BY THE ANKLES !

Dash Only + Book-based Kit Snicket. By Sheepie ! 

[taxitm]

AFTER A LONG DEBATE I’VE DECIDED TO PUT THIS BLOG ON HIATUS I love Kit. I always will. I’ve roleplayed her on and off since 2017 and she has a special place in my heart because of it. I’ll never abandon her, but I need time to work through some personal things before I can continue managing the blogs I have. If you have my discord, feel free to message me. We can even roleplay on there! I’ll come back here eventually.

[taxitm]

Olaf

   He is tired of this. The lies, the disguises, the fires, the DEATHS. He is tired but he can’t stop. It’s too late for that. But Kit’s right and he gives her an unfathomable smile through the rearview mirror – after all, wasn’t he thinking about himself when he got the deal? Was he afraid that she wouldn’t be able to live her life the way she wants or was he afraid of having to live without her? Was he actually so afraid of it that he limited his life to a month? Just a month, and then she’ll have to live without him. 

   Isn’t it selfish?

   Olaf honestly thinks she can manage. He’s fucked up enough to ensure that.    But there is a sickening feeling in his chest, an overwhelming dull PAIN – she’s right, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. He’ll get her home and he’ll find something to help him replace this feeling with apathy. Something that will help him last a month without breaking.    “Yes,” he says at last. “I only think about myself.”

   The others, they sell their souls because they’re promised happiness. He only got more misery. He must really be an idiot. 

Okay. There it is. She’s had her outburst, her little moment of anger, and it’s time to go back to being as calm and rational as she can outwardly manage. A horrible coping strategy, really, but it works. Kit breathes, silent for a moment as she gathers herself, smoothing out the wrinkles in her pants like it really fucking matters. It doesn’t. What matters are the questions floating around in her head and the overlying statement she just can’t wrap her mind around. SHE SHOULD  BE DEAD.

She should be dead or at least badly burned , lung damage and burnt off clothes and nasty wounds ---  but she’s perfectly fine save for some singed pieces of hair and the soot that covers her from head to toe. Logically, it’s just not possible, and yet she sits in the back of Olaf’s car completely unharmed and alive ( unless she’s dead, but this is clearly not heaven and she is certainly not a ghost ) so... what is going on? She approaches it as softly as she can, eyes staring at him through the rear view mirror. “ Olaf. I should be dead. ”

[tomakepeace-moved-deactivated20]

Though he wasn’t a beggar by trade, Klaus was definitely not too proud to beg. He made money in other ways. It just so happened that he’d used his allowance, down to the last dollar, on the baggie of mixed pills in his pocket. And of course, now he wanted a hot cup of coffee. ‘ Oh shoot, ’ he says dramatically, searching through his pockets as if he had any currency hidden away in there. He emphasizes each other, to make sure someone near the coffee stand would hear him. ‘ I seem to have left my wallet at home, and I have already ordered this cup of coffee! ’ his eyes are wide in faux embarrassment and terror. ‘ Whatever will I do?! ’ / @taxitm . 

[taxitm]

“ Whatever will you do indeed? ” There’s no fooling Kit Snicket. Not when she’s part of something so adept at training one in the art of reading people, and not when her ex fiance was the most talented actor Prufrock Preparatory has ever seen ( she’s sad to say, his favorable acting career did not extend far beyond their high school days ) ,  but she’ll still wave over the waitress, order two cups of coffee ( black, no sugar ), and invite him to have a seat. “ All you need to do is ask. No theatrics needed. ”

[taxitm]

“ you are supposed to be our ally.”

@baxdelaire

Kit knows it must be hard for the three baudelaire children to trust anyone anymore, especially after several witnessed deaths and a betrayal from Esme Squalor. Poor things, they must feel so lost.

A gentle hand places itself on Violet’s shoulder, soft eyes looking into the Eldest Baudelaire’s own with nothing but good intent behind them.“ Violet. I’m helping you as best as I can. Count Olaf is a slippery man, and he’s not working alone. ”

[taxitm]

Fernald

for a second, he flinches at her gesture. the last hours – days? – have been so tumultuous and traumatic that he’s sure, in that instant, he’s about to be hurt once more. the softness of her touch comes as a surprise – not an unwelcome one. fernald draws a shuddering breath, willing himself not to cry, though he’s not sure he has any tears left. 

‘my stepdad…  both of us… i didn’t know gregor was going to be there. i didn’t, kit, i didn’t know! he – he tried to stop us and my stepdad was gone. he just – i’ve never seen so much fire. the roof was falling in – my hands, i – gregor was trapped…’ willing himself isn’t doing any good; he can feel tears streaming down his cheeks, and he doesn’t move to wipe them. instead, he pulls in another deep breath. this one’s more of a sob. ‘i didn’t know,’ he repeats, so quietly it’s barely more than a whisper.

All she can do is listen and offer a sympathetic hug, holding him ‘till his woes are voiced and the tears fall and she wipes them away with the sleeve of her sweater as best she can. “ It’s okay. It’s okay. Here. I’ll make us some tea. ”

It’s more than a gesture of kindness or comfort, it’s an excuse for Kit to collapse against the kitchen counter where Fernald cannot see her and let out a small sob of her own. She’s brave, for him, her friend that needs her right now ---  but she is lying to them both and she knows it. He probably knows it too. It’s not okay. It’s NEVER going to be okay. 

Fernald has scars now, physical and mental, scars Kit cannot will away or soothe with a cup of tea and nice words and the kettle’s whistle sounds more like the screams of a tortured soul than it does steam escaping a metal spout. Poor Fernald, she thinks as she carries everything out on a tray, pours the water into leaf-filled mugs and drops a straw in one of them. Poor Fernald.

[taxitm]

Olaf

   He nods, looking at her intently, lips pursed. Maybe this is his chance – to get her home safely and make sure everything is okay, and then say goodbye. And yet, Olaf doesn’t rush, stroking her cheek gently with his thumb before making this decision. Kit obviously can’t walk right now, so he lifts her carefully to take her to the car. He used to do that a lot before, he enjoyed it. How many other things did he enjoy? How many things he’ll regret not doing more often?

   A curious thing, being sentenced to death. You may long for it for years, wishing to be dead at any waking moment, but once you’re doomed for real – it’s nearly impossible to stop thinking that maybe, just MAYBE you’d prefer to live a few hours past the mark. 

   He starts the car, saying nothing more – what will it change if he says he’s sorry? If he says he never intended her to get hurt? Because she did. She did, that’s the problem.     “Kit, I’m sorry,” he blurts out, knowing perfectly well that ‘sorry’ won’t fix the situation.  Hands clasping the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white, Olaf takes a deep breath to calm himself down – two minutes into the deal and you’re already scared, he thinks. It’s not fear, though. It’s uncertainty. 

   He’s absolutely, irrevocably FUCKED. 

She lets him have his moment, lets him pick her up and put her in his car, even lets him have his moment of silence and his little outburst before she says anything else at all. So, he’s sorry, is he? About what? About her death? Must be, he wouldn’t give a FUCK if anyone else died in that fire. GOD, does he ever THINK about what he’s doing? How fires do more harm than good? Nobody in V.F.D. is innocent, but at least she doesn’t have a list of victims a mile long. At least she’s tried to do some good in her life. 

“ You idiot. ” She’s called him that before in the most playful manner, but she’s not laughing now. Not laughing, not smiling, eyes flashing with a tired sort of anger and voice a hushed wavering hiss. Isn’t he tired of this? Isn’t he tired of hurting everyone around him? Maybe now he’ll learn. “ All you ever think about is yourself. ”

[taxitm]

Kit, holding a gun to my head: do your replies

[diisguises-blog]

                               INDEPENDENT,  SELECTIVE,  AUDITIONED  BY  LANA.

[markimoorph]

So, hello everyone! Y’all probably know me as Ash or, more recently, Patches. And I used to have a nifty blog called @ashcommissions. This is a reboot of that, but since it was a sideblog on an inactive main blog, I had to make a new one.

If you don’t know, I make stuff. However, nothing is quality enough to actually ask for money (and since I work full time, I don’t really need the money), so this is the part where we come to the “Free Commissions”. I will be making promos, mobile banners, dash icons, aesthetics and theme backgrounds for absolutely no cost to you, unless you choose to support me with Buying me a Coffee (like I said, totally optional and up to you).

You will also finds psds, and reblogs of resources that have really helped me, and will hopefully help you, too!

I just really like making graphics and knowing that people like them is a total plus. Feel free to fill out one of the forms here to request a graphic, and check out some examples below! And if you wanna give this a reblog to spread the word, I’d be super appreciative!

Promo Examples: X X X X X X X X

Dash Icon Examples: X X X X X X

Header Examples: X X X X

Theme Background Examples: X X X X X X X X

Random Graphic/Aesthetic Examples: X X X X X X

[taxitm]

thewcrldsastage‌:

     he’s heard that phrase numerous times before. it doesn’t hurt him, not even as the woman he loves loved more than anything utters it. why worry about something as troublesome as forgiveness when he’s going to die anyway ?? the genuine smile that appears on kit’s face is ALL he cares about. she’ll live to see another day, &&. that’s enough for him to contently slip away from this world. not happy, just … at ease.

     ❝ not like i’ve a-apologized for it. ❞ a chuckle escapes olaf, trailing off into a cough as he collapses into the sand beside the snicket sibling. there’s SO MUCH he wants to tell her, ask her —— ask about the baby.

     his heart sinks. he’s going to die before he sees his own child.

     ❝ katherine. ❞ her full name —— which he has only ever used a few select times in the past —— comes out strained, raspy, &&. it takes more effort for him to move this time, as he places a hand on her swollen belly. ❝ let me see your eyes. ❞

Kit’s smile fades as quickly as it came, jaw setting firm the moment her unabridged name leaves Olaf’s lips. He’s only called her Katherine on two occasions which she can recall; one of which ended in a near-death experience and the other on the day he asked for her hand in marriage. If he’s using Katherine now, it can only mean one thing. 

“ No. No you STOP that! ”  Kit scolds, tears welling in her eyes as she swats his hand away. He can feel the baby later, look into her eyes as much as he wants later, but right now her priority is sending at least one of the Baudelaires to the treehouse to fetch the old first aid kit stored away on the ground floor. Violet says she’ll go, she’s faster than Klaus. 

The span of time it takes for Violet to run to the treehouse and back is one full of anxiety and a tender sort of sadness. She can’t do much until she has supplies --  can only hold Olaf’s hand and make him PROMISE he’ll hold on until the eldest Baudelaire gets back with supplies. 

“ Just hang on. PLEASE. ”

[kaliforhnia]

[notsoheavynly-blog]

“We were just children Thrown into an adult war And now we’re not kids Anymore.”

— (via morguliis)

[taxitm]

Olaf

     she’s tired, is she ?? it’s a poor excuse for her to give up her own life. olaf knows kit, knows that she never let exhaustion stop her from accomplishing anything. the years have truly taken a toll on her, &&. to see her so distraught hurts him more than any physical wound. his fingers tighten around the fruit, the ONLY cure for the fungus destroying her from the inside out. kit won’t save herself …

     voluntarily, that is.

     olaf takes advantage of the moment in which kit turns her head from him, biting a small chunk out of the apple &&. tossing it aside. he brings a trembling hand to her chin, cupping it gently, shifting her gaze to lock with his own.

     ❝ if you’re g-going to DIE … at least let me kiss you. o-one last time. ❞

     surprisingly, kit doesn’t protest. relieved, olaf leans in and presses a kiss her lips, immediately lost in the gesture. how long had it been since they’d been intimate in such a way ?? it feels like it’s been CENTURIES. his surroundings fade away as his eyes slip shut, kit becoming his everything, his entire world.

     then his lips part, the piece of horseradish apple falling from his mouth into hers. reality crashing back onto him, olaf pulls back, smirking.

     gotcha.

She believes him. Like a fool, she BELIEVES him and allows him to press his lips to hers, eyes fluttering closed at the contact and only now does she realise just how starved she’s been. How long? How long since she’s had any sort of intimacy with Olaf? Nine months. Nine months since they’ve shared kisses and touches, but even then it wasn’t like this. This kiss tastes of salt and sand and the good old days before everything went wrong and ---  HORSERADISH. 

The tiny chunk slips down her throat with ease coating it on the way down with pungent juices and the air RUSHES to her lungs, unwelcome. He’s tricked her, she realises ---  there was never going to be one last time. Not today, not for her. Her face contorts, a mixture of disgust (at the foul tasting fruit), anger (at Olaf), and somehow... relief. Yes, relief. She wants wanted so desperately to die and yet, yet he is right. To willingly leave their child without a mother would make her more of a monster than she already is. 

It’s odd, how often they save each other from themselves, isn’t it? Can’t live with each other, can’t live without.

" You wicked man. ”  She’s smiling, just a bit.

[taxitm]

SLEEP AWAKE (by Moth.er Moth.er) completely encapsulates the sheer paranoia and pressure that comes with being a member of V.F.D. from getting rid of evidence to protecting people to constantly being one one’s guard. I highly suggest giving it a listen

[taxitm]

@gearsandlevers cont.

They’re going to be FINE. Even if Violet couldn’t think of something to invent (or couldn’t invent it), they’d have a safe way out via a small parachute tucked into the air vent for emergencies. Kit could have said something about it of course, could have saved Violet the trouble of tying up her hair and the time it would take to make that grappling hook, but this is a learning experience (more like a thought exercise, really) for the eldest Baudelaire. 

“ Yeah,”  Kit nods, moving to tear the drapes from the window and toss them to Violet.  “ Yeah that could certainly work. Good thinking, Violet. ”

[taxitm]

Olaf

   “Thank god you’re alive,” he blurts out in a relieved whisper – at least the demon proved to be trustworthy, unlike his former friends. He was not thinking. Kit has every reason to hate him, but she is breathing, that’s all that matters. 

   It’s a terrible thing, dying in a fire. It must have hurt like hell, and it’s all his fault, but Olaf will pay for that. He deserves the pain, the torture, hell – whatever. She doesn’t. When it comes to deciding who deserves to live more, it’s never a question, not to him. The hounds will do him a favor. Will they? No, he can’t let the fear in, he still has a month, and then… then he’ll think of something. 

   “I fucked up,” he admits quietly, his cold palm touching her forehead – it never helps with a headache, but it’s all he can offer. “But I’ve set things right. You’ll be okay.” He won’t. “Let me get you home or… I could call Jacques.”

   Olaf is probably the last person she wants to see right now, and though the idea of explaining the situation to her brother doesn’t strike him as a good one, especially considering Jacques’s ability to see right through him and notice things, he’d do that. He might as well leave for that month, so that Kit would never find out the truth, but he’s too selfish – he wants to have whatever precious seconds he can with her. 

Kit takes solace in the cool hand against her forehead ---  a welcome sensation in contrast to the burning sensation lingering in her body. The pain’s faded, but the heat remains. She’ll have to take some medicine when she gets home, maybe a cold shower, to get her body back to feeling normal. God, she wants to smack him upside the head, what an IDIOT! What an absolute fool, starting fires without thinking. Did he even care? He obviously did at least a little. If only she knew what he’s done for her. 

At the mention of her brother, Kit lets out a soft groan. “ No. No, not Jacques. He’s busy at Calgary. ”

She wouldn’t want to see her brother anyways, not like this. News of the fire has won’t reach him for a while and the last thing she should do is let Olaf (the man responsible for it) give him a call. She doesn’t have the strength to deal with the mess it would make, Olaf trying to explain why Kit’s in the condition she’s in and Jacques demanding more answers. No, it’s best she leave her brother be and rely on Olaf to get her home as quickly as he can. She’ll yell at him later.

[all-things-rp-blog]

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