#ezplure

@ezplure​ faltered:     hi u know i would absolutely DIE for ur darius, he could crush me nd i'd thank him! ok but like.... ur writing is always so fluid, always so gorgeous, like everything from the way u describe his actions or his thoughts and his dialogue!!!! rly makes darius come to life, like i can Hear his voice in ur dialogue (nd i always get flashbacks 2 the runeterra clips). ITS JUST GOOD OP

@finalsparke​ faltered:     cain ur portrayal is so sexy and ur meat is massive

@danceblades​ faltered:     CAIN .....   YOUR GRASP ON MUSE IS ALWAYS A+++ seriously im always heart eyes at your writing

@envolatile​ faltered:     pls tumblr stop cucking me from sending love mail omfg... anyways like i told lia i lowkey stalked the league rpc for so fuckin long anD ORIGINALLY I KNEW U FROM UR SYLAS BLOG and ur url is v sexy i must say.. aNYWAYS your writing has always been a thrill to see and im just a wee bab w/ hardly any confidence to approach you on non-league blogs but let me tell you rn: ur writing is so artful in execution and the way you make the dialogue flow between narrative and thats a TALENT that a lot of people struggle to have! but you? ur great amazin fantastic. you put so much depth and effort into every muse you write and im an avid admirer . also im about to punch the ceo of tumblr for nOT LETTING ME SEND THESE

                    how well do i portray darius ?

yall see this ?   this is the face of a man who is one second away from bursting into tears and ruining his tough guy persona.   no but all of this means the absolute world to me bc i always question if i write a muse correctly so it’s so nice to not only get told that im good at writing darius,   but my writing in general is good ?   makes a man wanna sob

i love yall ur all beautiful

Headcanon Game - A to Z (NSFW)

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@ezplure​ said :     “  i’m fine, i’ve had worse.  ”

@ezplure​ faltered:     jumps on his back koala style

          THE FEATHER NEVER FALLS FAR FROM A BIRD IN FLIGHT.   of course,   that assumes the bird even knew how to fly in the first place.   somehow darius doubts that the young thief even knew how to properly spread his wings,   all too reliant on pure luck rather than actual skill.

ezreal is not quiet in his approach,   small feet stomping upon noxian stone,   and when he jumps he yells a   ‘ catch ! ’   even if the noxian hand himself doesn’t even turn.   let him fail at whatever he wants to achieve,   he thinks,   and simply keeps walking with purpose;   the night waits for none and only the wicked will know respite.   a poor metaphor,   perhaps,   considering the sun is high in the sky,   but no battle has been fought,   no war has been waged   —   a proper stalemate,   demacian revelry quiet in the time after rebellion and the fires of ionia and shurima but ash - covered embers.

darius heaves a grunt when ezreal jumps and clings to armor and cape.   the piltovian’s legs and thighs have wrapped themself around him in a way that makes him think of a rather lively snake,   and glove - clad fingers dig into the thick fabric of heavy,   red cape,   finding the points where the chest - plate beneath has leather clasps to keep it on darius’ broad physique.

ezreal has,   if darius has to admit anything,   effectively secured himself to darius like a zaunite sticky - bomb would to a piece of slate metal.   he is keenly aware of the buzzing that follows in the wake of the shuriman gauntlet that decorates the young man’s left hand.

“     what,     ”     darius grunts through clenched teeth,   hands trying to grabble for the explorer’s legs;   like unwinding a rather stubborn knot,   he absentmindedly muses,     “     are you doing ?     ”

it’s obvious,   really;   ezreal is clinging to him like how the babes of basilisks stays close to their mother’s impenetrable hide.   darius also knows that it’s impossible to remove them from their sides until they’ve proven ready to fight.

instead he inhales,   sighs,   and moves on   (   and ezreal still clings,   like the soft shield of a mammal that refuses to yield   ).

“     then cling,   if you must,     ”     he says,   gait wide and imposing despite the looks he earns from curious civilians and soldiers alike,     “     but do not stay when we near the bastion.     ”

a moment of silence.   darius hopes that ezreal’s journey is uncomfortable,   spiked armor digging into the points where ezreal’s padding is less.

“     you’re no noxian,     ”     less of an observation than it is stating the obvious,     “     so,   if you don’t remove yourself by the time we reach the threshold,   i will have to break your bones to make you let go.     ”     a finger jabs into one of ezreal’s shins;   the armor on darius’ skin is hard,   noxian - mined ore smelted into some of the strongest of steels.

may be mortal

“Yeah. And I get to clean it all up.” Though perhaps clean is an exaggeration. Much of the blood has traveled through the cracks in the stone floor of the temple, beaten and broken from years of exposure to the elements, spiderwebbing away from the young man in uneven crimson pathways. The temple, too, is not his responsibility to keep clean, but ... “You should consider yourself lucky that my master took pity on you.” Kayn sits cross-legged on the stones, gesturing at the stranger’s wounds, now carefully bandaged. In his other hand, Kayn turns a small trinket — pilfered from a pocket while he worked — over and over in his fingers. 

@ezplure​ asked: “ i’m not afraid, not at all. ” he's lying smh

joy division’s “ unknown pleasures ” ( 1979 ) sentence starters / ( not accepting!! )

@ezplure​ faltered:     attempts 2 sneak past him w/   something stolen in hand   (   he was a risk taker by nature,   even if his plan WAS an awful one at best,   all in or don't bother !   )

          THERE’S BEING DUMB,   AND THEN THERE’S BEING RECKLESS,   and darius doesn’t enjoy the company of either.   draven is of the former,   a man so full of his own egotism that his vision turns clouded,   but the young explorer is of the latter for even thinking that trying to sneak past the trifarix leader of might,   arms full of artifacts by noxian take,   would ever account to anything but the sharp movement of hand closing tightly around the piltovan’s bicep.

“     just where do you think you’re running away to,   thief ?     ”

if looks could kill then ezreal would have dropped dead five times over.   darius’ grip is tight,   easily cutting off circulation through veins,   and he yanks ezreal towards him and baring teeth   —   where the young explorer is a puppy that sticks its nose into everything it’s not supposed to,   darius is a dire wolf with teeth sharper than both needles and knives and kindred’s arrows,   shot true.

“     taking from noxus   —   you’re not only a thief,   but also a pitiful fool,     ”     he glances down to the stolen goods;   a dagger,   surely of ceremonial make,   a vase,   ionian of place,   and a tome,   wisdom and secrets written among its pages of old,     “     and i have no patience for boys who attempt,   and fail,   to use guile.     ”

and just like a wolf of old darius grabs ezreal by the scruff of his coat,   lifting the young man until only the tips of his toes reaches the dirtied cobblestone.   oh,   there’s no doubt that ezreal did know how to use minor guile,   deceiving his way forth in order to even gain access to these artifacts that are all purely stolen.   but hastiness costs dear and noxus   (   darius,   too   )   is not known to be merciful to those who rushes in at the cost of letting their enemies gain access to learning.

he sneers down his nose.   fool,   yes,   and an imbecile to boot.     “     i know that look,   whelp,   and if you think watery eyes will bring cause for forgiveness then you’ve never been shown proper noxian hospitality.     ”     weak.   even a child of noxus would know better than this son of piltover.   perhaps planning to invade the progressive state is far less trouble than it’s truly worth ...

nose to nose,   darius hauls ezreal up until all that keeps him from crashing to the ground is the general’s grip on fur and shirt below;   the dagger and tome will survive the fall but the vase   —   it would shatter like the will of the land it came from.   

he doesn’t drop ezreal as much as he harshly puts him down,   gloved fingers still hooked into the fabric of his clothes,   steering him roughly forth as if the clothes itself were a leash.