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ashipiko · 29 days

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DANCE WITH ME YOU LI-IA-IAR ♡

OVERBLOT ASHI??? ANYBODY??? the ANGST that this baby can store!!! SHEESH!!!!!!! <3 I only have one post dedicated to her and liar dance lyric analysis (the post is kinda outdated in gen) BUT…… I also have an overblot monologue as a treat 🫶 I wanted to better explain her angst and so!!! BABAM!!! enjoy

ASHI’S MONOLOGUE:

Sometimes I wonder why I ended up here.

A place named “Twisted Wonderland”, and at a school named “Night Raven College”.

At first, I figured that I was the odd one out— Y’know, the Ramshackle prefect and everything. The magicless girl at the magical all boys school? Nuts, ain’t it?

I’m known for a lot of things. Things that are different from the others. The fact that I stand out is part of the Ashi charm, something I’m known for.

But… Over time I found myself sorta feeling in place here.

Because as much as I try to believe it, I can’t safely say that I’m better than anyone else here.

I’m a fake. I make conversation and lots of friends, but for what? A backup in case something goes wrong? A sense of protection for my reputation? In what case are any of those friendships something I truly want? In what case are any of these strings more than just a tool instead of a thread made of my real feelings?

Behind this, I’m no different from any other student here. Even through my individuality, my cheerfulness, my endearing oddness… I’m still a horrible person. Using people to get what I want, toying with people and their feelings in order to gain power and gain a spot the top. All to become untouchable. It’s screwed. It’s not right.

My insides are ugly. The truth of me is something I want to keep tucked away deeply, because I don’t want people to see this part of me. A brash, annoying, selfish version of me, everything people hate to see. I don’t want this side of me to be seen because people will run away— people I don’t care much about, sures, but people I love, too. I don’t want to drive them away. So I keep quiet and give them a shallow show.

I give them a source of entertainment that’s controlled by the real me, every calculated movement translating into a marionette-like response. The only show I allow you to see is one that’s so carefully crafted by the chaotic clown backstage. The one that is shunned away from the light, the strings being the only hint of the puppet’s phony existence to the foolish audience.

But suddenly, I feel as if being here has started to let this side of me come crawling back into the spotlight.

It scares me.

It scares me to be vulnerable, let all of my faults lay out on the table like playing cards. To take the risk without the protection, to gamble everything I’ve built up away just like that. But you…

You.

You make me feel safe. You make me feel as if I don’t need to hide anything. I can give you the key to my heart and you would have no malicious intent. You wouldn’t cut out the parts people don’t like. You would enjoy the performance in full, every bit of it.

You make me believe that I’m nothing special, and yet something so valuable at the same time.

It’s silly. You’re silly. And yet that’s something that’s helped me.

It’s helped me realize that that truly is just how people are.

We aren’t villains. We aren’t antagonists. We aren’t monsters.

We are nothing but people, with faults and feelings that should be valued.

I am more than just a jester, a sake of entertainment.

I’m a person who is entirely worthy of love. All of me.

It reminds me that I must’ve came here for a reason.

Because this is where I belong.

#they drive me nuts. tbh #PLEASE LISTEN TO LIAR DANCE ITS SOOOOOOOOOO #!!! envy baby is also a big Ashi OB song #it’s so fun. she’s so fun #if you can’t tell her overblot works in like….. she IS the blot monster. or the (real) Ashi AKA the jester is #if she represents the true Ashi then the marionette Ashi represents what she pretends to be/puts out into the world #so even if you’re attacking the jestershi and the more antagonistic seeming of the two…… all you’re doing is feeding into the blot itself #as you’re doing what ashi’s afraid of— berating the real her #the solution is to kill the marionette!!! btw!!!!! and that’s what ace does #DW THEY ARE SO FINE AND OK. NO ISSUES HERE #ashace my beloved #ace trappola #ace trappola x oc #twst ace #twst yume #twst #twisted wonderland #twst oc #twst wonderland #disney twst #twst yuu #twst oc x canon #ashipiko draws ♪#twstshi #I DONT THINK I REALLY POST ABOUT ASHACE LORE A LOT #APRY FROM LIKE? THE FIC ITS IUST SILLIES #so I hope you guys enjoy!!!!!!

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knifeforkspooncup · 2 months

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Additional Tags: Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), Touch-Starved Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley is Angry at God (Good Omens), Scared Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff, Mutual Pining, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Song: Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want (The Smiths), Romantic Fluff Summary:

A soft footstep falters close behind him, signalling he’s not alone. Aziraphale.

Crowley knows he should pull himself together, turn to the angel with an expectant smirk, inviting him to start their next round of banter on the merits of modern music.

Let himself be carried into the afternoon on a river of wine and good conversation, muffling the anger and longing under his friend’s expert guidance. Follow Aziraphale’s cautious lead like he’d promised to 18 years ago, you go too fast for me, Crowley.

It was enough most days. It had to be.

But Crowley can smell the lavender and mint notes in his cologne, can picture his hands grasping the wine bottle at the neck, the soft way his waistcoat wrinkles when he sits. He’s not sure it’s enough today.

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It's 1985 and Crowley is settling into what promises to be another afternoon of excessive drinking and banter at the bookshop. Both he and Aziraphale are tenderly getting back to a shaky semblance of normal after a century and a half of renewed terror and revelations about their relationship. But it's a fragile existence.

And they want more.

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Oh hey look! It’s my first fic!

Thank you to my amazing beta reader and DM debauchery gremlin @aspiring-pansy. I probably wouldn’t have finished this without your hype.

I hope y’all enjoy this little emotional rollercoaster!

(Also none of you music kids come for me about the music notes ok, I don’t know anything about anything about music notation)

(Also also shamelessly tagging anyone and everyone who said they wanted my ao3/wanted to read this fic last week - NO PRESSURE TO READ)

#holds out my bleeding heart with shaking hands #I hope you enjoy #I just wrote what I wanted to read idk guys #the next one will be smut #this is the first thing I've really written in 7 years be nice #good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanart #good omens fic rec #good omens fic #aziraphale x crowley #aziracrow #Ineffable Husbands #crowley #Aziraphale

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might-be-tiny-gt · 1 month

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Welcome to Chapter 1 of the TAoLaW "dramatic" reading

What can I say, the theatre kid in me needed to record this in audio format.

Have I mentioned how much I love this fic? Yes? Well I'm saying it again, I LOVE THE ART OF LOVE AND WAR!!!

If you haven't read it please go read it. Index Page | Chapter 1

The Art of Love and War Is written by @fireflywritesgt and the audio reading is recorded and posted with permision.

#OK IM ACTUALLY DOING THIS #I’ve been wanting to record dramatic readings of GT fics for a LOOOOOONG time now #but have been admittedly self conscious of my voice #but I finally bit the bullet #I did it #I recorded this chapter while I had the house to myself #Personally I still hear flaws in the audio which I assume were from getting too close to the mic #none of my edits were able to fix it so I guess I have to live with it now #if and when I have time I might re-record this chapter to fix this later #I recorded chapter 2 in the same sitting so that audio will be ready sooner rather than later #personally I think it sounds better #Hope you guys enjoy this #it was really fun to do and I’d like to do more in the future #g/t #giant/tiny #gt #giant tiny #borrowers #g/t fluff #Mighty Records #the art of love and war #taolaw #taolaw audio drama

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 8 days

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Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 112

Part 1 Part 111

Eddie feels anything but serene as he follows Steve up to the front door of the Harrington house. There’s no expensive car in the driveway aside from Steve’s own, but that doesn’t account for all the neighbors. He still remembers the curtains shifting that night, all the rich folks ready to watch the spectacle Billy, Eddie, and Carol were making of themselves.

“What if someone calls the cops?” Eddie whispers, looking behind them at the seemingly abandoned street. When he turns back around, Steve’s frowning down at his keyring. There’s an empty spot where his house key should be. Right. “Wait, let me–”

Eddie bends down to grab the key from the pot where he’d hidden it. He hands it to Steve with a sheepish smile. Steve doesn’t ask. He turns, fits it into the lock, and twists. The metallic clang of the tumbler turning portends their doom.

“Steve!” Eddie hisses, looking back at all the houses hemming them in.

Steve just scoffs. “Why would they call the cops on a kid going into his own house?” He opens the door wide, ushering Eddie inside until he has no choice but to follow. As if there was ever a world in which he wouldn’t follow Steve anywhere. “There’s no way they told anyone they kicked me out.”

Steve closes the door behind Eddie, clicking the lock and deadbolt home like a bad habit. “Besides, you think Chief Hopper’s going to arrest us?”

Steve doesn’t take off his shoes, so Eddie doesn’t either. Steve skips, light-footed up the stairs, but Eddie clumps, muddy boots leaving clods of dirt with every step. When they reach the top of the stairs, Eddie makes sure to ground his heel extra hard into the new white carpet.

When Eddie takes a little too long to follow, Steve clasps his wrist and pulls him into his old bedroom and shuts the door. He’s not surprised when Steve leads him over to his closet.

He’d known right when Steve’d pulled onto the street.

Steve drops his wrist. He puts his back to the closet wall, slides down it, and sort of crouches there, feet planted on the ground, eyes looking up at Eddie. When he doesn’t move, Steve pats the spot next to him.

Eddie slides down the wall beside him. He ends up sitting criss-cross on the carpet, thigh overlapping Steve’s own. As if waiting for Eddie to take his place, Steve drops his own alert position, falling onto his ass and crossing his own legs so his thigh stays pressed tightly into Eddie’s.

Steve didn’t turn on the bedroom light, but the curtains are open, and there’s still plenty of daylight to burn.

“So…” Eddie trails off leadingly, gaze trained on the atrocious plaid wallpaper that covers the room. “What are we doing here?”

Steve sighs. Eddie feels him shift. He looks over, and Steve’s picking at his fingernails. “I just wanted, I mean, you’re just,” Steve stumbles. He groans, burying his head into his hands before peaking up at Eddie through his fingers. “You know?”

Eddie smiles down at him, equal parts endeared and utterly lost. “Not in the slightest.”

Steve laughs, turning his face fully back into his hands. “Yeah, fair,” he replies, voice muffled into his palms. He groans again, long and loud. “Carol and I practiced this.”

Eddie reaches out to pull one of Steve’s hands free. He resists for a second before dropping them both and pouting up at Eddie. He links their fingers together, and Steve latches on like a drowning man. Eddie runs his thumb across his knuckles.

“Fuck what you practiced.” Eddie’s looking down at their hands. “Just tell me.”

Steve breathes in deep, lets it out slow. He squeezes Eddie’s hand once and speaks, all in one go, like he needs to rush it all together to get the thought out. “This is the first place I ever wanted to kiss you.” Steve laughs. “This was supposed to be romantic, but I forgot all my lines.” He laughs again, but Eddie barely hears it. He’s staring down at their hands, eyes so wide they feel like they’re about ready to pop free from his skull. “Should’ve written it down, I guess.”

Eddie thinks he’s smiling, but he can’t quite feel his face anymore. He can’t imagine Steve sitting next to him, reading off notecards as he stumbles through whatever the hell this is.

Steve doesn’t immediately continue, but he’s already given Eddie so much to pour over, that he hardly notices. Steve Harrington wants to kiss him, has thought about it enough to have a first time, is stumbling over his words trying to talk about it.

“Wait the first time?” Eddie asks, shocked enough to look away from their hands and up at Steve’s eyes. “That first night?”

All Eddie remembers of that first night is fear and Steve Harrington’s body pressed close to his.

“No!” Steve says forcefully, almost glaring over at him. But then he winces, eye twitching half closed as he rocks his head to the side. “Well, yeah probably. I’m always sort of thinking about kissing people.”

“What?”

“But I meant that night on Halloween!” Steve raises his hands in defense, bringing Eddie’s up right along with them to hang in the air awkwardly. “You saved me, you know? And you were wearing my clothes.”

“That does it for you?” Eddie asks, something shaking through his lungs, and making him choke on his words. It emerges as a laugh, unhinged and uncontrolled as he pulls his knees up to his chest, bending down to compress his ribs into them as he shakes with the power of his laughter.

Steve’ still holding his hand up, arm bent awkwardly to the side as he leans forward. “Don’t crack on me now, Munson.”

Eddie leans back, waving his free hand in front of his face as tears stream from his eyes. “Hang on, hang on.” He uses his elbow to wipe the tears away, uncurling as the laughter peters out slowly and dies an awkward death at his feet. “Sorry, sorry.”

He peers at Steve out of the corner of his eyes, afraid of what he’ll see. Steve’s biting his lip against his own amusement, eyes crinkled at the corners the way Eddie loves.

“Can I continue?” he asks, mirth audible in every word.

Eddie rolls his eyes, wiping them dry one last time. He turns away from the ugly plaid wallpaper to face Steve, pulling at their joined hands until Steve turns right along with him, the knees of their crossed legs knocking together.

He’s starting to get an inkling of what this is, and he wants to be able to see Steve’s face as it happens.

“Go on,” he says, squeezing Steve’s hand.

It’s Steve’s turn to look down at their hands as Eddie watches a blush bloom on his face. Eddie keeps holding onto him, and waits. He’s waited a week, a year, a lifetime, for this. He can wait a few minutes more.

“Tommy was my first kiss.” Steve says. Eddie’s shoulder’s hunch then freeze that way. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t that. “And Carol was my second.”

The words hang in the air for a second, an arrow to Eddie’s heart. Tommy fucking Hagan who trampled all over Steve’s heart, and Carol fucking Perkins who’d followed right along in his wake.

Eddie doesn’t know what the fuck this is. “What does that…” he starts to ask, voice croaking against whatever feeling is bubbling up in him, but he can’t finish it. What does that have to do with us? He bites his tongue against the words, both hoping and dreading that Steve will pick them out of his brain and answer them anyway.

Steve tugs at his sternum. Eddie shudders and tugs back.

“Carol and Tommy were the ones that were dating,” Steve says, eyebrows furrowed. “That’s what everyone always said, but I was there too, you know?” He looks up at Eddie like he’s expecting something, so Eddie nods, even as his mind spins and spins, never quite clicking back into place.

“I was at most of their dates, and we were each other’s first everythings.” He’s still frowning, but it’s up at Eddie now, and it’s starting to look less like sadness and more like confusion. “They were my everything” He’s squeezing Eddie’s hand hard enough to sting. “So, what was the difference?”

Eddie doesn’t answer. He barely understands the question, even as things start clicking into place. Steve’s heartbreak had always been obvious. In the teddy bear on his bed, and the way he clutched back onto Carol and clung.

There’d always been an empty spot by Steve’s side. The gossip around school was that Steve was too much of a player to ever fill it. It’d continued like that until the trio had imploded upon itself, fracturing into thirds. Even Nancy Wheeler hadn’t made the cut.

Now Eddie’s wondering if there was ever a spot open at all.

Steve still looks like he wants an answer, so Eddie says, “I don’t know.”

Steve shudders, closing his eyes like Eddie had struck him. He pulls Eddie’s hand up to press it to his forehead for a second,

“I don’t know what the difference is,” Steve reiterates, eyes still closed. “But then you kissed me.” Steve pulls Eddie’s hand down his face, pressing a kiss to the back of it as he finally opens his eyes. “And I didn’t know what it meant.”

There’s something burning through Eddie, scorching his veins, cauterizing his words in his throat as he tries desperately to grasp at them. Steve’s looking at him practically begging for answers, and Eddie’s floundering.

Steve throws him a life preserver.

“I heard you talking to Uncle Wayne,” Steve says, and it doesn’t connect until he tacks on, “and Jeff.”

His breath catches. Not a life preserver, an anchor, and he’s at the bottom of the sea drowning.

Steve’s peeking up at him under his lashes. The thing is, he can’t even remember exactly what was said. But he remembers the embarrassment, the pleas for them both to lower their voices.

Was the L word used? He can’t fucking remember.

“But you didn’t…” What? Say anything? What was he supposed to say?

Steve started acting weird that next morning, hadn’t he?

“You said you loved me,” Steve says, a bandaid ripped off a festering wound. “What did that mean?”

Oh. Here’s Steve asking again, what’s the difference. You kissed me, and I didn’t know what it meant.

What does it mean?

Steve’s ears are so red they’re almost bioluminescent. Eddie wants to reach out and see if he can feel the warmth pooling beneath the thin skin. He turns the hand Steve has clasped in his own and held against his face to do just that. The angle’s awkward, and it ends up with Steve’s own wrist bent awkwardly and smooshed against his cheek.

Steve shudders as Eddie trails his pointer finger against the delicate skin. He pulls Eddie’s hand back and for a heartstopping moment he thinks Steve’s going to let go, but all he does is turn Eddie’s hand to press a kiss to the back of it and then drop their still-joined hands into his own lap.

“It meant I wanted more,” Eddie says, scooting closer in the space they don’t have between them. “Means I want more.”

Steve’s laugh is more like a quiet breath, puffing against Eddie’s face, they’re so close. “More like dating?” Eddie’s heartbeat is all the way up in his throat as he nods. “That’s so stupid, Eddie.”

Eddie sucks in a breath, pulling at his hand, but Steve doesn’t loosen his hold. “No wait!” He drops Eddie’s hand, but before Eddie can get any distance, Steve’s clambering into his lap, patting at his chest like he’s looking for a wound. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Eddie’s breath shudders out of him. He sinks into the carpet more firmly, closing his eyes as he focuses on Steve’s grounding weight atop him. This is Steve. Steve, who would never hurt him. Who let him into his home. Who bleed for him, who tried to die for him, who lives with him.

Steve’s so close, when Eddie opens his eyes. His cheeks are still pink, eyes shining. In the dim light, they look like flat pits of brown. Eddie wants to be this close in the light of day, sunlight shining bright enough to reflect the gold in them.

“I know,” Eddie says, reaching out to clutch Steve’s sides. Whatever prey drive had been thrumming through him thoroughly squashed out under Steve’s bulk. He breathes again while Steve waits, in, out, in, out, in. “What did you mean?”

Steve’s smiling a little as he meets his eyes. The angle’s funky, this close. He can barely see his lips, has to crane his head down a bit just to catch them quirking. “I just meant–” He starts before biting his lip and looking away. His brows furrowed again, like he’s thinking hard about what he wants to say.

Maybe notecards wouldn’t have been such a bad idea.

Steve nods, apparently having reached an accord with his own mind. Eddie loves him so much.

“I just meant, that there is no ‘more,’ Eddie.” He lets go of Eddie long enough to make air quotes around the word “more,” because even in emotional situations, he’s fundamentally a bitch. “You can’t get more than we already are.”

Steve doesn’t settle his hands back on Eddie’s chest; he reaches up to cup his face. “We’re the most we ever could be. Dating doesn’t change that. Kissing doesn’t change that.” Steve’s thumb trails along Eddie’s bottom lip emphasizing the point. “You’re already everything.”

Something untenable is running through Eddie. It’s too big, too untamed. Eddie has to do something with it, or he’s going to immolate on all these feelings.

He leans forward and kisses Steve.

It’s not like last time. Last time was soft, sleepy comfort. It was the warmth of a late night and shared bed.

This time, it’s an inferno. Eddie wants to burn up in it.

Eddie wants to consume Steve; he wants to devour. He wants to die in this perfect, infinite moment.

And Steve’s kissing back, just as ferociously. Eddie wants to get lost in it. But he’s got to know, so he leans back, lets their lips brush as he asks, “but kissing’s okay, right?” He leans in, licking the corner of Steve’s mouth, getting some of his teeth as he laughs. “And you’ll just kiss me?”

Steve doesn’t answer right away, except to reel Eddie back in and press into him, hard and needy. “Just you.” He delves in when Steve gasps, ready to burn up on their connection. Steve bites his lip hard enough to sting.

Eddie loses himself in the moment.

It’s less pulling away, and more kisses slowing, gentling even as they linger.

The light’s almost gone, and both Eddie’s legs are dead beneath Steve’s weight. He reaches out to tuck a hair behind Steve’s ear, smiling as it immediately springs free, Steve’s usual gell released from Eddie’s brushing hands.

Eddie’s lips sting, and his throat’s parched. He never wants to get up.

“Was that anything like you and Carol practiced?” he asks, throat a dry croak.

Steve’s eyes are twinkling as he leans back into Eddie’s space. “Well, I hit all the right beats, at least.”

He leans back into Eddie, slotting their lips back together, lingering, lingering, lingering. Eddie pulls back, the desire to kiss Steve and the perpetual need to be a smartass warring within him. “But in the wrong order right?”

“Hey!”

Eddie kisses him before he can make any more complaints. Steve doesn’t seem to mind.

Part 113

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #my fic #steddie upsidedown au #THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!!! also part of my steve harrington is arospec agenda <3!#anyway. hope you guys enjoy 😊#i kept it vague bc Eddie doesn’t Quite get what steve is talking abt. and to be fair. neither really does steve #he's like. devotion is devotion. anyway what is romantic attraction. should we make out?

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seyaryminamoto · 2 months

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Fic-to-Art #39: Gladiator's ELEVENTH Anniversary! (+ BONUS: Fic-to-Art #36...)

And here we are! March 26th arrived and I did not forget about it, but I paid for my ambitious madness with my wrist and forearm. Somehow, I finished my intended pieces on time, but I do not advise that you ever try to make 9 artworks in 3 days. No, sir. Bad life decisions, that's what that was... but this fic, as anyone knows, moves me to do things I never thought possible, starting with writing the fic itself!

It's really crazy every time it hits me that I've been doing this for as long as I have. It's been a complicated, chaotic journey, with its many ups and downs, but ultimately, it has been our journey. For some people, this is just one more fic in the pile: for me, it's been the best adventure of my life so far. Everyone who has ever been touched by Gladiator, who has ever cherished this story, who's looking forward to the big conclusion, who wants to see how the chaotic war is going to end... you're all part of this crazy adventure along with me, and I can only thank you for joining me.

This year, I had no time to make as big a project as I usually go for. Thus, I did a sort of free-for-all edition of Fic-to-Art over at Patreon and challenged myself to draw as many scenes as I could, out of their suggestions. I even sprinkled in a few scenes I impulsively wanted to draw because I loved writing them or because I look forward to writing them... and this is the result!

In order, the scenes are as follow:

Sokka combing Azula's hair, a common occurrence throughout the story.

Azula watching over a convalescing Sokka in the Chase of Jeong Jeong arc.

The outcome of Sokka's final battle in the Superior Gladiator League, namely a moment where Sokka and Azula more or less gave away their relationship's true nature to the public by raising their hands towards each other...

And now, spoiler territory! Some were by my choice, some by Patreon requests:

An important moment shortly after Sokka and Azula reunite.

Azula confronting her father, with a LOT of backup.

Xin Long's long-awaited freedom.

The aftermath of the final battle.

The full-blown confirmation of their relationship to the general Fire Nation populace.

Sokka, Azula and Hotaru's first night together

And the big final one is ACTUALLY Fic-to-Art #36 but hahaha woops I didn't post it here on time because it was super hard to finish since I had a LOT of things going on... but here it is now! :'D it's a glimpse VERY far into the future of this fic's timeline!

Alright, that should be enough talking and explaining. Some things are vague, some things aren't, but ultimately I really hope you guys will be looking forward to the scenes you haven't seen yet, and to Gladiator's eventual outcome.

So now... with all this being said and done, I'm gonna go take a trip down memory lane and watch my Tenth Anniversary video once more! Feel free to do the same thing if you'd like to commemorate the fic, I think it's a good way to experience Gladiator all over again, hahaha.

Thank you if you read all this, and if you read all THAT: 5 million word landmark, here we come! Thanks for hanging out with me across ELEVEN years of Gladiator!

#sokkla #sokka #azula #gladiator #fic-to-art project #zuko #aang #katara #rui shi #fei li #tai wei #and a rando #yes that guy is a rando he's there to symbolize all the randos in that scene #do not look too deep into it it isn't deep at all hahahahahaha #Xin Long continues to be the bane of my existence I love him I hate drawing him #I don't know if he's good enough but I hope the emotional punch of THAT MOMENT #is enough to make up for any flaws ahahahaha welp #... also yes I'm not even sorry this was my excuse to go wild drawing as much Sokkla as I could #and my patrons were so damn nice to give me so many excuses to do just that!#how could I refuse? :'D #anyway I really hope you guys enjoy #the new pieces are glazed #nightshade killed itself when I asked it to work with them #I got annoyed and left it as it was #the last one did get both things #OKAY! DONE!#I HAVE AN HOUR AND A HALF LEFT OF ANNIVERSARY CELEBRATION IN THIS TIMEZONE #Seyary out (?)

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loopnoid · 2 months

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i got commissioned by my dear mutual @nedlittle to make a mock 1950s-pulp-lesbian-novel-style cover for their incredibly good Peg Hunnicutt-centric lesbian fic "trouser role" which you should all go read right now if you haven't! have i mentioned it's really really really good! it is! go read it!

#mash #m.a.s.h #m*a*s*h #peg hunnicutt #my art #commissions #lesbian pulp #fake book cover #fanfiction cover #this was actually quite fun to do and i hope to make more mock lesbian pulp covers when i have the time #for some other vintage femslash ships i enjoy #alas: when i'm not broke #also more fic covers!!! guys did you know that mash fanfiction is really good

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gojoed · 1 year

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I SEE THE SAME. | vash x reader. | 1.9k words.

“Did you really think letting them shoot you was a good idea.”

A wince was let loose in the otherwise quiet room. The only noise was the bustle from the town outside, even if it was night, and the static voices of the small radio that Vash always carried. Dim lights made it a little hard but not impossible to see his fresh wound.

Thankfully the bullet only grazed his waist, not getting lodged or going straight through him like other unfortunate instances. But it was still bleeding and if it were up to Vash, he’d let it continue so. But thankfully you were here, so that wasn’t happening tonight.

Sighing, you set down the first aid supplies down on the desk that was positioned near the bed and set yourself down on the chair, wheeling your way over to where Vash was. Seated on the bed, with his head held low and eyes that were shielded by his sunset tinted glasses. His blood seemed to seep through his black turtleneck more, he wasn’t applying any pressure to the wound whatsoever.

Being a plant yourself, you understood that you both healed quicker than a human, but still it seemed unwise to just leave it like that.

Waving your hand in an upwards motion, you silently told Vash to lift his shirt. He obeyed, lifting it on the side that the wound presided. Vash leaned himself back slightly against the heel of his mechanical hand, while his flesh one held onto the fabric.

Unscrewing the cap from its bottle, you tilted it against a clean rag, letting the water soak it slightly before moving the bottle upright and setting it down on the desk. You moved your hand with the rag over to his exposed waist, but let it hover as you looked up at Vash, asking for permission.

The glare of the desk light reflected against his glasses in a way that blocked his eyes from view. But he offered a smile, one that felt empty, as if saying “yes.”

You didn’t need his glasses to be off to know that his eyes would give him away. Guilt. It was one of the most frequent emotions you always could see swimming within him. They say the eyes are the window to the soul, and by God, Vash’s was drowning.

Brushing those thoughts away, you bent forward, slouching a bit to dab at the bullet wound. The bleeding had stopped on its own, that’s good. Vash twitched a little when your free hand placed itself on the skin of his stomach, moving his shirt up. He lifted his arm a bit more.

There he goes again, helping others before himself.

“You know, you didn’t answer my question.”

He stiffened up a bit, but then relaxed as a small chuckle escaped his lips.

“Well.. it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Your brows furrowed. Vash has had that “good idea” plenty of times during these hundred years or so. The evidence being the canvas of scars that was his body. Just how many more times would he allow himself to be hurt like this, you wondered. Knowing him, he wouldn’t stop, not with the insane amount of guilt that he always seemed to have.

Once you were satisfied with your work, you tossed the rag onto the bed beside him and grabbed the bandages that were on the table. Ripping the package open with your fingers you placed a bit of medical tape to the free end. Leaving that on the bed for a moment, you placed a piece of gauze on the bullet wound before reaching for the bandages again when you saw that Vash had already gotten it.

You whispered a small “thank you” for which you got a soft “anytime” from him as you placed the tape on his skin, beginning to wrap the bandages around him.

Straightening your back you leaned closer to fit the bandages snuggly around his waist; which Vash then prompted to open his legs wider, moving the chair with one of them to move you along with it. Placing you directly in front of him in between his legs.

Thankfully the wound wasn’t too severe, so you didn’t have to worry about using too much bandage. You had just bought it too, having restocked in town an hour prior to crashing in a pretty decent hotel. The townsfolk didn’t seem to recognize Vash from the wanted paper floating around, so you considered Lady Luck to be on your side.

Finished with the bandages you cut it off, placing another piece of tape on it to then press it down lightly. You blew out a bit of air through your nose, looking at your handiwork.

“Ok, all done Vash.”

“Thank you.”

Looking up you saw him staring at you, glasses gone. He must have taken them off while you were fixated on wrapping him up.

“Anytime.” You parroted his words back to him.

Light blue eyes made contact with yours before they didn’t, his eyes closing to give you another smile. It seemed a little empty this time. But he still must be thinking about the events that happened in the town before this one. Quite a bit of collateral damage was done to the town, as a result of bounty hunters having spotted you both and decided to see if they could get that sixty billion double dollar prize on their dirty hands.

There weren’t any casualties to add to the mountain of guilt and shame Vash carried, but there were still injuries. Not to mention that the town’s plant was almost damaged thanks to the recklessness of those bounty hunters. And one of the townspeople who did harbor resentment towards Vash, caused him to have yet another scar. One that you had just cleaned up.

Did Vash really think letting people take their anger out on him would solve anything?

Leaning back onto the chair, it squeaked under the weight of your back. You crossed your arms and sat there, patiently.

“You’re still thinking about them, huh?”

Vash makes a little noise akin to a squeak. He knows you caught him, and he doesn’t deny it. Opening his eyes you could tell they were a little watery, tears threatening to spill. But he just sniffled and laughed softly. Running a hand through his mop of hair he looked at you.

“Yeah, I am.”

You were waiting for it.

“But.. I don’t deserve to cry.”

Ah, there it is.

Those same words that you’ve heard countless times as well as the countless times you’ve seen him worry over others than himself. He wanted to cry, but he felt like he didn’t deserve to. To him, it was his inability to act that denied him of such rights. Funny, how he also thinks the actions of his brother are also his fault.

Uncrossing your arms, you reached for both his hands. You would think that his prosthetic arm would be cold to the touch, being made of Lost Technology. But no, it was warm, just like his hand made of flesh.

Your actions were unexpected for Vash, and it made him even more confused (but curious) as to why you not only grabbed his hands, but when you followed that with holding yours against his. Palm to palm, each of your hands held in the middle of you both. You lined your fingers up with his, his being a little larger than yours but you didn’t mind. In fact it was one of his traits that you loved about him. The same hands that could hold a gun and pull a trigger were the same ones that held onto your own when traveling in the dunes of the desert.

“What do you see?”

Vash blinked. Once, then again. His tears had subsided slightly so he could see clearer. Looking down at where you two were making contact, he said:

“Well, I see our hands.”

The tone in which his voice was laced with made you laugh, almost snorting.

“Okay, that’s a little obvious. So, what do you notice about them?”

He cocked an eyebrow upwards slightly, biting his bottom lip a little bit. Vash’s hair bounced a bit, as he also moved his head a bit to the side.

“They’re.. They’re like mine.”

“Bingo! If I had some, I might have given you a golden star, y’know.”

That made Vash laugh, his usual cheerful self peeking out a bit now.

“Okay, what else do you notice about them?” You swayed your hands together, as if doing so would make the answer come easier to him.

“We each have the same amount of fingers?”

“Right on, we both have ten to be exact!”

It was your turn to give him a smile, looking him right in the eyes. But he didn’t meet them, he knew if he looked at them he would break down in an instant. So he kept his eyes on his hands that were connected to yours, he liked the way it felt.

“What else do we have that are the same?”

The comfort he felt was disturbed just a pinch when you intertwined your fingers with his and swayed them side to side, moving both your arms in the process.

“We have two arms!” Vash straightened his back a bit more, your zeal seeming to be infectious and he was your victim.

It only wavered a little bit when your hands left him too soon, now pointing a finger rather delicately at his face.

“What do we have here that’s the same?”

Vash continued to list off whatever he found that he shared with you. If he said eyes, your fingers would touch right under them. When he said a nose, he chuckled when you booped him, letting your finger stay on the tip. He mirrors your actions, touching wherever you touch him except on you. He let his hands cup your cheeks like you did to him, he let his fingers gently graze your lips just as you did to his.

Vash felt his shoulders relax, the tension slowly releasing. But he felt them quiver when you leaned your forehead against his and closed your eyes.

“See, we’re not so different from everyone else right? So if they can cry, if I can cry, then that means you can too.”

Biting his lip he resisted the urge to let the tears fall, but he broke when your hands returned to his and squeezed. Only then did he let a broken sound come out of his equally broken soul. His eyebrows scrunched while he sobbed, the pain in his ribs came and went as his own cries racked within them. Vash wished he could stop, but how could he? When you were the one who pried him open and let the damn fall.

You switched positions, pulling him into a hug so he could bury his face into the crook of your neck. It was a little awkward on your end thanks to the chair but you didn’t mind, didn’t care. All that mattered to you was that Vash let the pain leak out just like the tears did.

It took him a few minutes to stop, his chest jumping thanks to the surprising force his sobs contained. He sniffled as he wiped his nose with the back of his hand. Vash broke the hug first, but returned to placing his forehead against yours and having your hands hold his.

“So.. I’m thinking pizza and donuts, what do ya say?”

Vash’s laugh broke the nonexistent tension, it sounded a little broken but he smiled. Really smiled.

“I like the way you think.”

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jakescaravel · 1 year

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The Caravel (series)

🏴‍☠️ ⚔️ ⚓️

Part 1

Pairing: Jake x reader

Word count: 3,317

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, mentions of kidnapping, pirate life 🗡️🗡️ (it’s pretty tame for now. Make sure to read the A/N below before jumping in!) 18+ MDNI!!

A/N: Hello all! The Caravel is a slow-burn series about pirate Jake, I don’t want to give away too much here because the summary is already written into the story! One more thing! ⬇️

I have very carefully created a mood playlist for this specific part

If listening to music while you read isn’t your thing that’s totally fine but I do highly recommend it. The songs are kind of in a specific order but it shouldn’t matter too much if you shuffle. Okay it’s finally time…

🏴‍☠️ 🏴‍☠️ 🏴‍☠️

Exposition

Jacob Thomas Kiszka was a pirate aboard The Caravel. A ship that had once belonged to his father.

Captain Thomas Kiszka was his name. He had met a woman on shore and 9 months later, Jake was born on the very ship. Thomas had insisted his son live the life of a pirate. And his mother, having nothing much to offer him, had no choice but to hand over her precious child to become the next captain of the infamous ship. However Jacob Thomas Kiszka would not be the next captain of The Caravel.

The only two things Jake’s father had left him were his sword fighting skills and a little coin necklace from the great Atocha, a ship with immense treasure that Thomas’s crew had pillaged before he was killed in battle.

The crew aboard The Caravel were the only family Jake had ever known. They had taken him in, taught him how to fight, sail, how to handle his women and his rum. They had taught him how to navigate the seas and how to uphold The Caravels legacy.

It was late summer, the time of year when the seas were the angriest. It had been storming for longer than any of the men on board had ever seen. The crew was well equipped for bitter weather but they had never had to endure it for this long. They were running low on everything but more importantly, they needed a doctor.

The current captain of The Caravel was named James Calico. He was Thomas’s first mate and the one who was to lead the crew of fearless men to find the lost treasure at The Gardens Gate before Jake was of age. Captain Calico had heard of a young woman off the coast of the town they were nearing who was a doctor. All they had to do was collect the needed supplies for their voyage, and then collect the girl too.

🏴‍☠️ 🏴‍☠️ 🏴‍☠️

Jakes POV

Your mind is fuzzy from the rum you've been drinking all morning but all you have to focus on is your job. Go in, get the liquor and get out. Fast.

You roll your eyes at the thought. They know I can handle more than this, It isn’t fair.

Everyone on board knows who you are. They know who your father was. They respect you and treat you well. They took you in as one of their own and taught you everything you know but they do not give you as much power as the son of Captain Thomas Kiszka deserves.

You had heard parts of the plan from Reed, Captain Calico’s first mate, and a well respected man on board. He had always been the one to tell you more than the captain intended for you to know. You think of him as the closest thing to a real friend.

You know the plan has something to do with kidnapping a doctor but you don’t have time to worry about that. You have your job and you are ready to do it.

You look down and grab the handle of your sword. You run your hand along the smooth leather (a nervous habit you picked up) keeping it in place and you instantly feel calmer. You’re confident in your ability to fight. I’m ready.

The boat docks and the anchor is lowered. You look to your Captain for instruction and he gives a slight nod. Within seconds, you’re all running off the ship and making your way through the town. You are ready to defend yourself if anyone tries you. However, as usual, no one does. You smile to yourself hearing the familiar shrieks and cries.

“Pirates!”

This is a feeling you’ll never get sick of. The feeling of straight adrenaline coursing through your veins and raw… power. You feel your heart beating out of your chest and you know nothing can hurt you in this moment. You’re invincible. Soon the entire square is clear and you make your way to the pub knocking over boxes and crates in the process.

You don’t have to look around for long. The rows and rows of bottles line the walls and you grab two cases and fill them up, and then one more for good measure.

You make your way back to the square where you see the rest of your crew, taking supplies and one by one returning to the ship.

You look over and see a man everyone called ‘Brute’ holding a woman by the throat threatening to cut off her head if she didn't give him the rest of the meat at her stand. We don't have time for this. You hear the commanding voice of your captain telling him to let her go. And when he speaks, people listen, that's the rule.

Back on the ship you only take two steps before you hear the anticipated cheering. Time to celebrate. You set down the cases and help pass out the bottles of rum. You feel a small jolt and soon The Caravel is gliding across the water.

When you reach to grab a bottle for yourself, something catches your eye, or rather someone. It's a girl.

Wow.

You’ve heard of sirens in stories but you thought they were make believe. She is unlike anyone you have ever seen. She’s beautiful.

Your eyes travel up and down her body, slowly taking her in. You can't help yourself when you stare at the exposed skin on her stomach through the tear in her dress, or the bit of thigh that was showing. Your eyes meet hers and she quickly looks away.

She’s scared of me. Usually this revelation would please you but it feels like a stab to the chest. You think for a moment. She must be the doctor.

You hadn't expected it to be a girl, let alone someone this beautiful. She looks confused and panicked. Now that you pay closer attention, you see that she's being held roughly by two men, Patrick Lock and Robin Evers. They were good men but they obviously didn’t know how to control themselves in the presence of a lady.

A realization washes over you when you look into her eyes. The storm is gone... strange.

You shake the thought when you see Patrick and Robin wearing identical evil grins that make your hands bawl up into fists. Let go of her. You want to grab your sword and slice through their hands but instead you stay by the liquor cases continuing to study her.

🏴‍☠️ 🏴‍☠️ 🏴‍☠️

Her POV

Your mind is racing and your heart is pounding. It’s hard to think clearly when your arms are being held so tightly. Do they have to be cutting off my circulation?

Just moments ago you were sitting at home with your sister reading to her and now you were on a pirate ship. One of the ones you had only heard about in the stories your father used to tell you.

Your eyes flutter closed hoping to wake up from this nightmare. You can smell the ocean. Of course you always could but it was so much stronger now. The cool breeze on your skin is refreshing in contrast to the sun's harsh rays. You let the sound of the water distract you from the dull pain growing in your arms.

SWOOSH.

One particularly strong wave crashes against the side of the boat causing your eyes to open again.

Crash against wave upon wave.

The realization hits you once more. This isn’t a dream, this is real. Your eyes search the ship frantically. If they let go of my arm maybe I could jump off the side and swim back to shore. You look around once more.

The ship is like most that you’ve seen around the dock. Perhaps a little bigger. You don’t know much about them but you recognize the familiar ropes and watchtower. Your dad is a sailor but you’ve never gotten to see his boat. Now I never will.

There is something else near the tower, it’s a flag. A black flag. An exposition.

There is a symbol of some kind. What does that mean?

Your thoughts are cut off by the dozen men that surround you beginning to close in. You can hear the sound of their boots hitting the wooden deck.

Creeeeeek.

Each of them looks slightly different than the last. Some of them wear hats and carry swords, some of them wear shirts and some of them don’t. But they all look ragged and their eyes share the same slight yellow tint. Scurvy. They all eye you with dangerous expressions and wild eyes. It makes your stomach turn.

However, there is one man who stays back. He looks younger than the rest of them. He has long brunette hair and entrancing brown eyes. He has on a white button up shirt with only one button done up just above his belly button. Classy.

You can see his tanned chest and his strong arms from where the sleeves are hiked up. He has on a pair of black breeches and a piece of cream colored fabric wrapped tightly around his waist. He wears a brown hat and a small white knit bracelet on his wrist. The mysterious man wears two silver hoops and has a clean shaven face. A small coin necklace hangs loosely around his neck.

You look back up to find his eyes boring into yours. The sword he carries tightly against his body seems to be staring at you too. The sight of the sun reflecting on the pointed silver makes a shiver run up your spine.

Your gaze is broken by someone walking towards you. You know he's the captain by the way the men part leaving a clear path from him to you, some of them bow slightly.

He walks slowly and carefully, not breaking eye contact. He doesn’t look anything like what you've heard of in the stories. No peg leg, no eye patch.

He has a long beard and he wears a hat or a tricorne as your dad taught you. When your eyes travel down you see his sword swinging slightly by his side and the wood shifting beneath him with every step. You struggle against the two strong hands holding you causing them to grab you tighter. That’s gonna leave bruises.

The captain finally reaches you and towers over you. He looks strong and powerful. He lowers himself so that his face is level with yours and you smell the rum on his breath.

He speaks with a hint of amusement as if he thinks this whole situation is funny. “Hello young lady.” He smiles showing you his singular golden tooth.

He looks to the men holding you “Patrick, Robin, is this how we treat our guests? We don’t wanna scare the poor girl.” His eyes widen.

“Aye.”

They let go of you causing you to stumble forward. The men laugh as the captain catches you and lifts you back on your feet. You recoil at his touch. “Come on matey, I'm not gonna hurt cha.”

You think about running but fear plants your feet firmly to the ground. What does he want?

Unable to meet his gaze, you look back to the young man, he’s… smirking? When he sees you look at him, his face drops and he looks back to his captain.

He speaks again “Welcome aboard The Caravel. What’s yer name?”

You can't seem to form words so you stare at him, lip quivering. The captain laughs at you. The rest of his crew laugh too. The young man laughs slightly but trails off when you look at him once more.

You feel yourself getting dizzy. You can hear a small voice in the distance that you recognize as the captains. He’s explaining to you how they needed a doctor for their ship. He tells you you have no choice but to oblige and there’s no point in trying to run away. He points to something but you can’t see what. You’re trying to absorb his words but your thoughts are still clouded. You turn back and see that you’re already far away from shore. You watch as your town grows smaller and smaller until it's a dot to strange horizons.

The captain yells something that you can’t quite hear and you watch as the men assume their positions. Some of them go straight for the cases of liquor. Some of them climb the many ropes that stretch to the top of the ship, and some of them laugh at a joke being told.

These men are loud and dirty and not very kind. I need to go back home, I need to find my sister.

The captain keeps his eye trained on you, it was almost as if he was saying, ‘try to escape, try to swim away, I dare you.’

In the next hours, no one speaks to you, no one addresses you, they don't even acknowledge you. As The Caravel got farther and farther away from home, your body felt smaller and smaller. Weaker and weaker.

Oh my god, my sister. I can't imagine what she’s thinking right now, I hope she’s safe. My father won’t be home for another week. I hope he’s okay too. There was a storm that seemed to have fizzled out but he must have survived it… he must have. He's strong. Maybe when he returns home and finds out I've been captured he’ll come to save me. Him and his crew.

You look up again, and there is the young man, just across the deck taking sips of his drink. He doesn’t seem to be doing much of anything. His eyes fall to yours then drop back down again. He then looks out into the vastness of the ocean, seeming to be thinking about something important.

I want to know his name.

Time doesn’t wait for your thoughts to collect and soon the moon replaces the sun. One by one the men go below deck to sleep for the night. The harshness of your reality is starting to set in. I’m only of use to them when someone is injured, other than that am I just a lost thought?

You are left alone on the deck, it's cold and lonely. It reminds you of your first day of school when you didn’t know anyone. That night you had gone home and cried in your fathers arms but this night, your father was miles away, on the same ocean but still, miles away.

The boat rocks gently to the rhythm of the sea. Your body becomes a part of the ship, swaying with the water. You feel the little droplets splash over the side and trickle down your face.

It's almost calming, almost. Maybe if I wasn’t a prisoner. At least I'm not tied up.

The moon is full tonight. Its light illuminates the deck and the water in its path. It’s breathtaking.

After several minutes of staring, you accept your fate and try to find somewhere to sleep. You decide a sandbag will have to make do. You attempt to find a comfortable position which proves to be difficult.

As the boat moves with the water on the salty sea, your salty tears begin to fall. It’s scary how quiet it is, and you miss your home, and your bed. For miles in every direction, there is nothingness.

Just as you close your eyes preparing yourself for an uncomfortable sleep, you hear a noise. It’s footsteps. You look up to find the young man approaching you. He’s holding something.

Where is his shirt?

The little coin necklace bounces on his chest when he walks. He ventures closer and kneels beside you.

“Are you cold?”

This is the first time you’ve heard his voice, it’s low and raspy but comforting. He asks his question with caution and genuine concern. You nod.

“Here.” He holds up the shirt and wraps it around you. You can’t help but smile.

He smiles back but doesn’t leave. He pauses for a moment. He looks lost, as if he doesn’t know if he should stay or go. He offers you a small smile and breaks the silence once more.

“What’s your name?”

You tell him your name and watch his lips curl into a perfect, addicting smile. You feel your cheeks flush. He was… pretty.

“What’s your name?” You ask.

“Jacob Thomas Kiszka, mates call me Jake.” He pretends to curtsey causing you to giggle.

This warms Jake’s heart, He couldn’t bear seeing you so sad earlier. You had looked… horrified.

You allow yourself to admire his face. The way his lips fall into a perfect heart shape, the way his eyes sparkle underneath the moonlight, the way his cheeks move when he smiles.

What he does next surprises you. He goes to sit behind you and asks if he can help you. What? You turn to face him with a confused look on your face. He smiles at you. He brings one of his hands up to your hair and drags it down the length of it exposing the many tangles that you hadn’t even registered.

“Is this okay?”

You wonder how you could possibly say no to him so you let him carefully comb his fingers through your hair.

You close your eyes and let yourself bathe in the feeling of his calloused fingertips gliding across your scalp. His hands move slowly and carefully so as to not hurt you.

You don’t really understand why you’re letting him do this or why he wanted to do it in the first place. Maybe it was the kindness in his eyes or the way his voice sounded when he asked. But you just sit there and let him continue.

Jake starts working on a particularly large knot and starts humming to himself. You smile at this small act of vulnerability and let out a small chuckle. He stops singing and you turn around to be met with his reddened face, flushed with embarrassment.

A few minutes of comfortable silence pass as you look up at the stars.

“Do you do this to your own hair?” You couldn’t help but ask. You had grown curious about life as a pirate and Jake was the only pirate you’d seen on board with long hair.

“Hmm? Oh.. oh yeah I do. It takes a while with all the salt in the air and everything, and you know I just thought…” He trails off.

He looks up at you smiling again and you decide, I can trust him.

He parts your hair and moves half of it to drape gently over your shoulder. You feel his warm breath on the back of your neck sending you goosebumps. Oh.

He finishes brushing through the second section and it’s over far too soon. His hands leave your hair and quickly run down your shoulders making you shiver.

He did that on purpose.

He stands up and faces you, he’s wearing a similar smile to the one that paints your face. Now much more relaxed than before, you look into his eyes. How can a person's eyes be so comforting?

You're sad to see him go. Part of you wishes he would stay, and that he could warm you instead of his shirt. You’re wondering if maybe he had the same idea but then he speaks.

“Goodnight then mate.” He winks at you. There’s that butterfly feeling again.

You watch him slowly descend down the stairs below the deck. His hair blows with the wind. I can still feel his hands in my hair.

You rest your head on the sack of sand and eventually your eyes close. That night you fall asleep thinking of your sister but smiling at the new friend you’ve made.

Part 2

(if you want to be added to the tag list interact with this post)

#jake kiszka #jake x reader #pirates #greta van fleet #The Caravel #fantasy #series #love story #greta van fic #my fic #i really hope you guys enjoy this #let me know if you liked it #Spotify

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tennessoui · 5 months

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kit's january ko-fi fic: Anakitty AU

ugh i am so excited to be posting this on my kofi, i had such a blast writing this that i literally wrote 3k yesterday for it and 3k today in like. 3 hours. she's the definition of a silly little au becoming a fic!!

in this fic/au, anakin becomes a cat; meanwhile, obi-wan just happens to find a cat outside his doors that he decides to take in to care for, as he's a lonely old man now that his padawan has left the nest. good thing this cat is really affectionate and just melts when obi-wan gives it pets!

meanwhile anakin thinks it's a pretty sweet deal to be a cat forever if it means he has obi-wan's affection and attention and love and attention and pets and attention and, etc etc

here's a little snippet!:

“So you haven’t heard from Anakin in a few days,” Obi-Wan says carefully, brushing each slightly curly strand of the cat’s fur flat as he examines his grand padawan. “Are you worried about him?” Obi-Wan hasn’t heard from Anakin lately either, but the boy has been pulling slowly and carefully away from him for ages. For the most part, Obi-Wan has stopped reaching out, and their virtual communications have dried up. “Not anymore,” Ahsoka says, picking up her tea with an angry look at the cat. “How long has it been since he’s been like thi—I mean, since you last heard from him?” “Well, I couldn’t quite say!” Eleven days. “Though, if I’m being honest, the Council is close to drawing him up on charges for abandoning his troops without leave to take a holiday. I’m sure he will slip back into the Temple sooner or later.” “Wow!” Ahsoka’s voice is pitched much too loud and much too pointed to be natural. “Did you hear that, Anakin? You’re going to be tried for abandoning your troops if you don’t tell the Council you’re experiencing a bit of a setback soon!” The cat rolls onto its back with a loud purr, paws folded upward to allow Obi-Wan the maximum of tummy to scratch. Obi-Wan, knowing it's his due, scratches its tummy obligingly.

as a reminder for how these kofi fics work: i've uploaded the google document link into my gallery on ko-fi. to view the image and get the link that's in the image description, you have to be a monthly subscriber. it's $4 a month, and once you become a subscriber, you can read the 5 other ficlets i've uploaded! if you want to donate to get access, make sure the donation bar is set to "monthly" instead of "one time".

#kit's kofi #obikin #anakitty au #the au post that this is written from is linked at the top of the google doc too!!#and there's an ask linked that has a picture of anakitty #pulled unashamedly from google images #also i think it's been far too long since i explicity said but i appreciate the support so so so much #im really glad and thankful for any subscriber i get for this and always try to make the fics i write for kofi #be at least on par with the level of writing i post to ao3 #which is a step above fics i post on tumblr #you guys got me through grad school apps and. that's just amazing so thank you!!#i hope you enjoy anakitty!!

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the-river-runs · 11 months

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My best friend Fandom has once again returned and asked me to post to Tumblr for her! Once again, I have permission to post this video and all edits were done by Fandom (http.redshoes on Instagram)

These memes are all based on Cryptid Sightings by @naffeclipse

She has a lot to say this time around!

A message from Fandom:

"Hello Naff!! And hello everyone :D

It’s me, your girl, your local meme and edit maker, Fandom (aka http.redshoes on Insta 😎)

I’ve come back to make another meme comp for you guys! I wanted to make this earlier, but:

1. I was busy saving/collecting ATSV content on Instagram like Pokémon to getting noticed twice by Jack in the Box ☺️

2. I had to create an Ao3 account (understandably ofc AI theft sucks) and was um. You know… being silly in the comment section 👀 (please don’t mind me if you ever stumble upon them - I react and appreciate the stuff I enjoy in weird ways 💔)

3. Was waiting for my friend here to finish reading so I didn’t spoil anything in the memes! We both loved the series so much and man. The Naff do be eclipsing fr in releasing chapters left and right biggest round of applause for one of my favorite authors here 👏👏👏

Naff, you did such a great job writing this fanfic. I’m going to repeat myself from the comment section BUT you need to give yourself a pat on the back, relax, take a break - just reward yourself. You deserve it all and I hope that you take care of yourself for all the hard work you’ve done 💞💞💞

I’ve also included the lovely artist themselves, @themeeplord , again in one of my meme comps.

It’s only one meme but dang they always draw Eclipse to be getting that gain 💪💪💪 (bc of how muscular he is haha.) Mad respect to all of the drawings they create - they’re always a banger to see.

(Most of the memes surround the last episode + epilogue so if you haven’t read those chapters LOOK ‼️ AWAY ‼️ Don’t get spoiled 🤯)

(P.S. for the imagine scenario that’s not a meme, this is what they’re saying in the audio:

“[Amused] You can hear their heartbeats? Come on, that’s a little far fetched.”

“[Soft chuckling] I can hear yours too… Your heart’s beating pretty fast.”

I’d like to think this would take place around the beginning of “The Episode Bedeviling Bodies,” where the Hunter is still trying to understand their dear friend and what they’re capable of. I thought it was fitting ngl and included it in the comp.

There were uh, more memes I wanted to include, but I’m running low on storage space atm. I’ll get back to making more after I’m done clearing that out ^^’)

(P.P.S. Okay I don’t have Tumblr obviously but 🕴️ apparently you guys really liked the SJ memes I made??? Because my friend’s been receiving notifs of it still??? Thank you so much you guys!! I didn’t really expect people to enjoy them that much 😭💘💘💘)

Now without further ado, enjoy the meme comp! >:D " -Fandom

#river says...#bestie posting #cryptid sighting #crytid sightings spoilers #many more memes for everyone to enjoy :)#now that I've caught up to CS i can actually look at these memes hdjssjn #real talk though #crytid sightings is genuinely such a beautiful fic and one of my favorite stories of all time #naff has such an incredible writing style and is such a good storyteller #i really recommend reading CS even if you're not into fnaf #it's such a rollercoaster #the fluff is so sweet and the angst is so heartbreaking #but everything just works #I'm so grateful to have found Naff and her work #she's such a lovely person and an extremely talented author #I am so excited to see what she writes next #especially since the end of CS had me so emotional #i will never get over this fic #sorry for the long rambling tags but i had to gush a little bdjdjsj #hope you guys enjoy the memes <3

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meowpupp · 5 months

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do you make poe bots? if so what’s your account because if you make poe bots as delicious as ur writing i’ll kiss you 😞

i do!! i gotta admit, they might not be as put together as the fics here, but the prompts are all the same type of filthy.

here are a couple links!! be warned, my prompts change ALL THE TIME because i get bored.

price x puppygirl -> https://poe.com/pricespuppyREA

owner!ghost x pup!soap x pup!reader (ik it’s diff to my blog 😭) -> https://poe.com/ownerghostpupsoapREA

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blackjackkent · 23 days

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Fic request, BG3: Karlach/fem Tav, where Tav has died. After the reserection scroll is used, Karlach goes to pieces. Hurt/comfort.

Eyyyy, ty for the prompt! Sorry this took me a little while to turn around. :D Was fun to write, though; I do love me some Karlach romance and some hurt/comfort. <3 I hope you like!

-----

“You hear that?” Tav asks. The half-elf’s eyes narrow, glinting in the pale light of the moonlantern that is all that protects them from the cursed shadows. “Hold on a sec.”

Karlach halts obediently with the others and listens intently. Her head tips slowly to one side like a dog pricking up its ears, and her eyes drift half-closed in focus. But there's nothing.

The shadow-cursed lands are, in fact, eerily quiet. The place is not only devoid of civilization but life - there's no sound of birdsong, no creatures creeping through underbrush, no leaves or plants of any kind. There's not even a stirring of breeze to knock together the dried branches of the long-dead trees.

Karlach hates it. It reminds her too fucking much of the desolation of the Hells, dead and dry and full of dangers. Not nearly as hot as Avernus, she'll say that much for it, and dark as the inside of her boot. But still a little too close for comfort.

“Don't hear anything, Soldier,” she says in a low voice. Astarion and Shadowheart both shake their heads as well. Then Karlach grins, an automatic reaction to the brief moment of tension. “Must've been my heart pounding, eh?”

Astarion rolls his eyes. “Ugh. Gods,” he murmurs tauntingly. “Is that what passes for smooth in Zariel's army?”

Tav grins. “Shut up, Astarion,” she says, giving him a casual punch in the shoulder.

“I'm just saying,” Astarion quips, “if we're going to have to watch the two of you give each other cow eyes every day of the week, you're going to have to come up with some better material.”

Karlach sticks her tongue out at him. “No one asked you, Fangs,” she shoots back. But she's laughing. It's really hard not to laugh these days, in spite of all the terrible shit happening to them. Astarion can mock all he wants - but she's in love, real love, for the first time in ten years. The first time maybe ever, truth told, because she can't remember any quick fuck back in the Gate that ever made her feel like Tav does.

Tav is… gentle. Kind. When she touches Karlach it feels like the whole world is opening up to her, a feeling of hope like everything is gonna be okay. So yeah, Astarion can laugh all he wants, if it makes him feel better. Karlach really couldn't give less of a shit.

She's happy.

Too happy, as it turns out, because she's so lost in thinking these thoughts and watching the way Tav's smile looks in the lanternlight that she doesn't notice the first arrow coming in.

-----

Tav’s scream is like a knife. Blood spatters across the dark ground as the arrow punctures her shoulder.

A lithe, pale figure darts out of the shadows with a high-pitched giggle and throws something around Tav’s neck. Then in an instant she’s gone, vanished with the creature into thin air.

“Tav!” Karlach starts to shout - but it's choked off as another garrote bites sharply under her jaw and she's yanked backwards into the dark.

It’s a horrific battle, one of the worst they’ve faced since the nautiloid. The meazels - little shits, every one of them - are quick and cunning, separating the party out into the searing darkness, silencing spells, bleeding them dry. Karlach doesn’t need spells, though, and her usual battle-rage is bolstered by a stunning degree of pain and an entirely unexpected violent panic.

She wrenches her axe from the corpse of the meazel that grabbed her and tears off through the dark. Unheeding of both the blood pouring from her neck and the necrotic energy chewing into her skin, uncaring of what other enemies might hear her, she bellows at the top of her lungs. “Tav! TAV!”

“She’s here!” That’s Shadowheart, her voice weak. “Karlach, over here!”

Karlach almost trips, so quickly does she change direction towards the cleric’s call. Like a rothe maddened with fear, she leaves the path and crashes directly through the desiccated underbrush, dead plants shattering apart around her with every step.

Tav is dead when she gets there.

Shadowheart is crouched over her, a useless healing spell in the process of drifting off her fingers. Astarion, blood dripping from his lips, crawls from the darkness opposite her. But Karlach’s eyes are locked on the form of Tav’s body in the dim light from her torch, the eyes blank and staring, the garrote wound flowing freely.

“Oh, no,” she whispers. “No, no, no, no--”

“It’s all right.” Shadowheart’s voice feels oddly far away. “I have a scroll, I’ll revive her-- Karlach, for gods’ sake, breathe!”

She is breathing - too fast, too shallow. The cut at her own throat throbs with each pulse of her heart. She drops the axe with a clang onto the ground and she falls on her knees at Tav’s side, grabbing the smaller woman’s hand and holding it between both of hers. “No, darling, no…” she mumbles. “Gods, don’t-- don’t look at me like that…”

How many dead people has she seen in her life? Could fill a library writing all their names down… But none of them have been her… those blank eyes are so wrong in her face which is always so full of life and humor and warmth… nothing like Karlach’s inferno heat but warmth and safety and home…

“Bring her back…” she rasps out desperately. “Please…”

The magic of the revivify scroll swirls around them as Shadowheart murmurs the words. There’s an achingly long pause during which Karlach finds herself reviewing every single moment of their brief time together and passing through every stage of grief in order; she’s just about reached “depression” when Tav’s eyes flicker open.

“K-Karlach?” she whispers, and then her body spasms around a sudden fit of coughing as she gasps for breath.

“Oh, gods.” Karlach’s whole body sags with a relief as overwhelming as the grief was. Without thinking, she reaches out and pulls Tav up and into her arms, tight against the heat of her chest. “Oh, fuck… Soldier… Tav… shit…”

The words tumble out, one after the other, and she’s startled to realize that each of them is a sob, raggedly dragging out of her throat between hiccuped, jerky breaths. She’s alive. It’s not over. It’s not over. Oh, thank the gods…

“Hey. Ow. Hey…” Tav mumbles. It’s muffled from how Karlach has her pulled close; her face is sort of squished into Karlach’s shoulder. “It’s all right. Darling, it’s all right, but I can’t breathe.”

“Oh. Right.” She forces herself to loosen her embrace enough for Tav to draw her head back. “You-- sorry. Fuck. You scared me. I thought… I thought…” She can’t say it out loud. The words don’t come out.

“You’re hurt.” Tav gently touches the garotte wound in Karlach’s neck, wiping at the blood there.

“You died!” Karlach says with a sudden, hysterical laugh, flinching backwards. “Don’t worry about me! Just… you just sit there and… and breathe, or whatever, and… oh gods…” The tears blind her.

“Karlach…” Tav sits up in her lap. She’s unsteady, of course, because revivification is a brutal process at the best of times, but her eyes are clear. That hideous blankness is gone from them and they’re full again with the light that drew Karlach to her first. “Shhh.” She cups Karlach’s face gently with both hands and kisses her. “It’s all right… I promise. I’m here. All limbs attached, everything accounted for. And heart very much beating.”

Karlach gives her a watery smile, tries and fails to quiet her choked breathing into something manageable. “I just-- I saw you there… like that… and I suddenly realized… how much shit has gone wrong in my life… how it all changes so fast… but you’ve been good… you’ve been so fucking good, Tav…”

“I’m here. I’m here…” Tav presses her forehead to Karlach’s and draws a slow, shaky breath. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I promise…”

Slowly Karlach begins to settle again, feeling the gentle brush of Tav’s breath on her lips. It’s not over. “You’d better not,” she mumbles.

She realizes suddenly that they’re alone. Shadowheart has taken one of the torches and bodily dragged Astarion off some distance away, leaving them more or less in private. Karlach’s grateful for that; she’s not sure she could handle Astarion’s acerbic wit right at this moment.

“Fuck,” she whispers after a short pause, a little more calmly now. “Sorry, I--”

“Hey. Don’t you ever apologize for anything,” Tav says softly. “Least of all for loving me. You don’t get to say sorry for that.” She kisses Karlach again gently. “You ready to get Shadowheart to clean up that cut?”

“I… yeah. Yeah.” But it takes her a moment to loosen her arms and let Tav out of her embrace. “I do love you,” she says quietly. “So much. And I just got scared as shit about it.”

Tav smiles. “Best kind of scared I know,” she says.

#bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #karlach #karlach cliffgate #karlach bg3 #karlach x tav #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #this was a fun twist since i have almost exclusively written about her with hector thus far #strange to write her with a different tav but nice to be encouraged to mix it up :D #really hope you enjoy! ty again for the prompt <3 #poor karlach needs all the hugs for always #i love her so much #also taking this opportunity to proclaim my hatred of the meazel fight forever and always #cos fuck those guys

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