Is Blog, Blin

bold  whatever  applies  to  your  muse.   italicize  the  things  that  only  somewhat apply / are verse dependent.   REPOST ,   DON’T  REBLOG.

been cheated on     |    been bullied    |     had your heart broken   |   broken someone’s heart    |    told a horrible lie |    been betrayed   |     been framed / set-up     |     stolen something of value   |     overdosed on drugs     |    been drunk  |     cheated     |    bullied   |    been publicly humiliated   |    punched someone in the face    |    been beaten up  |   broken a bone  |    been admitted to a hospital  |    put someone in the hospital     |   had a near - death experience |     been drugged   |     done drugs     |    smoked     |     been arrested    |     been homeless   |     been forced to commit a crime    |     died and came back to life   |     kissed someone you weren’t attracted to     |   bled severely   |    killed someone    |     been forced to kill someone   |   had an attempt on your life   |    made an attempt on your own life     |   lost someone   |   loved someone   |     watched a loved one die  |     failed to save / help a loved one   |    felt helpless  |    watched your world die / disappear   |   had your life’s work stolen / destroyed  |   gone without food for over three days     |   gone without sleep for over three days  |    been tortured / questioned |     been shot    |   been stabbed |   been poisoned   |   been held prisoner   |  been trapped   |     been buried alive    |     been held hostage   |   held someone hostage   |     been stuck in a different world / universe / time    |   been abused by someone who should have loved / appreciated / valued you  |   had a panic attack    |   had night terrors  |     been in a car accident    |     lost your job     |    lost a fight   |    had sex with a stranger     |     been divorced     |     been abandoned   |     passed out from pain    |   cried yourself to sleep  |     spent a whole day in bed   |   hurt yourself  |   taken your anger out on yourself  |   taken your anger out on someone you love |   been used |  been manipulated   |   felt used   |   manipulated someone else   |   had your memories / mind wiped / stolen or tampered with    |   been taken over by a hostile force     |   been terrified   |     played a cruel game on someone    |     been forced to smile |    felt too many things at once   |    laughed when you felt like crying    |   been in denial   |   been denied  |   faced your demons

tagged by: @nervousfoxboy

Send “📂“ for a random yet completely useless headcanon I have

The only thing Rhianu notices is the way Kit seems to interrupt her before she has a chance to answer him, especially since he’s been polite up to this point.  Anyone else might be irritated, but she’s too shy to bring it up.  Anyway, he’s still nice, and his compliment makes her blush a little.

“Oh, th-thank you.  I just…hope I could help.”  And since he did ask a question, maybe she should answer it?  “A-and I do travel a bit.  I was…headed the same way, actually…”  She immediately regrets saying that and looks away, hoping he won’t ask to walk with her because she’d just be nervous the whole time.

Kit weighs his options.  Rhianu seems terribly discomfited by him, and he’s not used to that-- most people either warm up to him fairly quickly or just write him off as a weirdo and disengage.  Rhainu seems too polite to disengage, even if she wants to.

But he really would like company, and Rhianu’s piqued his interest.  And anyway, if they are headed the same way, avoiding walking together would also be awkward.  He wonders if there’s some way he could set her at ease, but he’s got the feeling that the issue isn’t him-- she seems like she’d be anxious with anybody.  He decides to just get things out in the open.

Balta returns the grin, taking note of the man’s accent.  He’s not familiar enough with foreign accents to pinpoint it exactly, but he’s reasonably sure the man isn’t from anywhere very close.  In that case, he might not be familiar with the local legends, which could be an advantage for the nuggle.

“Aye, that I am!  Call me Balta.”  He holds out a hand.  “Had quite th’ journey t’ get here, have ye?  What brings ye out t’ th’ Isles?  We dunnae get many foreigners, ye ken.  Least nae in this particular neck o’ th’ woods.”

“Oh, am lover of wild and distant British-places.  Have am wanted always to explore more, and now am having a chance.  I go by myself, no tour group.  Get more genuine experience, da?”

As Kit chats, the picture of a naive foreigner, he carefully and discreetly takes stock of his interlocutor.  As always, his ears prick up at the manner of introduction-- call me, not my name is.  This Balta looks harmless enough, but since when has that mattered?  Still, good manners are universally accepted, except for those fae how take offense at thank-yous.  He can keep his guard up without being standoffish.

@kitsuningtonshippoknockoff​

Ren wanted to get the perfect gift for Kit that valentines day, but I wasn’t sure what to make it. His first thought was chocolate vodka, something he could defintely make at home, but….then he thought about it more. Kit never really seemed happy when he was drunk, no really.

From there, he looked for traditional Russian things, but again fell short. The holiday was relatively new to that country, and what things they did do were basically the same as here anyway. Did Kit even like chocolate as much as Ren did?

Oh. But he did know one thing Kit liked. Amazed he hadn’t thought of it earlier, Ren went out to buy some chicken hearts, teriyaki sauce, ginger, scallions, sesame seeds, and bamboo skewers. He make sure to time the cooking just right so that Kit would be none the wiser until he came downstairs for dinner. Or at least, until the smell of chicken heart yakitori aroused his suspicious enough to investigate.

While Ren’s been busy in the kitchen, Kit’s been working clandestinely in Ren’s room.  Well, strictly speaking it’s Kit’s room now, too.  Whether they sleep together there or in Kit’s room depends on whether they feel like the nest or the bed.  But this is where Ren’s felt historically safest-- not saying much, true, but as time passes their shared presence makes it feel more genuinely like a haven.

Careful not to lose anything important to Ren (figurines all carefully tucked away) Kit has turned their little space into an utterly gay Valentine’s dream.  Ren’s posters have been lined with red and pink lace, streamers and hang from the ceiling, and yes, actual rose petals are scattered about.  Kit’s even hung up some Valentine’s lighting, soft red light highlighting the corners of the room.  All the red, white, pink, and purple decorations make it feel like Kit’s stepped inside a flesh-and-blood heart.

Perfect.

Kit huffs out a breath, satisfied with his handiwork.  When he breathes in, he stops to sniff more thoroughly.  Something smells good, and it’s coming from downstairs.  Kit follows his nose, padding down to investigate.  The smell is unmistakable now, and Kit’s heart feels warm.  He walks in, wraps his arms and tail around Ren as he works at the stove, and rests his chin on Ren’s head.

The lisakov’s ears perk up, and he immediately springs into action.

Send me a ★ and I’ll bold what applies to your muse.

((Feel free to add your own. Have fun~ ))

JOHN KEATS

the lavender in sunsets / flowers in the rain / sunlight slipping through clouds / lazy summer afternoons / the heavy scent of musk / flickering candlelight reflecting off the gold titles of books / fireflies on a cool summer night / being wrapped in fresh bed sheets / the ache of wanting what you can never have / dripping sunlight like gold / loving someone so exquisite / soft lips and soft whispers / fingers through hair / names of lovers carved in trees / broken glass / the insistence of being perpetually dreamy.

F. SCOTT FITZGERALD

crisp winter skies with cold bright stars / mahogany wood / the solitude of an early autumn morning wrapped in fog / empty bottles on stacks and stacks of books haphazardly placed in a messy room / bruised arms reaching out into the darkness / cigarette smoke just barely hiding the scent of alcohol / a wall of books all poetry and old and weathered / a bad thunderstorm occurring at the end of a beautiful day / the way tragedy strikes in your heart but ends up stopping your breathing for a moment / your favorite sweater / parties spilling into four a.m. with the stars above spinning and dancing / the contrast of blood against snow / a purple split lip oozing blood / black eyes fading to blue to pale skin / the butterflies of falling in love for the first time / the statues falling apart over time in cemeteries / the romanticization of self-destruction

FRANZ KAFKA

the weight of dread that sits heavily in your stomach when thinking about the future / decrepit houses cloaked in mystery from children telling stories of people who died there / the way not even light can escape a black hole / the rich smell of old books / delicate veins in the wrist / ghosts filling lungs / shattered bones / raindrops on the tongue / rusting metal / nostalgia that aches / the way hope feels like a plastic bag over your head.

H.P. LOVECRAFT

the anxiety felt when staring into an unknown cave / pouring rain and mud / a child’s fear of the dark / thinking so many questions about your existence as you stare at the vast expanse of never-ending ocean / the silence of three a.m. / ouija boards and urban legends.

JACK KEROUAC

the brisk pine air of being on a mountain / travels without a destination / those nights where you’re missing three hours of memory / screaming to a lifeless desert about how you’re so alive / coffee shops late at night / car rides at night spent speeding and laughing in the dark / naps spent in the sun / novels highlighted and underlined with notes and epiphanies in the margins / the way uncertainty sits on the shoulders / ignoring flaws and loving life / wind through hair / depression as fog in the brain / impossible ideals / a quiet sunrise / walks alone / when you think about trying to discover all the secrets to the universe / dazzling people / open lands stretching out into infinity / falling in love with being alive.

EDGAR ALLAN POE

the ocean’s horizon inseparable from fog / hollow bones / a preserved heart held in hands /twinkling stars above an old graveyard / the way everything turns to dust / silent black birds with eyes full of wisdom / self-inflicted flames / perfection depicted as a rotting corpse/ death as bricks in the heart / lips barely brushing against each other / glassy glazed eyes / biting into a lemon / heart-shaped bruises / rotting flowers on a grave / dried blood and spilled liquor / the hush of dusk when it begins raining / the intimacy of a secret.

tagged by: @nervousfoxboy

She notices that he used similar wording to introduce himself.  It might mean nothing, of course.  It might also mean he knows something about the fae, but that isn’t necessarily good or bad.

The problem is that Rhianu isn’t sure how to answer the question, and has to take a moment to think about it.  It’s hard to judge what people are like when you typically avoid them.  And although she hasn’t really had any problems with the people in the nearby village and is technically an outsider, Kit looks like he’d stand out more and his accent tells her he’s probably not from anywhere nearby.

“I, uh, I’m…not sure.  I…I haven’t seen anyone there from…from different places.  B-besides me.  But um…definitely not…from other countries.  I…I think they’d be okay, though.”

“Different places... are you then travelling too?”  Kit shifts the weight of the back on his back, smiling.  “By accent am guessing you are from the Wales, da?  But not this part?”  It occurs to Kit right after saying that that it might be odd for someone who is ostensibly Russian-- and unversed enough in English to talk the way he does-- to immediately recognize a Welsh accent.  Still, he tells himself, it’s not impossible.  She probably won’t question it.  Just in case, he plows ahead talking again before Rhianu can answer.

@kitsuningtonshippoknockoff​

The problem with this time of year was not many people wanted to visit the river, which was partially frozen.  But here was someone who looked interesting.  Maybe Balta could get something out of him.  He was glad he already had his glamour up, as he’d been heading for the nearest town.  “Yer nae from around here, are ye laddie?”

Kit had never been to Shetland before.  The furthest north in the UK he’d ever been was Inverness, but as long as he was back he figured he might broaden his horizons a bit.  As much as he was still wary of being “back home”, well, this wasn’t home.  The Atlantic and the entirety of Scotland and the Borders is between him and Yorkshire, so he’s more relaxed than he otherwise might be.  He flashes Balta a grin.