#novascuro

[elegant-equilibrium]

looks.

eyes nervously.

[hevoyeurs]

“  you can make me bleed all you want. i won't scream for you.  ”

𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬

Oh, Ezra. You shouldn't have said that.

It excites him, Ezra's last bit of defiance before the light is snuffed out. Danny fantasized about it for fucking months in Roseville before he stepped into the Entity's realm. The Entity robbed him of this — of Ezra's final moments, of his last breath against the Ghostface's mask — so it feels like a gift to have him here now, his throat in Danny's hand, a thumb on his cheek that's almost affectionate, his dark hair wet with blood. It's a gift, but it's all wrong, too, because this isn't real. They put Ezra in a pen with the wolves and it's not the same as pinning him down in Roseville, or LA, or wherever the fuck they would end up next.

But it's still Ezra, sweating and defiant beneath him. It's still Ezra whose breathing chokes off when Danny starts to squeeze —

"No?" The Ghostface asks, leaning in close enough that Ezra could hear him breathe, heavy from the exertion and quick with thrill. "Here I thought you came all this way for me..."

A muffled grunt is the only warning Ezra gets before the knife glints as Danny plunges it into his chest, scraping bone like it'll give Danny the catharsis he's been dreaming of. Ezra doesn't scream, of course, but Danny didn't expect him to. He doesn't cave easily — that's what makes the kill feel so succulent.

Ezra shouldn't be here. That's all Danny can think as he stabs Ezra again, then again. He should be in this shithole, robbing Danny of the one thing that made it worth it to lose Roseville. He takes his hand off Ezra's neck to push the knife in deeper and tells him exactly what he thinks: "You shouldn't be here." Why the fuck is he here? "But I'm going to make it worth it."

Danny takes a breath like he's trying to calm himself, and sits up. The mask tips down towards Ezra, both languid and furious at the same time. Of course he hasn't cracked yet, but the Ghostface isn't done with him yet. The blood rushes in Danny's ears. "You never knew how to keep your nose out of shit that doesn't concern you, did you? Well, Ezra, now you're here." His fingertips brush Ezra's jaw like a lover's. "In a fucking cage." They grab the bone and squeeze, forcing him to look into the yawning eyes of the Ghostface. "With me."

His wrist jerks, twisting the knife inside Ezra's chest, head tilting as he watches the way Ezra tries to hold himself back, watches the agony bleed into his expression. Then, he watches the light leave Ezra's eyes, watches the spark as it's snuffed out by his darkness.

And the worst fucking part of it all? Danny still feels nothing.

[cautelous]

throws a paper wad at julian.

Catches it with one hand. Unwads it - there isn't even a note? - and rewads it again.

Watch out Ezra, it's coming for your head.

[essence-flux-primed]

"Alright," Ezra says, leaning against the back of the temple pews with his arms crossed. The rest of the priests didn't think that ancient amulet could be recovered, and Ezra had his fair share of skepticism. But, well, Ezreal's back, and the amulet's in one piece. "Color me impressed."

He tilts his head to the side, his eyes narrowing in an almost cat-like manner. "Can I convince you to turn it over to the church? Or is that finder's keepers?"

⋆ — Needless to say, Ezreal's looking pretty pleased with himself. The amulet dangles between his spread fingers, glinting in the afternoon light and paired with an I-told-you-so grin before he swings it up and into his palm in a motion he's obviously practised (and failed at many times). In a flash, the amulet disappears into his palms, locked in between his fingers.

"'Finder's keepers'?" He looks hurt for a moment, but the expression is betrayed by his confident stance, a hand on his hip and the amulet still held up near his shoulder. "I know how important this amulet is to you, and to your church. I don't wanna keep it from you." Ezreal's eyes graze over the metal for a moment, peeking through his knuckles, and he wonders how much it's worth, how much he could sell it for. Religious artefacts like this are usually more work than they're worth — hit or miss on value, and there's always the risk of really pissing someone off if he makes an offer to the wrong person.

Better to go straight to the source.

"... But that was a pretty expensive trip, you know? Equipment, travel, it all adds up. Maybe we could work something out? You cover my expenses, a little bonus for my work and expertise, my finder's fee, and I give you this—" Again, the amulet slips from his grip, dangling, its chain looped securely around Ezreal's fingers now, "—at no extra cost. Sound good?"

[sheriff-caitlyn]

A small golden charm, forged into the shape of a sun. Its thin gold accents make it something of an irreverent piece, but Ezra tosses it towards Caitlyn like it's a set of car keys. "To, uh, ward against spirits," he says, putting his hands back into the coat pockets as he walks back into the Church. "May the morning light guide you."

It's fortunate she can think fast, and has reflexes to match, and that the underhanded throw was so well-telegraphed. She catches the charm, barely having the chance to look at what sits in her palm before Ezra is already turning away.

"Thank you," she says, before he is too far gone to hear her.

The golden age, forged in silver, has come to a close. But there is still light to be found. Caitlyn smooths her thumb over the symbol of the Morninglord, and hopes that it still will be so.

[chiromotif]

“  you don’t even know better, do you?  ” (sorry jinx)

you know the vibes

Amulet-guy’s (she still hasn’t come up with a better nickname, they can’t all be Hat Lady and Fathands, can they?) a weird one, alright. It’s probably the magic, only nerds have magic, pfft.

“Know better what, dweeb?” Jinx’s lips twist, her teeth on full display as she grimaces. They’re sharp. “Ooooooooh, I get it! You’re gonna lecture me about blah-blah-blah, responsibilities, blah-blah-blah, putting my dishes in the dishwasher, blah.”

She throws up a hand, flapping her thumb and fingers together as she speaks in a comically deep voice. “Ohhh, Jinx, it’d be swell if you didn’t blow up buildings! You could settle down with a nice house and two-point-five bunnies and a white picket fence!”

“Lissen,” she drops her hand, “I dunno what you’re talking about, but it sounds boring as fuuuuuck.”

[amechanicalgirl]

+𝑰 𝑯𝑶𝑷𝑬 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑫𝑨𝑵𝑪𝑬+

@novascuro asked: ❛  listen ,  i  love  that  you’ve  got  your  own  thing  going  on  here ,  but  don’t  get  distracted .  ❜

Hushed sounds of mild frustration only barely escaped the lips of the clockwork woman as she seemed to struggle keeping her floating, spherical companion at bay. The curious Ball bobbed and weaved, whirring and chirping trying its best to get past Orianna and see who the new found stranger speaking was.

“I am not getting distracted. I am being harangued.”

[regalentempire-a]

"Who is he?" Ezra asks, pointing his chin towards the portrait of the auburn-haired man. "Clearly you care for this painting."

The noble hummed in thought as he looked over at the painting. The one that Mr. Dianthe took an interest in. The painting of a man was well kept, personally by him. There was so much history with this one. Vladimir felt it each time he looked into those eyes of his. They were soft every time he looked at someone. A simple glance would cause his heart to skip a beat. He was always so well dressed and his smile....his smile would make anyone melt.

If only he knew his name...

What was it?

"Yes, my dear boy." His voice soft as he was remembering. "This one has a special place in my heart. One who made me feel so much alive."

He made Vladimir feel human. He could feel that in his heart. This was so rare for him. Considering what kind of monster he chose to be. Maybe telling someone of their story, their love, might jog his memory for his name.

"Come." He turned to Ezra. "I'll tell you all about him. Once I find the journal that tells the story of how we met."

@novascuro

[umbane]

@novascuro​ better take care of this puppy or else. 

“Yeah, I remember you.” His eyes are shadowed and intense as he appraises the man who’s just entered. He’s a bit shorter than Kayn, not one of Rhaast’s men, but something about the guy’s face makes Kayn grind his teeth. “You called about the puppies.” But somehow, Kayn’s certain he can’t trust this man with one of them, and the slant of his lips grows unfriendly. A dog deserves a good home, and a person who will take after them. If someone can’t offer anything better than the shelter, then the dog is better off not being adopted at all. Kayn won’t budge on this. “Ezra, right? I’m Kayn.” 

                                                                                                      Though it makes the back of his neck prickle with unease, Kayn turns away, gesturing for Ezra to follow him to the back of the shelter. Kayn knows he’s not supposed to have it on himself when he’s working, but the press of his knife beneath his clothes reassures him that, even in a confined space with a man who looks almost as shady as Kayn does, he’ll have an edge to work with. “They’re back here.”

[hevoyeurs]

“  did you really think you could hide from me?  ”

Finally, a question he can answer. Danny smiles beneath the mask, the phone pressed to his ear so he can hear it even though the hood. The answer comes easily, as simple as breathing. "No." The response is light, almost a sigh, and Danny pins the phone in between his ear and his shoulder as he unsheathes his knife, dragging the fingers of his glove along the sharp point of the blade.

Of course it's sharp. He's seen to that.

"That's what I like best about you, you know? Everyone else in this town is so fucking stupid, they couldn't find a serial killer if he walked right up and stabbed them himself. But you, Ezra?" Ezra's footsteps beyond the door are quiet, almost drowned out by the sound of Danny's pulse in his ears, almost imperceptible beneath the sultry drawl of his voice. Ezra can hear him through the wood, he's certain, and doesn't need his phone any more, but it's their thing now. It's special.

Danny laughs, the sound drawn out and suggestive, ending in a serrated inhale. "You make things so exciting. You really know how to get a guy going. You should be careful — I might get the wrong idea." What else can Ezra hear, he wonders — can he hear the rhythmic brush of fabric, the muted sounds of struggle from inside the closet? He's getting closer, and Danny feels butterflies like he's getting ready for their first date. "Doesn't matter. I love it when you find me, Ezra. Makes me feel so fucking special." He sees the slight bob of the door handle, hefts Geoff up by the scruff of his shirt, digs the blade of the knife into his neck like he's about to take him hostage.

He's not.

Ezra yanks the door open, trying to beat Danny to the punch (or the gunshot, as it might be), but Danny's done this dance before. He digs the knife in, slicing the grocery store clerk from ear to ear and shoves him, still gushing blood, bodily onto Ezra. He's glad, as ever, for the mask's protection from the spray as he ducks around the grasping bodies. Ezra might be hardier and smarter than most cops he's come across, but there's few people who can keep their composure while being drenched in the blood of an acquaintance.

Ezra's quick, but Danny's quicker. By the time he gets the body (because it is just a body now, after all) under control, Danny's gone, just a pool of blood and a set of fading crimson footsteps to mark that he was ever there.

[cautelous]

"It's too fucking cold," Ezra mutters, as he yanks the shared blanket closer to him.

It really isn't that cold, especially in Jules' living room, on their couch. But Ezra's got the fortitude of bundled up tissue paper. In front of them, Columbo's doing his spiel on the TV, and Ezra's watching attentively. "That murderer's sweating bullets."

"It really is," Julian says, and tugs the blanket back. He reaches for his mug of tea with his other hand.

Columbo's done his whole "turn-and-one-more-thing" a few times now, on account of them having watched a few episodes. It's getting late. Maybe another pot of tea is in order, or at least setting up the couch for an overnight stay. Can't have Ezra perishing out in the cold, snowy streets.

"Shouldn't have killed his wife, then," he adds with a shrug. "It's a wonder anyone tries anything at all with Columbo, isn't it? You'd think they'd have gotten the message a few seasons ago."

[essence-flux-primed]

"Stop looking at me like that."

⋆ — He lifts his eyebrows suggestively. "Then stop looking like that."

[leaguepositivibee]

@novascuro has such an amazing and unique oc and she makes plotting and writing with him so dynamic and fun. ezra is so well created !! Thank you for sharing him with us ♡ oh, and your Vladimir and jhin and ivern and EVERYONE ELSE you write are so so amazing too.

from Anonymous

[sheriff-caitlyn]

“I once got set on fire by a sorcerer. Nasty business.”

She holds back the retort that she knows the feeling, that in times past she lived - and died - to sorcerer fire, and to the breath of dragons, and to so many other kinds of flame. This isn't a dick-measuring contest. But if it was...

She smiles politely. "Fortunate that you made it out alive. Immolation would be a terrible way to go."

[chiromotif]

This is the wrong window to climb into. Those are definitely bombs. Ezra stops in the windowsill, staring at the blue-haired girl inside, and blinks. "I'll be going."

"Noooo you won't!" the girl - woman? - practically crows, her eyes wide. She's at the windowsill in a flash, her braids streaming behind her like twin currents. "Anyone ever tell ya it's impolite to spy on a proper lady?"

She's anything but proper - if the bombs and bullets suspended like mobiles aren't enough of a hint, maybe her streetpunk attire is - but she just laughs as she grabs Ezra by the collar and drags him through the opened window.

"Hey, lissen, uh..." her eyes flicker over Ezra, before locking on the necklace he wears around his neck, "amulet-guy - ugh, bor-ing! Get a better nickname - I'm sure we'll be great friends. You like breaking into buildings, I like breaking buildings," a grand sweep of her arm as the other grips at his arm, "it's a match made in the stars!"

She lets go of him, throwing herself back on the unmade bed (are those shell casings under the frame?) like the two of them are telling secrets at a middle-school slumber party. "Aaaaanyways, name's Jinx! Don't care about your name, just tell me that you're fun."

[heraldofzaun]

tell me about the zaun food i want to eat the smog snacks

Worldbuilding Prompt

Zaun’s food comes in a few distinct varieties.

There’s the traditional cuisine, back from before the city-state and surrounding areas were polluted to the point that growing food anywhere near the city proper (without artificial aid in the form of greenhouses and other practices) is about as likely as making a snowman in hell. This traditional cuisine is mostly food that we’d consider to be Slavic (Russian, Ukranian, Polish, etc.) as well as German (see Zaun’s name for that reasoning) - presumably with a small emphasis on seafood as well, due to Zaun’s coastal location. This is still present, but due to the fact that the vast bulk of anything Zaun grows or raises has to come from its outlying territories - if not, it’s just imported from other nations - it’s... a bit expensive, to say the least. And that’s before Zaun’s rampart uncontrolled capitalism gets its hands on the prices!

Tea (usually imported, if not grown in Zaun’s hothouses in the industrial district - this is also where some of their other crops come from, although in very small amounts) is a big thing, surprisingly enough. One might expect Piltover to have the market cornered on tea-drinking and for Zaunites to prefer coffee or caffeine pills as a sort of “mirror” (and they certainly won’t turn down either), but there’s actually a very strong tea culture in Zaun. It’s mostly black teas, and they’re strong. Tea is traditionally brewed in a samovar, although more and more Zaunites are switching to kettles for ease of use.

Then there’s more “modern” foodstuffs: prepackaged goods, junk food, probably something that’s pretty similar to what we’d call fast food (but without the drive-through culture), things in that vein. Cheap, fast, and “good”... if you’re used to it. It’s probably best not to ask what’s in what you’re eating, especially if you’re squeamish at the idea of lab-grown meats. I have to assume that there’s a market for canned goods as well - soups, fruits, beans, anything that’ll keep well in Zaun’s atmosphere... at least until you break out the can opener. Frozen and dried goods, too. Anything to give them a longer shelf life and to keep costs down... on the production front. Fresh fruit or vegetables are a prized rarity, and meat from an actual animal’s probably about as likely as a smogless day if you’re not downright rich.

There’s also a thriving multicultural food scene, as well, from folks that moved to Zaun for one reason or another. (Surprisingly enough, people do move to Zaun for reasons other than it being their ‘last resort’! Although that’s certainly a component too... see folks who left Ionia due to the Noxian invasion.) While alterations have to be made due Zaun’s unique situation in regards to raw ingredients, most folks have adapted pretty well. If you look hard enough, you can find just about anything in Zaun... and food’s no exception to that.

TL;DR: Preserved (dried, canned, frozen, salted, etc.) foods are king in Zaun due to the city’s lack of arable land for crops. There is fresh food (fruits, vegetables, meat, dairy products, grains, etc.), but most of it is imported, from the far reaches of Zaun’s territory, or grown in hothouses in small quantities - as a result, it’s incredibly expensive. Cuisine-wise, just about everything’s on the table due to Zaun being very accepting on the immigration front (so long as they earn their keep... less said on that, the better) - but their traditional foods map nicely to Slavic and German cuisines. There’s a strong tea culture.