j1nxer

[j1nxer]

OKAY OKAY i'm moving gert to @j1nxers so!! all ongoing rps will b replied to there, and all asks sent in here will be moved and posted/replied to there too <3

SOOO SO SO SORRY TO B A PAIN REALLY I AM

[j1nxer]

is it too late to move gert so she isn't a side blog..... am i in too deep.....

[j1nxer]

I LOVE U GERT !!!!

[j1nxer]

🔄  +  🩹 — my muse to patch up yours after a fight — @gntlets

gert hated the pits.

even during her time caged between towering concrete walls; throwing punch after punch, taking blow after blow, winning round after round, she hated it. the dried blood staining patches of the wall, practically black with age, mixed with newer splotches from more recent fights — incarnadine and foul — always left their nose curling in distaste. combined with the acrid stench of sweat, both from the morbidly excited crowd and the brawlers themselves, and stale alcohol? it dredged up all the worst kind of memories.

maybe, at the beginning, she'd found herself enjoying it. the fighting aspect, at least. the death of her parents left a dark, burrowing hole in her chest — rage rearing its ugly head, digging it's blackened, icy claws into her heart, curling its way around her limbs and clogging her throat in a way that suffocated her. the money was one thing; something she needed to keep her and the twins afloat, but she'd be lying if they were to say it was the only reason.

the relief brought from torn knuckles connecting with tender flesh and hard bone was one she chased to alleviate her anger. every feeling mounting in her sullen form pounded out against each opponent until she dragged herself home with aching limbs and bloodied skin — a mix of her own and the suckers she'd left crumbled and miserable in their defeat. the boys always worried, but she had the same look their mother had — a sharp glare that demanded questions not be verbalised. one that had their mouthes snapping shut with audible clicks while their eldest sibling went about the motion of making them dinner, despite the desire to collapse into a heap and sleep away the evenings. responsibilities made as much impossible.

cheers and hollers so loud it left a deafening, piercing ringing in her ears no matter the precautions she took, gert ignored the displeased complaints from crowd goers surrounding the current brawl as her elbows jabbed into ribs, fighting her way through and to the edge of the pit. gloved fingers grasping jagged concrete, their eyes scan over the clearly one sided fight.

their surprise was mounting by the second.

the fight looked as though it would be a no brainer — a giant, imposing form riddled with gilded limbs and sickly purple veins versus a smaller woman, no less impressive in her muscles mass, but clearly at a disadvantage with the lack of augmentations: both physical and chemical. even so, it was clear who the winner was expected to be. despite the fair share of injuries each had sustained, the smaller of the two continued to bounce readily on her feet, the other looking far worse for wear; heaving with hunched shoulders, arms poised in a piss — poor defence that even made gert cringe at the prospect of the beating he'd endured. the crowd's bets are only made clearer when a swift uppercut leaves golden teeth and sticky, luminous purple spit flying out into the mass of surrounding people. the heavy thud of a body, followed by the announcers thrilled voice and the eruption of ecstatic cheers, depicts the obvious winner.

it isn't until she — violet — gazes up into the crowd, pale white lights blinding enough to elicit a harsh squint, that they realise just who had been making the rounds down in the festering bottom of the barrel that was zaun. gert can't place the look on vi's face when their gazes clash; disbelief, anger, confusion, sadness? all rolled into one cold sneer until she's ushered out quickly and the next fighters are called upon.

as much as it pained them to admit, she never expected vi to get out of stillwater. not with the sheer joy each and every guard relished in from kicking her around her for their own twisted amusement. their adjacent cells meant, over gert's year locked up, they'd become . . . acquainted. if by that you meant them taking a few beatings to give violet a break, then sure. maybe even, at a stretch, friends.

a deep exhale passes from her nose, meticulously twisted hair swaying with the weary shake of her head as she pushes off concrete to begin weaving her way with jutted elbows back through the buzzing crowd — each and every person exchanging some form of currency over the conclusion of a seemingly much anticipated brawl. many had beaming grins on the faces, pointedly counting their earnings in the dejected faces of those who bet everything they could in a weak attempt to earn enough to live another week.

it was already late, the time ticking well past midnight and into the still bustling hours of the morning. the crate gert leant against dug uncomfortably into her thighs, bandaged arms folded across her chest and her head leant back against the wall behind her. despite her closed eyes and seemingly relaxed posture, they still listen closely for any signs of approach. relaxing anywhere, especially in the dim, sodden streets of the fissures wasn't the smartest move, but she had enough faith in herself to fend off anybody who might believe her to be an easy target.

they could've approached violet inside, but she'd already had more than enough of the pounding music in the claustrophobically cramped space, filled to the brim with the dirty, sweating bodies of drunken fools. so she waited. most fighters exited from the back — primarily because it was somewhat concealed: more discrete than the main entrance. most the average patrons were unaware of the door hidden behind an surplus of old and broken furniture that had gradually stacked up from all kinds of bar fights where they'd been wielded as weapons, ultimately destroying them and rendering them useless.

the piercing squeal of a door opening on rusted hinges, followed by a familiar aggravated yelling, had one of gert's eyes peeking open just in time to see violet stalking away from whoever it was she'd exited with, who'd already began walking in the opposite direction. sighing softly, her shoulders shift to push herself off the wall, now open eyes flitting over the plethora of cuts and bruises marring all visible stretches of skin.

a whistle, quiet but high in pitch, is intended to draw the brawlers attention, but all she gets is a flick of a banged up middle finger and nothing else. yep, that was violet alright.

unwilling to let it go, lest her journey be nothing but a waste of time, gert opts to follow the hooded woman. she doesn't speak — neither of them do — and they're surprised they don't get an earful to back off and leave her the hell alone. not that she would if she did, anyway. they'd never been one for doing as they're told.

the walk to wherever violet resided was short, filled with the irritated grunts of the brawler and the echo of their shared footsteps. after ascending the few steps leading to the others place, a wince contorts gert's features as her arm shoots up, forearm blocking the sturdy door from slamming directly into her face. " ouch. " she makes a point to mutter, loud enough for the other to hear, and confusion flickers over her features that mirrors violet's own — it was almost as if she was surprised gert was really there, despite the fact they'd followed her all the way home.

" never thought i'd see you again. " they admit, blue hair beginning to traverse around the room after letting herself in, rifling through the very few drawers and cupboards until she finds a beat up box filled with a ropy array of medical supplies — if they could even be considered that. turning with it clutched loosely in bandaged hands, they crouch beside a shitty looking bed, knowing all too well the struggles of getting by with the less than the bare minimum.

when vi doesn't move from her place at the door, even after all gert's meandering, a pierced brow raises to her hairline, head nodding to gesture toward the spot in front of her. " you just gonna stand there and stare at me like i'm some kinda ghost? "

[j1nxer]

First Meetings Sentences, Vol. 3

(Sentences for muses meeting for the first time. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"What am I supposed to call you?"

"You're following me. I don't care to be followed."

"Hey, you're that guy, aren't you?"

"I don't even know your name."

"You must not know who I am. Want to find out?"

"We don't know each other well enough for you to say something like that to me."

"You're not what I expected."

"You look like a man who could use a drink."

"You have me confused with somebody else."

"Well, that is an interesting way to say hello!"

"From your description, I expected you to be a lot taller."

"Who told you where to find me?"

"I know who you are!"

"How long have you worked here?"

"Say, why don't we carry on this delightful conversation over a cocktail?"

"I heard you were looking for me?"

"You've been following me since I arrived, haven't you?"

"Do I know you? You look so familiar."

"Do you know this city well?"

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

"Who are you? I've seen you someplace before."

"Is that seat taken?"

"Who are all these people?"

"Who the hell are you supposed to be?"

"I've heard stories about you. They can't all be true."

"I don't believe we've been formally introduced?"

"It's exciting to have someone new to talk to!"

"Don't get many visitors here, do you?"

"Can you just explain exactly what you do?"

"They told you I was crazy, didn't they?"

"I'm sorry, I don't know your name?"

"We've never met before, right?"

"What's your name anyway?"

[j1nxer]

Send  🩹  to  patch  my  muse  up  after  a  fight. (Send  🔄  +  🩹  to  reverse  the  outcome.)

[j1nxer]

if gert had decided to entirely drop her guard mere seconds ago, perhaps the projectile would've knocked her flat on her ass — luckily, she wasn't as naïve as to think everything could be solved with words alone. however, the distraction was enough to force her into defence, knees bending slightly and arms raising to half — heartedly block the blows directed at her side as her teeth grit.

years in the pit — alongside her brief stint in stillwater — meant that, not only could she deal a nasty blow, they could take a beating or two without faltering. every few hits her feet shuffle back, waiting for an opening to deal her own damage until she realises the other is attempting to corral her into the nearby wall.

a low growl hits the back of gert's teeth before she figures she's had enough of being a punching back. sliding one of her feet back, she twists her body to avoid the harsher blows the other was sending her way. having always favoured ending fights with brute strength over endurance, a gloved hand reaches to grasp student's wrist. harshly tugging her forward in an attempt to throw her off balance, their other arm raises, fist curling in towards her chest with the intention of swinging her elbow into her jaw.

"Oh. All right. Since it's apparently in contention." She walks over to the wall and sets the papers down on a convenient windowsill, stopping beside a trash can that's almost overflowing. Her head turns slightly towards Gert - the only tell she gets that things are definitely about to take a sour turn.

"Different message, then."

The first part of this new message is the lid of the can being whipped sidearm at Gert's head. It's meant to distract - despite being fairly accurate, there's no killing intent behind the throw. What should be paid a measure more attention to is the sound of quick footsteps behind the clattering of the lid skidding off into the darkness.

She's fast, but she doesn't look especially durable. Her intention's to end the fight as quick as she can manage, with her opening blows mostly to the same side. With any luck, she'll be able to batter Gert over towards the wall and have a better time of working her over with her back to a solid surface.

[j1nxer]

gert wld KILL to have a bash on those gauntlets. JUST ONCE!!!! she'd go so crazy

[j1nxer]

gert doesn't answer for a moment, too busy straining her ears to listen through the thundering of her heart and their combined heaving to be sure the distant chorus of voices remained just that — distant, and far the hell away from her; until the whole ordeal repeats itself, of course. she wasn't exactly the most unrecognisable person, and she has no doubt she'll find herself in trouble with them again sometime down the line.

when her gasping abates, her head drops back against the metal door with an echoing thud, eyes closed as an incredulous breath of laughter falls from them. what a fucking shit — show of a day. heavy head remaining as it was, a glove clad hand harbouring spiked knuckles raises to wave off his gratitude, her tone dismissive. " nothin' to it, man. "

sure, she could of left the poor sod there — it would of been a far easier escape for her, considering he'd no doubt pose a pretty good distraction. long enough for her to make some real distance, at least; but even the thought has the distorted, reprimanding tone of their old man ringing in her racing mind. it just wasn't in her nature to leave others wading in shit for her own benefit, especially not when the shit was of her own doing.

finally, when they're sure the coast is clear, one hand places itself on the door behind her, a steady push bringing gert to her feet. swiping off her backside, they pad the short distance to stand in front of the other, offering her hand out to pull him from his still seated position — a peace offering, of sorts. a silent apology for running him ragged throughout the twisting lanes of the fissures for no good reason. " name's gert. "

Claggor was just having a chill day, just being out in the open only for it to be all interrupted when he heard footsteps rushing towards him. His eyes flickered with genuine surprise when he saw somebody rushing towards him, looking as if she's on the run. Wait, who's chasing her? He didn't have time to process it all. He just nodded, allowing the other to just tug him up to his feet.

Claggor started running with the stranger, doing his best to keep up with her only to run straight into her when the sprinting came to a halt. "What--" He tried to get a word out, only to be cut off when he was suddenly thrown inside whatever this place was. "What the hell was that about?" He blurted out in a whisper, his eyes focusing on the stranger. He's breathing heavily, deciding to take a seat right on the ground to catch his breath.

"And thank you?" He sounds confused and yet a bit reluctant. It wasn't clicking in for him that if this stranger hadn't saved him, he would've been caught in the crossfire between those who were chasing this girl and the girl, possibly could've been grabbed by the others but he was saved. What can he even say? Would it be wise of him to introduce himself to the other even if the timing is not great?

[j1nxer]

gert in the au having her little brothers still :( ik she's so stressed tryna b a good older sibling but she loves them so bad they're definitely the #1 supporters of her love for music. sometimes she'll ask vander for advice on things she's having trouble with/stressed over in regards to them because "you're old, surely you know about this shit?"

[j1nxer]

spotify wrapped has arrived. send me a number from 1-100 for a starter based on that song, or a lyric from it, or send a 🎁 for me to shuffle.

[j1nxer]

saw someone say that, in the alternate universe ekko went to, everybody knows gert is a lesbian except for mylo and they all have bets on how long it'll take for him to figure it out n its so silly.

[j1nxer]

for a moment, gert almost looks offended; loose fists momentarily clenching tighter and her brows pulling together as her eyes narrow. she was being given rules now? by some chick she didn't even know? hadn't heard of, hadn't met, hadn't even seen in passing? and she thinks they can just boss her around as though she runs the fissures? it was bad enough having to deal with the henchmen of chembarons staking their claim wherever they could without some random trying to do the same.

even as the stranger points this way and that way, they don't bother to look. they knew the undercity like the back of their hand, every location listed ringing bells and dredging up images of familiar surroundings from her memory — gert simply felt that taking their eyes from the others soiled form wouldn't be the smartest of ideas.

" i don't do well with rules. " her words are short and snapped out, the irritation practically radiating off her in waves. they hadn't come looking for a fight, so her own body relaxes slightly — though their shoulders are still squared, limbs remaining rigid should the conversation take an unsavoury turn.

" this isn't your turf either. " gert makes a brief show of looking around, as if searching for any indication that the woman in front of her had claimed it through any means other than word alone. when she comes up empty, gaze landing back on her, their shoulders shrug with their indifference. " looks pretty vacant to me. "

it's not as if she intended to come up this way — neither her nor any of the other jinxer's — but rule following had never been her strong suit, even when she was a kid. nor did they respond well to strangers trying to give orders they had zero authority to give. not that she particularly gave a damn about authority, either. " we'll go where we want to go. "

"Trouble has, nonetheless..." She almost goes through the whole repartee, but there's something different tonight. Maybe it's the money waiting for her. Maybe it's the already hard evening she's gone through. Maybe it's the seemingly genuine nature of Gert's attempt to defuse the situation, even if she seems more than ready to throw down regardless. The air goes out of her a bit, and she sighs, looking back towards the bag.

"...look. I haven't seen your group around here before, so... I don't know. You caught me on a good night. I suppose I can give you a warning. This street, the two flanking it, and especially the tenement building on the northeastern corner... they're off-limits." She points in directions as she talks, as if the map in her head is so good she can see landmarks through walls. "For Smeech's people, for your people. For everybody. I don't care what you do on your own turf, but this isn't your turf."

Her eyes go back to Gert, and she lowers her hands from where they'd been slightly raised. They kind of flop, really, betraying an impressive amount of stamina that's nonetheless closer to giving out than she wants to show. "If you really aren't looking for trouble, then you can leave. Go back to yours and leave me to mine."

She thumbs the blood off her cheek again, feeling it tracking steadily downward as she speaks. "And tell whoever your leader is the same thing. I was here before you. I'll be here after you. Pick smarter fights."

[j1nxer]

i love gert so bad thinking maybe she ended up as the sort of?? defacto leader of the jinxers. they don't really have a leader or head, per se - but when nobody stepped up to the plate when it came to organising shit n actually?? starting the whole movement, she took it in her own hands. its always more of a group effort but she tends to head any discussions and suggests a decent majority of the plans and everyone jst?? listened to her.

plus?? the scene in stillwater where she's the first one to greet/thank/acknowledge jinx, everybody else follows suite which?? is obviously a show of solidarity but they all seem to follow what gert does n!! maybe its self indulgent but she seems to b the only jinxer actually given solid screen time too so!!! SHE IS TO ME!!!

[j1nxer]

think gert writes both a mix of songs and little poems.

with no way to bring them to fruition they remain scrawled on scrap pieces of paper in her apartment, and eventually a notebook she manages to find. a little battered, but she's never been fussy so it'll do.

a lot of them trail off with no real conclusion, some of them just a bunch of words that pop into her head, others lengthy and detailed, but most are short: curt and to the point. they're mostly written in the form of lyrics, n she'll often hum the words out n slap her hands/pen/whatever on things around her to make a general beat that could fit before giving up.

they vary from sombre ones for her family, or friends she's lost, or just the general state of zaun and day to day life. some are love songs/poems for any relationships - she's got such a soft heart behind the hard exterior she's had to adopt thanks to her environment and she finds it easiest to express herself through written words over verbal ones.

poems tend to be free verse the majority of the time. she does them to vent emotions she can't verbalise, and keeping them to any one strict format usually doesn't work for her. some are ballads, some odes, the occasional epic if she's feeling particularly motivated - but those are rare, even rarer to see one finished. elegy's for those deceased, of course.

occasionally she'll write a sonnet or two for a girlfriend, though i think she tends to try and stay away from any serious reltionshios. friendships are one thing that will hurt if they're lost, but romance requires a much deeper connection and with the uncertainty that comes with day to day life, she isn't sure it's something she really wants to risk gaining and most likely losing.

a lot of them have very angry undertones - at the world, at piltover, zaun itself, her parents for dying, how her parents died, how her little brothers died. she's got a lot of shit to be angry at that can't always be let out through physical altercations alone.

but!! i think it ties in nicely w the whole chem sisters thing!! she'd absolutely be in some kind of band or whatever, had her life turned out differently. song writer and a bass player i feel, but then again i'm not that musically inclined so maybe smthn else idk.

— think she's so good at writing because her mam read to her a lot when she was a wee babe. there wasn't much to do as a kid that didn't involve helping out the family or kicking about in the streets doing who knows what. the reading to them eventually turned to gert herself reading whatever collections of books her mam had wracked up, and then whatever she herself could find. not too big a fan of story books as they are poems and stuff, but she's not picky so she'd read whatever she could get her hands on - because they did help with her eventual writing. when the books ran out, thats when she started mucking about in the streets, getting into fights, using her fists over her brain because she found it made people listen better when she told them to stop being assholes.

[j1nxer]

”The boys weren’t bothering you, were they?” Vander asks as he wipes down the counter. “If they were, y’know how… excitable they can be, so I’ll go ahead and apologize on their behalf. Mylo ‘specially is a big fan of yours.” There’s a lighthearted poke at the said person in there, though covered up by Vander’s casual tone. “Hope this place is still to your liking though, hm?” - Alternate universe, if you’re okay with it! :) — @stormduelist

the tray held in the palm of gert's hand, stacked precariously with cups in a variety of shapes, sizes and colours, is slid with practiced precision onto the end of the bar. scarred and calloused fingers from years of string tugging begin to carefully unload each item to place them in coordinated groups as she listens to the droning of idle chatter.

concentration broken by vander's voice, they glance up as they listen to him speak, placing the few remaining cups in their designated group before folding her arms across the bar top. a few minute's break wouldn't hurt — they'd done a drinks round not long ago, so she's sure nobody would miss her if they had to wait a little longer.

" nah, they're all good. " toned shoulders raising and falling in a dismissive shrug, an amused smile tugs at the corner of her lips. " it's all harmless. " it was somewhat endearing; the way mylo seemed to follow her around like a lost puppy, rambling about whatever new science-y invention he and his brother were conjuring up — but that's just how she saw him: a puppy. they're subtly relieved every time powder slides in to redirect the conversation elsewhere. she almost didn't want to let him down, no matter how gently it would be.

the older mans question surprises her somewhat, pierced brow lifting to her hairline for a moment as black — painted nails drum absentmindedly on the marred wood of the bar, a hum echoing in her throat. " yeah, it's nice. " they were never one for many words, but there's very little hesitation in her answer. it paid the bills — kept her and her little brothers afloat and let her, somewhat, pursue their passion for music.

" good people, good money, a half — decent boss. " mirth fills gert's features as she glances pointedly at vander once they mention their half — decent boss. he was better than half decent. understanding about her situation and flexible with the hours he lets her work, even if she rarely ever needed to take advantage of his flexibility. honestly? it was the best job she'd had by far, and she'd verbalise as much if she didn't struggle with it.

[j1nxer]

back to this again but i think it's because that's how she and her old man used to act. she'd come in from whatever escapades she'd found herself out on and he'd ask how she was, affectionately referring to her as bruiser, and feign a few hits at her. she'd dodge them and do the same to him, but he'd use his hands as an almost make-shift little practice round for her to hit at. striking at his palms with her fists, ducking whenever he swiped at her head, slipping around to jab a few weak punches into his back/ribs.

her mam always told them to calm it because they'd get so into it - dodging around furniture and playfully holding up whatever they could get their hands on to threaten them as mock weapons ( which always got a yell from their mam, as she put a lot of effort into making the house look nice ).

but it would always end in her screaming through laughter that she gives up when her old man managed to wrap an arm around her torso, pinning her arms to her side, to drag his knuckles across the top of their head.

it eventually translated in her doing the same to her little siblings, albeit it a lot lighter - especially after the death of their parents. was always a big fan of roughing up their hair, lifting them into her arms and shaking them around while they laugh and yell for her to stop and put them down, chasing them around. anything to try and keep them happy - and it was a big part of their old man that they all loved.

they're memories that are very fond to her, and around people she truly cares about she can't help the playful streak she has from making an appearance. it's pretty much a love language to her - even more so when an actual scrap occurs between whoever it is. obviously its never serious, and the hits have no real force behind them, but it's fun and lighthearted and a brief distraction from the shit they have to deal with on the daily. rolling around on the floor for a few minutes hurling half hearted insults and laughing over it until they call it quits, one of them getting up to give the other a hand in getting off the floor. wiping themselves off and falling right back into normal conversation as if they hadn't just been flailing in muck for the last few seconds.

of course she doesn't do it with most people. no doubt there's people she's close to that aren't that kind and she's obviously fine with that. her playful physical jabs translate to playful verbal jabs instead; teasing smiles, bumps of her hip into their side.

she tends to keep her emotions under wrap a lot of the time, because showing too much of yourself could be dangerous. but around the right people? people she can trust and people she cares about? she's practically an open book. think she's actually quite the yapper, esp about things she's interested in BUT we r leaving the playful scrap territory now so i'll make a diff post for that.

gert is the type to greet her friends by doing those little mock punches in their general vicinity. greeting them with a grin while simultaneously feigning a right hook and an uppercut, briefly bouncing on her feet like she's in an actual fight, before clapping them on the shoulder n asking how they've been