#Kitjustkit

[dontcxckitup]

@kit-just-kit said: "Darling you should be proud that you exes speak of you in such glowing terms, honestly. Most of mine don't have one nice word to say about me".

"Proud? I'm actually just concerned that...women I have--had a sexual relationship with, go to you and tell you about it. And the details, too."

[libdemdisaster]

@kit-just-kit

Fergus couldn't remember the last time he'd taken a bath, let alone one that smelled so nice. He mostly connected baths with childhood, with steering brightly coloured plastic ships through mountains of bubbles while his mother washed his hair. He'd swapped baths for showers when he hit puberty and he honestly didn't think he'd had once since.

So this was different.

Another difference was that he had definitely never shared a bath (that one time with his cousin when they'd been 6 didn't count). It wasn't as awkward as he had expected, now that they were both in the tub, Kit and him, the water warm and foamy, and he was sitting between her legs, leaning back against her. It made him feel warm and content. Relaxed. Safe.

"This is nice," he sighed quitely, resting his head against her chest while he idly ran his hand through the water. "Why haven't we done his before?"

[amuseoleum]

| plotted starter | @kit-just-kit

On one fine evening, as the dim light of the library flickered softly, Mordecai Voidwalker drifted silently between the towering shelves, his ghostly form blending with the shadows. The scent of aged parchment and dust enveloped him, a familiar comfort amidst the chaos of his existence. It was then when he noticed a woman, her eyes seemingly wide with wonder as she wandered through the aisles- clearly lost in her own world. Mordecai felt a twinge of curiosity; new visitors often brought fresh energy, and perhaps a chance for mischief?

A particularly ornate book rested on the shelf, its cover shimmering with gold leaf, Mordecai saw this and materialized just behind her. “Looking for something in particular?"

[themxgicman]

[Text: unknown sender] It's K. Did you find it? Are you safe? Sorry it's been so long, had to make sure I wasn't being tailed anymore x

@kit-just-kit

[text:unknown number] Are you okay? Where are you? I thought the worst

[becomelions]

@kit-just-kit wanted a starter from Leon Kaiser:

Normally he would be used to the dead bodies he found, carnage itself was something he provided years ago. It was the reason he was still here over two thousand years later. However, this wasn't his doing, he hoped. He hadn't lost control, had he? His temper had been in check for centuries, Leon liked to think anyway. No, he would have remembered if this was something he had done. Hazel eyes took in the murders, head turning to look at a figure that seemed to appear out of no where. His body tensed, not that he was afraid to die because he couldn't, but that didn't mean he liked having to think about having to delve back into that darker side of him to defend himself if needed. "Did you do this?" He asks, expression serious with the tone to match.

[joyfulmagic]

@kit-just-kit // WWII! Kit & Illya

“<Stop, you did your job,>” Illya informed Kit, taking the blade from her and cleaning it with his own handkerchief before handing it back. “<Too much attention to the details of his death will draw the N@zis right back to you,>” he warned, offering a secondary blade for Kit to keep. Changing up the way the blade severed the main artery would keep the SS detectives on their toes, compared to what seemed like a serial killer targeting male SS officers.

Illya looked down at the body, sliding a glove on so he could make sure the n@zi was deceased. “<You’re rather skilled with a blade,>” he complimented once he was certain there was no pulse, offering a small smile to Kit despite the nature of their business. It sounded like a set up for a joke — two Allied Forces spies walk into an SS bar, and they walk out alive.

“<We need to go,>” Illya suddenly added, eyes darting to the door, tossing the SS officer’s body over his shoulder with uncanny ease. He took Kit’s hand with his free one, going over to the window. “<Can you jump down to the ground from the awning, or do you need me to catch you>?” Illya asked, wanting Kit to get out of there safely. His French accent cracked during the question, a Russian one momentarily slipping through.

[consultingsister]

CONTINUED FROM -- @kit-just-kit

"No, that's the reason you give a stranger to do a shot. But when it's your best friend, your true soulmate, your one true love... that's a perfectly valid reason to get a tattoo. Maybe not even Cee with two e's... just the letter."

[richardxoliverxmayhew]

❝  wait are you jealous?  ❞

JEALOUS, FIERCLY PROTECTIVE & TERRITORIAL PROMPTS: ACCEPTING

II @kit-just-kit

"Jealous?" Richard let out a fragile scoff as he crossed his arms over his chest, in a desperate attempt to shy his gaze away from Kit's. "When have I e'er been...-- No. I'm not jealous. I just... I just didn't like the way tha' guy was talkin' to ye', is all? Or lookin' at ye'? Seriously, doesn't he know yer' eyes are above chest level," he grumbled.

[wiinestories]

❤️ + kit-just-kit????? 😁

send ‘❤' + a url & i’ll write positivity / what i think abt them

Omg honestly, okay…. We need to talk about Kit and how well developed she is. How each interaction with her makes you craving more because she’s the definition of unpredictability, and I love that so much. As for the wonderful mun: you, my dear, have stuck with me while I changed blogs, went on short hiatuses and took minor breaks here because life is what it is, and I’m nothing but thankful for you for it! I love your writing, I love how you portray Kit, and I honestly hope we can continue writing so I get to explore Kit in many facets. ❤️ Last but not least: I’ll always be here one way or the other so we could discuss things ❤️❤️❤️

[luckhissoul]

@kit-just-kit asked :: door. hold  a  door  open  for  my  muse . / unprompted

he hated these things. the long drawn out speeches, the toasting. all expensive. he stood in the middle of it, his eyes scanning over the designer this and the designer that. some of the pieces they were at their necks, on their shoulders cost thousands. it was so bloody rich he could smell it in the air. he feels an uncertain tug at him then. but he manages a dance or three with the pretty ones who want to, a few handshakes here and there. the night wasn't dwindling down just yet. but he had done enough of the bloody game to be heading out towards the balcony. he didn't want the quiet. no, it was quiet enough in there with soft chatter and the classical music. he wanted something loud and hectic, something where he could get bloody wasted and not have some rich idiot look down their nose at him. he undoes the button on his jacket. it's a bloody expensive piece, isn't it? head to toe in something that he had spent a bloody fortune on. it's a funny thing, isn't it? you can play bloody dress up and they seem to know all about the whole "humble origins" as if that would make him feel any better.

well, at least he was here, here and alive at that! some of the guys from his unit hadn't made it that far. their names were someplace at the back of his mind, etched things. he was glad he hadn't been blown up at least. he could make a joke or two about that and that stirred little frowns and switch of subjects. as if a man had to feel bad about being alive. well, nothing about tonight would make it easier to sleep. nothing did. maybe something strong to drink and a pretty thing or two to take home. would they buy it if he told them the "humble origins" was all a bloody blur now? faces and names he should know lost half the time. things he'd rather forget flashing hot when he closed his eyes. it was a mistake to come here tonight. he's about to close the door when he notices her. the doctor, he had met her in passing earlier in the night. not likely to forget that one. he offers a smile as he holds the door opened for her. stepping aside so she can go through first. he gives her an extended look. maybe some company wouldn't be the worst. "it's a nice night out." he says the first thing that comes to his mind as his eyes follow her. the bloody woman was probably trying to make a call or something. sometimes the women at places like this hung a bloody do not disturb around their necks until they got a little bored. funny, that. he almost laughs about it. but bites back on it, tugging just to just slightly undo his tie.

[consultingsister-a5]

starter call / @kit-just-kit

"When did you know your marriage was over? The first one, I mean."

Cee can't help thinking, if she was guy, she would be getting lucky tonight. She thinks this with more humour than bitterness, to be clear. It had been a lovely dinner out, a shared cab home, oh just come in for one drink. Then it's a bottle gone and it's nearing 1am. But that's what Friday nights in your forties are for right? The pro of having children young, or no children at all. She'll talk Kit into staying the night. The spare room is always made up with her favourite things,

"Like, who made the call? Not-- you made it together, someone had to voice it first."

[dontcxckitup]

Ralph Fiennes & Rachel Weisz Sunshine

[libdemdisaster]

"You'd be a Fuzzy Navel Ferg, for two reasons. One it's very similar to the Sex on the Beach that was picked for me and two, it's made from peach schnapps..........so fuzzy........and peach.....get it?".

🍸If my muse was a cocktail, what would they be?

"Fuzzy as in my...?"

"It sounds good, actually. Fruity, orange, sweet - not sure that fits me but I'll drink it, yeah!"

[brokenblondeprincess]

EvilKit to El (first word) - trust

[cardiomyapathy]

"could you... do that again?" // @kit-just-kit​

“ ... of course, doctor kit. ” she’s helped him so much in the past, it was only fair that he’d do everything in his power to help her. he presses his body against hers to trap her against her office wall. oh, a diploma. nice. catching her wrists in his hand, he holds them above her head to give him a good view of her figure. and then he kisses her, soft and sweet.

[giildedcage]

@kit-just-kit

It was his first time back in the UK after his father’s death. Somehow a nation that had once been about visiting relatives on his mother’s side and fond university memories had turned into the place he was now meant to hold his first foreign state visit as king.

King, that description still didn’t sit right with him. Give it time, he’d been told and assured, you’ll grow into it, it’s the grief, you’ve been preparing all your life for this. As if his father’s death hadn’t come so unexpectedly it had shaken not just the family but the entire country of Genovia to the core. As if Pierre didn’t feel wholly unprepared for this. As if he hadn’t said for as long as he could think that this wasn’t what he was meant to do with his life.

As if anybody listened to him.

Well, nothing like visiting a children’s hospital to put his own misery into perspective. This was a good cause and he did enjoy meeting the children and staff, feeling quite touched by it all. 

He was to meet the Chief Consultant of Psychological Sercives next who, to his surprise, turned out to be a familiar face, one he hadn’t seen in many years.

“And this, sir,” the lady showing him around began introducing her, “is our Chief Consultant of Psychological Sercives, K-”

“Katherine Prince,” Pierre interrupted her warmly to everyone’s surprise and extended his hand to greet her.