#Cry me a river.

[meadow-mellow]

Man. I'm too old for ship fighting/discourse. I ain't 16 anymore, dunno how these ppl manage to remain so stagnated mentally cause you'd expect they'd outgrow this kinda thing.

[outsockk]

i would also destroy the world if i fumbled ford

[battii-art]

“𝕀’𝕝𝕝 𝕜𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞 𝕚𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕥𝕣𝕪 𝕚𝕥. 𝕀’𝕝𝕝 𝕜𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕓𝕖𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕝𝕒𝕪 𝕒 𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕠𝕟 𝕪𝕠𝕦.”

-ℂ𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕤𝕠𝕟 ℝ𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕓𝕪 𝕓𝕚𝕫𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕤, ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟙𝟠.

[gingerswagfreckles]

Went from feeling like I can talk to mostly everyone online to feeling like I can talk to only Jews online to now feeling like I can only talk to Jews who specifically live or work on the Upper West Side near Columbia University and therefore Get It . :/ Oy vey.

[fishermanshook]

HEART OF GOLD ICHOR.

( sprout s. , glisten , & vee v. ) + gn!toon!reader

⋆·˚🔱 ༘ * hints of inspo. from @eclipseberrycake. [go read their work it’s divine] , h/c’s + small size intended , can be read as romantic or platonic [best friends for /p readers] , possible ooc-ness , mentions of a panic attack [glisten.] , reader is hinted to be a distractor , I can’t write dialogue for shit , not proof-read , grammar and spelling warning

INTRO

Runs are inherently dangerous. No matter how seasoned of a distractor you are, there’s no guarantee you’ll ever make it back to the elevator in time.

This run is just another piece of evidence as to why.

꒰wc꒱ 1,427 , read pt. 2 here.

SPROUT SEEDLY.

Had Sprout Seedly been there just a second earlier, he knows he could’ve gotten you. He knows he would’ve been able to swoop you up and away as his twisted form was hot on your tail, tendrils spiraling up from the ground as you dodged them left and right. But deep down inside, he knows that he wouldn’t have been able to anyway, not when the last machine had finished and not after a twisted Gigi popped up and out of nowhere, the two of them pulling your mangled body down into a pool of black tar as the elevator closed right in front of him.

Right in front of you, with your hand extended out just enough that he swears he could’ve touched the tips of your fingers.

Sprout doesn’t register the first tear that falls, nor the second or third. Not until he hears the all too familiar cranking and turning of Dandy’s little shop of Horror does he instinctively wipe his face with the back of his hand. It comes back slightly wet, damp with the salty tears of his own. Instead of sadness, rage takes its place, and it takes everything in him to hold that back.

—

“What the fuck Dandy!” Sprout screams at the colorful flower sitting pretty behind his make-shift pop-up store, a bandaid perched between the two of them— on discount, nonetheless.

“Deary me, what seems to have occurred— oh! You seem to be down one—oooh. Ah.” Dandy’s face falters for a second. Floor thirty three and just now they lose you. How pitiful. “I was wondering how long it would take.”

Anger boiled inside of him. A rage he hadn’t felt for god knows how long. “Listen, man,” Sprout announced, fishing around in his bag for something, “I’ll give you as many tapes as you want, I’ll give up every single one I earn and be in debt to you as long as needed,” he slams what seems to be a bucket full of tapes on Dandy’s stand, “but I’m not leaving here until I get that damn antidote for [name]. So pay up.”

“Sprout, you know that I can’t do that.”

“If you care about the wellbeing of your so-called ‘friends’, you’ll give me the fucking thing.”

“Get the research first, Seedly.” And Dandy’s shop is already going down. Sprout doesn’t dare follow along, too shaken up to heave himself over the shop table and fall after the deceptive little flower.

GLISTEN.

One second, you’re standing by him, watching the area and playing with the ginormous pink bow on his back while he works his magic at the machine. The next? You’re being dragged away from him, a scream ripped out of you before pure silence followed quickly after. Glisten can only whip his head around in time to spot the familiar growing dark puddle of tar alongside the ichor-stained claws of twisted Goob himself.

He wants to scream, to cry, to jump himself on top of the monster that twisted Goob is and rip out his stupid fucking eyeballs for being the reason he can’t find your black and blue bruised body—but he just can’t find it in himself. Even as the furry craft locks his beady little eyes on the vanity mirror, he can’t move a muscle. At least he’ll be joining you again, minus the discomfort that his twisted form brought him, at least he’ll still be with you.

And it’s as if Rodger can hear his deeply unspoken thoughts because the magnifying glass is quick to snatch Glisten's arm away before Goob can and do it himself, tossing him a few stale gumballs —the ones that get left in Dandy’s inventory for far too long— and tell him to start running. That’s when the adrenaline kicks in, and he can only get as far as he can before the mirror’s hunched over on his knees, gasping for air as he starts to hyperventilate. The main’s plushies loom directly over him. Vee and Astro stare disappointingly above him: aren’t you meant to keep face? What does one toon’s death mean to you?

They stare with no mercy, and Glisten only feels like he might puke.

—

The elevator is cold and quiet by the time Glisten can pull himself inside. One teleport to Tisha and he’s already clinging to the side of the door trying his best to conceal his broken attempts at breathing and the mascara dripping from his teary eyes— but is it even worth it at this point? What’s left to hide when the one thing he’s cherished oh, so much has been stripped away from his side?

You’re gone. One with the ichor now, and Glisten can only beg his teammates to end the run here. He can’t risk Dandy pulling at the string of fucking fate and having to run into your twisted form. No, he doesn’t even want to imagine what you may look like. Your body, mangled and deranged and forced to move to the ichor’s will.

The team listens to his prayer, and they head back up, but not before he can make out just the slightest bit of something coming from the other side of the door. Echoes of a voice sounding way too familiar to your shouting. Screaming. Of agony? He hopes not, but at him? He thinks he’ll twist himself before he dares to take a hearken.

VEE VERSION ONE.

It’s always a game of luck and skill when you’re a distractor —you never truly know what to expect next. Sure, you can predict the next time Scraps will try and snipe you, and you can surely attempt to avoid Rodger’s watchful and menacing eye after someone didn’t pay close enough attention towards what capsule they were picking up…but escaping from a twisted pebble? Vees…not sure.

She knew she shouldn’t have let you distract this floor. They had Pebble with them —someone who, not to be rude, was much faster than you in situations like these. You could’ve just let the guy take his twisted version, let him run himself tired all across the map, but no. YOU wanted to play hero today, so you went ahead and put yourself on the line, Astro wasn’t able to reach you in time for a stamina boost and you didn’t have a pop or even a speed candy on you and you had too little supplies to work with and—snap.

The sound itself rings throughout the map again. Or, in this case, through Vee’s mind as the wires and zeros and ones of her digitally coded, precisely ciphered DNA force her to relive your last moments on a never-ending loop. Over and over and over again.

Guilt rots in her motherboard as they descend the elevator once more. Numbness overcomes her heart, and she feels as if she’s on the verge of breaking out into tears, but nothing comes. Just the newfound pit in her stomach, and the overarching feeling that she can’t go on like this for much longer. The feeling only continues to grow, bubbling in her stomach and escaping to other regions of her toon-like body. She can’t stay in here for another second, and without another thought, Vee’s already pulling the lever to head back to the lobby. No questions asked, even as the others look with momentary confusion before putting the dots together.

Vee is the first one to leave the elevator and ignores any other calls of her name quickly after. None of them emit the same tone that yours once did anyway.

—

By the time Vee makes her way back to her room, she feels empty. The television flickers quietly as she sinks down in front of her vanity mirror; its shine fades without you here. She senses her energy waning, as if her system is shutting down. The world around her feels like it is crumbling, and Vee can only just make it to her bed—overwhelmed by the decorative sheets and blankets she had borrowed from your room during the countless sleepovers you shared—before her strength gives out completely. Her empty body lands softly on the bed with a quiet thud.

Vee won’t wake for at least the next few hours, and no one should expect to see her around so suddenly after your demise.

note: so how did we like the angst...

© fishermanshook — no stealing , translating , plagiarizing or reposting my work on other any other sites + reblogs adored !!

[jkvjimin]

JUNGKOOK + daisies 🌼 for @cordiallyfuturedwight 🤍

+bonus (after a 9 hours and 45 minutes flight):

[marthenefarious]

Oughuguhugeuhgh my pretties I CANT STAND HER

[monoscale9]

what did dream see in his petrified state?

(any inconsistencies you see are probably intentional, idk im tired)

[daysleftofsecondterm]

Conservatives visiting this blog for the sole purpose of getting angry about its existence be like:

(Incidentally there are now 1,432 days left.)

[elliesappetite]

The Name That Broke Us (Confrontation)

"To Ashes And Blood" - WOODKID

FREE PALESTINE

Vi x Reader

Rating: 17+

Tags: Angst, mention of caitvi, caitlyn is still in love with vi :(, both sides are right in their own way, vi is confused and scared, y/n is also scared and confused,

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

The chill of the night air hit you like a slap, but it was nothing compared to the ache spreading through your chest. Each step away from the apartment felt heavier than the last, but you forced yourself to keep walking. The streets of the Undercity were quieter than usual, a rare reprieve from the usual chaos. Yet, the silence only amplified the storm in your mind.

You tried to ground yourself, focusing on the sound of your boots against the cracked pavement, the faint hum of distant machinery, the muffled voices of those hidden in the shadows. But no matter what you did, her voice echoed in your head.

“Caitlyn.”

You clenched your fists, trying to banish the name. It wasn’t fair—not to you, not to her, not even to Caitlyn, whoever she really was to Vi. You knew the stories, of course. The Enforcer from Piltover. The one who had fought beside Vi, the one who had pulled her out of some of the darkest moments of her life.

You couldn’t compete with a history like that.

Your steps faltered, and you found yourself leaning against a grimy wall in a darkened alley. You pressed the heels of your hands against your eyes, willing yourself not to cry. You had been strong in front of Vi; you didn’t want to crumble now. But the weight of everything was suffocating.

She had been your anchor in the chaos of the Undercity, the one person who made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could find a little light in the darkness. But tonight had shattered that illusion.

You exhaled shakily and pushed yourself upright. Standing still wouldn’t help. You needed to move, to do something, anything to keep from spiraling further.

So, you walked.

The Undercity had always been a maze, but tonight it felt even more tangled, like the streets were trying to swallow you whole. You weren’t sure where you were going, but eventually, you ended up at an old bar tucked away from the main drag. It was a place you’d been to a handful of times before, usually when you needed to escape for a while.

The dim lighting and the low murmur of conversations were a welcome contrast to the turmoil in your mind. You slid onto a stool at the bar, nodding to the bartender.

“Something strong,” you muttered.

The bartender, a grizzled man with a kind face, didn’t ask questions. He slid a glass of amber liquid toward you, and you downed it in one go, savoring the burn.

“Rough night?” he asked after a moment, his tone casual but sympathetic.

“You could say that,” you replied, your voice hoarse.

He didn’t press further, moving off to tend to another customer. You appreciated the space.

As you nursed your second drink, the door to the bar creaked open, and you froze. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Y/N.”

Her voice was soft, almost hesitant, and it sent a shiver down your spine. You kept your eyes on your drink, refusing to acknowledge her.

Vi moved closer, stopping a few feet away. You could feel her presence, her energy, like a static charge in the air.

“I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now,” she began, her voice low and filled with regret. “But I couldn’t just let you walk away like that.”

You let out a bitter laugh, finally turning to look at her. Her face was drawn, her eyes rimmed with red, and there was a vulnerability in her expression that you rarely saw.

“Why?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended. “So you could apologize again? Try to convince me that Caitlyn doesn’t mean anything to you?”

“She does mean something to me,” Vi admitted, and your heart sank. “But it’s not what you think.”

“Then what is it?” you demanded, standing to face her. The other patrons in the bar glanced your way, but you didn’t care. “Because from where I’m standing, it sure as hell feels like you’re still in love with her.”

“I’m not,” she said quickly, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. “But she’s… she’s a part of my past that I can’t just erase. Caitlyn saved me in ways I can’t even explain. She believed in me when no one else did.”

“And what about me?” you asked, your voice cracking. “I’ve been here, Vi. I’ve fought for you, stood by you, loved you. Does that not matter?”

“It does,” she said, stepping closer. Her voice softened, and she reached for your hand, but you pulled away. “Y/N, it matters more than you know. But I can’t change the fact that I’m still figuring this out. I’m still figuring me out.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. You wanted to scream, to yell at her for being so unsure, for dragging you into her mess. But deep down, you knew she wasn’t trying to hurt you.

“I can’t keep being your second choice,” you said quietly.

“You’re not,” she insisted, desperation creeping into her voice. “You’re not my second choice, Y/N. You’re the one I want to be with. But I need to make peace with my past before I can give you everything you deserve.”

You stared at her, searching her eyes for some semblance of truth. And you found it. But truth wasn’t enough.

“I need time,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Vi’s shoulders slumped, but she nodded. “I’ll give you whatever you need. Just… don’t shut me out completely, okay?”

You didn’t respond, turning away and walking toward the door.

The night air hit you again, colder than before, but this time, it felt a little less suffocating. You weren’t sure what the future held, but for now, you were taking things one step at a time.

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The Undercity streets stretched endlessly ahead as you walked, each step a blend of clarity and confusion. The conversation with Vi replayed in your mind like a broken record, her words mingling with your own until you weren’t sure which stung more: the truth she’d spoken or the doubts it left behind.

You didn’t head back to your apartment. The thought of sitting in that small, suffocating space filled with memories of Vi felt unbearable. Instead, you wandered aimlessly, letting the dim glow of neon signs and the distant hum of machinery guide your path.

Eventually, you found yourself on a quiet overlook, a spot you’d discovered years ago when you first moved to the Undercity. From here, you could see the faint glimmer of Piltover far above, its pristine towers a stark contrast to the grime and chaos below. You hated how beautiful it looked, how untouchable.

You sat on the edge of the overlook, letting your legs dangle over the side. The cool metal beneath you was comforting, grounding in a way that your thoughts weren’t.

For a long time, you stayed there, the world around you fading into background noise. You tried to piece together what you were feeling—anger, heartbreak, betrayal—but none of it settled into something coherent. All you knew was that Vi’s words had left a hole in your chest that no amount of reasoning could fill.

“Lost in thought?”

The voice startled you, and you turned to see a familiar figure stepping out of the shadows. Sevika. Her imposing frame and sharp eyes were impossible to mistake.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, wiping at your eyes hastily.

Sevika leaned against the railing, her metal arm glinting faintly in the dim light. “Saw you wandering. Figured you might need some company.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered, turning your gaze back to the horizon.

“Sure you are,” Sevika said, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. “That’s why you’re out here staring at Piltover like you’re planning to blow it up.”

You rolled your eyes. “I just needed to think.”

“Uh-huh,” Sevika said, exhaling a plume of smoke. “Let me guess. Vi?”

You stiffened, and Sevika smirked around the cigarette. “Thought so. What’d she do this time?”

“It’s… complicated,” you admitted, not really in the mood to get into the details.

“Complicated,” Sevika echoed, her tone dry. “That’s one way to describe her. Look, I get it—she’s got that whole ‘fight-for-what’s-right’ charm going for her. But she’s also got a knack for dragging people into her mess.”

“She didn’t drag me into anything,” you snapped, defensive despite yourself.

“Didn’t she?” Sevika raised an eyebrow, her tone calm but pointed. “All I’m saying is, maybe it’s time you start asking yourself if you’re doing all the giving while she’s doing all the taking.”

You wanted to argue, but her words struck a nerve.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

Meanwhile, 24 hours later, there was Vi; who was pacing nervously outside a small, unassuming building in the heart of the Undercity. Her hands fidgeted with the straps of her gloves as she tried to calm the storm in her chest. She knew this meeting was a risk, but she couldn’t move forward until she addressed the past.

The door creaked open, and Caitlyn stepped out, her polished Piltover uniform a stark contrast to the grime around her. Her sharp eyes softened when they met Vi’s, and she folded her arms across her chest.

“This is a surprise,” Caitlyn said, her voice neutral but curious. “What made you want to see me Vi?”

“I need to talk,” Vi said, her voice low. “About… everything.”

Caitlyn tilted her head, studying her. “Everything? That’s vague, even for you.”

Vi sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Look, I’ve been a mess lately, okay? And part of that is because of… us. Or what we were. I just need to know where we stand.”

Caitlyn’s brows furrowed, and she leaned against the doorframe. “Vi, we haven’t been ‘us’ for a long time. I thought we made peace with that.”

“We did,” Vi said quickly. “But I think I’m still holding onto some guilt. Like, I owe you something for everything you did for me back then.”

Caitlyn’s expression softened, and she stepped forward, her hand brushing Vi’s arm. “You don’t owe me anything, Vi. I helped you because I cared, and because it was the right thing to do. But you’ve moved on, haven’t you?”

Vi hesitated, her mind flickering to you. “Yeah. I have. But sometimes, it feels like I’m dragging that part of my life into something new, and it’s not fair to her.”

Caitlyn gave a soft smile. “Then let it go. You don’t need my permission to be happy, Vi. And if she makes you happy, focus on that.”

Vi's hands started trembling slightly as she fidgeted with her fingers. Caitlyn looked at her with a curious but cautious expression, waiting for her to speak.

Vi sighed, rubbing her temple as if she were preparing herself for something difficult. “the other night, when we were… when we were together, I said your name, Caitlyn, During—" She stopped herself, wincing.

Caitlyn blinked, a brief flash of shock crossing her features before she masked it with a tight smile. “I didn’t know you still felt that way about me, Vi.”

“I don’t,” Vi said quickly, shaking her head. “I love Y/N. But the guilt’s been messing with my head. I think part of me—part of me has just never really let go of everything that happened between us.” She paused, looking up at Caitlyn, her eyes searching for understanding. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Caitlyn stared at her for a long moment, her lips pressed together. Finally, she spoke, her tone quieter than before. “You shouldn’t carry that around, Vi. You owe it to yourself and to Y/N to be clear about what’s in your heart. You can’t keep dragging the past into the present.”

Vi nodded, guilt washing over her again. “I know. I’m just afraid of losing her. I’m afraid I’ve already done that.”

Caitlyn’s expression softened, but there was something resigned in her eyes. “If you love them, then fight for them, Vi. But if there’s any part of you still clinging to me, then be honest. With them. With yourself. You can’t be fair to anyone if you’re still holding onto old ghosts.”

Vi swallowed hard, the weight of Caitlyn’s words settling heavy on her chest.

For a moment, Vi felt a weight lifting. She nodded, grateful for Caitlyn’s understanding. “Thanks, Cait. Really.”

Caitlyn’s gaze lingered on her for a second longer, and then she said, almost too softly, “I miss this. Talking to you like this. Being close to you.”

Vi froze, unsure of how to respond. Before she could say anything, Caitlyn leaned in. It happened so fast—her lips brushing against Vi’s, tentative but purposeful.

You turned the corner at that exact moment.

Your heart stopped.

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There they were, standing close, Caitlyn’s hand on Vi’s arm and—no. No. That couldn’t be what it looked like. But it was. Caitlyn kissed Vi, and though you couldn’t see Vi’s expression, the fact that she didn’t pull away immediately was enough to shatter the fragile hope you’d been clinging to.

Your breath hitched, and you stumbled backward, your chest tightening. You didn’t wait to see what happened next. You didn’t want to see Vi’s reaction. Whatever it was, it would hurt too much.

Turning on your heel, you walked away as fast as you could, the ache in your chest growing with every step.

Back at your apartment, you slammed the door behind you, your hands shaking as you tried to catch your breath. Your mind raced with a storm of emotions—anger, heartbreak, betrayal—but above all, a crushing sense of clarity.

This was it. There was no fixing this. Vi had made her choice, even if she didn’t realize it yet. And you refused to be the afterthought, the consolation prize.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

By the time Vi returned to the apartment, her thoughts were still a tangled mess. The kiss with Caitlyn had been a mistake—a fleeting moment of confusion that left her sick with guilt. All she wanted now was to see you, to explain everything and make it right.

“Y/N?” she called out as she opened the door. The apartment was eerily quiet, and her heart sank.

She found you in the bedroom, your bag open on the bed, half-filled with clothes and essentials. Your back was to her, but your movements were hurried and frantic, as if you were racing against your own emotions.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Vi asked, stepping into the room.

You froze for a moment before turning to face her, your expression a mix of heartbreak and determination. “What does it look like?”

Vi’s eyes widened. “You’re leaving? Why? What happened?”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Why don’t you tell me, Vi? Or should I ask Caitlyn?”

Her confusion was replaced by realization, her face paling. “You… you saw?”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice trembling with anger and pain. “I saw. I saw her kiss you. And I saw you not pulling away.”

Vi stepped closer, panic evident in her eyes. “It wasn’t what it looked like. I didn’t kiss her back. I didn’t want—”

You held up a hand, cutting her off. “I don’t care what you wanted, Vi. What matters is that it happened. And that’s not something I can just ignore.”

She reached out to you, but you stepped back, the distance between you feeling insurmountable.

“Y/N, please,” Vi pleaded. “You have to believe me. I love you. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Then why did you?” you asked, your voice breaking despite your best efforts to stay composed. “Why do you keep dragging me into this mess with Caitlyn? I’ve tried so hard to be enough for you, but I’m done trying. I deserve better than this.”

Vi’s shoulders slumped, and she looked at you with an expression that might’ve broken your resolve if you weren’t already so hurt.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” she said softly.

“Maybe not,” you replied, your voice steady now. “But it did. And I’m not going to stand here and wait for the next time you ‘didn’t mean’ to hurt me.”

You zipped up your bag and slung it over your shoulder. Vi looked like she wanted to say more, but you didn’t give her the chance.

“I’m done, Vi,” you said, your tone final. “Figure out what you want. But don’t come looking for me until you do.”

With that, you walked past her and out the door, leaving behind the memories and the love that had once felt unshakable. For the first time in what felt like forever, you were putting yourself first. And though it hurt, you knew it was the right thing to do.

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Author's Notes: I absolutely loved writing this.

Please keep supporting Palestine.

If you want to be in my taglist let me know <3.

Taglist: @almooshiii

[yaoi-cicle]

Me at work

[triviallytrue]

truly, one must feel for these tumblr users, unjustly accused of puritanism merely for their willingness to weaponize disgust against the sexually deviant

[arielrothbart]

The heart of the city is on fire 🎵

Got to draw them…they are forever my love and pain 😭

I was planned to turn on the bat signal on the back, but hum…I’ll just put it here, Maybe the colored one is better* idk, My brain is kindda dead right now

[fishermanshook]

ASK: Hi:) if you feel like it how do you think ganji norton and naib would react to reader saying they feel safe with them?

“TRUST IN ME!”

( batter , prospector & mercenary ) + gn!reader

occ , angst in naib & ganji’s part , grammar and spelling warning

INTRO

To fall in love is a risk not all are willing to take. Putting your heart on the line could result in rejection and heartache instead of love and happiness.

To fall in love in a place like this is out of the ordinary, but not exactly uncommon. And as you find yourself sinking more into your lovers embrace, you can’t help but whisper the words;

“I trust you.”

꒰wc꒱ 1.3k

✦— THE BATTER

You say it to him after a match where one reckless move could’ve killed you.

It’s night when the Batter, Ganji Gupta, holds you tight in his arms. Maybe a little too tight for your liking, but you did put him in a frightening situation earlier today. You recall shoving him out of the way in order to save him from a blow to your head. You don't remember much after that. Just blurry memories of being in Emily's office and then, returning to your room with Ganji.

“Ganji,” you sigh, clawing at his arms in an attempt to free yourself from his grasp, even if it’s just a little bit. “You’ve gotta loosen up a little bit, please. I’m really sorry I did that earlier, but you needed to get out…”

Ganji is quick to stop your rambling by holding you (somehow) even tighter than before. “[name], you got hit on the head with an axe. None the less, a Detention hit. If I—“ Ganji sucked in a deep breath of air, letting it fall from his mouth before speaking again. "If I hadn't used my last ball I don't think you would've struggled out in time. And I don't want to think about having to leave you behind because that was your last chair."

Immediately, Ganji stiffens and sits ups. he seems to have finally processed what just happened.

"[name]. you could've died. And for what?" Ganji repeats the question while shaking you by your shoulders, tears pricking at his eyes threating to fall.

You cup his face and put your forehead to his, allowing his to fulling chompreheand the choice you made during the last match.

"I understand it was stupid of me," You start, closing your eyes. "But I don't do things without reason."

The Batter quickly wipes away at his falling tears, suddenly feeling embarrassed. "Then why did you do it? You said it yourself, it was a stupid choice."

"Yes, but I did it for you. I did it because I have put more trust into you than anyone else in this wretched manor. And I knew, that even if I didn't make it out during that last game, that you would still be okay. Surviving another match means surviving another day. And for you, I'd do that again."

"God," Ganji wipes at his nose. "I hope you don't."

✦— THE PROSPECTOR

You say it to him when you’re tired and vulnerable. when anything can happen.

It was early in the morning when the Prospector, Norton Campbell, snuck into your room to pry you awake from your slumber. With your bedroom key in hand (you gave it to him in case of an emergency), he tip toed into your room. He couldn’t help but silently laugh as he peered at your morning appearance. Hair a mess with a side of droll staining your pillow. Cute, but he can stare more later.

The Prospector is quick to shake you awake, pinning your arms to your side so you don’t land a hit on him in fear of being attacked. As he hovers above you, he explains that there’s something he wishes to show you.

“But Norton,” you whisper into his ear “the sun isn’t even up yet.” You hoped the darkness of your room could conceal the light blush on your face.

“Exactly why I want you to come with me. I promise it’ll be worth it.” Norton mumbled, pulling you out from under the covers. Sliding on a pair of shoes, you drag your achy body behind him and follow the Prospector outside the manor.

Fresh dew covered the grass outside, making it a bit wet and chillier than usual outside. Fortunately, Norton had came prepared. Set up outside was a big fluffy blanket with more than enough pillows to spare. Two mugs of coffee residing inside.

“Ever seen the sunrise?” Norton asks, already knowing the answer based off your shocked expression.

You shake your head no as the Prospector reaches to grab your hand and lead you towards the spot. It didn’t take long to get settled, and when you did, you found your head in the core of Norton’s lap.

“Oh? What’s this?” Norton teased “cold aren’t ya’?” You shiver in his arms as a response. Before grabbing his face with your hands. It’s a weird position, but Norton doesn’t mind. Instead he leans into your touch. A soft smile on his face.

“Have I ever told you how much I trust you?” You ask with genuine curiosity.

“I’m not sure, have you?” Norton questions, brushing your hair to the side of your face.

“No, I’m being serious. Stuck in a place like this leaves everyone fending for themselves. But because I have you, I have someone to watch my back. I really appreciate that Norton. I trust you more than anyone else in this manor.”

Norton looks at you with sad eyes as he bends down to place a gentle kiss upon your forehead.

“I trust you more, doll.” He says as the sun starts to rise. Showering you in its warmth and light, a feeling he now resonates when it comes to you.

✦— THE MERCENARY

You say it to him during a particularly risky match where everything seems to be on the line.

There are time where a match can go inexplicably well, where everything goes absolutely perfect and you survive the game with all your limbs intact and the egotistical pride that comes with it.

Those aren’t all the time though, and when both sides are fighting it out until their last breath, it turns into a messy and an undoubtedly long match.

This seems to be one of them, and you’ve collected more than enough scars and bumps and bruises to prove it. You’re more than sure you’ll have to make a stop by Emily’s offfice, but now’s not the time to think about that. You must stay focus on your current task: stitching up Naib.

Sangria got him good this time as a long scar has taken shape on his back. Naib bites down on his bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the whimpers of pain he feels. He thought he was better at this. Better at pretending he wasn’t hurting. You know him all too well though.

“m’ sorry, ‘m sorry I know it hurts. I promise I’ll be done in just a second.” You say in attempt to comfort and reassure him. All he does is nod his head and sucks in a breath of air in order to steady himself.

The Mercenary is off the second he feels you tighten the last of his bandages. You’re quick to jump onto a cipher machine as well to catch up on the progress that was lost.

—

This match has been nothing short of a living, breathing disaster.

You still can't shake the ear piercing scream Fiona let out as she was hit down again minutes later, and you won't forget the horrible cut that now runs across Naib's stomach. You’d stich it up but you don’t have the time for it. Not when Fiona needs rescuing.

“Naib, take over the last cipher. I have to go in.” You tell the Mercenary, racing past him. He stops you, grabbing—no, shaking you by the shoulders.

“No, please, [name] don’t go in there. It’s not worth it we can, we can get—“ he continues to trip over his words out of fear and desperation. “please [name], I don’t wanna lose you.”

“Naib, I promise I’ll be out soon. I trust you, I wouldn’t go in if I didn’t.” And that’s that. You place a quick kiss on his forehead before dashing off towards Fiona’s chair. You hear him scream your name out afterwards.

note: KILLS MYSELF THIS IS ACTUALLY TERRIBLE [crys]

© fishermanshook — no stealing , translating , plagiarizing or reposting my work on other any other sites + reblogs adored !!

[srslylini]

THERE ARE PEOPLE??? WHO THINK??? THIS ENDING WAS GOOD???

you LOOK me in the eye and want to tell me all suicidal characters DYING is good??? story telling???

FUCK you with your "but jinx survived" BULLSHIT. what they showed was her jumping to sacrifice herself, THE SUICIDAL CHARACTER. nothing can make that better ever.

FUCK.THIS dont get close to me if you think this was good in any way shape or form.

[tommarvoloriddlesdiary]

someone (not me, please i can't - i have no time) write a fic where tom kisses harry, and harry's just like, "whoa - this bromance has taken an unexpected turn? hmm... it's probably normal." and he simply goes around doing very obvious couple/in-a-relationship-oriented things with tom while his mental monologue is just:

tom, takes harry out on dates: harry: what good bros we are - doing things that heal our inner children! tom, holds harry's hand: harry: mmhm. best bros maintain skinship, yep. tom, kisses harry often and senseless: harry: uhhh? great bros aren't afraid to show physical affection out of misplaced fear of being seen as emasculated? ...yeah!

tom knows what's happening and gets more and more absurd just to see how harry explains away other things he does while also totally taking advantage of him (of course)