@knightlier from x

Kayn tucks his fury behind his grit teeth when Zed shuts down his concerns. He's not foolish, as Zed says — he just cares more about Zed than is healthy, more than is reasonable. Shadows do not get injured, yes, and Zed is their master, yes, but Zed is also the person who gave Kayn a life when everyone else tossed it apart. Zed is the one who saw in him what Kayn always knew he could be, that others ignored, that others now have turned against him. Zed is more than the master of shadows — he's more, even, than Kayn's master. He's everything, and Kayn can't afford his death. Not now, and not ever.

He watches the shadows stitch his master back together, and a tremor goes through him, maybe the shadows in him responding, or maybe it's the fear of his own impotence in the face of injury.

He needs to learn how to heal. He needs to better protect Zed, because if something happens to him — ...

OH, KAYN. YOU CAN'T PROTECT EVERYONE. MAYBE IF YOU GAVE IN, YOU'D HAVE THE STRENGTH TO PROTECT YOUR PRECIOUS MASTER. He tilts his chin down, eyes up, at Zed's instruction. Of course, he will take Zed's secrets with him to the grave, but he can't escape the terror rattling around in his bones at the sight of the injury. "Of course, Master." And the praise smooths over his worries a bit, but Kayn still looks worried, eyebrows creased and lips in a frown.

"At least let me help you," he says, stubborn. "You shouldn't use all your energy healing yourself."

Kayn knows a thing or two about feeling things too deeply. His therapist told him as much, before he stopped going. He gets too angry, spirals too quickly into despair, he's loyal to a fault until someone says something wrong. It's black and white with him. Maybe there's a way to change — they didn't get that far in his sessions. He quit eclipse — got kicked out, really — and his therapist was just one of many who never heard from him again.

He knows, of course, that Morgana and the rest of eclipse are here. He knows how well they're doing because he stalks their fucking socials in his lowest points (always has, probably always will), and that they all stuck together after his departure, and most of the time he can pretend that does fucking hurt like knives in his back. But when they're all here?

It's not his fucking party (if it was, none of eclipse would be invited, that's for sure), but HEARTSTEEL is the newest thing, so they should have known HEARTSTEEL would be here. That Kayn would be here.

It's one thing to show up, and another entirely to actually approach him, though. Morgana approaches him with kindness, but it makes Kayn's skin bristle all the same. They haven't spoken since Kayn walked out that night — again, Kayn's doing — but he'd recognize her voice anywhere. "I wouldn't know," he says, wishing suddenly that he had something stronger than what's in the glass in his hand. Kayn's mismatched eyes look anywhere but her, scanning the party. "I'm not on Twitter." Which is, of course, because he got his account suspended shortly after his departure from eclipse.

@umbane

perhaps a small part of her is petty and bitter, vicious with a deep - rooted venom left to fester like rotting vines and their pinprick thorns piercing her wounded heart. at least, that what she tries to tell herself. morgana has always been guided by her emotions, soaring to the highest of highs, and sinking to the cold desolation of absolute rock bottom and the silence in its ever darkening pit of hard stone and the echoes of every regret come to plague her maddening mind.

she forgives too easily. she loves too much. she hurts too deeply. she angers too quickly. nothing is normal, or in moderation, with her. it's all or nothing, every time, no matter what it is, and perhaps there's no one else to blame but herself for the whirlpools of anguish she loses herself in when she allows paper to cut like a serrated knife breaking every rib into gnarled pieces with shattered ends before digging down into her heart.

seeing kayn sparks those burning memories, the tears that once brimmed her eyes, so hot that she thought they would leave scalding scars trailing down her face. she isn't bitter enough to wish for his downfall. in spite of everything, morgana has always chosen kindness. " you look good. " the words are out of her mouth before she could even process saying them, let alone stop herself. " if twitter's anything to believe, it sounds like you're doing good, too. "

in hockey au kayn is a goalie because he's weird and off-putting and also deeply cat coded

sg verse. | " stop running, fiend. " though she doesn't know if she's referring to the weapon in his hand or him, irelia's seething tone cuts through the night air. the wind blows her hair away from her face as they stand upon this rooftop, the stars above as their witness. ( not so heretical as to curse the first light, yet not so naive as to believe they are sympathetic to her plight. ) " you must answer for what you did to them. " blades fan out behind the guardian, poised to fly at their destination; the boy she fought alongside with, the monster he became.

OHHH, FIEND IS A NEW ONE, ISN'T IT, KAYN?

It is, but Kayn is trying not to keep track of all the names he's called over the years. How long has it been now? Ten? Twenty years? TIME FLIES WHEN YOU'RE MOURNING SOME MEASLY STAR GUARDIAN, DOESN'T IT? WHEN ARE YOU GETTING OVER IT? WE COULD HAVE SO MUCH FUN!

The wind whips at his face, catching the wild ends of his hair, and Kayn considers leaving. He could keep running, like he always does, but he's tired. He's been running so long now.

So he turns, taking in Irelia's hateful glare with his mismatched eyes. Try as he might, Kayn still can't forget the shape of her smile, nor the light of amusement in her eyes. Kayn's own expression now is flat, his eyes unfeeling. If she thinks him a monster, then let him be one. The scythe and its awful glowing eye twirls absently in his hand, drawing a circle around the corrupted star guardian.

"You won't find the answers you seek with me." He wonders if this is the curse of star guardians, the dark side of the contract they're given — they must bear the weight of their pains forever, without even the passing of time to ease it.

He doesn't want to fight her. BUT I DO! — But he is so tired of running. "Irelia." Her full name tastes foreign on his tongue. "Why are you here?"

𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞: Kayn Shieda 𝐅𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫: Killer 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫: 3 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞: O- 𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐲: Training 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐨𝐝: Spicy Ramen 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭: Athletics 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲: Weaponry

Kayn never pictured himself as a hero — certainly not a sparkly star guardian type of hero. So when the First Star called to him, Kayn laughed. He ignored her. He figured she must have the wrong guy.

But the First Star worms her way in. She came to him in a dream, showed him an epic fight with a towering monster, allies on his side, strength and agility beyond his wildest dreams. Kayn woke, exhilarated, and agreed to her terms. It was nothing to leave his life behind; his mediocre, solitary, painful life.

He found out that he liked teamwork more than he thought. That was the worst part. Kayn learned he didn't have to do it all on his own. They fought together, bled together, patched each other up, laughed, and did all the things Kayn never thought he'd be able to. That was the worst part, is that they were the best part.

He didn't read the fine print. That was his mistake. The First Star whispered about destiny, but he didn't listen.

They were fighting a towering monster, like so many times before, but this time felt different. Kayn felt like he'd been here before, done this before, and he felt like he was in a dream — a nightmare — waiting for something to go wrong. Something was pulsing in his mind like a headache. He was sloppy, slow. They were injured. For the first time, Kayn felt like they might not make it.

𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐘?

It was the promise of power, the promise of enough strength to get through this fight. He followed it. He found the scythe.

𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐘?

He could feel his teammates' pain. They were suffering. Dying. He couldn't stand to lose them. He was panicked. He could make excuses for days.

𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐘, 𝐊𝐀𝐘𝐍?

His hand closed around the scythe, and power flooded him. He let it take over. He succumbed to it.

When he came to, the monster was dead, shredded by scythe and claws. He had defeated it. He was a hero after all. But when he turned to his teammates, what he saw made no sense. One stood between him and the others, weapon drawn. Two were huddled around a third, who was coated in red, sliced open as if by a...

A scythe.

No. That can't be.

A deep laughter rumbled through his mind. A laughter that wasn't his. He reached out to help, and his teammates bristled, ready to fight him off. No. That couldn't be right.

But it was. He'd killed one of his own. He never learned how, though his dreams were filled with thousands of possibilities every night since.

Over time, Kayn's light dimmed, and the corruption spread out from his scythe to the hand that wielded it. Kayn always knew he wasn't a hero, but he enjoyed pretending for a while. Now, though? Now there was little for him to do other than drift between planets, fighting what monsters he came across, hoping that one day one would be strong enough to extinguish him completely.

Some tyrants are drawn by money, some by violence or more carnal pleasures, but Kayn? More than anything he is drawn to power. He's not afraid of people who have more power than him, because he's learned that all power can be stolen. Any displays of power meant to intimidate him are just opportunities for him to reach out and take it. So when she tips her hand towards him, lets him glimpse a hint of what power she holds, Morgana suddenly finds herself under the full force of Kayn's rapt attention.

And, of course, the foot that presses down on the cushion between his legs certainly helps to hold his focus. As if that wasn't enough, Morgana grips his shoulders and he feels the chains wrap down his arms, binding his wrists where they are.

Kayn doesn't mind. There's a twitch of anxiety in his ribcage, but it's nothing that he doesn't always feel. Becoming the emperor of the universe doesn't happen without developing a bit of paranoia, after all. Regardless, the excitement overpowers it all.

His mouth coils, slow, the edges like a snake lifting from the grass, ready to strike. Considering his compromised position, he looks far more confident than he really should, but that's never stopped Kayn before. He owns everything. He rules everything. Even someone with power like Morgana's can't change that.

Of course, she knows all the answers now. She's seen all the scores. But somehow, Kayn doesn't think she's lying. Her scores were all but perfect once she was brought back into the game, so it doesn't surprise Kayn that her answers please him now. He wants to know more. He wants to touch her the way she describes. Is that so wrong? To want to feel the extent of her power? To know, even slightly, what he's dealing with? ...

Slowly, his lips pull back to reveal his grinning teeth. Like a wolf, it only serves to show how hungry he is.

"Go on," he says, encouraging, lashes low and suggestive. "Tell me all you have to offer."

she has lived too long to live quietly, too long to have naught but burning ash amidst the smoke laying waste to the ground beneath embers trailing in her footsteps that have long since lost their spark. forsaken by kin, forsaken by all who once stood by her altars, morgana haunts little else in name, or even in shrouded memory. temples carved in the veiled lady's name now lay in ruin, crawling in vines and mossy stone, and the ponds have grown stagnant, filled with algae blooms that consume all light and life. there are few who remember her, few who remember who she once was, while her sister's name is crowned with gilded laurels of glory. at the very least, it afforded morgana cover to live amongst mortalkind, and she has lived a thousand different lives, each more exciting than the last. this time, she has chosen to brand her name deep into humanity's minds and share her shadowed hymns unto their minds. reminding the universe that she yet lives, that she is the very same goddess left for forgotten, was never at the forefront of her mind, but she supposes, in a way, that she has the emperor to thank.

she has kayn's attention now, and she holds his gaze with unwavering force. for him, he stands witness to what morgana had been unwilling to unveil before a dozen cameras pointed at her. killing guards with naught but her hands ... that had only been the beginning of all she is capable of, evident now in the unnatural glow burning in violet eyes. morgana takes several steps closer until she has a foot firm between kayn's legs, and she stares down upon him where he sits with such ferocious contempt that it could have burned a hole through his skin. and yet, swirling amidst the rage is a glimmer of want. for what, even she didn't have a damn clue, but it certainly isn't a need to prove herself; she owes no one anything.

magic glows at her pointed fingertips, and it is dark and heavy and suffocating and wrought with fury, like blackened fire drowning in ink and night. she presses her fingers to kayn's shoulders and sends coiling, shadowy shackles racing down his arms to carefully, and tightly, bind his wrists. it's a small show for his eyes, his experience, only, for him to know, to the core of his heart, just what she truly is.

" now ... you're going to be good and sit still for me, and listen, " morgana starts, peering at him with the faintest hint of a smile curling at her mouth. " i've decided my time on this show is to remind the universe that i still live, that i'm not a dead relic flushed out to the stars. for you, i'd cook the finest array of meals across every galaxy in this universe, with the plethora of ingredients we've taken for our own. every flavor of your beloved ramen you could dream of, even. of course i like K/DA. i'm a musician, i appreciate others. i'd have you touch my hands, feel the raw celestial power flowing in my veins. perhaps even my chest in the crook just above my breast so you can feel the heartbeat of a god and her power. should i continue? have i made my point? "

runeterra ezkayn anyone?

got the idea after reading these two fics

hey... tumblr patio kinda slaps...

I have a pipe dream of having an ic h.eartsteel group chat

His skin feels strange where she touches him, hot and tight in a way that only sobriety will fix. She strokes his hair in the way he likes, but Kayn knows he doesn't deserve it. Look at him. He's pathetic. Not only that, but he's the biggest failure the industry has ever seen. How much of a pariah do you have to be to get kicked out of two bands? Kayn knows it's not because of his skill — if there's one thing he's certain of, it's that he's got the talent, the smarts, the skills, to make it in the industry. But that means that they left him because they hate him. It means that they'd rather try to fill Kayn's role than deal with him for another day.

They were supposed to make it together.

Ahri says he doesn't deserve it, but Kayn knows better. He knows the things he said, the things he did. He knows what he broke in pursuit of success. She's always taken his side when he's complained about his band, but Kayn never told Ahri the whole truth. He never told her how he railed against them, cursing them all out, digging into their insecurities in hopes of lighting a fire under their ass. That's the worst part of it all, is when he's drunk away all the anger, all that's left is the realisation that everything they've said about him was right.

He deserves it. Oh, he deserves it, and that's what hurts the most.

Kayn curls in on himself, twisting until his chest is against the grass too, both arms cushioning his head. The tears flow freely now, but when Kayn's mouth opens, the sobs are silent. There's a part of him that hopes that if he's repulsive enough, Ahri will think better of staying with him and go home, but she doesn't. She stays with him as he cries himself out again, and when he finally turns his one good eye to look at her, she gives him a look so kind he thinks it'll break him to pieces. Kayn wants her to stroke his cheek again, but he doesn't know if he'll survive it.

"I can't do it," he gasps, eyelids heavy with exhaustion. "No one wants me. Not even you." A shiver. Fuck, he wants to sleep. "I can't..."

the air is freezing and her eyes are so misty that they begin to feel dry, even with however gentle the breeze seems to be. her lips are dry, too, and the backs of her hand are blistering and blooming red and starting to crack and bleed from anxiously scratching at them, and the aching bite of the piercing cold air doesn't help, but she doesn't seem to care, not right now. ahri looks at kayn like he's the world, even if in this moment he's an abyssal void of swarming stars all simultaneously reaching supernovae. she feels how cold his skin is to the touch and buries her face into his chest, squeezing him with all of the strength creaking out in her bones that cry out to comfort him, to envelop him in her body and bury him deep in her chest surrounded by her ribs, nestled between the warmth of her heart.

she doesn't want to suffocate him. the walls are closing in around him, and every time it's like lightning chases after his footsteps in unfair spell of horrible luck and tides capsizing the vessel of his soul, and monsoon rains pouring in an endless deluge over his head. all she can do to comfort him in the moment is slide an arm higher up to thread her fingers through kayn's hair in soft, soothing strokes. the tear in his voice shatters her. it's weary and worn, holding the unmistakable ache of a broken man. ahri's other hand grips kayn's shoulder, thumb pressing into the groove of his collarbone while her fingers rub back and forth.

when she hears what spills out next, something in her chest sinks down into the depths of her stomach, so deep that she feels that chilling roll churning, like a knife twisting and rooting in her flesh. " i don't have any answers that would make you feel better, " ahri cautiously begins, keeping her voice soft. she lingers in her pause, but not for too long. she hears the pain in the straining of his voice, and her heart breaks a thousand times over. " but i know you don't deserve any of it. i can't begin to imagine how it's hurting you. i'm not going anywhere, kayn. i'm here. i will always be here. we will get through this, together. " ahri draws her hand from his hair, bringing it down to gently caress his face. " you'll catch a cold out here. "

They are already selling data to midjourney, and it's very likely your work is already being used to train their models because you have to OPT OUT of this, not opt in. Very scummy of them to roll this out unannounced.

The grass tickles his cheek and the back of his hand as he lays in it, numb to the chill and the discomfort, to everything other than the ache in his chest that feels like he broke a fucking rib tonight, sometime in between walking into his band's practise and storming out, hurling insults behind him as he went. He doesn't respond to her, can't find the words to tell her either to hurry up or to leave him alone like everyone else does, but every so often she can hear the wind rattling over his mic, or maybe it's just his breath. The screen is bright, right by his face, and Kayn lets his eyes close, just for a moment.

They open again when he hears Ahri collapse next to him, when her warmth and the smell of her threaten to send him over the edge again. Kayn's eyes open, barely coherent, and a whimper escapes his lips like she'd just woken him. Kayn's a wreck — he smells like alcohol, and his hair is in a mess around his face, his clothes askew like he'd gotten too hot but didn't have the dexterity to properly take any of it off. He's still drunk, and he knows he took something that hasn't worn off yet, but none of it's helping.

"Rhi," he rasps, the voice of someone who's been screaming until he couldn't any more. He wants to touch her, pull her in against him, but he can't get his arms to work. She shouldn't be here. She shouldn't be in the park with him at fucking — his eyes glance at his screen, but he can't make out the time, so all he knows is it's too fucking late, or early, to make a girl as gorgeous as Ahri go into a park alone. What kind of a man is he? What kind of a person? ...

It's too much. The tears come right back, like he hadn't already worn himself out crying. Kayn turns his face into his shoulder, ashamed that she has to see him like this but unable to stop it. "Why?" He croaks. Why is this happening? Why did they have to kick him out? Why is she here? Why does Kayn's heart keep beating even when each convulsion is misery? "Whyyyyy..?"

there isn't a cure for the scalding sear of salt burning into her eyes, nor the swelling ache that grips and digs deep into her lungs. it feels like a rib snapped from its place in its cage and punctured her lung, like the cavity of her chest is filling with blood so thick that she can't breathe. the worrying is agonizing, but ahri feels a spell of relief pierce the tension coiling around her heart when she glimpses the flicker of light blip onto the map. he's at a park. he's safe. still, ahri calls and calls until finally, she hears the static on the other end. it's enough for her that he answered — that's all she can ask for.

she's thankful for the empty roads, for the quiet veil blanketing the city. it's almost like the world itself came to a standstill, life frozen in time around her with nary a car in sight beside her own. not even the birds sang at this hour. ahri doesn't say anything at first, eyes deeply focused on the dark horizon beyond. the car's engine ignites when she picks up speed, quieting to a soft murmur when she dives down the curved ramp of her exit. " i'm almost there, " she says at last, keeping her voice soft, like she's afraid of piercing the fragile bubble of silence. " don't go anywhere, okay? i'll be there soon. "

ahri is true to her word. she doesn't hang up, even as she parks and climbs out of her car. nothing could have prepared her for the cold sense of harrowing clawing at her gut at the broken sight of the man she loves, so small in the field of overgrown grass untouched by care or love. her footsteps are small but her strides are long, and ahri crumbles to the ground beside kayn in an instant. it's a thoughtless thing driven purely by instinct, the way she leans down and over to wrap her arms around him and press her cheek to his chest. " i'm here, kayn. i'm here. " the slight quiver in her voice betrays her. it's shaky in a way that makes it all too obvious that she'd been on the brink of tears, too, but she's doing all that she can to keep herself composed for kayn's sake. " we can stay here for as long as you want, but i have a warm bed waiting for you at home, when you're ready. "

sunday this and sunday that. what's an unsexy hc about your muse? I'll go first:

Kayn sometimes struggles to get himself off, especially in modern verse. He has a hard time engaging in vanilla sex, and it's hard for him to get himself off when he needs... let's say special attention, because he overthinks what he's doing to himself and what he wants to do. When he's with a partner this isn't such an issue, because he can just relinquish control and let them decide how to get him off.

That being said, even with a partner Kayn can struggle sometimes. Sometimes being told when to finish is a relief that causes the desired effect, and sometimes it ends up putting too much pressure on him and makes him seize up. In that case, his partner needs to get him to relax and stop overthinking.

It's a good thing that Kayn has a relatively low sex drive, because sometimes when he's on his own he has to just give up and try another time. So it goes.

He doesn't want to turn his location on. That's the thing. For some reason, Kayn turned it off in the first place, and even if he doesn't remember why, the feeling that made him do it still remains. Deep down where Kayn can't reach it, he doesn't want to bother her, doesn't want Ahri to see him like this, but at the same time he needs her so bad it feel like his chest is ripping itself open trying to make room for her. It takes him a little while with clumsy fingers, but his location pops onto her map right around when she's getting into her car. He's in a park downtown, obviously having stumbled there straight out of a bar. All things considered, it's not the worst place to be at four in the morning, but it's definitely not the best, either.

The rest of the message hurts too much to read. There's a sucking wound in his chest, he thinks, that's bleeding all over the grass he's found himself on. Even if it's all in his head, is hurts as bad as if he's actually been stabbed.

Just when he thinks he can't feel worse, Ahri calls him, and the guilt and shame claw at him. What kind of a man is he, really? The first call he lets go to voicemail. The second one, he can't get his fingers to work enough to answer. It's only the third time that Kayn manages to pick up the call, and he grips his phone like a lifeline as the world around him blurs with tears again. He doesn't say anything, but at least she knows he's on the other end of the line.

it's not about her — it isn't about her, and yet that haunting ache of anxiety gnawing at her bones and draining her dry with a sinking twist in her gut is growing harder to ignore by the second. she's worried about him, terrified for him, sick with panic for him, but it's not her feelings that matter right now: kayn isn't okay. it's four in the morning, and she's flying out of bed and grabbing the first coat that catches her eye. ahri is a mess, hair disheveled from the hours of tossing and turning in bed waiting for just a sign of life to know that kayn was all right, eyes burning and dry with exhaustion. none of it matters. she's grabbing her keys and sticking her feet in the house slippers she keeps by the door because it's the only thing she can think to wear.

[ from : ahri, 3:59 am. ] kayn, stay where you are. i'm coming to find you, okay? turn your location back on. i'll be there. i love you. stay put. it's going to be okay. i promise. please don't go anywhere. i'll be there soon, and you're going to come home, and we're going to lay in my bed together until it's okay.

ahri doesn't wait until he does to leave, though. there's urgency in the screeching tires crying out into the night as she tears down her driveway and into the city. her eyes are wet with tears, but she's doing all that she can to force them back down. she can't see the road past the blur. all she can do is hope to god kayn is some place safe.

she furrows her brows, then ... dials kayn's number. pick up. please pick up.

bi is short for bites you bites you bites you

@prideofnazumah from 💜

Somehow, every time this happens, Kayn thinks it'll be the last time. He thinks, this is the last time I break down, this is the last time I let anyone else see me like this.

It never is. He always lies.

They're surrounded by the ruins of his creative session, the words that Rhaast made him scribble even though they hurt, even though Kayn realised, too late, he wasn't ready to dig that deep into himself today. It was too much, but when Rhaast starts, it's impossible to get him to stop.

He doesn't know why he reached out to K'Sante, really. The last thing he wants to do is bother his bandmates with his stupid issues — it's what got him kicked out before, after all, but K'Sante was there, and Kayn, as usual couldn't keep it to his fucking self.

Kayn feels, rather than sees, K'Sante's arm settle over his shoulders. They still shake with the odd heaving breath, but he's mostly stopped crying now.

Fuck, he can't believe he cried in front of K'Sante. What's wrong with him?

He's folded in on himself, arms around his legs and forehead on his knees, like he can't bear to let K'Sante see his face like this. Come to me before it gets this bad, K'Sante says, but ...

"I can't," Kayn says, voice strained and rough from crying. "I'm so fucking annoying. You'll hate me too."

don't become my friend because you'll end up liking hockey