit song, they’re definitely not dry eyed by now.” The 2 women nodded in agreement.

“I agree with the guys. I grew up listening to this song. And to hear your voice do this song, not only did you just sing it. You felt it. And when a singer feels a song, it makes it that much more powerful.” Nicole added. I nodded and replied to her.

“Agreed Nicole. This song……it really spoke out to me when I first heard it. And…..during a really, really rough time in my life. It—got me through so much.” I spoke through my choked tears. Knowing the judges could sense that I was crying underneath the mask, they all awed at me as Nick rubbed my back.

“Lioness even getting emotional up here. Panel, any guesses as to who she might be?”

“All I can say and have been saying is that this is a true, professional performer. And just that belt alone showed us what you’ve got. A true fire within you. Now I know that I’ve said the Rock Angel a couple of rounds but just this week alone hearing the voice, I wanna say this is Christina Aguilera.” Jenny said.

“But wouldn’t it be risky for her to do her own song?” Robin asked.

“She could’ve disguised her tone in order to sing it. But that recognizable control of the belt has to be her.” Jenny reasoned with him.

“I don’t think so Jenny. Cause in the clue package she says she’s a grandmother and Christina ain’t no grandmother yet. I’m still gonna say this is the Rock Angel.” Nicole said.

“Alright well, another heartfelt performance. Give it up one last time for the Lioness.” I waved to the audience and blew kisses at them before exiting the stage.

By the end of the round (and finding out the identity of the infamous Cluedle-Doo being none other than Jenny’s husband Donnie Wahlberg) it was time to see just who was gonna get eliminated and find out who was going into the finals. I stood there with my hands in a prayer as I mouthed out a prayer before Nick finally said the contestant going home.

“The Black Swan!” oh no! She’s actually been my favorite singer in our group. Hell she and I were the only ladies representing Group B and now it was up to me. “So congrats to the Piglet, Chameleon and Lioness, we will see you three in the finals.” I walked up towards Black Swan and gave her a hug and she hugged me back. “Aww look at that, Lioness giving Black Swan a hug. Seems we’ve got a friendship up here.”

I patted the side of her face before bopping her beak and finally left behind Chameleon. Well it was up to me now, could I secure another female winner for the Masked Singer? Or be runner up? Only fate and the superfans will determine that.

*?????? POV*

I was reading the paper as per my morning routine. Nothing new except this whole COVID talk and false expectations on the vaccine delivery. The world really has gone to shit hasn’t it these past few years? That’s when I got a ding on my phone from my daughter Laura. I unlocked it and read her text with a link to a video.

Dad, is this who I think it is?

Video: MASKED SINGER THE LIONESS

I think I might’ve heard of this show. Yeah it started off in America and after it’s popularity, various of other countries began it. Here in the UK we just completed season 2, so this must be the American version. I’ll admit the costume on the thumbnail looked beautiful and the detail was astounding.

I clicked on the video and it read THE MASKED SINGER S.5 SEMI-FINALS LIONESS.

The lights were dimmed and the second she opened her mouth to sing, my heart skipped a beat and I went frozen in my chair. Quick as I could I turned on our smart TV and opened up the YOUTUBE app on the TV and impatiently waited for it to open up.

“My love?” Veronica’s voice spoke as she came down.

“I’m fine dear!” I told her as the app finally uploaded. I went over to the mic icon and pressed down on it and spoke into the remote. “The Lioness Masked singer.”

Soon enough various videos popped up and soon the video that Laura sent me was the first option. I clicked on it and of course bloody ads had to come up. “Oh for god’s sake!” I sat down on my chair as the video finally played and I could hear the rest of the song.

“Reflection” by Christina Aguilera. This version was the recently updated one for the live action remake but just hearing this voice alone I knew only one person who could sing like that.

It had been decades since we last saw one another, shortly after 9-11 to be exact. But even though I’m no longer involved with the music business anymore, I’d always ask Brian or Rog to keep an eye on her and tell me everything about her.

And now seeing her perform as this Lioness creature for such a show, they didn’t know just how lucky they were to be in her presence. As the song got more powerful, I could feel these old bones of mine feeling warm and secure, tears filled my eyes and at that last belt, goosebumps came all over my body and a shiver ran up my spine.

There was a slight tremble in her voice as she ended the song. I knew it was because she was crying underneath that mask but as always she holds out strong and finished the song as beautiful as ever.

The audience roared with applause bringing back some memories of when she went on tour with us. Only her and one other person could get a crowd to sound just like that.

“She’s gotten stronger with her vocals.” My wife’s voice spoke from behind me.

“She was taught by the best. And she now coaches the best.” Ronnie took her place by my side, placing her hand on top of mine.

“You really should give her a ring sometime. I’m sure she’d love to hear from you.” I turned away from her. “You can’t have the boys and me be your messengers forever. I know for a fact she’d be happy to hear your voice again.” I sighed deeply. “At least think about it my love.”

“I will.” I placed my hand on top of hers and gave her a light peck on the cheek.

“Are there any more performances of her on this show? Luke says she’s been all over the media being the Lioness.”

“Well that was the Semi-finals performance, let’s see if someone collab all of her performances together.” I went back to the search box and soon found about a half hours’ worth of (Y/n)’s performances. I clicked play and soon her 1st performance came up.

Seeing her dance reminded me of our times on the dance floor back in the day. She was the only person able to keep up with my crazy dance moves, and that’s why she was always the perfect dance partner. Even Ronnie agreed to that statement.

“That girl never changes. She’s still got it even after all these years.” Ronnie smiled.

“That she does love, that she does.” God she has grown so much since the last time we parted. Her voice much more mature and able to do things she never did before. And some of the stuff that she’s doing on this show is bonkers.

Never did I think I’d see her on a makeshift wrecking ball or be lifted high above the stage on a swing with silk ropes dangling down from it.

I hope she takes the gold and win this little show of hers because she rightfully deserves it.

*FINALE*

It is time. Do or die now. It was me vs. Piglet vs. Chameleon. After performing a beautiful, angelic performance with last season’s winner LeAnn Rimes, the finals were finally ready to start.

After a couple months of going from 14 down to 3, it all came down to this moment right here, to determine who was gonna be this season’s Masked Singer champion. Chameleon went first and then I was going to be next. Chameleon had stuck to his rapping but I could hear more singing out of him this time around and he actually had a pretty good voice.

“Up next. She’s been putting us through a roller coaster of emotions. From hard rock to ballad. Here is the last performance and your last chance to guess at who is beneath, the Lioness.”

FINAL CLUE PACKAGE.

I was walking through a tunnel slowly. One foot in front of the other.

“Being on the Masked Singer has really been a lot of fun. When I first came on here, never did I think I was gonna make it this far.” The screen would show highlights of all my previous performances along with some additional clues.

Like a familiar band logo at the corner and season 3’s champion Night Angel’s wings. And the year 1981.

“This song was written by a very dear friend of mine. A friend that was taken from us far too soon. But it’s through this song that win or lose, I’ll always take with me till the day I die. Because no matter what, we will always make it through the tough times, especially with what we’re going through now with the Pandemic.”

The stage was dark except for a few lights as the familiar tune of Freddie’s last song he ever performed in the studio came on. I was having brief flashbacks of that day in the studio seeing him record this very song but I had to get my mind right as I sung the first verse.

Once the chorus kicked in, fire exploded from behind the stage as my rock and roll band came back on once more. The stage was mine to command one last time as I walked across it for the chorus, giving it my all, just like Freddie did.

By the time the bridge came on, my voice was starting to tremble but I kept my emotions under control till the end of the song. When I got around towards the end of the song, I would hold out a few of the notes till I finally belted out the last note much like Freddie did on the record.

And I swear it was like I could hear him singing alongside me, guiding me to hold the note out longer.

*Me*

Empty spaces, what are we living for? Abandoned places, I guess we know the score, on and on Does anybody know what we are looking for? Another hero, another mindless crime Behind the curtain, in the pantomime Hold the line Does anybody want to take it anymore?

The show must go on The show must go on, yeah Inside my heart is breaking My makeup may be flaking But my smile, still, stays on

My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies Fairy tales of yesterday, grow but never die I can fly, my friends

The show must go on

Yeah, yeah! The show must go on

Oh yeah! Yeah! I'll face it with a grin I'm never giving in On with the show

I'll top the bill I'll overkill I have to find the will to carry on. On with the show. Show. The show must go on.

As the song ended, fireworks fell down from the roof and fire and smoke exploded from the side of the stage as I panted heavily with my arms extended outward. With the last struck of the drums and guitar, I punched my fist into the air.

I sent a quick kiss to the Heavens as the audience went insane. I saw all five judges on their feet applauding me.

“The Rock and roll Lioness showin us that the Show must always go on.” Nick praised.

“I swear each and every performance you do, it just gets better and better! You could just be this season’s winner.” Jenny told me. I clenched my hands and did a victory gesture with them, I could only hope I’d win but it’s not up to me.

“I would agree. She just keeps escalating and escalating her performances and I’m just in awe whether it’s her rocking out or pulling our heartstrings with her raw voice.” Nicole said. Even last year’s winner LeAnne said.

“Hearing this voice alone makes me feel like I’m looking at a champion singer here.” I placed my hand over my heart in thanks.

The judges then proceeded to do some more guesses, Robin and Nicole were saying that I was the Rock Angel while Jenny was saying that I could be Christina Aguilera and of course Dr. Ken (out of the blue) decided that I was Beyonce.

“So tell us Lioness, what would it mean to you to win this competition?” Nick asked me.

“Well Nick, winning would mean that I’ve given my fans a whole new side of me that they’ve never seen before. But even if I don’t win, I still had a blast being here.”

“We were happy to have you here. Give it up one more time for the Lioness everybody!” I waved to the audience and walked backstage.

“This whole experience has been a wild ride. But I had a lot of fun, win or lose.” I told the camera with the Men in Black behind me.

The Piglet then did his song, “Faithfully” by Journey and man did he kill it. He definitely pulled my heartstrings with that performance. So it could be a close race between him and I, or there could be a game changer and Chameleon could take the trophy as the first rapper to sing solely Rap/Hip-hop songs.

“Tonight was a star-worthy performance, but as we know only one can take home the Masked Singer trophy. Now it’s up to our judges and Superfans at home to vote for your favorite now.” I stood between Chameleon and Piglet with my hands together in a prayer. “The votes are in. The contestant with the least amount of votes and in 3rd place is…….”

There was suspense in the air as I felt my foot shake just waiting for Nick to say which one of us got in 3rd place according to the votes of the judges as well as America.

“The Chameleon!” the audience gaped in shock. “That means Piglet and Lioness you both are safe and can head backstage before we call you both back out to crown a winner. Let’s make some noise for the Chameleon everybody!” I walked up to the Chameleon and extended my hand and we shook hands before I walked with Piglet at my tail as we both waited backstage.

About 10 minutes later, we were told to come back onto the stage to finally crown a winner of Season 5 of the Masked Singer. Piglet and I stood on opposite sides of Nick as he held in his hand, the envelope with the Winner’s name.

“Welcome back to the Masked Singer. It is now time to crown our new Season’s champion. Piglet, or Lioness. Which one of you will be taking the golden masked trophy home? The votes are in by the judges and the super fans. And the winner is……..” I could see Piglet’s legs shaking as he has made them every time throughout this entire season, while I was rubbing my hands together nervously.

Nick opened the envelope before proclaiming into his microphone.

“THE PIGLET!!” confetti soon exploded covering both me and Piglet up with strings of blue and silver confetti. Piglet stood there shocked while I clapped for him. He deserved the win, he did a great performance and a great song to close out this season with. He took the golden mask trophy and danced with it as Nick said. “Congrats again Piglet you are this season’s champion. Which means you can stand over there in the championship booth till it’s time to unmask you.”

Before Piglet left, I walked up to him and patted his shoulder before giving him a hug and he hugged me back.

“Aww Lioness is being all cuddly with our contestants here.” Piglet and I shook hands with each other for a good competition while I went back to my spot to be unmasked once and for all. “Lioness you’ve wowed us week after week and as sad as we are to see you go, I think I speak for everybody here, we cannot wait to see who you are!”

The judges all agreed as well as the audience.

“But first, let’s bring out the first Impression guesses. Men in Black! Bring ‘em out!” I could already see the judges pleading for them to not to. “Yeah it’s been like—months since you guys wrote these down.”

“Can we please not do this Nick?” pleaded Jenny.

“Too late. And the first guess is from…..Nicole.”

“Oh god.”

“You guessed……Christina Aguilera. Not a bad guess.”

“Yeah that really isn’t a bad guess. However I’m not gonna stick with that. Based off the clue package of LGBTQ, and growing up in a domestic abusive home, plus the recent clue package with the symbol of the band Queen’s logo and the Rock n Roll hall of fame right beside that. I’m gonna go with the Rock Angel (Y/n) Kline.”

“Okay. Okay. Let’s see who else we’ve got here……Robin!”

“Oh no.”

“You guessed……Pink.”

“Oh that’s not too bad.” He shrugged.

“You stickin with it?”

“I am not gonna stick with that. Like Nicole I did see the Queen logo in this week’s clue package and just going off by the voice alone. I re-listened to some old records and this is clearly the Rock Angel herself.”

“Alright 2 votes for the Rock Angel. Mrs. Jenny McCarthy.” Jenny sunk down in her chair as Nick grabbed her envelope and opened it up. “Your first impression of the Lioness was……also Pink.”

“Oh thank god I thought I had pulled a Ken guess.” She wiped her hand across her forehead as Ken exclaimed.

“Hey!”

“Ken sit down! Are you sticking with that guess.”

“No. The number code we were give, the 149121. Which I’ve coded as her tattoo for the date of Nov. 24th, 1991, the date when Freddie Mercury sadly passed away from complications from AIDS. And seeing how she talks about her family, her kids, her papa Lion. I’m going for (Y/n) Kline the Rock Angel!”

“Alright, alright, alright. Dr. Ken……” oh this outta be interesting to see who he thought I was at the first performance. He opened Ken’s envelope and laughed.

“What? What did he write!?”

“Janet Jackson!” oh my god! That even got me weak in my knees as I laughed.

“With those dance moves I thought it could be her! No one could’ve done that dance better than she could! DON’T LAUGH AT ME!!”

“Are you sticking with that guess?”

“No because the clue package doesn’t support it. Okay so we’ve had LGBTQ, domestic abuse. She’s a family woman with 4 kids and apparently 2 grandkids. Although I think the grandkids is a lie. She went through some tough times throughout her personal life. This is none other than Lady Gaga! Welcome to the Masked Singer!”

“What?!” Nicole exclaimed. “But she’s not a mom!”

“Well then she could be lying about the kids then too all I know is that the rest of my brilliant theories lead to Lady gaga!” I shook my head and placed my hands over my mask shaking my head in defeat. “See! She’s even admitting I’m right!”

“No she’s not she’s just done with how ridiculous your guess is.” Nick said.

“Well I don’t care. This is Lady Gaga and I’ll take it to my grave!”

“Alright. Ms. LeAnne. As our guest panelist you have the last say in who you think this might be.”

“First of all let me just say you are a super star whoever you are under there. If we had competed against each other last year, I would’ve been quaking in my boots.” We all laughed. “This is truly a rock legend under here with the few rare female rockstars that came with the time. And I actually got the privilege to see her perform with the band Queen one year for a birthday party. And there’s only one person that I’ve seen on stage that can sing with as much fire as you Lioness. And that is the Rock Angel herself.”

“Okay Panel. Everyone except for Ken Jong has agreed on their final guesses. Lioness! It is time for the moment we’ve all been waiting for. We wanna know—whose behind the mask. It is time for you to Take it off!”

“Take it off! Take it off! Take it off! Take it off!” everyone soon started chanting. I held my arms out in a shrug before shrugging my shoulders and finally reaching for my mask and tried to lift it off. Nick was helping me as the audience and the judges kept chanting. I could tell I was keeping them in suspense, just wait until they see it’s really me.

Finally the mask came off.

I shook my head and pulled my hair out of my face and the crowd went nuts, the judges all jumped up and cheered.

“THE ANGEL OF ROCK HERSELF! ROCK AND ROLL HALL OF FAMER! LADIES AND GENTLEMEN THE ONE AND ONLY (Y/N) KLINE!! THE ROCK ANGEL!!!”

“OH MY GOD!!” I heard some of the judges exclaim.

“Look how beautiful she is!” Nicole praised me. I waved to the audience and gave them a “Freddie Mercury” like bow with a twirl of my hand.

“Hello LA!” I said.

“Angel! Angel! Angel! Angel!” I heard the crowd chanting out.

“Wow it is such an honor and a privilege to be standing here next to a true Rockstar.”

“It’s an honor to be here Nick. Thank you all for having me here.” I told him.

“Tell us why did you choose to be in this show?”

“I know this answer gets told a lot but for me personally I speak from the hard truth that we should all strive to do different things cause—you never know which days are gonna be your last.” I hinted my potential death scare almost 20 years ago. The judges all nodded in understandment.

“And I’m told that you also wanted to say something about this performance in particular?”

“Yes. The song I had done wasn’t originally my choice.” The audience as well as the judges all looked at me in surprise. “Originally the Producers wanted me to do a Katy Perry song, but……this coming November will mark the 30th anniversary of the day my boys and I lost our beloved Freddie. And…….being there the day he recorded this song in only one take. I felt in my soul that I had to do this for him. To give him a grand performance because due to this covid Queen and I aren’t touring till we feel it’s safe to start touring again, like many artists are. So I really wanted to honor Freddie with a performance that I hope did him proud.”

“Well you did just that.” Jenny told me.

“Thank you. And I’m glad you managed to catch that Jenny, you truly are the Masked Singer detective.” She pointed out to me and that’s when last season’s winner LeAnne said.

“I grew up listening, to both you and Queen. And—I can say for a fact that you definitely did Freddie Mercury proud. And it’s good that you and the remaining members of Queen continue his legacy. Sure it’s not the same as it was before but you don’t refer to him just in the past. But in the present.”

“Thank you LeAnne dear.” I thanked her as I blew her a quick kiss.

“I just gotta say (Y/n). You absolutely crushed the choreography with Janet’s song for your first performance as well as your wrecking ball routine. I think those were my favorite performances of yours, will we expect any of that once you start your solo tours back up?” Nicole asked me. I laughed along with the audience.

“You never know.”

“Well it has truly been an honor to have you on our show. Now then ladies and gentlemen, to sing for us one last time give it up. For the artist formerly known as the Lioness, the Rock Angel (Y/n) Kline!” the audience applauded and I sung “The Show must go on” one final time for the audience. Putting my heart and soul into the lyrics before finally belting out that last note in a different key before punching my fist into the air and sending a kiss towards the heavens for Freddie.

After the show all ended and a few days passed by, I did a livestream on my Instagram as well as my Youtube page telling my fans that I was indeed the Lioness and just talking about my experience on the show. Of course Bri, Rog and Adam blew up my phone with calls/texts/DM’s (mostly Adam. Bri and Rog still don’t quite get DM’s) telling me why I lied and did that show in the first place.

I gave them my straight answer that I wanted to have a bit of fun and do some type of performance and show the audience a whole new side of me when it came to performing.

I was just about to go to bed after bidding Georgie goodnight (he had to work a late nightshift tonight) when my phone rang. I picked it up to see it was an unknown number from London. Curiously, I pressed the answer button and said.

“Hello?”

‘Sister dear.’ My heart stopped and I sat down on the bed.

“Brother mine?” I choked out.

‘Hey love. It’s uhh—been awhile, hadn’t it?’

“Try 20 years yah rotter.” I teased as we both softly chuckled. “What—how…..”

‘Laura sent me a video of you on the Masked Singer. The American one. You were beautiful up there.’ I placed my hand over my heart. ‘Although I do wish you had won. That—boy band person couldn’t hold a candle to you.’

“Oi now, Nick Lachey did just as well as I did.” I softly lectured him.

‘Well I still feel like you should’ve won.’ I smiled solemnly.

“Was it just because of the Masked Singer that you wanted to call me?”

‘That and…..’ he trailed off. I lay against my bed and softly spoke to him.

“Deacy?”

‘I…….’ he sighed heavily. ‘I know I haven’t been the best at keeping contact.’

“John.” For the first time since……probably back when I was an intern for Miami all the way back in the autumn of 1980, I called him by his first name (unless I referred to him him by his full name did I call him John, most of the time it was Deacy). “I get it. Plus my schedule has been quite hectic. And you—you’ve been busy yourself. After all Queen would’ve fallen decades ago without your financial brain.” We both shared another laugh.

From then one we talked pretty much the entire night up until it was almost 6am my time before we finally said our goodbyes. It was sweet to hear from him once again after so long. Now whether or not I’ll ever hear from him again, I don’t know.

But at least I know my Brother Mine is still keeping his eye out for me, in one way or another.

36 notes · View notes

babyybitchhh · 4 years

Text

Yami x Reader 18+

Title: The Hard Way (Kinktober day 2: daddy kink)

Rating: Explicit/R-18+

Words: 1423

Warnings: daddy kink, spanking, punishment

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26803828

♥♥♥♥

He’d said he would try and he did. Yami was a man of his word, after all. It had taken a lot of convincing, more begging on your part than you’d ever own up to but, at last, he’d agreed to hear you out and that was the only thing you could really ask of him at that point. Just to listen. This wasn’t an inclination you were particularly proud of but it was one made even more difficult to deny when you spent so much time around him. Effortlessly, he stoked something deep inside you and you couldn’t quite ignore it no matter how hard you might try. To your delight though, he’d warmed up to the idea quickly enough.

Daddy? Him ? He never gave it much thought before, or so he said, but he’d give it a shot. For you, he would try.

You considered yourself pretty lucky, of course. There wasn’t much that needed to change about the relationship to accommodate this newfound power dynamic. Just a different nickname for you. A new title for him. The fact he was willing to go to such lengths to make you happy meant more than the sex itself, you were surprised to find, but you were all too happy to consider it a two for one package deal. Birds and stones, and all that.

The only problem was that Yami had decided to take his role a little too seriously. Unexpectedly so. You hadn’t thought he was being sincere when he’d told you to be back by a certain time. You’d assumed he was just teasing. But now that you were looking up at his scowling face, you were starting to suspect he’d meant every word and then some.

“What did I tell you?”

Your pulse jumps at the edge of warning in his voice and you subconsciously squeeze your thighs together. This wasn’t what you’d expected to be greeted with upon returning to the base. “I didn’t think you actually meant it …”

His brow arches wryly. “Do I look like I’m joking to you?”

Biting down on your lip, you give your head a mute shake. He clicks his tongue, which is a real feat when he has a cigarette clamped between his lips. You intently watch the burning tip bob in the air and billow a curling flume of smoke up at the ceiling. It was fascinating, the sheer skill of his mouth. But before you can properly appreciate that thought, Yami reaches out and clamps his hand down on the back of your neck like a vice grip.

“Let’s get something straight,” He rumbles, squeezing just enough to make you submissively fall into step when he steers you further into the unusually deserted common room. “When I tell you to do something, I expect you to listen. Do you think I just like to hear the sound of my own voice? Answer me, princess. I asked you a question.”

You squeak, damn near stumbling over your own feet as you hastily shuffle after him to keep up. Curse him and those long legs. “N - no … I know you don’t like to repeat yourself …”

“So why didn’t you come back before nine like I told you to?”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you draw a shaky breath. “Because I didn’t think you were serious.”

Grunting, Yami pulls you to a stop. Your pussy clenches, throbbing in time with your heartbeat, but you don’t dare peek up at him just yet. A confusing medley of shame, fear and the sharpest arousal you’ve ever experienced has overwhelmed your tensely held body and you’re not so sure you can look at him without immediately collapsing on the floor. He was even better at this than you’d anticipated but you hadn’t exactly been prepared for it. Not by a long shot.

He shifts without a word and moves to stand in front of you. The tendons in his fingers flex, riding the line of pain now. You barely have enough time to register the ache creeping up your neck when he abruptly yanks, tugging you down and forward. An inelegant yelp bursts out of your mouth when you land across the bend of his knee. Eyes snapping open in shock, you inhale a ragged breath and brace to protest against this treatment (in the common room of all places!) but Yami’s wide hand lands heavy on your upturned ass before you can get so much as a word out.

The resounding slap is deafening. The burning heat it leaves in its wake is even worse.

You choke on whatever you might have said. Gag on it. Instinctively, your legs curl up in a misguided attempt to protect yourself but he’s quick to throw his opposite foot over your calves and pin them down. You realize you’re trapped like this. It makes your heart go wild against the cage of your ribs and your cunt clenches so tight it almost steals the air from your lungs. You’d never been more aroused or more scared in all your life.

“Yami …” It’s little more than a plaintive whisper.

He takes a moment to reposition himself under you, above you. It feels like you’re surrounded, caged in on all sides, and you jolt when his palm smooths over the warm handprint you’re sure he’s left on your ass. It hurt so good . “Is that what you should be calling me right now?” He lazily drawls as he gets comfortable and stills.

“Daddy,” You obediently mewl. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen … I thought you were joking!”

With a snort, Yami sets his sights on your skirt and unceremoniously flips it up around your waist. You shudder at the sensation of cool air lapping against exposed skin, your face burning hot in embarrassment. He’s not finished with you just yet though and he takes his time tugging at the cotton of your panties until the pressure on your cunt has you throbbing . Finally, he bunches the thin material inward and then up until your underwear is stretched taut between your ass cheeks. You whimper, squirming over his leg as you reach back to undo the humiliating state he’s left you in but Yami grabs your wrist and pins it to your lower back. Your pussy pulses hotly in warning. It feels like you’re about to implode any moment now.

“I’m not sure what could have given you that idea.” He murmurs, appreciatively rubbing your bare ass in deceptively comforting circles. “I don’t usually make a habit of talking just to talk but I don’t mind doing things the hard way.”

He suddenly slaps you across the butt again and you cry out. You couldn’t have held it back even if you’d tried. His hand is just too big, his arm much too powerful, and you hang your head with a defeated whimper.

“Do we have to do this right here though? What if someone walks in!”

Another smack has you seething.

“I don’t think bad girls who can’t follow directions have the right to make calls like that.” The flat of Yami’s hand collides with your ass again, setting a deliberately even tempo. Left cheek, right cheek. “Would you be embarrassed if one of our comrades came through the door right now?”

Left cheek -

You let loose a frazzled wail. “Yes!”

Right cheek.

“Good. Maybe you’ll listen to me next time.”

Swat. Swat. In quick succession, hard enough to make the meat of your ass jiggle. You kick your legs at the searing pain and arch your back, lifting your head with a low whine. Hot, stinging tears have sprung up to wet your lash line and you quickly try to blink them away. You’re not sure if they’re a result of the spanking or because your pussy is gushing so much sticky slick that it's making your panties feel worryingly damp but you don’t really care.

It was everything you’d asked of him and more.

Pausing, Yami worms his thick fingers between the plush swell of your thighs and feels along the seat of your panties. You tense up, mouth hanging open in something close to doped out bliss as you blindly wiggle back against his hand. He chuckles at the desperate display but his touch is fleeting, barely even brushing against your clothed clit before moving to cup your whole mound in the palm of his hand with a gentle squeeze.

“And once you’ve learned your lesson,” He intones. “I think I know exactly how you can show daddy just how sorry you really are.”

#Black Clover #yami sukehiro #yami x reader #self insert bullshit #My writing

188 notes · View notes

supafrootee · 2 years

Note

Give me cool movie recs, Supa. I know you got some.

I do love me some movies 👀 but cool... that can mean so many things... so I'll give a handful that I feel fits that descriptor! In no particular order:

North By Northwest (x) - About an average man that is mistaken for a government agent, and a deadly chase ensues. It's an older film, regarded by many as a classic. I greatly enjoyed it, and the imagery and symbolism in it is really something!

MFKZ (x) - In Dark Meat City, a young man develops supernatural powers after an otherwise uneventful scooter accident. Look, this one doesn't have the best reviews and I completely understand why. BUT. And a big but! I liked it anyway. The style is dope as hell and while there were issues I had with the story I enjoyed the ride. There are some FANTASTIC visuals in this movie

Romeo + Juliet (x) - a modern interpretation of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. It's even argued to be the most accurate... I don't know about any of that, but I DO know that Harold Perrineau is the best Mercutio ever. Hands down. Anyone who thinks otherwise is simply wrong. Again, fantastic visuals and even though we know how the story plays out, you can't help but hold your breath and hope.

Pan's Labyrinth (x) - A young girl in war torn Spain is drawn to a maze and a world of magic. Easily one of my favorite movies. While I know this is better suited for a description of horror or thriller, I can't help but include it on the list. When I first watched it, I was around the same age as the protagonist, so to say it stuck with me is accurate haha. A great story, beautiful imagery and visuals. I absolutely adore Guillermo del Toro, and this is some of his best work.

So there you have it! Just a few movie recs for ya. Sorry if any are clichéd! I watch a lot of movies tho, so if you want more recs just let me know ❤

#ask #movie rec #rec list #these were just the first to come to mind #if there were certain things you were looking for instead just let me know #katypery

5 notes · View notes

megashadowdragon · 2 years

Video

youtube

Attack On Titan Rap - Eren's Revenge (Anime Rap)| Daddyphatsnaps

comment

LYRICS: What a cute wall so tall and stout Even cuter that you think it will keep us out We don’t have a cause we’re just looking for the next meal And you all living here together is the best dealWe don’t feel at all We just eat we don’t care about your family you're just meat we don't care about your agony, no apathy we'll use you as a tooth pick happily every foot steps a catastrophe smashing through your pads so rampantly casualties scream what a tragedy cus i'm mowing down teams so rapidly breathe, I love your tenacity so scrappy, and filled with humanity til you see me eat your anatomy and you feel hope die so wrathfully did you really think a wall could hold me were prepared to do things unholy look at you in your town so cozy we just want to join cus you looked so lonely so cute when you fight so boldly even killed one what a real dope trophy now its time for the real smoke low key imma eat you and your town real slowly you came to the wall and destroyed every memory you better believe that imma keep the same energy imma use every single method any weaponry to drop you to your knees not two three but every one i come across imma train real hard when i get the opportunity i'm gonna leave scars i'mma cut you to the core and revenge the others then I’ll even up the score and avenge my motherAce up the sleeve so to speak a beast Had to Hit the human limit an exceed the reach 10s of feet, creature to lead the peace Celebrate a beaten Titan with a screaming screechOhh I’m the top of the food chain moves brain And a little motivation to induce pain And I’m bringing back the fight to you Pick on your own size you can die or move

#eren yeager #eren jaeger #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #daddyphatsnaps

2 notes · View notes

forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

Text

Fourth Coming

Fandom: The Wilds Rating: T Word Count: 2157

Summary: And on the twenty-third day, Nora ate goat and thought about love.

Nora sees the experiment through two lenses, like the red and blue acetate in those cheap 3D glasses. One lens is the scientific, the other is the brutal. When she puts these metaphorical glasses on, she’s just there, in the middle of it, but when she’s feeling particularly tired (understandably often) or just relaxed (inexplicably often—a fact to be concealed from the others), she shifts between the two views. Each is sharper alone than they are combined.

Scientific: counting the days; subtly taking her own inventory of the rations; monitoring Fatin’s dehydration, the commensurate level of distrust the rest of the group have for her.

Brutal: cold fingers in wet, black sand, disinterring Jeanette’s grave; Dot’s tumbling, shivering recount of spearing and battering a snake; ralphing, ralphing, ralphing bad mussels.

It isn’t until the goat that these contrary perspectives finally attain a kind of beautiful balance in Nora’s brain. And it isn’t her thoughts, or rereading one of her journal entries, that has her mental clouds clearing. Actually, it’s what Leah says. About barbecues and normalcy and the Fourth of July. Leah’s remark—possibly offhand, certainly poisonous, even if Nora can’t see how yet—gracelessly and unselfconsciously reveals the barbarism of order. A social gathering on the same day each year, centered around fire (fireworks, sure, but Nora is amazed by how dazzled people are by something not so very far advanced from what had the cavepeople oohing and awwing) and the cooking of meat. Ritual is the summit at which the scientific and the brutal join hands.

The day doesn’t matter. (Every day could have been June 29th and what difference would that have made for them on this island?) The conditions of their environment haven’t changed. (No major shift in the seasons or significant weather patterns, just the single freakish high tide.) The slaughter of the goat and the subsequent cookout should be put down to chance, Nora knows. Toni, Martha, and Shelby decided to look for food. Martha happened to find the goat. She happened to lay her hands on a tool that could do the job. She happened to be successful. And now, miraculous barbecue in honour of… what?

Nora’s sure that most of the girls would say the feast is in honour of themselves, their power, their survival. All of that would really put a spit-shine on Gretchen’s mission statement, but Nora’s not just an agent, a plant, a spy, a wolf in castaway’s clothing. She seeks to understand as much as she always has. She wonders if Shelby thanks god for the goat, or eats it as a form of praise. Nora constantly spots her toying with the cross on her necklace, frequently in a way that holds it far from her throat, almost like she’s thinking about ripping the necklace off and hurling it into the ocean. That would be going a bit far, but then, so is hacking your hair off because a brush got stuck.

Their ritual could be the sacrifice of another creature in the hopes of sparing themselves—a kind of desperate, gasping celebration. Privately, Nora decides they’re celebrating love. Leah’s persistent aura of tragic romance is part of the inspiration for that, but she isn’t part of either of the two developing relationships Nora’s been observing.

Martha’s picking at her goat meat glumly, so Nora rises and goes over to her. Her gait is unsteady on this sand and on these legs, weakened over the past two days of starvation, but it’s enough to carry her until she can slump down next to Martha. Sweet and strong, vulnerable and clearly capable (judging by the sizzle of fat dripping from the roasting goat leg and hitting the fire), Martha smiles when Nora joins her. Nora smiles back and that’s enough between them for a few minutes.

Nora watches the browned meat, nearly allowing herself to be hypnotized by the texture that urges her to sink her teeth in, the crispy spots she knows would taste incredible. But she can’t gorge herself; her stomach needs to be cool about what she’s already eaten or the chewed up goat goes the way of the slurped mussels Rachel found.

Carefully, Nora turns her head to study Martha. She decides that what this girl needs is the same thing Leah needed on Day 12 when she was sitting alone on the beach: some kind of dirty joke. Since she’s fresh out of filthy material of the Christmas variety, Nora tells Martha, “One second,” and heaves herself up again. She comes back dragging Marcus. He’ll be her muse, but it’s also a reunion of lovers.

“You two could get married,” Nora tells Martha. “Shelby said she was an ordained youth minister, remember?”

They laugh and it’s softer than the crackle of the fire. Nora likes that. The steady, rolling sound of their laughs together. How they taper off, unlike the ceaseless noise of breaking waves that drives Nora insane whenever she surfaces from her numbness to the sound. Like becoming conscious of your breathing and working like hell to stop noticing it, because having to purposefully regulate every breath is exhausting and terrifying.

Martha frowns a little in consideration, then half-smiles.

“Nah. I don’t know if I’m ready to commit like that. I think this could just be a fling. All those abs and he didn’t come help me haul that goat.”

“That’s true.” When Martha gazes at the mannequin, Nora assesses Marcus as well. “And it’s not like you’d want to keep him around because he gives great head.”

“He might’ve once,” Martha defends, brushing hair out of her face when a breeze kicks up, “but he gave so much head that there’s none left for me.”

They catch each other staring at the clean line where Marcus’s neck ends and nothing rests above it and trip into laughter again. Though Nora feels like she accomplished her dirty joke, Martha made it even better. People have underestimated her. Nora’s noted it from the start. It’s probably because Martha was injured. Group dynamics were established quickly and have formed and reformed in the days and weeks since, but Day 1 showed them the rawest version of who they are together and, before they knew about Jeanette, Martha was the weak one. Have the others seen her role evolve like Nora has? Are Nora’s observations anything special, really?

“This is totally not a judgement thing or anything,” Nora says, meaning it. “I was just wondering if you were maybe going to wash your clothes. Or change them.”

“Oh.”

Martha looks down at herself and now Nora’s glad she said something; it doesn’t seem like Martha was really aware that she’s been sitting here crusted in drying blood. Nora weighs the acceptability of a period joke and decides against it.

“You don’t have to,” she assures Martha, raising a gentle hand. “It just seemed like maybe the, uh, the slaughtering process? Was kind of a mindfuck?”

“Yeah.” Martha stares straight ahead and lets out a short laugh that Nora doesn’t join her in. “I’m glad Marcus wasn’t there to see. He might not’ve come back the same.”

Nora peers at her a moment, then resolves to just say what she’s thinking.

“Did you?”

Turning her head, Martha looks at Nora and her smile’s the same, but her eyes are different. No, Nora would write in the journal. The answer is plain. Maybe she’ll record it on paper later and maybe she won’t. Looking into Martha’s eyes, Nora knows she won’t need help remembering this.

“I’m just living my best life,” Martha tells her, batting the ends of her hair with her hand.

It sounds like something Fatin would say in this moment, or at least have printed on a t-shirt or something—it’s flip and glib—and for the very reason that it reminds Nora of Fatin, she’s certain that Martha not only means the silly words sincerely but that she feels the kind of truth in the trope, the mindfulness in the meme, that Fatin fights so hard to experience herself. Fatin is deeper than that ocean over there and Martha is a girl scooping out the sand in front of her mannequin boyfriend, digging him a sturdy trench to rest in so she can lean back against his factory-sculpted physique, painted in the blood of her first kill.

For whatever reason, Marcus is the man Martha wants. Nora can’t imagine him becoming anyone else’s property after all this is over.

“Do you want a lychee instead?” she offers. Martha’s flat-out ignoring her leaf-plate of meat now.

“Maybe in a minute.”

She turns her dreamy eyes away from where she’s rubbing a streak of dirt off Marcus’s bicep. Nora follows her gaze to Shelby, who seems to be counting out and partitioning the lychee haul, looking to Dot from time to time. Dot isn’t interfering, just giving encouraging nods when Shelby seeks them out. And of course Toni’s watching too.

“You think they’re telling the truth?” Nora inquires bluntly. “That whole ‘wrong turn in the woods’ story?”

Martha shrugs and says, “Yeah,” but Fatin scootches towards them, evidently drawn by the hum of gossip in the air.

“Are you talking about Toni and Shelby?” she asks, but it’s more of a demand. Her eyes are bright and excited, her mouth grinning, and Nora knows that a lot of that effect is thanks to their first meal in days, but it astounds her how socializing lights Fatin up as much as it used to shut Nora down.

“No,” Martha says quickly, but no faster than Nora’s flat, “Yes.”

“Dope. Yeah, those two are a hundred percent lying.”

“Are you sure?” Nora asks.

She’s not, but the cameras will be. Seeing the footage afterwards isn’t something she negotiated on when Gretchen made her part of the team. Speculation, though less scientific, is much more fun.

Fatin rolls her eyes like Nora’s questioning the laws of gravity. (She blinks and sees the poster of Newton. Sees Newton seeing the apple. Her throat closes up until she softly coughs it clear.)

“Definitely,” Fatin says. “Even if they were just out there all day picking fruit, it’s still the most sapphic thing I’ve ever heard. It’s, like, biblically sapphic.”

Martha laughs.

“Uhhh, sorry, which version of the Bible did you read?”

Nora smiles broadly and looks from Martha’s expression of brimming joy to Fatin’s concentrated delight. Like she’s on to something and whether or not she’s right is beside the point. That kind of approach makes Nora pleasantly dizzy. She remembers being little, standing at a department store perfume counter she couldn’t see over while her mom spritzed scents on her wrists that floated down to Nora’s nose. Fruit and flowers and anything and everything that could make the air beautiful when a woman walked into a room.

“None, but come on, there’s the garden, right? I know some shit. The marketing for this retreat was super Christian-centric anyway. We’re out here representing the fucking Dawn of Eve!” Fatin gestures triumphantly around at their dismal (except for the goat) camp. “If those two bitches weren’t getting their freak on under a fruit tree last night, I’ll eat my gold watch.”

Nora scrutinizes the girls in question.

“Shelby does look especially glowy today.”

“Maybe she’s born with it, maybe it’s chronic sun damage,” Martha singsongs.

“Maybe it’s what Toni did to those mussels with her tongue,” Fatin acknowledges frankly, “because Shelby sure as hell didn’t borrow my hundred-dollar highlighter. That shit got swept out to sea.”

Fatin trains her eyes on Shelby while Martha watches Toni, and Nora watches both of them watch the others. When they switch subjects in a moment of unvoiced agreement, Toni jerks her head up and spots Fatin staring at her. The tender gazes she’s been throwing Shelby’s way over the low mound of red fruit tighten into suspicion.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Toni barks, and a laugh sputters from Fatin as she raises her hands to show she means no harm.

“Ok,” Martha says to Fatin and Nora, giggling. “I see it now. Something happened between Shelby and Toni yesterday. Some kind of hunter-gatherer romance.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve taken the ‘hunter’ title away from Shelby,” Nora points out.

“Well, whatever. Gatherer-gatherer then.”

“With an island colony of all women, it was only a matter of time,” is Fatin’s pragmatic take. “Another couple weeks without an orgasm and I would’ve fucked Toni myself.”

“It wasn’t just time,” Martha scoffs, tipping her head to the side. “It’s love.”

“It’s both,” Nora says. She could prove it to them, flourish the statistics she’s been tracking in her journal. How those bald numbers lie there next to the drawings that spill to the edge of the page. She’s made bedfellows of data and emotions. She just sits there and grins at them. “It’s the aphrodisiacal influence of the Fourth of July.”

#my writing #The Wilds #Nora Reid #Martha Blackburn #Fatin Jadmani #Toni x Shelby #The Wilds fanfiction #The Wilds spoilers

13 notes · View notes