#anyway kit!! to explain!!

[seiwas]

✏️

ur writing feels like returning home and snuggling into my favourite blanket with soft songs playing in the background, after a tiring day at uni.

it is so beautiful and comforting to read; be it the cute sweet fluff, the heart-wrenching angst, the loving profound intimacy; everything's so well written– i can actually feel the affection and attention u pour into every word u type into ur stories. tysm sel for sharing ur amazing and – masterpiece, if i hv to say in one word– stories with all of us. ilysm!!!

kit!! thank you for playing 🤍

your writing reminds me of:

❤️‍🔥🛞💼🎬

fire blazing; the screeching of tires on concrete; suitcases and business suits; the ending credits in a movie theatre, rolling.

&

my darling kit!! thank you so much 🥺 i’m so happy my writing gives you that comfort aaaah 🥺 i am forever flattered that you find it beautiful pls 🤧 you’re speaking too highly of my writing aaaah 🥺 thank you thank you 🥺

send me a ✏️ and i’ll tell you what ~~vibe i get from your writing! (alternatively, you can also tell me what vibe you get from mine!)

[ourladyofsxrrows]

[kitcats-1-braincell]

I never remove songs from my playlist so there’s still some cringy music there and sometimes I just get jumpscared by the horrors

[wizardnuke]

i love dnd..i love playing heavy utility/support/backfield and i love having three to six attacks in a turn and an insane ac. at heart im a support player ill get my hands on whatever we're missing in a group

[real-live-human]

oooo you wanna tell me about your new oc oooooooo you want to engage with my interests (eureka) so bad

sniles at you so politely

kit roper is not human. it's actually... not entirely clear what they are, even to themself. their earliest memories go back a good eight or ten years, and they were still this back then, so they've presumably always been like this. as far as a physical description goes, you can picture a flattened-out starfish 3 or 4 metres across. of course, that's only in their real form, which they take great pains to prevent becoming known. they spend most of their time folded into a very close approximation of the human body, which they've gotten better at mimicking over the years.

unfortunately, this skill doesn't come for free. more than experience, it's in large part the product of having consumed and absorbed the genetic material and brain matter of more humans than they prefer to think about. every time they digest someone, bits of their dna and memories become subsumed into kit's own. this isn't a process they enjoy (especially given how many memories they've picked up of how it feels to be eaten alive) but unfortunately it's necessary. they've tried to survive off normal food, but even in massive quantities it barely sates them. they're pretty sure they didn't used to feel so guilty about hunting before the point their memories start getting clearer, but guilt doesn't change the fact that a thing's gotta eat.

[nerice]

for legal reasons, this is a series of screenshots instead of a text post. and also region locked to some degree,

[crescentfool]

thinking about what a kensa squiffer would've been like...

[seventh-district]

so uh. that 2.2 Special Program, huh

[kitsquared]

Spoilers for recent chapters (chs 118 -...)

I plan to make a more visual post

But the recent chapters since the incident in the underground prison are showing similarities to the beginning of the series and some throwbacks (it's been a year since they began the contractual marriage!)

And mainly that Pereshati, after once again getting her life in danger and reliving her death by her stepmother, has to make a decision regarding what she wants and her safety

Just like how this whole series began

[everythingwasnormalhere]

storms are terrifying, disability is bullshit, and my friends are fucking awesome<3

[izloveshorses]

working at a public park in late midwestern summer moodboard

[c-infinity-83]

goif 2 try 2 make . a. fwiwndship bracelet .

[ginzuras]

still thinking abt the ashfur redemption au if anyone was wondering

[m00sebaby]

just having a bit of a ramble dont mind me

[radiocoll]

DEAR, lover, darling,

It is me again. I’m sorry, but I must send my thoughts before I have none left to give. It is with great respect that I send these letters, and I admire the respect I receive in turn. It is admirable, even, my dear, that you entertain the idea of a corporeal being on the other side of these writings - for it could be something far more sinister, far less emotional, but I would reckon it includes a tad amount of disinterest, loneliness or boredom, that you not see these as anything other than malicious.

You’ve always been entertained.

I am not malicious.

Nor are my letters.

But you are trusting, far too trusting for a man your age, a man of your belonging, too trusting for especially you, my deliciae. I would not call myself a secret admirer and I would not call myself a special interest, for that would entertain the idea that I am admirable, that I am capable of such an emotion such a interest or disinterest or endearing. All I have is curiosity, and I am inclined to pretend.

You read all of my letters. You open my gifts. I am aware of this, that you read all of the letters, that you keep them close and lock them away in a little box, holding all of the special little things I send you. Why do you not put them with the others? The other memories, the other emotions? Why do they get their own separate container, as if they need contained? You keep all of the things I sent you, that I do send you, and you keep them and reread them, turning them over and over in your palms until they shine. You sleep with them near, cradled to your chest, because you have nothing else that’s worth something.

You have nobody else that loves you without being unseeing, nobody else that sees you and doesn’t see what they’ve gained, what they’ve lost. Nothing else that’s important to you.

And you can pretend. You can pretend that the little coins, the suit, the maps, that they’re worth something to you. But the way you sit and cry and cry and cry is not the way of a man nor beast, that is not the way of a man who has lived, loved, and lost. That is not the way of you, lover, dear.

There is beauty in plurality, and ugliness in solidarity. This is something I’ve learned and something I’ve perfected. I’ve perfected the way that I wait and the way that I adore. Perfected the art of recognising beauty and pain and you.

And you’re beautiful.

And I wish I could say that to you.

Ours Poetica,

An unexpected visitor, this time. I will be expected soon.

PS: Ours Poetica is a term meaning that something “captures the intimate experience of holding a poem in your hands and listening as it's read by poets, writers, artists, and sometimes unexpected – yet familiar – voices.” I would like you to read my poems. My art, my writing, and my poetica.

[lightspren]

ok so I edited chapter 43/65 today, this one needed some p extensive edits but it’s good now

i have one more chapter next that should need light edits I think. It shouldn’t be bad

then i have two chapters that i’m afraid are gonna need like. entirely rewritten lmao. and idk what to dooo with them

i hope work is quiet tomorrow so I can rotate the story in my mind and try to work out the holes. I should reread those chapters too so I can be thinking on it. tho one of them is barely even a chapter and UGH

i’m excited about this story tho and I should try to find a snippet from what i’ve already edited to share. i’ve like almost exclusively talked about the process here and none of the actual story lmao maybe i should actually talk about the story itself. would ppl want to read snippets?