Kayn.      ///      shadowhelmed.

the end.     ///     quartlet.

LAUGHTER PEELS FROM THE VOID BELOW,   the sound curdles and quivers,  unfurling vast tapestries of discordant clangs and pinches of pink noise.  He laughs.  laughs in the face of hopelessness,   laughs for all the putty flesh that makes him,  him.  may he lose himself in this sound,  in the lights ahead and all around.  trillions of them,  distant and dead from this vantage point.  they breathe their last sigh before bowing unto the encroaching Darkness,  the era of black holes and pristine emptiness unwound and unbound,  the era of rogue planets spinning into ad infinitum until their iron cores consume them from the inside out.  how they scream !  how they dream !  how they die  !  HE LAUGHS.  He mourns.  He weeps for no others may dare try,  no tears can be wetted upon a vast cheek. 

❛  NO,  you did not,  DiD yOu ? ❜  those last words are snatched by a static pulse,  a static hum.  it skips and fragments.  dislodged from all meaning yet perfectly riddling itself inside cosmic bones and welts of nebulae.   at this,  the God Without a Throne bends,  His unforeseeable eye narrows while laughter dies at the cavern of His might throat.  when it ends,  so too does a dead star’s drawn out agony before He peels it apart,  carves it up like satin,  splays it across the sky before it bubbles and foams into lesser atoms.  drawing lines with the sickled tips of claws,  almost lazily,  thoughtlessly.  

how fortunate this one is,  to be a creature of somewhat significance,  his guts not entirely composed of organic matter,  for deep down there were flecks of stardust.   in fact,  He could gaze into the depths of his soul.  find every knick and knot.  pull back and laugh again at the simplicity.  He does not such thing,  instead,  He merely stares and stares and stares.  unblinking.  unflinching.  wild choruses reverberate across a thousand lightyears,  their instant breaks into eternity as their throats are ripped from their bodies in a ceremony of entropy.  stone cold moons orbit in the distance,  suns follow behind,  then all at once they are swallowed whole.  ❛  but you did it for her  … ❜  spoke He,  ❛  did you not ?  you took all the darkness that lay dormant inside you both,  you consumed it WhOlE in hopes to bring about salvation.  ❜

another cackle wretches from the beyond.  the voice was high pitched,  clammy,  scratching.  then another one bows into boils of laughter,  then another after that,  until there is another wicked choir set on mocking the little soul before them.  He does nothing.  He does not laugh.  what liquid matter swirled inside that eye turns its attention to the side,  and before long,  the laughter stops.  the supermassive black hole gurgling at his side also gazes beyond,  far beyond,  unto everything and nothing.  it hungers and so does He. a hushed,  ancient purr fills rakan’s weary ears this time.  were he anyone else,  the sound alone would have carved his mind into half.  ❛  pitiful little guardian,  i should destroy you here and now for your failure,  yet  …  i am a BeNeVoLeNt god.  i will offer you a chance. ❜ 

              O,     STARS ABOVE   !!     how your gleaming presence was filled with lies upon lies,     how each twinkle was nary a sign of hope,     each was hushed deceit to manipulate star guardian from young.     //     ah,     how destiny once held benign promise of freedom,     to grant power of flight through mere action of accepting contract that has bounded him to this fate,     to see his name next to those who have fallen   !!!     his dreams,     that of jubilant singer whose comrades were the very stars themselves,     a star who shined like no other,     a guardian that offered benevolence    &    promises of a future hope to the stars that have so nurtured him from young age,     who have meticulously watched every move,     every quiet night he sung,     every passionate dance performed     ———     the stars were no audience,     they were initial saviors that furthered his passion     //     bah,     but what is passion for one who's been consumed by darkness of the galaxy,     who,     in reality,     resigned freedom to fall for a light that cares not for those it deems worthy guardians.

              each vocable leaving this malevolent god did not sound real.     reality had been distorted,     reality's once intact mirror had been shattered,     it is no longer chained by the rules of logic nor the everyday occurrences.     the sun was no longer the mighty light that graced them with vision,     that aided life's tasks with ease,     that dawned beyond the horizon with promises of a new day    &    the vibrant hope that lied within its grasp.     it was irresistible.     to reject the sun's light   ?     unimaginable.     even as a guardian,     fighting for the first light's honeyed promises of doing the right thing    &    saving the stars,     the sun had always been revered for its might.     to see what once shined so brilliantly be crushed with ease,     it defies all precedents of his perceived reality.     all is fair game.     he is nothing.     status of a guardian greatly diminished when curtain unveiled the horrors that lied beyond mundane tasks    :    what gods of total destruction the first light kept secret from them,     there is no strength in donning facade against them,     no hope,     no hope,     even if he wishes not to reveal the miseries deep within,     the grief dying starlight holds within him,     there is no use in hiding.

              ❛     i did it for her.     ❜    damned pity,     from a god who knows naught of his plight.     he is bold,     blasphemous,     furious.     grit teeth,     surely baring them as means to intimidate,     barely containing anger against supposed hand that is of a deceptive warmth,     one that may offer a promise,    a sliver of hope,     but he's had it with hope.     hope is not the foundation for brighter future,     it is the ruination   !!     it is what impedes growth,     it is what led him to his fate.     to reject this hand is to reject hope.     ❛     &    i'd do it again.     again    &    again.     ❜     daring,     daring,     limbs moving without thought put into each action, advancing towards the large form,     as if to face it.     face him.     face the end.     ❛     you think i'd take another chance   ?     the same way the first light offered a chance to be a star guardian   ?     the way i was offered a chance to be alive again,     only to lose a huge part of me   ?     i don't give a damn if you're a bene     ...     benevu- whatever, point is,     i'm done taking chances.     you offering one won't make a difference.     you destroy.     you don't create life.     ❜

what are the fucking odds that @feyquil and i end up opposing each other in ranked and i happen to remember ric’s summoner from a screenshot

since we’re doing shipping tier lists again :}

𝙳𝙾𝙽'𝚃  𝙰𝚂𝙺  𝙷𝙸𝙼  𝙸𝙵  𝙷𝙴  𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙶𝙴𝚃𝚂 .   (   S.ett   of   RIOT’s   Lea.gue   of   Legends ,   by   your   local   goblin   bread   Rye !   Est .  May ,   2020 .   )   𝙱𝙴𝙲𝙰𝚄𝚂𝙴   𝙷𝙴   𝙽𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁   𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙶𝙴𝚃𝚂 .

meme.     /     selectively accepting.

@death-from-below​ said :   [ praise ] uwu

              to relieve their desires.     that was the purpose of this,     no heart must drip onto his actions,     they must all be guided by a lecherous want that overtakes his body,     overrides emotion    &    reasonable thought     (   not like the latter mattered much here,     anyway   ),     allows each touch to be void of deep care,     only a superficial level of it is exhibited.     rakan is rough,     because he feels it's right,     because he knows that this is what pyke wants.     the mewls that escaped trembling lips were indicative of such,     stems from the touch at his chest,     where rakan's hands maintain their focus,     groping,     rubbing.     eliciting each whimper,     each moan that coalesced with clarity to form rakan's name drove him to further extents,     to continue touching    &    touching such a touch starved individual for no other purpose than to please.     himself   ?     pyke   ?     ...     a query without an absolute answer.

              ❛     yeah,     you like that   ?     ❜     there,     each feature shifts to form a smug countenance,     evincing his own amusement of pyke's words of praise,     the pleas that told him he's amazing at this.     the begging request,     don't stop,     it fuels rakan's ego.     pride dwells deep within his heart,     within this lust that burns through his body,     very one that has him pressed against pyke.     can he feel it   ?     it's a wonder,     but he's sure he can.     ❛     lose the mask,     babe     ...     ❜     a hand's travel is sluggish,     but eventually tugs at the bandana,     nonverbal request for its removal.     he wants to see him.     ❛     your eyes are nice,     but i wanna see you.     all of you.     ❜

                     rule number three, wear your heart on your cheek;                                but never on your sleeve, unless you wanna taste defeat.

                          — green oak, written by zacharie. established october 2020.

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