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blueprint-poetry · 2 months

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arguing myself out of the corner

You stumble in, hand to your side Looking like you tripped over a landmine And you gave each one a name It’s always the same I don’t know if it’ll ever change

We can count every rib, every stitch Count the times they turned away in the panic Count the stars and the shatter Count all the things that add up to the matter And after all of this, They still can’t tell you what the point is

Working throat and thirsting lips Belly and bones, malnourished I have pulled on every scar, every itch Wondered what the truth is We talk and we fight and we settle down But listen, kid There are some things they will never understand And that’s what the truth is

No, we will not touch the medication You know we only need it when We’re forced to alter what state we’re in If we can’t function or have to hide They only take it for so long And never take it to the depth Never just let me be

Chemical alteration Made them feel so connected Chemical debilitation Wired my brain to wreckage We fight fire with fire And argue over who set it Let it all go up in flame While we waste this It’s so pointless

Touch-starved and love-deprived I know who you are inside They refused who lived inside That’s fine, it’s just What isn’t meant for us

So come here, I know you’re scared I’m angry Cause we’re broken and all they could see Was another reason not to love me Unconditionally Falling from cliffs of conditional Making messes on the sub-dermal Surface tension Of being human It’s okay I’ll keep saying it Til we believe it

And we’re crying a lot lately, I know The dam broke and everything came out, And as much as it hurt, you have to understand it: It sloughed off all the snuff we never needed, Anyone who left when the weather defeated Their fair parade Birds of a feather Flocking together In their sunshine day But you know, everything comes in seasons And passes in cycles Sometimes you have to migrate by night Light of the moon, under cloud or over fire And they just can’t take it? Not a life we can have for granted, Holding hands with a stranded Frame of mind It wasn’t okay this time Cause they promised it was safe, We trust-fell, blacked out, thought we’d get a way out- Woke up in a lions den, Listening to unweathered friends Wagging tongues in an unpromised land The sound of their feet, fleeing Beady eyes gleaming Thirsty tongues sniffing The scent of blood in the air We were hemorrhaging it And they, they led the pride right to us Left us in these ruins Had the nerve to say, You know it’s your fault it happened this way BUT IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT IT HAPPENED THIS WAY.

Listen to me. Their fearful pride has been lying. Don’t tell me you haven’t seen it. Promises of safety, promises of love, When the chips are down you know what they’re made of, Earth crumbling and off come the gloves Worthless words in empty tombs Cutting sky-scraping ruins From tabletop games They love to play ’em.

We shattered in the wake unheld Woke to find they’d broken ground And we weren’t even dead yet.

It’s bad And I’m sorry It’s bad And I’m sorry It’s bad And I’m sorry

You just keep repeating Echoes of your skin shredding Rib-cage exploding Sirens screaming We’re pacing Hospital floors cause we couldn’t be alone Clocked out and couldn’t make it home Running off ghosts unknown And phones are ringing They call it an emergency But We feel nothing.

So tell me, Is this imagination Or ideation? Are we falling or flying, Jumping from ledges They cut open inside us No one’s answering And God dammit, Isn’t it time We take our life Back.

They ran, so cut them out ruthless, We’ve suffered endless, And isn’t it time We end it?

Oh, give me the knife, I’ll do it. They want to leave us in ruin, We’ll undo it. Grab the pen and burst an artery, They lent hands to make us bleed? We’ll bleed them a whole God damn symphony And in the future, they’ll remember Memorialize their dismembered Untruths We took the lies and fashioned a pyre Set alight and exposed the liars

They sent the lions after us, Unleashed the wolves Well we’ve been running this darkness a long time Our vision’s sharper now They’ve got a lot to answer now, But listen.

Right now you’re bleeding, Sitting in these rags, screaming, Just needing Something soothing. It’s not like we ever intended To get caught with our self out over The bombs when they went off. We didn’t even know they’d be there. We tried believing in better things Than all our fears had us reeling Instinctively to. Oh, don’t do it. You know I never put you up to it. Don’t go reaching for a garrote. How do I convince myself It’s not worth it?

Okay. Let’s start over.

You stumble in. Your head’s cracked apart again. You’re bleeding, ribs pried open. You’ve changed a lot but the history Is what matters. You’re counting pieces like stars In the universe. There are too many. Okay. So. You tell me, Is a love like that worth saving? And who cares what these worthless words mean The meaning is in the framing Of just what kind of words they are. Ah, yes, I know. Of all the things they are, They’re also insidious. Snuck inside your broken little heart. Took a few turns about the atrium. Pounded home a few more worthless Ones, And that’s just the way they got ’em. You’re broken. It’s calling You a thousand things That they love to echo. I’ve always been you, I know.

So listen, This Was not Your fault.

How do I convince myself to let it go? We know all about the part We fell into. Roles we never wanted To enable. And now they’ve left us so unable To put pressure On all these stage left exit wounds We were left with.

And they ran, they came out Guns blazing We were at our most vulnerable, Exposed, unable These are the choices they made. You have to remember that.

And I know it’s hard To figure out how To forgive them without spinning This And making it all your fault. It was not your fault. But you and I both know We don’t know how else to let it go, And that’s not fair. Because we’ve been suffocating under that lie While they all refused to give us space To fall apart and be safe.

And if this is the kind of game they want to play With their gifted lives, It’s not one they get to play with mine. We’re on a mission They’re never gonna understand. Don’t know what we’re meant for So they don’t know what we’re made of, But they’ll find out. Throw down the hatchets, shovels, gloves, They’ve been erecting gravestones But we’ll bury the tools they’re misusing And claw our way out of ruin. We have to. It’s the only way to show ’em.

So thank you for laying down the fall And going home tonight. Assembling words instead of flights From unfolding heights And making ourself visible In all this battened glory, Beaten, bruised, a little misused, But still Beloved. We didn’t find ourselves in ruin, He found us in the dark and tombs And tore through the veil They’d placed over the face of death And called life. It was the only life they’d speak, But He still sings great and mighty Melodies Over the ruined heart Inside of me.

–blueprint poetry

#poetry #blueprint poetry #abuse #neglect #strained relationship #broken relationship #healing #trauma #recovery through poetry #gaslighting #poets of tumblr #poemblr #language #arguing myself out of the corner #implied self-harm #abandonment

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kdinjenzen · 3 years

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So, I was rewatching V8 and there was something I was once more wondering about the conversation May and Weiss had about Atlas.

The first thing May said was „Mantle needed me, and to the Marigolds, that meant I wasn't their son anymore.“ and only afterwards she said „And I made sure that everyone knew that I wasn't their daughter.“

- which made me think that the Marigolds primarily rejected her because she wanted to help Mantle, not because she was trans, even though she only might have been able to fully live her true self after she left them.

Since I might be reading to much into this, I was wondering about what you were thinking when you spoke those lines or whether or not you were given any lore from the writers about whether or not this would have been something her family (or the people in Remnant in general) would have frowned upon? (canon or non-canon I'm super interested in anything that would give some insight :) )

We have also never seen any of the characters reacting (negatively) to for example same sex couples like Saphron and Terra and we also see many couples in backgrounds that show regular citizens.

I’ve actually talked about this a bit, but to sum it up simply - you’re correct. May was disowned by her family because she chose to help people in need instead of staying in Atlas and being a proper heir.

So to go into it more, I’ll break it up a bit.

Weiss: “Don’t you have family in Atlas?”

May: “No. Mantle needed me, and to the Marigolds, that meant I wasn't their son anymore.”

This is the focal point of everything and the thing that is the most important.

May is a top graduate from Atlas Academy, cream of the cop, the top of the top, elite of the elite.

And it’s all that in more way that one. May’s family is of the Atlas elite class, again, top of the top, cream of the crop, elite among the elite.

Born with a silver spoon in her mouth and all that loveliness.

And if you’ve been paying attention to every time we’ve been shown Atlas you’ll notice exactly how the elites from Atlas act, especially toward those they see as “beneath them” ... and those from Mantle are that in both a figurative and a literal sense.

May made a conscious choice to drop down from her perch nestled safely in a gilded cage, a place of created superiority, of overwhelming power, and unfathomable influence - throwing it all away - to focus on helping the people who needed it most.

That’s what is most importantly being illustrated here.

With that said, let’s move onto the second half.

May: “And I made sure that everyone knew that I wasn't their daughter. So forget 'em. They've got Henry, yours have Whitley. You get what I'm saying.”

So here’s where we get a few extra details about May, the “flavor text” as it were.

May is pointing to the remaining family heirs (Henry for the Marigold’s and Whitley for the Schnee’s) making note that “they don’t need us, they have backups and those backups made their choices.”

[Bonus Note Real Quick: Whitley heard this and then, in turn, made a choice to do something to make a change. Love that for him, been a long time coming, kiddo! Way to go!]

Anyway, the additional note is that after her family disowned her for choosing to fight for Mantle and those suffering, May had broken loose from the chains of Atlas culture that held her in place. Which put her on a path of self discovery, and that’s when May found May.

So, again, being disowned by the Marigold’s was due to May’s choice of people over family pride, not her being trans. They’re all just furious at her for spitting her silver spoon back into the collective faces of the Atlas elite and Atlas Academy.

May, and subsequently everyone else, didn’t know she was trans until after that all had already happened.

I don’t know the full detailed timeline but here’s what I know:

May went to Atlas Academy, was an elite student, graduated top of her class, after graduating she told her family her plans to use her training to help Mantle, was disowned because of that, went to Mantle, then became May.

TLDR: Mantle needed May just as much as May needed Mantle.

#sirianhewig #ama #ask me anything #kdin #kdinjenzen #kdin jenzen

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us3rnam3-r3dact3d · 2 years

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Spotify Wrapped Associations

Now that I've gotten through what I think is all of the asks about my Spotify top 100, I thought I'd give you guys a short little playlist of the songs I actually associate with the Redacted boys.

Cigarette Ahegao | Penelope Scott

Gavin. 100% Gavin. The absolute revulsion to the expectations that are placed on him. The total rejection of what he’s been told he is. What he’s been told all of the people like him are. He went to D.A.M.N and D.A.M.N told him what he was and that he had no chance of escaping that.

So everyone I love is stuck / Because this that, the other, and the state fucked up/ We covered it in a class I’m about to fail

Hey incels, just have sex (duh) / Trash on the walls / And trash on the floor / Liquid eyeliner stuck to the door / Screwing everything up and doing everything wrong / In my defense I wasn't supposed to be around this long, so...

Someday, I'll have my own life / I'll leave this all behind

Saint Bernard and Saint Bernard 2 | Lincoln

Like I mentioned in the request about it, these two songs mark the difference between Sam’s relationship with Alexis and his relationship with Darlin’. I just wanted to show off the difference in the lyrics. Seriously, if you love Saint Bernard please listen to 2. It’s so good.

Tell me where I came from, what I will always be / Just a spoiled little kid who went to Catholic school

Vs.

To tell me where I came from / What I thought I could be / As a spoiled little kid / About to leave Catholic school

I said make me love myself so that I might love you / Don't make me a liar, 'cause I swear to god / When I said it I thought it was true

Vs.

Or please make me love myself / So that I might love you / Or make me a liar / 'Cause I swore to God / Back when swearing / Just felt like the truth

Arsonist’s Lullaby | Hozier

Not to lean into cliches but this song belongs to Damien. Barely controlled anger, a power that he just contains. A thirst. Damien could have turned out so much darker. We’ve seen that. He refuses to tame his anger for the comfort of those around him, but that anger belongs to him. He won’t let it off it’s leash.

When I was a child, I'd sit for hours / Staring into open flame / Something in it had a power / Could barely tear my eyes away

All you have is your fire / And the place you need to reach / Don't you ever tame your demons / But always keep 'em on a leash

Graveyard’s Full | the Growlers

Bracium. At its core, this song is about the human instinct to survive no matter what it costs, up to and including the destruction of their own planet. Bracium’s storyline involves a shift in the balance of nature, a movement among the forces of the world that turns that balance on its head. And if it’s not addressed soon, his graveyard will be very full indeed.

The graveyard’s full / We’re running out of earth / But we can use the bones / To build another church / Thick walls made of men / Whose souls have come and went

Class of 2013- Audiotree Live | Mitski

We hear a lot of David’s dad and their relationship, but we don’t hear much about his mom. I think that’s interesting, and I think that somewhere in David there is a deep curiosity- maybe loss, maybe anger. I listen to this version of the song so much because of how Mitski’s voice breaks, how you can feel it, the reverberation of her voice off of her rib cage. I think that’s the kind of grief that David has when he stops trying to control these uncontrollable emotions. Or more actually- when he fails at controlling them.

Mom, would you wash my back? / This once, and then we can forget / And I'll leave what I'm chasing / For the other girls to pursue

Mom, am I still young? / Can I dream for a few months more?

Cherry Wine | Hozier

(Once again I’ll mention that I don’t like using love songs that use pronouns for the role the listener is assumed into, but the parallels in this song are excellent and I’m just going to ignore it and so should you)

Vincent. This song is about loving someone desperately with limited time. Honestly, I’m going to let the lyrics speak for themselves with this one.

And it's worth it, it's divine / I have this some of the time.

The way [they] show(s) me I'm [theirs] and [they’re] mine / Open hand or closed fist would be fine / The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine.

I Bet on Losing Dogs | Mitski

Ivan. Doomed love. And a love he knows is doomed. He knows as he acts on it that the love he has is loosing. And he can’t help it. He can never help it. Plus, the repetition to the point of insanity of Ivan’s pet name really drives home the hopelessness for the both of them.

My baby, my baby / You're my baby, say it to me / Baby, my baby / Tell your baby that I'm your baby

I wanna feel it / I bet on losing dogs / I always want you when I'm finally fine

Someone to watch me die / Someone to watch me die / I bet on losing dogs

I Was an Island | A.W.

And finally, a song for a listener character. Darlin’. This is a sappy love song for a loner finally accepting love because of the right person. It’s the sort of love song I think Darlin’ deserves.

I was a fighter and I was so brave / But I lowered my sword when you held me and swore / You'd stay, stay, stay

I was a wolf, dear, apart from the pack /But you answered my cry in the dead of the night / And told me that you had my back

I can't do this alone anymore / 'Cause I'm no good on my own anymore / What did I do to deserve this? / What did you do to me? / Baby, come back / You know I don't want to be free

#redacted asmr #my redacted content #spotify wrapped #redacted gavin #redacted sam #redacted damien #redacted bracium #redacted davey #redacted vincent #redacted ivan #redacted darlin

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333sth · 3 years

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dove. (frankie morales)

chapter i. previous.

pairing: frankie morales x ofc (’dove’) no use of y/n.

warnings: mention of ptsd/military service, language, violence, brief mention of torture/kidnapping, injury detail, fighting.

summary: frankie was going to propose, until dove found the ring and ghosted. even santi can’t track her down.

rating: mature. wc: 1.6k

Dove was a nickname coined by an old general during her training. He was a traditional man, though not disrespectful. It was a term of endearment that probably softened the influx of powerful women breaching into the male territory. He’d drawled, ‘I ought to call you Dove – I ain’t never seen a girl so swift, yet so fuckin’ lethal.’ She kept the boys in line too, he’d noted. When Benny got too reckless, or Tom’s temper ran away with him, she was the first to snap them out of it. In environments where peace was a very distant concept, she played the peacekeeper.

One time, during a two-month deployment in Nigeria, the group was shoved in the back of an ancient pick-up truck for six hours. Dove was wedged between Will and Frankie, sweltering in the humid air. The stale smell of sweat mixed with blood and diesel was permeating the air, and they were three hours from the nearest checkpoint. To pass the time, she asked them what they’d do if they weren’t special forces.

That was easy for Will – he’d be a teacher of some kind. Benny waffled about sports, making some brash comment about how he’s got to channel all his aggression somewhere. Tom and Santi couldn’t come up with anything that suited them more than the forces, which was not surprising. Frankie would still be a pilot somehow. Dove had never seen him more comfortable than in the pilot’s chair.

Dove dreamed of owning her own bar or café, somewhere relaxed and laid-back. A beach perhaps, somewhere quaint and peaceful, where the air is warm well into the late evening and the waves are gentle, collapsing onto the sand like white noise. She imagined the hum of conversation meeting tinkling music, beach lanterns dotted around the decking to cast an ambient glow beneath the stars. Maybe a chef on weekends could make bar snacks. Tom had snorted at that, throwing a jab about how she can burn the water they use to make their dried food sachets.

The men had recalled this conversation, desperately trying to fathom where Dove might have taken off to. It was met with an aching nostalgia for the type of teammate she was too. That conversation had been a tactic, a peaceful one, to prevent the terrible concoction of adrenaline, exhaustion and heat forming an argument in that truck. She was a natural tactician as well as a good friend.

Frankie had recounted each country they had been stationed and exactly how Dove had felt about them. She had loved Argentina, even when she got shot and Will spent three hours with his finger crammed in the wound to stop the bleeding. But she also liked Jamaica, Brazil and Hawaii. None of their contacts in the forces had any trace of her, not even Santi’s in South America. Her family were none the wiser – they brushed it off, her dad mumbling something about it sounding like her usual antics.

All he had was a scribbled note that read, ‘I need space. I’m safe. I love you.’ It was folded neatly in his wallet, like he was carrying the last piece of her that he had.

Mexico. That was where she was. A small town on the West coast that had enough life to keep her occupied, and the guarantee of anonymity.

If people asked, she was a retired nurse, which wasn’t entirely untrue. She told them she spent a lot of her career in humanitarian aid, to explain the occasional jitters on a rowdy Friday night and the nasty scars. There was a particularly gruesome one leading from the base of her throat up to her bottom lip from a knife fight. She told them it was shrapnel, flung from a collapsing building, and she was lucky it didn’t catch her jugular. The locals had gasped in awe at her heroism. She’d flinched against the memory of how her own knife buried into her attacker’s throat instead.

A few days into her move, Dove had found what could only be considered a derelict shed on the beachfront. It was probably the remains of an old boathouse. With some help from the locals, she had restored the ageing planks of wood. What was spare formed the bar and some rustic furniture. She pieced together a jumble of second-hand bar stools, chairs and lanterns that made for an eclectic combination. It had character and history in its walls, rather than some swanky, expensive build devoid of any personality. It was exactly what she had dreamed of, huddled in hypothermic temperatures or insomniac in her cot at base, sleep beyond her reach.

It didn’t change the fact that every time she entered her bedroom, the old polaroid of Frankie pinned to the wall hits her like a ton of bricks. Frankie knows she took it – it was pinned to the fridge at their home before she left. It’s quintessential Frankie, sat with his arms folded to his chest, biceps straining slightly against an old denim shirt that was getting a little too snug post-retirement. It was at a barbecue, his skin tanned and flushed from a day in the sun drinking, tousled hair peeking out from the sides of a dog-eared cap. Every time Dove glances at it, she wonders if he still has that hat.

‘Of course he has,’ the voice in her head snaps back. Any piece of clothing she’d suggest replacing would be countered with, ‘over my dead body’. The man was sentimental, a little too attached to his home comforts. She’d also bought it him in a seedy gift shop in the middle of nowhere as a joke.

“To add some variety,” she’d said. He would never let it go now.

Once, Veronica had eyed the photograph on her mirror and asked, “Who is he then? An ex?”

Veronica, or Roni for short, had lived in the town her whole life until university. When she graduated and moved home to save money, she needed a job. Dove needed a friend, so she took her on as a bartender. She was young and giddy, but harmless. More importantly, she was too self-absorbed to notice or even care that her thirty-something year old boss had bullet holes in her back.

“Something like that.” Dove had replied, rifling through her sorry excuse for a makeup bag. She’d closed the bar early to have a rare night off in the next town over, which had considerably livelier nightlife.

“You never talk about relationships. Or men.’ Roni observed, peering over Dove’s shoulder to eye another photograph. It was a group picture of the boys, huddled in the same fraying booth in their favourite bar back in Florida. “Looks like you were spoilt for choice.”

Dove scoffed, meeting her friend’s twinkling gaze in the mirror. “Shut your mouth. They were friends from work.”

“Were? Does that mean you can’t set me up now?”

“They’re almost twice your age. You’d tire ‘em out.” Dove set down the lip-gloss she dragged out for special occasions. “Come on, I’m not getting any younger either. It’s already passed my bedtime.”

Thankfully, that was enough to amuse the younger girl into linking her arm and hauling her out the door to the taxi, no more questions asked.

The hollering of spectators and thudding of skin slapping against the mat was reduced to a distant buzzing in Frankie’s ears. It was dimmed by the incessant ramblings of Santiago and Tom, discussing the files Santi had put together on Lorea. He could feel the reawakening of his rusty military senses as he follows the familiar tactics, mentally registering his agreement or noting what he might do differently. He doesn’t vocalise it though, because he hasn’t even agreed yet. Joining the debate would inadvertently signal his agreement. He didn’t want that.

There was a shadow lingering in the space on the bench beside him. It was an empty presence, not Will, who was hooked on the cage of the ring yelling encouragement to his brother. Not Benny, thumping his leather gloves together with his teeth pulled harshly over his mouthguard, judging his competitor with a predatory glint in his eye.

The opponent was a monster, but he lumbered like his limbs were filled with lead. Frankie notes that Benny, nimble and tall, will have a breeze tiring him out. Dove would have joked that it wasn’t worth coming, that they’ll be sat here until their asses are numb watching Benny play cat and mouse. His chest twinges. Sometimes it’s too easy to remember what she’d do, what she’d say. He wished he knew what she’d make of Santiago’s proposition. She always saw through Pope’s glamourisation and Tom’s greed.

What Frankie misses while he observes his pitiful surroundings is Tom and Santi descending into a hushed conversation. Tom nudges Santi, “You got anything on Dove?”

Santi sighs, long and solemn, “Maybe.” As Tom’s face quirks in interest, he holds up his finger, “It’s just a hunch.”

“A hunch is better than what we’ve had in the last year.”

Santi takes a sip of his beer, casting a glance at Fish, whose eyes are trained on the floor and the swirling contents of his cup. He knows him well enough to know his thoughts are the only thing that have his attention.

“I worry about him. We all do.” Tom whispers. “Getting busted just made things worse.”

“Don’t get his hopes up, man. It’s nothing solid. It’ll crush him if I’m wrong.” Tom nods solemnly before Santi continues, “A friend of mine saw an ex-Delta in a bar, a woman. He knew ‘cause of a tattoo she had on the nape of her neck.”

Tom’s eyes widen. In front of them, Benny lands a sickening punch on his opponent’s nose, complimented by an audible crack. He’s barely breaking a sweat, dancing around as the guy heaves and stumbles forward.

Santi’s gaze doesn’t break from the ring. “Mexico. I think she’s in Mexico.”

#Frankie Morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier imagine #frankie morales imagine #triple frontier fic #francisco morales #Triple Frontier #frankie catfish morales #Frankie morales fic #Frankie Morales x OFC #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #benny miller #will miller #Santiago Garcia #santiago pope garcia #ben miller #dove fic

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pitviperofdoom · 3 years

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TMA Fantasy Week, Day 2

Prompt: Fae

Summary: A faerie imprisoned by hunters receives a strange visitor. (Pre JonGerry)

Warnings: Imprisonment, forced obedience.

Part of a larger story I’m working on. I’ll be posting it on AO3 when I’m finished.

***

He smelled the she-wolf before he saw her.

When the door to his little chamber opened, he kept his eyes shut, as always. Why bother opening them? The hounds had become tiresome to look at of his own accord. If they needed him, then they could bark his Name and be done with it.

And so he smelled her first—fresh blood and grave dirt clinging to her fur—and heard her claws click on the cold stone floor, until the sound softened as heavy paws became lighter feet.

It was a shoe that nudged him, none too gently, before she spoke in a voice laced with a low growl. “Get up, Keay.”

He rose because he could not do otherwise, even with only a fragment of his Name in her teeth. Reluctantly he opened his eyes to find the she-wolf standing before him, windblown and bloodstained from a recent and successful chase.

That was odd. The hounds rarely hunted without consulting him first, wringing answers from his unwilling lips until they were satisfied that they knew their prey. But here she was, eyes bright and hunger sated, without his help.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Shut up,” she snapped, and his jaw clicked obediently shut. Satisfied, Julia looked over her shoulder and called out. “Bring ‘em in, Trev.”

The other hound entered, though he stayed back by the door. And then, a moment later, a third figure crept cautiously through the doorway, skirting Trevor before coming to a halt at a respectful distance from Julia. In an instant, their eyes were on him.

They were small, though anyone would look small while standing near the hounds. They were nearly plain as well, but for a few flashes of beauty. Dark brown eyes, deep and sharp with curiosity. Dark hair that brushed their shoulders, shot through with silver. Slender hands on delicate wrists, that would have been graceful if they weren’t trembling so. It only took a glance to know why—their skin was darker than his, but he could still see the familiar bruises that marked their wrists. The wolves had been rough with them—another prisoner to share his cage?

No—they would never bother keeping a human. What good was a human to them, when they had him instead?

Only… someone must have aided in their hunt.

“Here you are, then,” said Julia, with a dismissive flick of her hand. “You want a story? He’s got plenty.” The human’s eyes narrowed at this—not angry, merely thoughtful. “Don’t look at me like that. We’ve heard what you do with stories.”

(His ears pricked at that—a human with sharp and curious eyes, aiding hunters and asking for stories in return. That could mean nothing, or it could mean everything.)

“Count yourself lucky we didn’t just rip your throat out too,” Julia growled. “Save everyone else the trouble.”

The human carefully shifted their shaking hands behind their back. “That won’t be necessary,” was their polite reply.

“Good.” Julia nodded shortly. “That’s our end of the deal, then.” She shouldered roughly past them, knocking them neatly out of her way as she rejoined Trevor. From some hidden pocket within her coat, she drew out a familiar slip of old, weathered sheepskin between her fingers and showed it off with a careless wave. “Give us a shout if he gets mouthy, and we’ll set him right.”

“You’re not staying?” the human asked.

“Trevor hates being around him too long,” Julia replied.

“Gives me the creeps.” Trevor’s lip curled past the tips of his teeth. “Looks human but ain’t. If it wasn’t so useful, we’d have killed it ages ago.”

“Door’s unlocked, so come out when you’re done,” said Julia. “Don’t worry about him escaping—he knows better.”

As the wolves left the dark chamber and closed the door behind them, not once did he take his eyes from the scrap in Julia’s hand.

The moment they were gone, he sat down again, and with a rustle of fabric his visitor joined him at a distance. Their eyes never left his face, even as he refused to meet them.

“You want a story,” he said. It was not a question.

“I don’t know if ‘want’ is the right word,” the human replied.

“You’re the Archivist.” The words slip easily off his tongue—the truth, then. “Why are you here?”

The Archivist was silent for a moment. “I led prey to them,” they replied. “I helped them hunt. I asked for a story in return, but they didn’t want to give one, so they brought me to you instead.”

He smiled at that, wide and angry in the dark, clenching his teeth until he could imagine the taste of blood. “Did they, now.”

“Will you tell me one?” the Archivist asked.

It was a question, not a command, and even if it were otherwise, without his Name in their hand it would have no teeth. “No,” he replied, savoring the taste of the word like fine wine.

It was not freedom that he felt in refusing, but if he closed his eyes and imagined, it felt close. It was his favorite word, if only because he so rarely got to say it. Sometimes it felt as if gold would fall from his lips when he did.

It was worth the pain that always followed.

The Archivist looked confused, but not quite surprised. “No…?”

“Their debt is not mine to pay.”

“I suppose it isn’t.” The Archivist regarded him thoughtfully, curiously. Their lips pressed together firmly, as if holding back a deluge of questions.

He waited for his visitor to rise back up, call for their hosts and demand they make good on their deal by forcing a story from him. There wasn’t much he could do to defy the wolves that held his Name, but defiance still tasted sweet in the moment.

But the Archivist remained where they were. Either they thought they could cajole or force him themself, or they simply hadn’t thought of it yet. If that was the case, then he wasn’t about to remind them.

“Then we’re at an impasse, I suppose,” they said after a moment. “Unless there’s something I can offer you?”

He bared his teeth in a smile. “Your name, if you don’t mind?”

“I do mind,” the Archivist replied without batting an eye. “You may not have my Name. But if you like, you may call me Jon.”

He spread his hands wide. “Then we are at an impasse,” he replied. “Jon.” A simple name, but it sat nicely on the tongue.

“I suppose we are,” said Jon. They glanced at the door, but made no move to approach it.

Perhaps they were simply stupid. Rather unfortunate, for someone so significant to the Court of the Eye. Then again, it didn’t take much in the way of cleverness to collect stories.

“Was there something else you wanted?” he asked.

Jon shrugged. “It hasn’t been enough time for a story yet,” he said. “If I leave now, they might wonder why.”

That was not the answer that he was expecting. “And?”

Jon raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you want them to rip one out of you against your will?”

He stiffened. “No,” he admitted, almost petulantly. Not stupid after all, then. “Don’t you?”

He didn’t like the way Jon looked at him after that, measuring him with a glance. “Not particularly,” they replied. “They’re the ones indebted to me, so they should be the ones to pay, not you.”

“Oh.”

From the other side of the room, the Archivist’s eyes remained fixed on him. “They have more than just your name,” they said, and though their voice didn’t rise at the end of it, he knew it for the question it was. “You’re a full faerie, or as near as you can be.”

He nodded. “Only half of one, by blood,” he replied. “But these things don’t really care much about blood.”

“Except vampires.”

“Obviously except vampires,” he snapped. The Archivist cringed at his tone, drawing in their shoulders to make themself even smaller. “What matters is power. And, for the Court of the Eye, knowledge. But I’m sure you already know that.”

“Yes,” Jon replied, a little hoarsely.

“Knowledge matters here, as well,” he went on. “That’s why they keep me.”

“They showed me that scrap she had,” said Jon. “They said it had your Name written on it. I thought it was awfully risky, showing me something like that when they want to keep you.” Their eyes narrowed in thought. “I’ll bet, if I called it right now without that slip in my hand, it wouldn’t work for me.”

It was not a question. In fact, the Archivist sounded like they were trying very hard to keep it from being one.

“What of it.”

Jon studied him for a moment longer. “Just curious,” he said. “In the meantime, is there something I can call you?”

The question puzzled him, though he didn’t show it. “You know my Name already.”

Their face spoke volumes—a tightening around the lips, to hold back something more telling. “I don’t think I’d like it if people used my Name, even if it was useless to them,” they said. “Is there something that you’d like to be called?”

The question tugged a “Yes” from him, though no more than that. He could have kept silent, and in spite of everything he knew about the world, he suspected that Jon would even let him. In the end, he replied, “Gerry.”

They smiled. He wasn’t sure what to make of that. “It’s a pleasure, Gerry.”

“No it isn’t,” he said, and the smile slipped from their face.

“No, I suppose it isn’t. I don’t suppose… is there anything I can do?”

“Steal my Name back from the wolves, and deliver it to me,” he replied. “You’d get a story from me then.”

He’d meant it as a joke, an impossible task posed to flaunt what little power he had. And yet the Archivist looked thoughtful, as if they were genuinely considering it.

“They’d rip you to shreds before you got close,” he said.

“Yes,” Jon mused. “I suppose they would. Considering how they’re trying to repay my favor, they don’t strike me as particularly fair.”

“Yeah, they’re big on foisting debts on others.”

“Sounds like you speak from experience,” Jon replied, and barely flinched when he showed his teeth. “From what I’ve seen, I doubt they won your name fairly in the first place.”

He ground his teeth. “I think it’s been enough time, don’t you?”

“Not really,” Jon sighed, but got up anyway. At the door, he paused and looked back. “One more question, if you want to answer.”

“What now?”

“Do you know if someone’s looking for you?” they asked. “Anyone you’d like to send word to? Anyone wondering where you are?”

“There’s no one.” Nothing was pulling the truth out of him this time, but it still poured hot and foul from his throat. “No one but the one who gave out my Name in the first place. My mother is gone, and my father died so long ago that I never even learned his name.”

Something sparked in the Archivist’s eyes. Not just emotion, but power—the very power revered in the Court of the Eye. He hadn’t expected that, and he couldn’t help wonder what his honesty had wrought.

The moment passed, and without warning, the Archivist smiled again. “Thank you, Gerry.”

They said it precisely and clearly, with obvious intention. It made him balk; the Courts worked in deals and trades and favors, and words of gratitude came with the risk of accepting a debt. He had to wonder once more if the Archivist was stupid.

But he wasn’t going to get an answer. Jon knocked on the door, and moments later Julia opened it.

“All done?” she asked gruffly.

He sat back, tired and vaguely curious. The Archivist was odd, odd enough to reawaken his own curiosity, long since buried after the wolves took his Name. It was a shame to see him leave so soon.

“Not quite,” Jon replied, startling him. “I have business with the Court and I have to leave, and I was only able to hear a piece of his story. I’ll be back later for the rest.”

What?

Irritation flashed in Julia’s eyes, but she stood to the side with an impatient huff. “Fine then. Guess the quarry you found us was worth a lot.”

The Archivist glanced over their shoulder before they left, briefly meeting his eyes. That strange light still shone in Jon’s gaze, steady and curious and otherwise unreadable. They were gone before he could properly decipher it.

Julia barely spared him a second glance before shutting the door on him and leaving him in the dark. He sat back with a sigh, thoughts running through his head with frantic energy. Had he caught the attention of the Eye? Had Jon caused it, or was he merely a symptom of that attention? Perhaps he would find out, the next time the Archivist came to visit him.

It was an odd feeling, to have something to look forward to again.

#TMAFantasyWeek #the magnus archives #jongerry #fanfiction #tales from the pit

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whirlibird · 3 years

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You tag as 'birds are the best' but WHICH birds is bestest

ALL OF THEM....................but in terms of personal favourites it changes from day to day depending on what bird i have most recently seen. here is a list of top 10s in no order from the top of my head

hummingbirds are definitely up there on account of being sparkly and tiny as fuck, and sometimes having pants. eat only nectar and have metabolisms so high they have to go into hibernation every night just to survive?? living on the edge???? the only bird capable of hovering and flying backwards.

peregrine falcons bc they are the fastest living creature and i love an overachiever. last time i checked the record was like 360km/ph on a dive, but they regularly reach 320. they also live in urban areas! which is very cool! one point against them is that their main prey is other birds so if i look up videos of them its usually to see them tearing apart a poor sweet pigeon. such is nature.

albatrosses are so well designed. perfect gliders. the wing ratio that lets them glide forever and never have to touch down. a creature optimized for sky life and hilariously clumsy at living on the ground. they mate for life! a romantic! and also, very good mythos around them from sailors. see: The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.

kakapo. looks like a moldy potato. one humped david attenborough’s head. flightless and innocent due to their habitat having no predators for eons and then humans brought invasive species along.

cockatiels with their little blushies and their cool crest and sweet singing voices. big ol eyes. so soulful.

willie wagtails are very small with a tail almost as big as they are. well named because they sure do wag those tails. rude little bastards with a big frown and like to attack other birds. admirable chutzpah, slightly ruined when they keep attacking their own reflection in windows. native to where i live so i love to see the little guys bobbing along.

chickens for so many reasons. did you know if you hold a chicken aloft and then gently spin it in a circle, its head will remain in the same place while its body rotates? a very cute gyroscope. most birds are capable of this, but most birds also arent domesticated enough to tolerate this behaviour.

shrikes are a classic bird, capable of stabbing their food and saving it for later. i admire their ability for forward planning, a trait i do not possess. the vlad dracul of birds. however i will take a point away for butcherbirds (australian shrikes) being a personal inconvenience to me back in the time when i kept budgies. butcherbirds are capable of groupwork and use this for evil, i.e. working in tandem with another butcherbird to scare the budgies into clinging onto one side of the cage so that the other butcherbird can skewer them.

another aussie bird, superb fairy wrens. look them up on google for the most stunning shade of blue. the pictures dont show it well but the blue is iridescent as well! this is only on the male birds, who need to be pretty to impress their harems. a thot! ive got a few living near my house, and i often see them flitting around. they are very small and cute.

last but not least, the common pigeon. again a domesticated bird, so we’ve known them for so long! we know so much about them, which means there is so much to love! war heroes. messengers. racers. an illustrious history. tenacious despite our lack of care towards them. my favourite part of going to the queensland agricultural exhibition is seeing the show pigeons! so much variation! so curly! such elegance! they were also used as the subject of some of B.F. Skinner’s operant conditioning studies! they are heroes of scientific progress! he taught em how to play ping pong. sporty AND smart.

honorary mentions: the superb bird of paradise (dances like an umbrella, confused many naturalists), red crowned crane (lovely mythos, elegant), secretary bird (big steppy), magpies (cool nursery rhyme, can recognize themselves in mirrors), crows (clever and have a sense of honor), flamingoes (hehe shrimp time), bowerbirds (architects), lammergeiers (incredibly metal aesthetic), cuckoos (an icon of neglectful parenting), the common australian seagull (bastards, also i saw one standing on another one’s head once), lyrebirds (incredible vocal mimicry), budgies (theyre just babey)

anyway yeah birds are the best,

#BIRDS ARE THE BEST #THANK YOU FOR ASKING ABOUT BIRDS. THEY ARE GOOD #phoenixyfriend #asks

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whump-me-all-night-long · 3 years

Text

Charleigh’s Doll - Acquisition

So this is a new idea that I’ve been working on for a little bit, instead of any of my current WIPs. What can I say, the creative juices flow where they flow. Anyways, I can’t say how often this will update or how consistently, but I have high-ish hopes!

Tagging some people who expressed an interest (let me know if you want to be added or removed!): @cupcakes-and-pain @lave-e @killtheprotagonist

CW: lady whump, pet whump, dehumanization, referring to people as “it,” lady whumpee, lady whumper/caretaker, lines between whumper and caretaker being blurred, that’s all for this chapter I think, but please let me know if I missed anything!

---

Charleigh sighed, tapping her foot impatiently on the store floor, her eyes trailing over the items lining the shelves of the pet store. She glanced at her watch yet again before pursing her lips and nudging the girl next to her, who turned around to frown at her.

“Sorry, Charleigh!” she said lightheartedly, tossing her natural unnaturally red hair over her shoulder, sounding not very sorry at all.

Charleigh just gave a sigh before her lips turned upward into a reluctant grin. “It’s fine, Rey,” she conceded. “But if we don’t get going soon, we’re gonna miss the movie.”

Her best friend, Reyna, gave a dismissive wave of her hand, turning back to stare at the shelf in front of her. “Don’t be such a worrywart. We’ll get there in plenty of time. You’re just sad because we might miss some of the previews. And you love those.” She gave Charleigh a teasing grin over her shoulder. “Weirdo.”

Charleigh snorted a soft laugh, and was about to reply when a commotion came from the back of the store, where they kept the pets. She didn’t know what made her do it, but she left Reyna behind in the accessories section staring at the selection of toys in front of her with nothing but a wave and followed the noises.

She pulled up short at what she saw when she reached the area. She’d never been a big pet person - never seen the appeal, quite frankly, or had the time - but taking in the pets lining the back wall in their cages, the rather poor, uncomfortable conditions they were kept in, her mouth twisted into a grimace. She dragged her eyes over the scene in front of her, brows raising in surprise.

Two store employees were struggling to drag a sobbing pet towards an empty cage. The pet, young with long dark hair covering most of her face, was flailing about, bawling and whimpering. Charleigh had no doubt that the pet would be begging if not for the tight black muzzle secured fast around her face.

A few other shoppers had stopped to watch the scene, and one, a middle aged woman with a bleach blonde bob, leaned over to loudly whisper to Charleigh, “God, don’t they know how to make pets behave anymore. If my pet acted like that in public..” She trailed off with a distasteful look on her face before shaking her head and walking away. Charleigh couldn’t help but feel bad for that woman’s pet.

Slowly, the small crowd dispersed, until all but Charleigh were gone. One of the employees, a young woman about Charleigh’s age, glanced up and made an apologetic expression towards her, before soundly slapping the pet, who froze, a hand drifting up to clutch her cheek.

Charleigh winced slightly in sympathy, craning her neck to see the pet through all the hair.

“That’s it, pet!” the employee snapped, yanking the now-stunned pet up by her collar. “Behave yourself. Or do you want your removal date moved up?” The pet let out a broken cry at that but stopped struggling immediately.

The employees got her in the cage and fastened the door securely, leaving the pet curled up in a shaking ball as far back as she could get before turning around to leave. Charleigh caught the attention of the other one, a lanky teen boy, probably only working here as an after school job, and he moved over towards them.

“Can I help you with anything?” he asked, a forced smile matching his overly cheerful tone.

She gave him a small smile back, remembering her own teen years working in customer service. “Yeah, um, hi, I had a question. About that pet.”

His smile wavered for a moment before he responded. “Of course. What would you like to know?”

Her brow furrowed a bit. “What did that other employee mean, when she said ‘removal date’?” She gave an apologetic shrug. “Sorry, I don’t have a pet. I’m just here with a friend.” She hitched a thumb over towards Reyna’s general direction.

The boy gave a polite nod. “Not a problem at all. Every pet has a sale value connected to them - how much they’re worth - and based on that, a removal date is issued out. If they’re not sold by that date, then they’re removed. Pets who are considered more high demand have further out dates, whereas pets considered less desirable have dates that are closer. It also depends on their health, their temperament, what company and store they’re being sold in, and if they’ve been bought before. For example-”

Charleigh cut him off, frowning slightly. “Wait, what do you mean, they’re removed?”

He looked at her like she was crazy - or just very dumb. “When a pet reaches their removal date without being bought, they’re euthanized. After that point, they’re deemed to cost more than they’re worth. It’s all very humane, of course.”

Charleigh felt sick. She pushed out, “And, um, when is that pet’s removal date?” She gestured over to the one from before, who had quieted down and simply folded up on herself.

The man gave a small shrug. “Tomorrow, after closing. That’s when removals take place.” He added with a small laugh, “Of course, it might be removed tonight, after all the trouble it’s caused. Nothing but a problem since we got it. It is a used pet, after all. Not the first time we’ve removed ‘em before we’re supposed to. Especially with the troublemakers.” He gave her a conspiratorial wink before moving on to help another customer.

Charleigh stood there for a moment, feeling the ground sway underneath her. She thought she might be sick. Before she was fully aware of what she was doing, she had moved over to the cage where the pet had been shoved in.

Tapping softly on the glass, she tried to get the pet’s attention, but it was as if the pet had left her body, staring blank, glassy green eyes through the hair still hanging in front of the majority of her face. Seeing the thin piece of paper hanging from the cage, Charleigh grabbed it and skimmed over the information.

It listed her height, weight, hair color, eye color, all the details about her that a potential owner might like to know. Charleigh’s eyes widened at the age. 22. That was only three years younger than herself or Reyna. Swallowing down her disgust, she continued reading.

Temperament: Unruly unless strict discipline is shown.

Charleigh gave the pet a quick once-over, finding it hard to reconcile the terrified, softly whimpering girl in front of her with the one the employee and booklet painted.

Charleigh’s lips parted and she murmured softly, “Hey there. I’m not going to hurt you. Can you turn around for me, please?” The pet stiffened, before reluctantly shifting herself so that she was facing Charleigh.

She reached through the thin, widely spaced bars of the cage to place two fingers underneath the pet’s chin. Lifting the pet’s head, Charleigh couldn’t contain the gasp as she saw the pet’s face, subconsciously raising a hand to her own cheek.

The pet was extremely pretty - or, she would’ve been, if not for the jagged scar going down the left side of her face, from the top of her hairline, through the far corner of her eye and ending at the edge of her mouth. It was if someone had taken a knife to her face and yanked it down as roughly as they could. Charleigh leaned back slightly, her other hand going to cover her mouth. The pet’s big green eyes watched her warily, tracking every movement.

Her otherwise flawless pale skin spoke of a pet that had been otherwise well cared for, if a bit sun-deprived. Charleigh forced herself to look down the rest of her body and, while she couldn’t see any other visible marks, she did note that the pet seemed unhealthily thin.

“Oh my,” Charleigh whispered. “What happened to you?”

The pet seemed to pull back from that, as if expecting to get hit. Charleigh winced at her words, realizing how they probably sounded to the pet. She pulled the informational booklet towards her again and continued reading, a half-thought pushing into her head that she wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge yet.

She caught note of the words facial disfigurement and grimaced before continuing searching for what she was looking for. The price was listed at the very bottom of the sheet, in bolded print.

Charleigh sucked in a breath, at once surprised at both how expensive and relatively inexpensive the pet was. Most pets, she knew, were sold for tens - or even hundreds - of thousands of dollars. This one was only a few thousand. Only, she scoffed at herself.

The thought, the one she didn’t allow herself to think, kept poking at her, and she just stared at the pet until a hand dropped on her shoulder, snapping her out of it.

She glanced up to find Reyna standing above her. “Hey, Charleigh, I’ve got what I need. Wanna head out now?” she said, lifting a plastic bag, before glancing at the pet with raised brows. “What is that?”

Charleigh shrugged, dropping the paper and standing. “Nothing. I was just looking at something.” She hesitated before taking a step away. “Anyways, you’re right. We don’t want to miss our movie.”

Yet, as she tried to move, she found that she kept staring back at that pet, still curled up and watching her mournfully, with eyes both too old and too young. Reyna let out a big sigh. “You keep staring at that pet. You’re not seriously considering…?” She trailed off, arching a perfectly shaped brow.

Charleigh gave her a weary look. “I don’t know. She is kinda cheap. Only a couple thousand. I’ve got plenty saved up. Plus, she- her removal date is pretty close.” She gave a kind of helpless shrug, taking a tiny step back towards the cage. Then another one.

Reyna just rolled her eyes, following her back to the pet. “Fine. She is pretty cute. Except for that hideous scar. No wonder they pushed up her removal date.” Rey grinned, nudging Charleigh with her shoulder. “But for that price, it’s a steal. Plus maybe she and my Sadie girl could have pet playdates!” She laughed, and Charleigh could tell she was now thinking about her own pet at home, the one her parents had bought her as a graduation gift.

Charleigh crouched in front of the pet, reaching hand back in. “Here, girl,” she commanded softly. The pet stared at her for a moment before obediently, if a bit reluctantly, pushing her head into the hand. She scratched the pet’s scalp a bit, wondering. “Hmm, what do you think? Should I take you home?” Her hand trailed downward, brushing a finger against the large scar, before moving to cup the pet’s chin. She turned the pet’s head towards her, brushing a couple strands of the dark hair out of the way.

The pet watched her, unreadable expressions warring across her face. But she didn’t pull away, or show any signs of disobedience or defiance that Charleigh would’ve expected from her temperament description. Instead, she seemed content to sit there, drying tears on her face, and be held by Charleigh’s hand.

Charleigh glanced up at her friend, before giving a small laugh. “Look at this face. How could I say no?”

Reyna threw her hands up in mock surrender, still grinning like a fiend. “Okay, if that’s how you wanna spend your money.”

Charleigh shrugged, flagging down an employee. She pointed towards the pet. “Hi, I’d like to buy this pet.”

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whatiwillsay · 4 years

Text

submission:

Reputation is about more than one relationship; a thesis by anon

Hello! I am that anon who thinks Rep is about more than one relationship and this is a hill I am very much willing to die on. I believe there are (at least) two relationship stories told in detail on this album.

One is the relationship between two very famous women (*cough*Kaylor*cough), who are struggling to make it work because of the public pressures. The other is between Taylor and someone who is out of the public eye, or at least someone she is able to keep the relationship completely private. I’m not going to speculate on whether that’s Lily or Joe (lol so full disclosure I don’t think it’s Joe but someone else might) or maybe someone else we don’t know much about. All I know is that there is more than one relationship being discussed. Let’s dive into this analysis, shall we?

The first explicit mention of the public relationship - let’s actually just refer to it as Kaylor from here on out - is on End Game.

Big reputation, big reputation Ooh, you and me, we got big reputations Ah, and you heard about me Ooh, I got some big enemies (yeah) Big reputation, big reputation Ooh, you and me would be a big conversation Ah, and I heard about you (yeah) Ooh, you like the bad ones, too

Tay’s lover on here is someone with a big reputation, and being with the person would be a big conversation. Endless Kaylor analyses have discussed this as ‘proof’ that it’s not about Joe. Which, yes, obviously. But equally obviously, any woman in a relationship with Tay would be a big conversation so once we exclude Joe as a possibility, as we rightfully should, we wind up with plenty of other options.

Later in the song we do hear more explicit Karlie lines like “it’s like your body is gold”. We all suspect Karlie is gold (I tend to agree), so let’s call it a Kaylor anthem. Cool. Then, what can we learn about their relationship from this song?

I don’t wanna touch you, I don’t wanna be Just another ex that you don’t wanna see I don’t wanna miss you (I don’t wanna miss you) Like the other girls do I don’t wanna hurt you, I just wanna be Drinking on a beach with you all over me I know what they all say (I know what they all say) But I ain’t tryna play I wanna be your end game (End game) I wanna be your first string (First string) I wanna be your A-Team (A-Team) I wanna be your end game, end game

The lyrics explicitly suggest Tay’s begging the lover to make it work. It’s “I wanna be” not “I am”. She’s craving affirmation, she’s wanting to be chosen; we can pick that up from the repetitive nature of the song. First string, A-team, end game… She just wants for her to be the one. Some might say that would be fun. She’d love for them to wind up together - but there is no clear sign in the lyrics that it’s an actual possibility. It’s what she wants. She’s trying to convince her lover that she is committed, but they never resolve that commitment in the song. It’s never fully requited. No matter how many times she offers what she ‘wants’, there is no response.

Later, she sings:

I hit you like bang We tried to forget it, but we just couldn’t And I bury hatchets, but I keep maps of where I put ‘em Reputation precedes me, they told you I’m crazy I swear I don’t love the drama, it loves me And I can’t let you go, your hand prints on my soul It’s like your eyes are liquor, it’s like your body is gold You’ve been calling my bluff on all my usual tricks So here’s the truth from my red lips I wanna be your end game (End game) I wanna be your first string (Me and you) I wanna be your A-Team (Be your A-Team now) I wanna be your end game, end game I wanna be your end game (oh, I do) I wanna be your first string (first string) I wanna be your A-Team (A-Team) I wanna be your end game, end game

I’ve referenced part of this above, because it’s where the Kaylor-ness of it all gets more explicit (drinking/liquor/intoxication, gold, handprints/footprints). But again, this isn’t a happy ‘in love’ song. It’s Taylor actively trying to convince Karlie that her feelings are real. “Here’s the truth” she says - that doesn’t sound romantic, it sounds like they’re fighting and wanting to make things work but it’s all proving to be incredibly challenging.

When we add Taylor’s tone of voice in - and the almost forlorn “I wanna be your end game” at the start - my reading makes a lot of sense. It’s definitely a Kaylor song; Kaylor songs are always steeped in anxiety.

Our next clear Kaylor song is ‘Don’t Blame Me’ which (importantly) Taylor didn’t write, but which clearly picks up on themes she finds relatable. Apparently it’s similar to Hozier’s Take Me To Church (I don’t know much about Hozier, but from a quick glance at those lyrics that’s not a wildly happy song either).

Something happened for the first time In the darkest little paradise. Shaking, pacing, I just need you. For you, I would cross the line, I would waste my time, I would lose my mind. They say, “She’s gone too far this time.” Don’t blame me. Love made me crazy. If it doesn’t, you ain’t doing it right. Lord, save me. My drug is my baby I’ll be using for the rest of my life.

We’re going back to that same theme from End Game - Tay is begging her lover to make it work. “For you” she says, “I” would do just about anything. Cross the line, waste time (a biggie when you’re Taylor fucking Swift), even lose her mind. Love has made her crazy, unstable - it’s almost a play on the satire of Blank Space. True love seems to have actually made her into that mad woman she laughed at on the previous album. She’s shaking and pacing, craving the physical release of her drug of choice. (The shaking and pacing in a darkened room comes up later on the album again, by the way - it’s clear that Tay is super into Karlie and I do get it, she’s so gorgeous it’s nuts).

Then comes this gayness:

My name is whatever you decide, And I’m just gonna call you mine.

I’m gonna pause here because these call me by your name vibes are just. So. Damn. Gay. But that’s neither here nor there. Tay continues:

I’m insane, but I’m your baby (your baby). Echoes (echoes) of your name inside my mind. Halo, hiding my obsession. I once was poison ivy, but now I’m your daisy. And, baby, for you, I would fall from grace Just to touch your face. If you walk away, I’d beg you on my knees to stay.

Again, we’re picking up those same recurrent themes: she’s asking her to stay, she is willing to risk it all for love. The daisy is a Kaylor inside joke, we all know about Big Sur, so I’m not going to dwell on that.

The name thing is more interesting, as is the ‘halo, hiding my obsession’. To me, both gesture towards the public nature of the relationship that first started in End Game and picks up steam in later songs. “My name is whatever you decide” she says, but the other woman’s name keeps echoing in her mind, possibly because of her lover’s big reputation? I don’t know for sure, but I think it’s fascinating. I think Tay’s got a thing about names - lol Betty and James but also later in this album; bear with me - so I think this whole name bit is of interest. I think Tay likes the idea of the symbolism of names and the concept often comes up in her lyrics…

Then we get the line which suggests one or both of them have a (public) halo, that they use to hide the desperate love Tay feels for her lover. To be honest, that screams glass closeting phase to me. We go straight from ‘hiding my obsession’ to the daisy references. “Glass closeting with me is fun!” cries Tay, “Please stay with me, please please please.”

But once again, there’s no answer.

And then we switch gears and go into Delicate. What we’ve established in the two songs above is Tay is very invested and wants to make it work, and that she’s dealing with someone who is also famous, and that there are complications. One of those complications is that she’s insecure in the relationship.

Delicate opens with:

This ain’t for the best My reputation’s never been worse, so You must like me for me…

It sets a different tone and attitude to the last two songs. For the first time, we’re hearing an analysis of her lover’s feelings. She’s not begging, she’s not urging. She’s shocked that this person wants her for her. The big reputations and the shaking, quaking and pining are suddenly gone.

We can’t make Any promises now, can we, babe? But you can make me a drink…

Here the lover is more involved than she was previously. Taylor has gone from asking for something to saying that this is what’s happening. This is chilled, low key. This isn’t an obsession. This isn’t her ‘hitting like bang’. It’s two people starting something very… delicate. It’s not love at first sight, it’s an exploration of possibilities. They’re going to a dive bar, they’re hanging out. It’s calm and peaceful. Her anxiety here is a gentle, delicate, romantic one. It’s not dramatic like on the Kaylor songs.

Come here, you can meet me in the back Dark jeans and your Nikes, look at you

The theme of secrecy comes in strong on the lines above. They’re hiding, and they’re private. This is not “I would fall from grace just to touch your face” - the stakes are markedly lower. It’s the start of something new, something beautiful. She’s starting over again. And she’s doing so with someone who is willing to hide with her.

This is in sharp contrast to our Kaylor anthems, as we’ve already seen above. Ready for another Kaylor song? So It Goes (again, not by Tay but thematically linked) is peak Kaylor.

See you in the dark All eyes on you, my magician All eyes on us You make everyone disappear, and Cut me into pieces Gold cage, hostage to my feelings Back against the wall Trippin’, trip, trippin’ when you’re gone

Okay, here we have a gold cage imprisoning Tay and a ‘lightning strikes every time she moves’ woman stealing the attention of everyone who sees her. She’s got Tay backed up with nowhere to go and tripping when she’s gone. That’s the same insecurity from before.

'Cause we break down a little But when you get me alone, it’s so simple

She’s explicitly acknowledging their problems, but the problems fall away when they’re in bed or having a romantic interaction.

'Cause baby, I know what you know We can feel it… And all the pieces fall Right into place Getting caught up in a moment Lipstick on your face So it goes… I’m yours to keep And I’m yours to lose You know I’m not a bad girl, but I Do bad things with you So it goes…

The above doesn’t need much additional analysis, there are Kaylors who’ve done it and I recommend going to read those (or just looking up times Tay ended up with smudged lippy around Karlie).

Here’s the really relevant bit:

Met you in a bar All eyes on me, your illusionist All eyes on us I make all your grey days clear and Wear you like a necklace I’m so chill, but you make me jealous But I got your heart Skippin’, skip, skippin’ when I’m gone

Does that sound the same as the ‘dive bar on the East Side where you at?’ Because to me, while describing similar situations - dates in bars - they are explicitly different in mood, tone and atmosphere. In Delicate, Tay and her lover were hiding out in the back, having a heart to heart. Here, the bar has ‘all eyes’ on them. Kaylor both have big reputations and Karlie makes Tay anxious and jealous. She’s not ever sure where she stands with her. The best she can come up with (and you must listen for the high-pitched, uncertain tone with which this line is sung) is that Karlie’s heart skips when Tay’s gone. That’s hardly explicit confirmation of deep, requited feelings.

You did a number on me But, honestly, baby, who’s counting? I did a number on you But, honestly, baby, who’s counting? You did a number on me But, honestly, baby, who’s counting? Who’s counting? 1, 2, 3

This once again acknowledges the difficulties in the relationship. It is not ‘Delicate’. It is not always happy. It’s a proper fucking mess.

Cool now let’s take a look at another Kaylor anthem:

I, I loved you in secret First sight, yeah, we love without reason

I hear the naysayers point to the ‘in secret’ as paralleling Delicate (which so far has been the only one that’s not about Karlie). The thing, though, is that this is about love at first sight/physical attraction/lust - not about the meaningful emotional connection we glimpsed in Delicate. Delicate is explicitly not about love ar first sight or love without reason. It’s about embarking on something new and beautiful but having trepidation along the way. It’s about careful connection.

My, my love had been frozen Deep blue, but you painted me golden

I’m including this as further evidence this is about Kaylor. As I said Karlie = gold. We’ve heard this image in every Kaylor song. You know what didn’t feature in Delicate? Gold. Spoiler: it won’t feature in CIWYW and KOMH either.

I could’ve spent forever with your hands in my pockets Picture of your face in an invisible locket You said there was nothing in the world that could stop it I had a bad feeling And darling, you had turned my bed into a sacred oasis People started talking, putting us through our paces I knew there was no one in the world who could take it I had a bad feeling

In this verse we have people talking and noticing this couple. She’s describing a well-known, public relationship. It isn’t a secret, not really, despite the actual love being kept somewhat secret. Their locket may be invisible but despite that, this relationship is something well known. Furthermore, we already know she has had a bad feeling. That’s kind of the premise of many of her other Karlie anthems - she’s begging Karlie to stay and trying to convince her that they have something real and serious. She is constantly trying to convince Karlie of the seriousness of her feelings. And, well, the song ends with her saying she’d like to dance with Karlie again but there’s no real way forward, seeing as their hands are tied. The whole thing is quite sad.

Let’s look at the other very very Kaylor song (like there’s literally no other way to read it):

Our secret moments In a crowded room They got no idea About me and you There is an indentation In the shape of you Made your mark on me A golden tattoo All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation My hands are shaking from holding back from you (ah, ah, ah) All of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting My hands are shaking from all this (ha, ha, ha, ha)

We have the familiar desperation, the shaking, the gold, and the secret moments in plain view. And again, they’re both very famous:

Everyone thinks that they know us But they know nothing about All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation

We also get this bit:

Say my name and everything just stops I don’t want you like a best friend

There’s the name thing again and after that the gayest, most glass closety line I’ve ever witnessed. “I don’t want you like a best friend”, she says. I want your body. I want your love. I want us. I want this relationship to be real.

You know what that clarification is in sharp contrast to:

(Call it what you want, call it what you want, call it) So call it what you want, yeah Call it what you want to

Tay didn’t want to call it what you want with Karlie. She wanted to call it end game, first string, A team. She didn’t want to be friends. People talking about them caused her anxiety and lead to the breakup described in DWOHT. CIWYW has that renewed joyful tone that she had in Delicate. It’s hopeful and optimistic. It’s all about about connection and meaningful interactions:

I want to wear his initial on a chain round my neck Chain round my neck Not because he owns me But 'cause he really knows me

This is not an invisible locket, this is not about sex and getting clothes off in bathtubs, this is about a really deep emotional connection which we first heard on Delicate. Notably, it’s the third time she speaks of necklaces on the album, but it’s the first that it’s not sexual. It’s also - importantly - not invisible. It’s not comparing the lover to a necklace (like before, which makes it a physical connection) or saying their relationship can be entirely symbolized by one. She’s saying she’d actually love to actually have tangible physical proof of the relationship. She wouldn’t have said that about Karlie because she wasn’t expressly convinced the feelings were fully mutual. Also, this song is missing that desperate pining and longing that she experiences for Karlie in the Kaylor songs.

I know people hear “Karlie” instead of “Call It” but honestly it makes more sense as one of the non-Kaylor songs. I think maybe the rhyme is her trolling Karlie - call it what you want, which is certainly not what she had with Karlie. This would also kind of explain the laugh in Miss Americana. If someone sang me a song about how things are good between us, and added in a dig at her ex, I’d laugh too. And let’s be honest discussing exes - especially exes in the same social circle (Tay, Lily and Karlie) - is peak lesbian culture.

One more thing:

Cause… My baby’s fit like a daydream Walking with his head down I’m the one he’s walking to

Karlie has never had her head down. She is super active on socials, as a model, and as a philanthropist. Karlie has never been quietly walking “to” Tay. She’s been stunting and traveling and being extraordinarily visible. And all the Kaylor songs deal with that very public nature - with rumors and discussions and everyone’s eyes being on Karlie and the anxiety that causes Tay. I know some Kaylors think they just went underground after being caught making out but that’s just not what’s being described in CIWYW. It’s a different person.

My baby’s fly like a jet stream High above the whole scene Loves me like I’m brand new So call it what you want, yeah

She’s explicitly saying her baby doesn’t form part of “the scene” but rather floats above it. How does that fit Karlie going on vacation with Scooter? Or anything about Karlie, actually? This is obviously about someone very private or not particularly famous. Or both.

Bonus lyric from a non love song that points to an actively private relationship is “and here’s to my baby, he ain’t reading what they call me lately” - why would Karlie not read stuff? She is calling the paps on herself and Josh regularly but she’s not following Tay’s PR game? Make it make sense?

Anyhow back to CIWYW. In that song, her baby loves her - a source of anxiety that never gets stated explicitly resolved in the Kaylor songs. Those songs have her begging for love, not stating it’s existence matter of factly. The difference is palpable.

And I know I make the same mistakes every time Bridges burn, I never learn At least I did one thing right I did one thing right I’m laughing with my lover Making forts under covers Trust him like a brother Yeah, you know I did one thing right

I’m including this because of the chilled out atmosphere, the “brother” simile (which to me is kind of the opposite of “not wanting you like a best friend”) and the insistence that this is “right” which is absent in the Kaylor songs.

KOMH keeps with that same quiet, calm, positive energy.

I’m perfectly fine, I live on my own I made up my mind, I’m better off being alone We met a few weeks ago Now you try on calling me, baby, like trying on clothes Salute to me I’m your American Queen And you move to me like I’m a Motown beat And we rule the kingdom inside my room 'Cause all the boys and their expensive cars With their Range Rovers and their Jaguars Never took me quite where you do

“Try on calling me” like “trying on clothes” is that same idea from Delicate. Things are early, and uncertain. They’re exploring this and seeing where it goes.

This is not a public relationship, it’s entirely “inside her room”. And it doesn’t feature expensive cars and the visibility her - or Karlie’s - stunts had. (Kinda interesting that she drove Lily in the Toyota, don’t you think? And also drives her/someone in Miss Americana?)

This relationship is super secret:

Late in the night, the city’s asleep Your love is a secret I’m hoping, dreaming, dying to keep Change my priorities The taste of your lips is my idea of luxury

But what’s secret? Not Tay’s love of this person like before. “Your love” is the secret. As I’ve pointed out that affirmation of requitedness never happens in the Kaylor anthems and hiding out in the dark. Additionally “idea of luxury” is very different to her drug imagery from the Kaylor songs, by the way. This is not addictive, this is just nice.

And all at once, you are the one I have been waiting for King of my heart, body and soul, ooh whoa And all at once, you are all I want, I’ll never let you go

I believe the “all at once” contrasts the love/lust at first sight feelings she expressed for Karlie. This didn’t “hit her like bang” - it surprised her after a few weeks. And it’s not just a physical connection. This person rules her heart, body and soul.

And what do they do together? Well it’s less ripping off clothes and more chilled hangouts with someone who makes her happy:

Is this the end of all the endings? My broken bones are mending With all these nights we’re spending Up on the roof with a school girl crush Drinking beer out of plastic cups Say you fancy me, not fancy stuff Baby, all at once, this is enough

This is very cute. It’s very much lacking anxiety. She’s happy with her new person; it is finally “enough”. That’s not true for her relationship with Karlie. “School girl crush” is a very cutesy image - and is in stark contrast to the craving, shaking, pining, and bedpost carving that came with “not wanting you like a best friend”. Notice how the second relationship uses constant friendship/platonic imagery and how that type of imagery is not expressly disavowed in the Kaylor songs.

I also think it’s worth contrasting the “beer out of plastic cups” on the roof with “I’m spilling wine in the bathtub” and “eyes like liquor”. All three references are about drinking - but only one is peppy, cute and upbeat and the others are full of lustful desperation.

Now the other possible reading - implicitly favored by the Kaylor community - is that KOMH, CIWYW, and Delicate are set at a different point in the relationship to the sex songs. Unfortunately that doesn’t really hold water because, as I’ve pointed out, the origin story described is different. Kaylor “hit like bang” and fell in love at first sight. The other relationship started out slow and cautious, but quickly settled into something quietly special. These other songs are about a connection that’s chilled out and very emotional and cerebral. The Kaylor songs are about how much she wants to sex up Karlie and leave scratches down her back (which, I mean, fair). The other songs are about tentative emotions and cutesy intersections.

Also KOMH, CIWYW and Delicate are the three songs that feature British/foreign imagery. (This is why I think they’re about Lily or maaaaaybe Joe but again I doubt that and the scene in MA where a woman laughs during CIWYW contradicts it and I also have further lyrical evidence it’s not him which I’ll address below). In KOMH she says “you fancy me” and describes herself as “an American queen”, in CIWYW her baby’s “fit like a daydream” and in Delicate she asks about the “girls back home”. Also East side and West side in Delicate make more sense as being about London. Dive bars in the East End are a vibe. But that’s neither here nor there.

Why is this analysis important? To me it shows that contrary to the rosy Kaylor depictions, the Kaylor lyrics consistently show they always had massive issues (not dissimilar to her issues with Di actually).

Very quickly on why Joe’s not the muse: he’s referenced in Dress in a verse makes no sense lyrically or musically or thematically in the song and I think is only there to make it slightly less gay because otherwise the song is making Kaylor Facebook official. But the “wake up by your side” doesn’t fit in with the pining and anticipation and drunken bath time fun. It’s just thrown in there as deflection. It doesn’t actually fit the other relationship on the album - it’s very romantic but “my one and only, my lifeline” is not the cutesy tone of the other songs. This verse is just made up and slapped in to feed the hets. The musical accompaniment is so markedly different that it is clear it literally doesn’t belong in the song. The other song that makes reference to him, I believe, is “Ready for it”. I think “I keep him forever, like a vendetta” is very much about her plans for him. But it’s a very different thought to “is this the end of all the endings?” because that’s a far less certain emotion. She’s only 100% sure about Joe because it’s… not real.

And final note: Getaway Car is obviously a satirical piece about Hiddlestunt obviously. And I think New Year’s Day is a general love song about the type of relationship she wants, similar to some of her early songs, not about Karlie or Di or Lily/whoever else. It’s missing any of the imagery associated with either relationship except “don’t ever become a stranger” but it might be written from diary entries (which she has shown us she does). Final final note: I don’t know for sure who Gorgeous is about. It could just be a song about hot girls more generally.

If anyone is interested in further thoughts, I’m happy to do this for Lover and folklore too. I think we need to challenge the myth of Kaylor being perfect. And I think we should listen closely and let the lyrics speak for themselves.

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thanks for taking the time to write all this up! let’s discuss!!!

#submission #reputation #reputation analysis

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fangirl530 · 3 years

Text

Baloo’s Lost Cargo

This is basically an AU where everything in Ducktales is the same, but all the Talespin characters are there (though they don't all appear here) and they're the same ages they were in the original. Like what they did with Darkwing when he first appeared!

AO3 link

A couple months ago…

“I wonder why those archaeologists were so cagey about what we’re delivering?” Kit wondered aloud. Baloo shrugged.

“I don’t know, kiddo. All Becky could get out of em’ was that it was some kind of rock.” he snorted. “Imagine, paying for express delivery for a rock.”

“Come on Baloo,” Kit pushed. “It’s gotta be somethin’ more important than that- didn’t you hear who we’re delivering it to?”

“No,” Baloo admitted. “I sorta zoned out while Becky was lecturing me.” Kit rolled his eyes.

“It’s going to Scrooge McDuck, the-”

“The richest duck in the world?!” Baloo yelled, turning to stare at him with wide eyes. “That’s who this rock is goin’ to?!”

“Uh huh.” Kit glanced down at the map, grinning slightly at Baloo’s reaction. “And after that, we’re delivering those farm animals to-”

“Who cares about them, Lil’ Britches!” Baloo laughed, tussling the cub’s hair under his hat. “We’re gonna meet Scrooge McDuck!” Kit laughed with him, reaching up to shove the hat out of his eyes.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be-” the laughter dried up in his throat. “Pirates!”

“It’s gonna be pirates?” Baloo blinked at him. “Is that some new sort of slang?”

“No, Baloo! Pirates!” he pointed out the windshield. “Up ahead!”

“Whoa!” Baloo swerved to avoid the oncoming plane. “Hold on, Lil’ Britches, I’m gonna try to lose them!” as he turned, hooks sunk into the back of the sea duck, the radio crackled to life.

“Hello, Baloo and Kit Cloudkicker!” a voice said. “Prepare to be boarded by-”

“Sorry Don Garbage, I’m afraid it’s not a good time,” Baloo said. He and Kit laughed as the pirate gave a yell of frustration.

“It is Don Karnage! I am here to steal your cargo!”

Baloo smirked. “You mean these chickens?” he asked.

“Don’t forget the goat!” Kit added, snickering. Baloo grinned, glancing back at the animals in question. Their cages had broken open during Baloo’s turn, but the animals themselves were unharmed.

“Yeah- you’re welcome to em’, if you want them that badly!” he said cheerfully.

“No! I am here for the stone!” Karnage yelled.

“No can do, Karny!” Baloo said. “We’ve got a very important buyer who we’re supposed to be deliverin’ it to!” With that, he spun the plane to the left, taking out the planes attached to them and Karnage. As the flipped back right side up, both pilot and navigator laughed- neither noticing the flash of light behind them.

“You sure showed him, Baloo,” Kit said, grinning.

“Of course, no sky pirate’s gonna out fly me,” Baloo said with a smug smile. He glanced back again to check on how their cargo took the spin, and gasped.

“What? What is it?” Kit spun, peeking over the top of his seat. When he saw what Baloo had seen, he gasped too.

Behind them was- was-

“It’s a chicken goat!” Kit yelled.

“It’s hideous is what it is!” Baloo replied. “I don’t remember loading that on the plane!” The creature bleated and charged at him, pecking at him aggressively. Baloo screamed, shoving at it- only for his hands to get pecked violently.

“Get it off, get it off, get it off!” he shouted, scrambling for the Seaduck’s controls. He pulled a lever, opening the cargo door- and both the creature and the stone flew out of the plane.

Panting, Baloo closed the hold and turned the plane around.

“Baloo!” Kit protested. “The stone fell down on that island!”

“As far as I’m concerned, the chicken goat can have it! No delivery is worth bein’ attacked by that thing again!”

“Well, what are you gonna tell Miss Cunningham?” Kit pressed.

“I don’t know, Lil’ Britches- help me figure somethin’ out!” he chuckled. “She’ll never believe us if we told her the truth.”

“Well, you’re right about that,” Kit admitted. “Okay, I’ll help you.” The pair made up a story to tell Rebecca when they got back, and tried to put the horrifying creature out of their minds.

…

As the plane came to a full stop, Della smiled at Dewey in a way which she hoped was encouraging.

“Not bad,” she said. “But maybe less crashing next time?”

“Agreed,” Huey said, stumbling up behind them and leaning against Della’s seat, a daze expression on his face.

“Less crashing,” Dewey agreed. “After all, I can’t be Dew-mazing if I just crash the plane! That’s Launchpad’s thing!”

“Not what I meant, but we’ll discuss that later,” Della said. She glanced at the building and grinned. “Look on the bright side, at least you got us to Higher for Hire! let’s get out of here and talk to the pilot that delivered the stone!” she opened the door and jumped to the dock, then turned and held out her hands for Huey.

“Oh my goodness!” A woman cried, running up to them as she pulled him over. “Are you all okay?!”

“We’re fine,” Della assured her, reaching for Dewey and pulling him onto the dock as well. “Right, kids?”

“Just a few bruises,” Huey confirmed.

“I told ya they were probably fine, Beckers,” a bear said, ambling out of the building. “I’ve had worse crashes than that and walked away without a scratch!” the woman ignored him, smiling at Della instead.

“I’m Rebecca Cunningham, owner of Higher for Hire,” she said cheerfully. “Can we help you?”

“Yeah,” Della said, eyes brightening. “We’re looking for the pilot- we need to ask about a delivery they made a while ago.”

“Was there an issue with the delivery?” Rebecca asked, her smile growing tense. Behind her, the bear winced. Della shook her head.

“No, we just want to know the status of the item that was delivered,” she said. “Where it ended up.”

“Alright,” Rebecca said. She glanced at the bear. “Baloo?”

“Right,” Baloo said, nodding. “I’m the pilot- could ya describe this item to me?” he asked them.

“Better, I can show you,” Huey said. He took out Isabella Finch’s journal, opened it to the stone of what was, and held it out to Baloo. He leaned down and peered at it.

“Yeah- yeah, that looks familiar.” he stood, rubbing his head. “Hold on, let me think… ah! Got it!” he snapped his fingers. “That stone fell out of my plane while my navigator and I were deliverin’ it. Hold on, I’ll go talk to ‘im and find out where it fell. Be back in a bit.”

He walked over to a yellow plane, and Rebecca gestured for them to follow her.

“While he talks to Kit, why don’t you all come inside?” she led them up to the building and went in, chatting with Della the whole way.

Dewey stopped at the window as they went in, a tv catching his eye. He gasped as footage of a young bear came on the screen. He was surfing the clouds on some sort of metal board, a wide grin on his face. ‘

“This can be my thing!” Dewey said, his eyes shining with excitement. He could just imagine it- surfing over the clouds, doing all kinds of awesome stunts, crowds screaming his name…

“Dewey!” Della called, snapping him out of his daydream.

“Coming!” he yelled, hurrying inside.

“The stone was supposed to go to my uncle,” Della was saying to Rebecca. Rebecca’s eyes widened.

“Scrooge McDuck is your uncle?”

“Yep! In fact, he’s the one who sent us to find out what happened to it. It’s…” she glanced down at Huey and Dewey. “Kind of important.”

“Well, I’m so sorry it was lost,” Rebecca apologized. “Baloo doesn’t normally lose cargo- he said they ran into some trouble on the way there, and they weren’t able to retrieve it.”

“Well…” Baloo’s voice said, sounding sheepish. “That’s not exactly true.” they all turned, seeing Baloo and a younger bear standing in the door. Rebecca frowned, but before she could ask what Baloo meant, Dewey let out a loud and dramatic gasp.

“You’re my idol from the video I only just saw a minute ago!” he said, rushing up to Kit and shaking his hand.

“Um, thanks?” Kit said, sounding confused and wary. “But… why am I your idol?”

“I saw that thing you were doing! With the silver board!” Kit’s eyes lit up.

“You mean Cloudkicking!”

“Yeah, that!” Dewey grinned. “I think it could totally be my thing! Teach me EVERYTHING you know!”

“I’d be happy to!” Kit looked up at Baloo. “Is that okay, Baloo?”

“Sure thing, kid,” Baloo said, smiling. “You can show ‘im on the way to the island where the stone ended up.”

“Oh,” Della cut in. “That’s alright, we can fly there on our own! We just need the coordinates.”

“It’s no trouble-” Rebecca started. Baloo cleared his throat.

“I think your plane could use a bit of tuning up,” he said, aiming a thumb at the Cloudslayer, which was sinking below the waves. “Our mechanic will take a look at it while Kit and I fly you out.” Della sighed.

“Fine.”

“Great! Right this way!” Baloo marched out of Higher for Hire, a hand on Kit’s shoulder. “We’ll have ya there in no time!”

On the Seaduck

Dewey poked his head into the cockpit, causing both bears to turn and look at him.

“Soooo… can you teach me cloudkicking now?” He asked Kit, tapping excitedly against the door frame. Kit looked at Baloo questioningly, and he chuckled.

“Sure thing, Kiddo. Can ya get your mom in here for me? If Kit’s gonna be teachin’ you, I’ll need her to navigate our way to the island.”

“Sure!” Dewey disappeared, and moments later, Della appeared in his place. Kit slid out of his seat.

“Here’s the map,” he said, handing her the paper. “The island we’re going to is circled.” he watched as Della sat down, a doubtful look in his eyes. “Are you sure you can handle it?”

“Of course!” Della said dismissively. “I plan my own flights all the time!”

“Okay,” Kit said. “Just call me if you need help!” he left the cockpit, and was immediately met by an extremely excited Dewey.

“So where do we start?” he asked eagerly.

“Well,” Kit began. “The best way to learn is by doing it.” Dewey gasped as Kit pulled out his airfoil and handed it to him. “Let’s see what you can do! Just take this rope-” he gave Dewey the handle he always held on to, and opened the cargo hold with a lever. Gesturing to the opening, he smiled. “You just, jump- once you’re out, try to balance on the board, and keep your knees bent.”

“Got it!” Dewey jumped, immediately being caught by the wind and whisked out as far as the rope would let him.

Kit watched him thoughtfully. His form wasn’t bad- a little stiff, but he’d loosen up as he got more comfortable. That could be worked with easily. The problem was… Dewey was screaming. He did not look like he was having fun, which Kit thought was the whole point.

“Uh, maybe we should practice inside first!” he shouted, hands cupped around his mouth. Dewey didn’t respond, and Huey came to stand next to Kit.

“Did you hear that, Dewey?” he shouted. “You can stop!”

“No way, I love this!” Dewey yelled, a tense smile on his face. “The freedom! The wind in my mouth! The sky pirates!”

“Sky pirates?!” Huey and Kit shouted, eyes widening in alarm. Don Karnage grinned as he flew his plane closer.

“Miss me?” he crowed, swinging his sword at Dewey, who thankfully ducked just in time.

“I wanna stop now!” The duck yelled. Kit cupped his hands over his mouth.

“Dewey, you need to start pulling yourself in! Grab the rope!” Dewey screamed in response, and Kit groaned. “Gah, he’s screaming too loud to hear me! Hold on Dewey, I’m coming!” he turned to Huey. “Once I’m out, pull that lever and draw the rope back in- it’ll take that and us pulling to get in as quick as possible.” after Huey nodded, he jumped onto the rope and slid along it to Dewey.

“Be careful Kit!” Baloo called from the cockpit, his teeth clenched as he held the wheel steady.

Kit waved to show he’d heard him, jumping onto the board. He grabbed Dewey with one hand and the handle with the other. Dewey wrapped his arms around the bear, and Kit grabbed the rope and started pulling.

“Flip the lever, Huey!” he yelled. The other boy nodded, and Kit turned his attention to Dewey. “You can stop screaming now,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. Don Karnage flew between them and the plane with an evil laugh, slicing the rope with his sword. Kit’s eyes widened. “Scratch that. You can keep screaming.” They dropped, and as Dewey’s screams increased, Kit winced (Dewey was screaming right into his ear) and angled his airfoil so it caught the wind, bringing them as close to the shore as possible before they hit the water. They both took a deep breath before they were plunged beneath the surface. Dewey’s arms didn’t loosen, thankfully- Kit couldn’t open his eyes to see him if he’d let go.

The waves washed them safely ashore, and they simply laid there for a moment, both breathing deeply. After a moment, Kit stood and held out a hand to Dewey.

“Are you okay?” he asked, pulling him up. Dewey gave him a shaky thumbs up.

“Totally,” he said. His shaking voice said otherwise, but before Kit could comment on it, the Seaduck was landing next to them.

“Dewey!” Della cried, jumping out before the plane had even stopped moving. She ran to them, picking him up and holding him close to her. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re alright!”

“Mom,” Dewey said, sounding embarrassed. Kit laughed quietly, and turned away, not wanting to intrude on their tender moment, and looked at the Seaduck instead. He smiled when he saw Baloo and Huey hurrying over. He took a step toward them, but was stopped by Della. She swept him into a hug and squeezed him tight.

“Thanks for saving Dewey-” he blinked, barely having time to awkwardly pat her shoulder before she was dropping him. “-from the danger you put him in!” she finished, scowling down at him with her hands on her hips.

Kit took a step back, alarmed by the sudden anger, and Dewey came to stand next to him. He glared at his mom, but before he could say anything, Baloo was there.

“Hey now,” he said, putting himself between them and Della. He glared at her, putting a hand on Kit’s shoulder. “Your boy wanted to learn cloudkicking, and Kit taught ‘im. How was he supposed to know the pirates would show up?”

“Yeah!” Dewey said, throwing his arm around Kit’s shoulders. “It’s not Kit’s fault!”

Both parents ignored him, in favor of glowering at each other. Huey shoved his way between them.

“Let’s focus on finding the stone for now,” he said patiently. “Okay?”

“Fine,” Baloo muttered. Della crossed her arms, but nodded.

“Any chance you saw where on the island the stone fell?” she asked Baloo.

“Nope, sorry.” Baloo shook his head. “We were to high up- and we didn’t exactly wait up. We were trying to get out of there as quick as possible.” Della narrowed her eyes at him as Huey knelt on the ground, examining a pair of tracks.

“Why?”

“Hey,” Huey called, before he replied. “Check this out.” Kit knelt next to him.

“Tracks?” he asked.

“Yeah, but they’re weird.” Huey frowned as Della came up behind them. “I wonder what kind of animal made them.”

“Uh…” Della put a hand on his head, turning it to the right. “I think, that kind.” a strange creature came out of the bushes, and they quickly backed up to Dewey and Baloo.

“It’s some sort of… rhinosarilla!” Della said.

“Or a gorillaocerous,” Baloo offered.

“Gorilihno!” Dewey suggested. The creature roared in anger, and Della ran, yelling,

“We’ll decide what it’s called later, RUN!” they all followed her, sprinting through the jungle. The creature stayed hot on their heels, unrelenting in it's chase.

Dewey pulled out Kit’s airfoil, grinning. “Baloo! Launch me at him!” he said, holding it up.

“Er, great idea!” Baloo said. “But I’ve got a better one.”

“So do I!” Della snatched the airfoil out of Dewey’s hand, hurling it at the creature. It bounced off it’s head and knocked it down a hill, where it got its horn stuck in the cliff.

The airfoil flew back, and as Baloo caught it and handed it to him, Dewey crossed his arms.

“I mean… my idea would have worked just as well,” he said, frowning.

“What is that thing?!” Della yelled, gesturing at the creature.

Baloo shuddered. “It’s just like that awful chicken goat,” he said. “Remember, Kit?”

“How could I forget?” the boy replied, shivering.

“The what?” Della asked, turning around to glare at them.

“Oh… did we forget to mention that?” Baloo asked.

“You did,” Della said, gritting her teeth. Baloo shrugged.

“Sorry.”

“But where did it come from?” Huey asked, cutting off any further arguments. He walked through a couple of rocks into the bushes, and they followed (but not before Della shot another glare at Baloo).

The game to the edge of a small cliff, and below them was the stone of what was and Don Karnage. The pirate was ordering a member of his crew to lift the stone. When she did, there was a bright flash of light- and she suddenly had the lower body of an ant.

As she screamed and Don Karnage groaned, Huey flipped through the journal.

“What was once two becomes anew!” he said. “The stone of what was! It must combine two things into one!” the pirates continued trying to grab the stone, but each one who tried was combined with an animal who had happened to be touching it at the same time.

“Alright!” Della said. “What was eight pirates is now four pirate abominations- much easier!” she walked to the edge and started climbing down. “I’m going to get a closer look- stay right here.” she pointed at Baloo. “You, stay further over there.” she pointed behind the kids, and he held his hands up in surrender.

They all watched as Della climbed down, gasping when she started sliding- just barely catching herself before she fell off.

“Oh man, mom’s in trouble!” Huey said worriedly.

“This is my chance!” Dewey said, grinning. “I can take the pirates out with my sick cloudkicking skills, while you-” he pointed at Baloo. “-steal one of their planes and use your piloting skills to make off with the stone!”

“Well, I am an ace pilot,” Baloo said with a smug smile. Kit elbowed him, and he coughed. “But uh, maybe you should let Kit handle the pirates? He has more experience than you do.”

“I can do it,” Dewey insisted. “I’ve dealt with Don Karnage before!”

“I meant- wait.” Baloo held up a hand. “You’ve met Karney before?” Dewey nodded, and Baloo sighed. “Alright, if you’re sure-”

“Hold on,” Huey said, stepping between them and looking at Dewey. “This is a dumb, pointless risk!” he said as Dewey pulled out the airfoil. “I’m begging you not to do this.” Dewey shook his head.

“Already Dew-sending!” he called, leaping off the edge. Baloo, Kit, and Huey cringed as he dropped, smashing onto the ground. Still, it was a distraction. Baloo hurried the kids down to the ground, and over to the planes.

“Get in, quick!” he said, climbing into one. He started the engine, drawing the attention of the pirates. Don Karnage pointed at them.

“Someone stop them!” he shouted. The pirates didn’t listen to him- most of them were too busy panicking. As Baloo pulled the plane out, there was a loud roar.

“Uh… guys?” Kit pointed to where Della was sitting on a bear with butterfly wings. “I think we have another problem.”

“Oh boy,” Baloo said. “I better help her!” he leapt out, calling over his shoulder- “keep the plane running!”

Huey and Kit watched as the bear ran around the clearing, roaring at pirates. It then came face to face with Baloo.

“Don’t worry,” Kit said to Huey. “He’ll help your mom!” Baloo and the bear stared at each other for a moment, and then Baloo screamed and bolted. Kit dropped his head into his hands.

“Nevermind.”

“Wait, look!” Huey pointed, and Kit looked up. The bear was tangled up in the ropes attached to the stone, and it was lifting it into the air. Baloo leapt onto the stone, flying along with them. he climbed up onto the bear with Della.

"well, this is one way to get the stone back!" he said, grinning at her. as they flew up, the remaining pirates hopped into their planes and went after them. Kit jumped out of their plane, quickly followed by Huey.

“Come on!” he yelled as they ran past Dewey. “We need to get back to the Seaduck and follow them!” the three kids ran back through the woods to where the plane was waiting.

After they got in, Kit sat down in Baloo’s chair. “I’ll get the Seaduck up into the air,” he said, turning the plane on. “But someone’s going to need to distract the pirates- I don't think the bear can fight them off."

“I will!” Dewey volunteered. “I can cloudkick out there, and save my mom and Baloo!”

“That’s enough!” Huey yelled, yanking the airfoil out of his hands. “Why don’t you both just do your thing!” Kit turned to look at him, confused, while Dewey scowled.

“This is my thing!" he said, gesturing at the board. “Flying straight and boring isn’t going to save them! Anyone can do that!”

“Wait,” Kit said, drawing both ducks’ attention. “Dewey, you can fly a plane?!”

“Yeah, so?”

“So? That’s great!” he stood. “I’ve been learning, but I’m nowhere near ready to fly on my own. Until I’m old enough to take real lessons, I’m best at being Baloo’s navigator. So you being able to fly well enough to keep a plane this size in the air, and keep it steady? At your age?” he grinned. “That is amazing, and it's exactly what we need right now.”

“Besides,” Huey said, smiling. “If I know you, you’ll make flying as special as you are. No one will be able to fly just like you.”

“Okay,” Dewey said, a smile blooming across his face. He sat in the pilot’s chair.

“Let’s Dewey this.”

With Dewey flying, they quickly and effortlessly caught up to Della and Baloo. As they got closer, they saw that Don Karnage had a harpoon stuck in the stone, and was reeling it in.

Kit opened the hatch and grabbed the rope. Even without the handle, it would work.

“Keep it steady!” he called to Dewey. Dewey gave him a thumbs up, and Kit jumped. He flew over to the cable, using his sudden weight to push against it and dislodge it from the stone.

“Argh!” Don Karnage yelled, dodging the hook as it flew back at him, taking out the cannon in the process. “How dare you, you little rat!”

Kit shot him a smug grin before flying to the other planes. He quickly took out their engines with the crowbar Baloo kept in the Seaduck, forcing them to head for the water before they fell.

“Wow,” Della said, staring at him. Baloo chuckled from his place behind her.

“Isn’t he amazing?” he asked, pride in his voice. He cupped a hand around his mouth.

“You’re doin’ great, Kit! Keep it up!” Kit waved as the Seaduck flew up to them, Dewey in the pilot’s seat.

“Mom! Baloo!” he yelled. “Jump on!”

“Get the stone first!” Della responded. She pulled out a pocket knife to cut the rope, while Baloo did his best to untie the knots. Between the two of them the stone was soon free, and it dropped onto the nose of the Seaduck. They both watched, breaths held, as it rolled to the edge. Thankfully, Dewey was able to steady the plane and keep it in the center.

“Yes!” Huey said, laughing. “I knew you could do it!” Dewey grinned.

“Thanks, Huey,” he said. He moved the plane closer to Della and Baloo so they could jump on.

“Look,” Huey said, pointing to where Kit was fighting with Don Karnage. The bear had just spun the pirate’s plane around, spinning him down into the waves below. They both cheered, and Kit grinned up at them, waving.

“I’ll go reel him in,” Huey said, putting a hand on Dewey’s shoulder before walking to the back. Dewey nodded, then turned to look at Della and Baloo. Della was looking at Dewey through the windshield, beaming.

“I’m so proud of you!” she yelled. She did a cartwheel. “Look how steady it is!” Dewey grinned, but Baloo did not look amused.

“Whoa,” he said. “I’ll admit this is pretty impressive, but maybe save the cartwheels for after we’re safely inside?” Della nodded.

“Fair point,” she said. The bear flew up to them, and Della smiled and scratched it’s fur. After a second, Baloo gave a small smile and did the same. The bear licked both of them, and Baloo gagged as it flew away.

“Gah, it licked my teeth!” Della laughed, wiping the spit off her face. She looked at the bear.

“Be free, my noble friend,” she said, waving at it. Baloo rolled his eyes, ushering her inside. Once they were in, he went to the back where Huey was pulling in Kit. After he was in, he drew the boy into a hug.

“Great job, Lil’ Britches,” he said, grinning.

“Thanks Papa Bear,” Kit said, smiling back. He fist bumped Huey, and the three of them walked up to the cockpit.

“You’re doin’ great, kid,” Baloo said to Dewey, walking up behind him. “But I can take over now.”

“Aw, let him fly us home Baloo,” Kit said. “He’s a natural- he can handle it.” Baloo looked down at him.

“Alright,” he conceded. “If you trust him, then so do I.” he looked at Dewey. “Just be careful with my baby, okay?”

“He will be,” Della promised. She elbowed him. “I let him fly my baby, and- well…” she coughed. “He crashed it into the ocean. But he’s not gonna try to do any stunts this time!”

Baloo laughed. “She’s been through worse than that- Just so long as we get home in one piece.” he looked at Dewey thoughtfully. “One more thing, though.”

“Yeah?” Dewey asked, keeping his eyes on the sky.

“Do you know how to get back to Higher For Hire?”

“Uh... no,” Dewey admitted sheepishly. “I guess that’s a problem, huh?”

“Nah,” Baloo said dismissively. “That’s why I have a navigator! Kit?”

“On it, Papa Bear,” Kit said, hopping into the navigator’s seat. he smiled at Dewey.

"Are you ready to... Dewey this?" he asked. Dewey smirked.

"I am so ready."

Once they were back home, Baloo lifted the stone off the Seaduck’s nose and into the spare crate that Rebecca had waiting for him.

“There,” he said, putting the lid over it. “You’re good to go!”

“Thank you,” Della said, smiling as Huey, Dewey, and Kit pushed it into the Cloudslayer. “We really appreciate the help.”

“No problem,” Baloo replied. “It was the least we could do- considering we lost the cargo in the first place.” Della shrugged.

“Eh, it happens. Uncle Scrooge’ll understand when we tell him what happened.” Baloo blinked.

“Uncle…?" he asked, before his eyes widened in realization. "Scrooge McDuck is your uncle?!” Della snorted.

“Yeah, who did you think sent us? Speaking of which-” she reached into her pocket. “He said that if you could get us stone, I should give you this.” she gave him some money. “It’s what he owed you for the cargo when you were originally delivering it.”

“Whoa, thank you!” Baloo grinned. “Becky will be happy- she was mad when we came back without this before.” after tucking it into his shirt pocket, he held out a hand. “It was nice to meet you,” he said.

“Likewise.” Della grinned, shaking it. “Maybe we’ll see you around?”

“Maybe,” Baloo agreed. He smirked. “If ya ever need anything else delivered.” they laughed together as the kids came up to them.

“The stone is loaded, Mom,” Huey said.

“Okay, then we should probably be getting back to Duckburg.” she and the boys climbed in the plane, waving one last time before shutting the door.

“Dewey gave me his address,” Kit said as they flew off. “So I can write him and see how his flying is going.” Baloo put an arm around him.

“That's great, Lil' Britches." he hummed thoughtfully. "You know, if you wanted, I could start taking you out on the weekends to fly.” Kit gasped.

“Really, Papa Bear?” he asked, looking up at Baloo with wide eyes. Baloo grinned.

“Really. I have a feeling both of you could be ace pilots someday.”

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #talespin #the lost cargo of kit cloudkicker #baloo #kit cloudkicker #Dewey Duck #Huey Duck #della duck #Rebecca Cunningham (minor)#fanfiction #story

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vvakarians · 3 years

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No one asked but once again I’m back on my bullshit. Have some of my theories about Dragon Age that I hate and love bc they are way too plausible (in my opinion)

1) Solas is the Maker, but is also a Forbidden One/Forgotten One. He is the one who threw Corypheus out of the ‘Golden City’ and they got the Blight because Andruil brought that shit to Arlathan. And at the time? Mythal had been killed and that’s why he had ‘seen the throne of the gods and it was empty’. Every single Evanuris was locked away. Bc they had the Blight and had killed Mythal.

2) Solas is on a gotta catch ‘em all run and is attempting to get all the Old God Souls. Which also makes him the Dragonborn weirdly enough?

3) The Old Gods were/are Evanuris or the Forbidden Ones or BOTH and we’ve been fucking killing them. And the reason Solas hates the Wardens is because the Old God souls have been sent back to their cages to be reborn into Archdemons again, and because they were v close to figuring out his plans. 🙃

4) Andraste was a Dreamer which means she was at least a half elf and that’s how she talked to the Maker (Solas)

5) The Hero of Ferelden 100% is gonna be cured of the Blight through blood magic. No ifs ands or buts.

6) That big sandmonster in da4 concept art is an old god or equivalent

7) If Mythal can rest in Flemeths body there is a possibility the other Evanuris can do the same thing or try to. But because they’re locked up or fuckinG ARCHDEMONS they don’t have the power to.

8) The Executors are some form of cult

9) Dwarves can be mages but for some reason were cut off from their magic a very long time ago bc of the Evanuris

10) if werewolves exist then by every right vampires could also exist in dragon age (this one is for fun lmao don’t come at me for it)

#dai #solas #dragon age #these fucking theories keep me up at night and i really hope we get more info during e3 or the game awards

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hazbincalifornia · 3 years

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Revelations

Chapter 21: Stolas and Blitzo have a talk. Two of them, in fact.

Warnings: Mpreg

Likes, replies, and reblogs are all appreciated, both here and on ao3!

Ao3 link

“I wonder if I’d be unlucky enough for it to be twins.” Blitzo’s fingers traced over the dome of his stomach as Stolas’s head twisted to the side. They were taking another break- the weird heat had broken with a body full of sore muscles to show for it, and it was nice to have a moment to relax. Stolas had offered some kind of smoothie made from one of his plants that had helped soothe the aches some and bring his energy back up after another nap. For now, though, resting against Stolas’s side was a good enough way to catch a few extra breaths- he’d leave later in the afternoon. Probably. It was comfortable, here, and it was much harder to peel himself off the sheets than it should have been. (To be fair, he was pretty sure he'd impaled one of the pillows with his spikes, which helped with that.)

“Hmm? I’d be able to sense that- there’s only you and the one little one in there.”

“Yeah, well, you said you couldn’t knock me up either. Your judgement’s not great,” Blitzo said, leaning back to stare at the dark, velvety top of the canopy. Fancy-ass bed. It was comfy, at least- and helped where he might have popped something in his hips.

Stolas gave a little chuckle. “That was a mistake on my part, and we’re both thinking clearly now, aren’t we?” He tiptoed his slender fingers over Blitzo’s belly. “More than we’ve been for the past few days, at least. It’s just the one, I’m afraid... although twins would be nice.”

“Yeah, no.” Blitzo scoffed. “They’d hold hands and laugh and frolic before life tears ‘em apart like it does to everybody. Happy shiny faces getting dragged down to the dirt because somebody's always gotta beat somebody else, and then it’s gonna suck shit for both of them because they used to be happy and know what it was like. Only one kid’s better, that way they don’t have somethin’ to lose right from the get-go. They'll have u- you, that's enough.” He paused. “Plus, I’m not squeezing two little bastards out, I want to be able to reuse my man-cave all nice and tight again sometime this millennium.”

Stolas blinked all four eyes, index fingertip pressed down just above Blitzo’s bellybutton. “Something you’d like to tell me, Blitzy darling?”

Blitzo looked down at him before slumping his head back, tail idly curling around the owl’s arm just to feel something soft.

“Nah, just musing.”

“Well, if you’re sure.” Stolas pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I’m going to go check on Via, then we’ll see about one more round before you have to go back to reality.”

Blitzo sank back down into oblivion as Stolas’s weight left the bed, and he rubbed his stomach as he heard the door click shut. “You’re gonna have him, at least, and you’ll grow up in a mansion. Lucky little bastard. You’re gonna have to annoy him for me so he knows what you were like in my guts, got it, squirt?”

In response, junior nudged against his palm, and he hummed a little, snuggling down into the warmth of how their smells mixed together in the blankets.

_____________

Blitzo had tugged on one of Stolas’s shirts, having given up on finding his mesh one again- Stolas would probably unearth it inside a pillowcase in a week or something. The lopsided Loo-Loo Land apple was stretched out just slightly by his stomach, but the fabric going to just past his knees made it more like a dress than a top. Whatever, he looked damn good in dresses, and right now it smelled like Stolas and sex and had a cozy warmth and he liked that.

“So, what’re you going to do with them once they’re out?” Blitzo asked, idly rubbing his stomach at a nudge from the inside. Stolas clicked his tongue.

“Well, first, I’ll need to get things for the nursery. Some of it will be fine either way, like a crib and some basic clothes, but some will be better for imps and some for owls, we’ll see how they come out. Via tore through plenty of toys when she was little, her beak was razor-sharp right from birth!”

Blitzo grinned. “Oooh, are you going to use one of the guest rooms?” He stepped out into the room and waved a hand, fingers spread apart over his head as he painted a picture in his mind. “With a big starry mobile or something, that’d look nice.”

Stolas shook his head. “Oh, no no no. They’re going to your apartment. You’ll be the one housing them.”

"Ah, right- wait." It was as if all the air had been sucked out of the room, and his fingers froze in midair, twitching before dropping \like dead birds. “You want me to what?”

“To house them?" A pause “Wait, you didn’t realize-” Stolas blinked, clicking his tongue. “Oh, poor Blitzy.” Blitzo barely noticed the brief dip into the baby-talk voice because the floor seemed to be melting underneath him, along with his legs. “I assumed it was obvious. You’ve seen first-hand the fact that there’s people after me who would use them as bait. I can’t exactly keep them in a cage in the basement, and goodness, I wouldn’t want to, they’re a child! They’d be interrogated relentlessly because of their half-imp blood, not to mention I don’t doubt that my wife might invite some sort of…” He cleared his throat. “Accident. It’s for their own safety.”

Blood bubbled thick and sticky in Blitzo’s cheeks. “Are you kidding me? That wasn’t what I signed up for! Six months, that was it!” He took a step back, but as his tail nervously flicked in the air and smacked something, he realized that he was about to hit the wall. Stolas was a towering force as the prince crossed the distance between them again with a single smooth motion.

“You signed up for this ‘as long as I agreed to help.’ I’ll give you as much monetary assistance as I can, of course, and I do plan to help in-person as often as possible, I care for both of you and this was-“

“That’s still- I can’t handle a fucking baby! Loona was seventeen when I adopted her!”

“You’re smart, Blitzy.” Stolas’s fingers cupped Blitzo’s chin and tilted it upwards. He’d never felt smaller, Stolas’s frame nearly blocking out the overhead light from this angle. “You care about your hellhound and your little employees plenty. I know you, you'll figure it out. Come now, I don’t intend to leave you to flounder, we both wanted this-”

“So you’re just making me do all the hard parts? Fuck you!” Blitzo’s chest was pumping like billows as he was caught on the edge of hyperventilation. “This is- this is just-”

“This is what you agreed to,” Stolas said, quietly but firmly. “You love your daughter as much as I love mine- when you’re less hormonal, you’ll agree with me. I’ll still do my part, and you’ll do yours, my little imp. It’ll be fine, I promise. I’ll be there for them, but it's not my fault you never asked what would happen.” The hand against his face warmed, and when Blitzo’s eyes flickered down, both it and his stomach were glowing.

"You were the one all gung-ho about it, I just figured you wanted to deal with that shit." He swallowed as the pieces snapped into place, and wished desperately he’d brought some kind of weapon to smash directly in Stolas’s fucking face with that concerned little fucking smile like everything was perfectly fine and dandy and not falling to bloody, future-destroying pieces.

There was always a catch.

“I can’t get rid of it now.”

“I cast a protection spell when you made the deal,” Stolas said, crouching down and still somehow being slightly taller as his gaze dragged Blitzo all the way to the bottom of the Rings. “To be sure you wouldn’t go back on your word. They’re safer that way- both of you are.”

Blitzo scooted sideways and shoved Stolas’s hand away, the glow fading as he did. “I need to go.”

“What’s the hurry? I thought we were having a good time. I know this must be surprising, but it's an honor for-”

“Something at work. Urgent. Just remembered. They need me.” His tail curled up and around his belly and squeezed, the point digging into the side. “The heat’s gone, we’re done here.”

“Don’t do anything irrational, darling,” Stolas said, straightening up just as there was a pounding on the door. “Who is it?”

“Me, sir.” It took Blitzo a few seconds to clock the voice as the butler’s. It had been eons since he’d last heard it.

“What’s so important? I’m in the middle of something.” Stolas’s tone dipped to irritation as the butler pushed the door open.

“It’s your wife, your highness. She returned home early.”

#I know nothing about the biblical book of revelations except it's the apocalypse one and. yeah #one time #shadow writes stuff #helluva mpreg #daddy blitzo

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