HOUSE KIRAMMAN

[killamman]

independent. private. selective. caitIyn kiramman from riot games/fortiche's arcane. show-based. 21+

rules under cut.

this blog is low activity and i am 26+.

i'm just here to write some angst and have a good time — general rp etiquette applies.

i love plotting so come at me with anything you want to explore!

caitIyn is a lesbian.

prompts and memes are a good place to start.

this blog is not trigger-free and i will try and tag spoilers with #arcane spoiler. but let me know if i miss anything.

i do not play the game. all my knowledge comes from the show.

[bobbiedebruyn]

desperation is the doorway to oblivion, child

[vielets-deactivated20260323]

vi's skull thrummed against the flat, hay - stuffed mattress. the inside of her mouth felt like rust and sandpaper, and the cheapest pisswater ale the tavern above the pit still deigned to serve her even when she'd rolled up on the verge of a blackout, with blood oozing from her eyebrow and dribbling down her chin.

a feather - soft hand grazed her shoulder, where there was no clear distinction between bruising and tattoo ink, and vi shivered, swallowing down an almost knee - jerk wave of nausea. cait had never done that before. not down here. she'd always been lost in the margins of a crowd, just shy of her dimming periphery. always flickered under the dim amber lights that encircled the ring. when that cait looked at her, it was always with some vague intimation of expectation. of judgment that she could only seem to fend off with a bottle and a tin tub of cold, sludgy water, piped in from above.

there was no determining, in that moment, what hurt worse: cait, standing in her rat - trap of an apartment, or the persistent throb of yet another concussion blooming through her temple. the glint of sparse and waning sunlight haloing cait's likeness against her shattered mirror, or the twinge her ribs gave when she breathed too deeply.

vi could only grimace, either way. she might have had the chem barons and high rollers banking her wins: more knockouts than she could count — but three days without a real meal and too many shots hadn't gotten her far. " I thought I told you to stay out of my head. "

[killamman]

it's a sorry sight. with a full, fuzzy head and the ringing in her ears from the chants and loud bustle of patrons and drunks, vi looks more suited to the sawdust in the bar footwell than anywhere else. (it tugs at something in her chest, seeing her like this — like a vulture picking over rotting meat and gnawing at a pallid pile of bones. it aches against something numb and dead and cait blinks through it with each gentle touch over vi's shoulder. you look half dead too.)

"do you really think i'm in your head?" with one boot on the ground, and the other supporting a knee which bends so they're eye level, there's the faint clink of an empty whisky bottle against its heavy sole. she reaches with the hem of her jacket tugged over the tips of her fingers, and she dabs at the split in vi's eyebrow to draw a thick congeal of blood away from her face.

"the vi i know could fight ten of those men and come out unscathed."

she's a mirage. a ghost. there's nothing the other side of the shattered mirrors, and she draws nothing back on the arm of her jacket from the touch. vi tells her to get out of her head, but they both know that there's a reason she's here. a reason vi wants her here. (perhaps not want, but need. she needs to see her like this, while a fist thrums its way through the side of her head day in day out and stumbles back into a haystack bed. sit up, violet.)

"you're not going to give them the satisfaction, are you? you're too stubborn for that."

a smile gleams through the morbid darkness of the box room, and cait slips a hand down the side of her cheek. it's cool and hot all at once, smudging a thumb over the dark kohl streaked over the vi tattoo kissing the crown of her cheek, but when she draws it back, she comes away unmarked. "it's like a cell here. you got out of that — don't volunteer to put yourself back there, violet."

[killamman]

i am once again thinking about griddIehark 🧍‍♀️

[forh3r]

@killamman , from the starter call.

felicia is no stranger to death - by the age of nineteen she had seen more of strangers getting buried than getting married, their time to mourn reduced to flames and ashes littering the river and the already too polluted air around them. "i'm sorry for your loss," she offers, weeks late and only aware because of the statue towering not too far from where they're sitting. felicia has no idea what to say - being invited to meet a family that will supposedly get closer to her through daughters sharing a life together ... it feels weird, in a way she can't fully understand yet. "thank you for your hospitality, too. i'd never been here before." not as a persona grata, at least.

[killamman]

the corridors are cold. she's aware of that. and there is far too much space from one end of the table to the other, especially with her father's absence. (tobias has curled in on himself, taken to the opposite wing of the house with a robe and an unkempt beard he barely scratches through on a daily basis anymore. she thinks he can't bare to touch anything of her mother's, even now, even when there's more at stake than allowing time for grief. caitlyn pushes it down and stuffs it with the angry white-hot needles of rage that are begging to cool.)

"thank you." it's diplomatic, swallowed in the back of her throat, and cait touches the edge of her finger over the hot porcelain of the teacup to her left — the burn grounds her slightly, and she feels it twitch as she pulls away from the steaming cup and settles her hands back in her lap.

"i apologise for my father's absence. he's feeling under the weather, but he sends his regards." it's formal — overly so, she knows, but it speaks of more of a defence mechanism than anything else. it's how she was taught — when in doubt, revert to ritual. (her back is stiff. her eyes shift from the teapot to the saucers and back. that rock in her stomach refuses to budge.)

"you're welcome any time. i've had some rooms prepared. to make your stay pleasant."

[killamman]

@vielets liked for a starter.

there's a heavy thrum of music barely muted by the slam of the door, and a distinct clink of glass on glass as she swans through the mess left by the room's most recent occupant. it's a box, really, different only in the fact that it has no bars keeping the windows shut — in fact, there's a golf-ball-sized hole in the bottom left corner that cait hazards a glance through and frames her eye for a moment, before turning back to the dark smudge of ink and kohl sitting opposite the mirror.

(the room reeks of rock bottom and ethanol, and when cait steps away from the shadows and touches a cold, slim hand against the shoulder of the lump in curled in on itself on the bed, she immediately pulls it back — like encountering a wild animal, caged, cold, half-dead like a poor buckshot deer limping through the forest. her father had taught her these shot-through animals need putting out of their misery, but it aches all the same when she sees that glassy stare returned from vi.)

"you look like the bottom of a bar floor." she crouches, as if to survey damage, and pulls back a little, replacing her hands in her lap and tucking the one strand of her fringe behind her ear to see her better.

"you need to get up, vi."

[killamman]

.

i’m hoping to be here tonight — work has been horrible and i have a job interview today for clinical lead so wish me luck!! but i’ll be getting to starters and my inbox later tonight ♥️

[killamman]

here’s a starter call for after work if i don’t sleep immediately 💓

[arcanegifs]

ARCANE LEAGUE OF LEGENDS: 2x09 - “The Dirt Under Your Nails.”

[killamman]

@j1hnxed: it was all for nothing.

she thought she would feel better. that’s the stinger here—that’s what turns in her stomach when she stares through slatted bars at the corners of the cell where the sunlight doesn’t reach. she thought that, after all this time, after all the sleepless nights and war councils, all the time spent tracing the lines of jinx’s hair or the mad glint in her eye from across the wanted posters, all the curling into herself to avoid the heavy, dull ache in her stomach from consuming her entirely, it would… be different. 

(how can something hurt yet feel so numb at the same time? — how can she feel bile in the back of her throat that forces wave after wave of nausea through the arch of her throat, but offer nothing but… blankness? how can she expect atonement, recourse, justice, when she only feels tired?)

she passes on after checking on vi. she soothes a hand over the side of her cheek as she leaves her, no better, but ultimately, no worse, than the last time she spent time in her makeshift infirmary. (her hair’s getting long, and cait brushes her fingers through the fringe to tuck it behind her ear so she can see her better. vi, i don’t know what to do when you’re not here.)

it was all for nothing. it almost amuses her. truly, as she touches over one of the slats, it feels far closer to the truth than she can imagine. and fuck, she’s tired. so when she sees jinx cowering in the shadows with hair sprawling across the cell floor, she presses her forehead in against the cool metal of the door for a moment, before shuffling down to sit, she draws one leg up and wraps her arm around her knee.

“i lost… more than just my mother that day. i lost myself because of you.” (there’s something that flares in her voice that she’s been trying to avoid — anger: the dying flame in her chest.)

“it doesn’t have to be. for nothing. i don’t trust you, but…— vi does, and — there’s a war coming.”

[killamman]

pinterest just told me i have a good eye. on a caitlyn kiramman board

[realmythsismovingnow]

@killamman liked here for a starter from an Arcane muse and got Mel!

Mel manages a small smile. At last, the battle is over. Though she isn't entirely happy with the outcome, since she had lost her mother. Still, she is glad the people of Piltover are safe. At least for now. She reaches a hand out to Caitlyn, to help her up. "Are you alright?" She wonders aloud, wanting to help if Caitlyn is not alright.

"Can I help you with anything?" She asks, still smiling softly. Caitlyn probably has injuries that need to be looked after. And that's not even mentioning the emotional toll the whole thing has taken on the poor young woman. So if there is anything Mel can do to help, she will do it.

[killamman]

the city is in ruins. she knows that before she even gets to her feet. hands grasp against upturned rubble, a thin sheen of dust pronouncing the cracks in her knuckles now sodden with dark red blood. (shit. shitshitshit. whose blood is that? —) she freezes, one hand pressing into her side and drawing out a blood-slick palm, and there's a quiet drip. drip. drip. punctuated with dark red splotches in the sand.

"i'm fine—" she feels her eye twitch, heavy and stinging with the darkening corners of her vision. (it feels... swollen shut. when she wipes at the crest of her cheek, a new sheen of red slicks into leather gloves, and she feels paralysed once more.) the sun reflects off a discarded blade and it makes her flinch, and it's all cait can do to look up to the other woman.

"you saved me."

in one way or another, she'd been spared. (ambessa was always the superior sparrer – but she has weaknesses, flanks unguarded out of sheer arrogance which she'd once pointed out to cait herself with a well-placed thwunk of a wooden pike. her technique was flawless, but the moment her daughter padded quiet feet into the centre of the battlefield, it was a... well-educated risk. or at least, that's how she'll explain it when her side is stitched and the bodies are buried.)

"how bad is it–?"

[actiasteeth]

ASKBOX MEME 054 / ARCANE S01E07-09

All prompts taken from season one of Arcane (2021). Adjust as needed.

07. THE BOY SAVIOR

"I knew it was a mistake trusting you."

"I told you the truth."

"Get your hands off me!"

"You look good for a dead girl."

"What do you know about this?"

"What the hell is this all about?"

"What were you doing with _____?"

"That was a long time ago. People change."

"Are you working for _____?"

"Fuck. You."

"I thought you were dead."

"I didn't know if I could trust you."

"Gee, I wonder who I learned that from."

"You still punch like a little boy."

"Nature has made us intolerant to change, but fortunately, we have the capacity to change our nature."

"I know the look of a doomed man."

"I must warn you—if you take this path, they will despise you."

"Love and legacy are the sacrifices we make for progress."

"How'd you find me?"

"Is that what's really bothering you?"

"I've had enough headaches."

"She'll come to you when she's ready."

"I should have been there. For you. For everyone."

"That's a good way to drive yourself crazy."

"If I just went with you that day, maybe none of this would have happened."

"You're wrong. She's still in there. I can reach her."

"Do you have any idea how this looks?"

"Have you forgotten where we came from?"

"Let me help you with that."

"Don't move, silly. I might hurt you."

"I wanted to protect you."

"I am your family. Everyone else betrays us."

"I need you. Now more than ever."

"You got a plan?"

"The peace is already broken, _____."

"Ridiculous. You cannot be considering this."

"There is always a choice."

"I'm worried I have to do something I never thought I would."

"I can't leave her again."

"You can't change her."

"Don't get yourself killed."

"I told you to leave this alone."

"Oh, look who it is—the boy savior."

08. OIL AND WATER

"Mark me, _____, if you want to last in this world, you must learn to be both the fox and the wolf."

"I will give you the world, _____, if you prove you can take it."

"Kill her now and only one must die. Let her live and you may need to kill thousands."

"A wolf has no mercy."

"It was all for nothing."

"You understand you've broken several laws?"

"Sometimes death is a mercy."

"Are you prepared to lose her?"

"Please understand, this is for your own sanity."

"Gotta hand it to you, _____. Every time I think you can't get dumber, you dig a new low."

"Ego is one thing; brain's another."

"Don't try to ingratiate yourself with me."

"That's a mistake I can't take back."

"Weapons can't be unmade, and they are always used."

"What happened to her—it's not your fault."

"I understand this must be painful. I'm afraid it will only get worse."

"I have to get home. It isn't safe for me here."

"We need to act. Before anyone else gets killed."

"When do we say enough is enough?"

"This is how things are, how they've always been. I was so stupid to think it could change."

"Oil and water. Wasn't meant to be."

"Do yourself a favor, _____. Go back to that big, shiny house of yours and just... forget me, okay?"

"You wanna make _____ pay for what he's done?"

"I could have you arrested."

"You said you were tired of doing nothing. That's the only sensible thing that came out of anyone's mouth tonight."

"We got a deal, pretty boy?"

09. THE MONSTER YOU CREATED

"You've always been a part of this. You just never had to look it in the eye."

"Get ahold of yourself. I taught you better."

"I've only accelerated a process you started."

"I would set the world ablaze to protect our family."

"You weakened me."

"I couldn't endure the look in your eyes whenever I made the decisions—the necessary decisions—to keep us safe."

"We lost ourselves—lost our dream."

"In the pursuit of great, we failed to do good."

"Today's the day you die, _____."

"You really think you're in a position to demand all this?"

"You want peace—this is the price."

"We can't make a deal with a snake and cut off its head. We both have our shitty parts to play."

"You'd be surprised what you can pull off when your life depends on it."

"It's not enough to give people what they need to survive. You have to give them what they need to live."

"A thousand times I've imagined this moment. Never like this."

"And what do I lose but problems?"

"I wish I could say it gets easier, _____. But I'd be lying."

"They're right not to trust us."

"You're walking a fine line, _____."

"With respect, I don't give a shit what any of you think of me anymore."

"Nothing ever stays dead."

"The only thing that kept me going was the thought of getting back to you."

"Are we still sisters?"

"I always knew you'd come back."

"You wouldn't lie to me. Not again."

"I'm on your side. I promise."

"They can all burn. Everyone betrays us, _____."

"_____, she's too far gone."

"I never would have given you to them. Not for anything."

"Don't cry. You're perfect."

"I thought maybe you could love me like you used to. Even though I'm different. But you changed, too."

[killamman]

.

in general i think they tried to pull off too much, instead of focusing on the core of the show (the sisters). sevi/ka was just kind of. there. and imo there was a lot of fan service. but at the same time, they sent j/inx on a redemption path, convince us that she IS ‘worth saving’, only to kill the reason, and then have her veritably try and kill herself like 10 times huh

[killamman]

@vielets.

vi… where is vi…? it’s a thought so immediate she can’t do anything about the bundled wad of cloth pressed tight against her face. she’s asked, in a stream of consciousness that she’s not sure she’ll have again for a while, only to be met with murmurs and looks. (fuck, the looks are the worst- she asks how it looks, and the jolting of her body as they drag her across one shoulder into the infirmary is nothing short of pity. they pity their commander, and it turns her stomach.)

the left hand side of her face feels numb, but when she swipes the back of her arm across the crest of her cheek, it comes away in dark iron flecks and throbs like an engine purring back into life. where is vi? (something grips her then — what if she didn’t make it? what if in the hubbub of war, or with the bruises that are sure to line each shoulder blade and trickle down her sides like stubborn tributaries, she’s succumbed to a gentler fate, along with near all of their forces? she’ll be the first to admit the number they’d lost is something that tugs at her chest, but vi? that’s something she can’t allow.)

when she wakes, it’s with thick gauze pressing against the side of her cheek. it’s slow, to begin with, with muted mumbles shuddered into the corner of her pillow, but then, as the pain begins to tickle at the tips of her nerves, a crease forms in her brow and it pulls her out of a opiate lullaby. 

“vi..?” (fitting, really, that that’s the first thing out of her mouth. it makes her feel nauseous and cold, but there’s the more logical part of her that knows it’s the morphine, more than anything.) a hand envelopes hers, and as her face turns—minutely, and with huge regret thereafter—the pain begins to prick at her face. ambessa.

“tell me the truth, vi — is it… bad?”

[killamman]

.

ca/it should’ve gone down on vi to negate the constant motif of caitIyn looking down to/ “on” vi… also i wish we got a cait apology scene and they didn’t fuck after j/inx was like <3 gonna kiII myself now sis <3

[killamman]

my entire twitter tl is just c/aitvi shag