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fishermanshook · 4 months

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"You look, oddly familiar." (surviors! x gn!reader)

INTRO

A prompt where you knew said Survivor before they came to the manor. Your reason for coming here? Probably because of them.

꒰wc꒱ 1.0k words (grammar and spelling warning, mentions of abuse in Female Dancer’s part.)

The Enchantress

You and the Enchantress were together a lot as kids, or has your growing age started to wipe your memory clean? Do you struggle to remember such personal moments the two of you shared? Such a shame, as it's been over 5 years and you've yet to trace her location down. Has she disappeared from the world entirely? Seems like it, doesn't it?

Oh. Wait. There's a memory. An old one for sure, but a memory is still a memory. You and Patricia had spent what seemed to be every waking second together. So much so that Patricia's "mother" had started to see you as her own. Another child to take under her wing, and she gladly would. You understand that, right? Had she not taught you enough? The two of you had made a habit of strolling through New Orleans together, knowing almost every face that inhabited every corner of the city. You'd be down there for any number of reasons. To pick something up, to look for new ingredients, or just to look around the place you know by the back of your hand.

If the two of you had spent so much time with each other, then why didn't she tell you where the hell she went? She never left a note, a letter, or even a single clue as to where she ran off. So yes, when you received a letter stating to know her whereabouts you followed. Was it dumb? Oh for sure. But you would take every chance you could get to find her. You didn't even get to go up to her when you spotted her, she already knew.

"I wish you hadn't come," The Enchantress says with her back turned to yours. "but I can't help but be happy that you did." She chimed, turning around with a smile and a strange-looking artifact in her hand.

The Painter

You were there when it all started. You know, his painting thing. At first, he was a mess, paint slobbered all over his hands and face like a child. But I guess he was a child when he first picked up the paintbrush. Who would’ve known he would never put it down?

As Edgar’s talent increased, he started painting other things. Boats in the river, flowers growing outside, people strolling around the park where the two of you frequented. His drawings decorated his room and cluttered his bedroom floor.

For your 12th birthday, little Edgar (in all honesty) had forgotten about your birthday. The thought of it struck his mind at 1 in the morning as he quickly grabbed for his paints before whisking out a canvas. Throwing himself into his work, he produced his first of many portraits of you. From that point forward, it was a tradition for him to paint you for each birthday. No matter how many fights you had over his short temper or accidental paint spills imported from the other side of the country, you still received a packaged painting. Wrapped in fine silk with a “happy birthday” note tucked in between the folds. For you, he spared little to no expense. That is, until he got older.

It has been over two years since you've seen the man and you haven’t received a single portrait since. Arriving at the manor, you find him in the garden alone, painting a familiar portrait.

“It’s nice that you remember my face, as I’m starting to forget yours.” Your voice nearly makes him drop his paintbrush, as he whips around to meet you. You in all your stunning beauty, god, how you’ve grown from the small child he once knew.

Female Dancer

It is either that you met Nata-Margaretha in Lakeside Village or during your shared time spent in the Hullabaloo circus. Both experiences that you will not forget, but time makes things foggy. It blurs memories that were important to your life that you can no longer recall. But for the sake of going to bed without a piercing migraine tonight, your brain tells you it was during the circus.

Ah, now you're starting to remember things. As memories (some unwanted) come flooding back to you about the circus. A curious place that produced good and bad thoughts. Your mind flashes back to before the accident when time was spent helping Margie (a nickname used widely throughout the circus by many of its performers) tame animals and perform new jaw-dropping tricks to stun the audience.

You remember when your ignorance of what was happening behind closed curtains came crashing down. When Margaretha came crying to you, sobbing that she needed to tell you something. She then began to show you bruises and cuts that littered her body, all deliberately hidden in places that couldn't be noticed unless further expected. To keep it short, you were shocked that "he" could do something this horrible, to decorate her upper body in purple and red marks. It was even more shocking that if anyone noticed, "he" would just brush it off and say that she got hurt while practicing.

At that time, you knew you had to get her and yourself out of there. A lack of knowledge has landed your friend with bruises, cuts, and unwanted love from someone she thought she cared for.

You haven't seen Margaretha since the fire. Actually, you haven't seen anyone since the fire. Not Mike, not Murro, not even Violetta. But following breadcrumbs as to where they all went earned you a one-way ticket to the Oletus Manor, maybe your questions will be answered there.

"Margie?" You almost choke on your words. Seeing her for the first time in so long feels nostalgic. (how old are you again?) She can't even respond, she can’t even believe it's you. All you'll get from her is a death-griping hug and a stained shirt accompanied by her ever-flowing tears.

note: I love you Patricia (writers block is kicking my a rn)

(2024)©️fishermanshook — do not steal, translate, plagiarize, or repost my work on any other platform

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fishermanshook · 3 months

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SEE YOU AGAIN (barmaid x gn!reader)

# HAPPY (early) BDAY DEMI! , day 10 of @philomena-propellente ‘a valentines event , C4L , grammar and spelling warning

INTRO

Once a customer, always a customer, even if your journey ends here. Care for a drink?

꒰wc꒱ 711

The sound of chatter and drinks clinking fills the Bourbon's tavern down the main street. Except for a lone seat at the bar, every chair has been occupied in just the first hour since the bar opened for the night. The drink orders have been coming in at rapid speed this night, and the duo can only try to keep up. Demi busies herself by getting out more ingredients for her brother, Sam, as he preps their secret to success: Dovlin. The next hit in the industry has people coming in from every corner of the world trying to get a sip.

But alas, her eyes refuse to leave her brother as he mixes and shakes the unknown ingredients together to make Dovlin's recognizable color. A deep, penetrating red that looks as if it's been pulled from humans itself. While she isn't entirely sure what lies in the drink, she trusts that her brother knows what he's doing.

Unfortunately for her, a bell near the front indicates that a new customer has arrived. Neither of them can take another drink order, but Demi reassures Sam that she's got this. The Barmaid takes a deep breath in before plastering on her best-serving smile and-

And she's greeted with you. Your eyes widen at the site of her, and a big smile graces your face as you almost leap to hug her. Demi laughs into your shoulder as she spins you around. "Hi hun, how are you?" she squeals. Demi takes your light giggle as 'good' and takes you to your unofficial seat in the tavern.

You've already been stripped of your coat and spot Demi hanging it up in the back so it doesn't get stolen. Immediately, the Barmaid's attention goes directly to you. You've been gone for some time now, guess all you can do is play catch up at this point. You're distracted by the magic that Demi performs, as she does all sorts of bartender tricks with your glass. Even earn some stares from the surrounding tables as they watch the Barmaid flip the glass and pour the wine. (Low clapping can be heard in the background of the tavern. For you, Demi would practice that trick during the time you were gone. Hoping to impress you by the time you arrive.)

After she's finished, Demi has produced your favorite drink. A purple, grape-flavored juice that invades your veins with excitement. The drink itself is familiar as well and makes you feel more at home in the tavern.

"You've been gone for a month [name] now just where did you run off to?" Demi questions you as she jabs you in the shoulder. She's more than happy to see you, but that still doesn't excuse the time that's passed since your unannounced departure. You take a sip from your drink. It's cold and fizz sending your stomach in a spiral. You wipe your mouth before speaking again.

"I apologize for going AWOL on you, I promise it won't happen again," You say with an apologetic look on your face. "I got caught up on a business trip and was forced to leave as soon as possible." You can't deny that your job doesn't pay you well, which forces you to go back and forth between different departments. That's why you've been coming to this bar for god knows how long. The leather seats have ripped with age, but the nostalgia grows stronger the longer you're separated from the tavern.

You take another sip from your glass. This time, the fizzy feeling became less prominent. "I also have received a rather... interesting letter. The sender is anonymous, and I couldn't pull any more information from it besides the fact that it's offering a large sum of money in exchange for my presence in a game." You hand Demi the letter. It feels smooth in her hands, like a ticket. A ticket to freedom. To a better life. "It's a promise to something greater in this little life of ours, and I'm contemplating taking them up on the offer. Do you or Sam perhaps know anything about Oletus Manor? Hello? Demi I-"

The memory ends there, and the Barmaid wakes up in a cold sweat with dried tears on her face.

note: like 5 months latter and I still can’t write Demi properly 😞 older readers do we recognize the purple drink???

(2024)©️fishermanshook — do not steal, translate, plagiarize, or repost my work on any other platform

#🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･CRY ME A RIVER.#philomena's files #idv x reader #fanfiction #identityv #identity v #fanfic #idv #x reader #gn reader #idv barmaid #barmaid x reader #demi bourbon #demi bourbon idv #the barmaid idv #idv the barmaid #fic #idv fic

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fishermanshook · 7 months

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Dying In your Arms (mercenary x gn!reader)

aloemarket on Pinterest

⚠️ YOU DIE! + grammar and spelling warning this fr sucks ass you guys a

INTRO

Your not usually supposed to actually, like, die in the manor games.

But it seems you upset the owner, or bloody queen was just especially pissed off today and couldn’t handle the fact there was only 2 chiphers left.

So neither or you guys really expect it when she impales you.

What was born from confusion turns quickly into pain, as she only jabs the shard of glass deeper into your stomach. Pulling a scream from your mouth that only shakes the ground and pierces the air.

There’s nothing you can do but bleed out onto the snowy floors of Leo’s Memory and pray to whatever god there is to put you out of your misery.

—

He was in the match with you, and as much as he’d like to help you he understood that you were more than capable or defending yourself

Oh how he wish he could be right.

It happened while he was decoding, usually something he isn’t doing to be completely honest. In most matches, he’s either going off to save someone, or being targeted for the 3rd time today.

Your scream none the less catches him off guard, and he immediately thinks that you’ve just been terror shocked. So he’s not super duper completely insanely worried, but yeah he’s scarred and fucks up his collaboration.

But it doesn’t matter cause he’s already moving to your direction.

It just confuses him why the Hunter hasn’t picked you up yet, especially when he’s running half way across the map. Shouldn’t you at least be ballooned right now? Or maybe someone’s distracting the Hunter. Or maybe-

Or maybe your just lying a little more still then he would like you to be right now.

Your deathly unmotionless body is what he noticed first, quickly followed by the ever growing pool of blood that your body is seemingly drowning in.

“Oh shit, y/n?” He mumbled, quickly dropping onto his knees and flipping your body over. Your eyes slowly flicker to light as you stare at the Mercenary.

“Hey, um,,,,” is all you can mutter out without tears dripping down your face from the unfathomable pain the queens blade of glass has left you. All Naib can do is stare at you in utter shock and horror, but quickly snapping out of it and gets to work. Trying to push down the ever flow of tears pooling in his eyes, and the running mess his nose is making.

Naib starts taking off his jacket while sprouting phrases among the lines of “Your going to be okay” and “We’ll get you to Emily as soon as this match is over”. Your not to sure whether he’s saying these for your comfort, or for his.

But you slowly fade in and out of consciousness, the only thing you can say before everything goes dark is a small I love you Naib before the curtains close.

The brown haired man picks you up bridal style, but it’s no use. There’s no light behind your eyes anymore, as they remain open and lifeless. You body has gone limp in his arms that it takes him a few minutes to realize what just happened.

Naib has been in this game for far too long now to know that no one can ever escape the clawing hands of death himself. He only fears that something worse might lie beyond these wretched games, that the baron has deemed you unfit for this level of hell.

He only wishes that what awaits for you is some got damn rest.

(2023)©️fishermanshook — do not steal, translate, plagiarize, or repost my work on any other platform

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fishermanshook · 4 months

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HELLO :33 could i request some hurt/comfort w norton or edgar?? maybe their so get's badly injured in a match like dying at their feet and stuff and when they come back their partner comforts them?? ;^;

of course annon! enjoy <3

Meet Me Here Again (prospector x gn!reader x painter , separate)

INTRO

You really must've done something to piss Geisha off, as she usually isn't one to put Survivors in situations like this. But none the less, she's left you to bleed out on the ground of Leo's Memory, where the cold has numbed your fingers and turned your lips blue.

But Geisha can't help but secretly writhe in the way your body crawls towards her, leaving a bread crumb trail of your blood as you plead desperately to just be chaired already.

The match leaves your body bloodied and bruised and will definitely haunt your dreams from here on out. But have no fear, your boyfriend is here and will help nurse you back from just one of your many traumatizing matches.

The Prospector

Norton doesn't learn of the events that took place until the next morning, when he's noticed you've skipped breakfast and only finds out now. Last night's match ended horribly, as evident by the cuts and bruises that have decorated themselves across your body. The Prospector almost drops your breakfast as you explain the situation to him with tears streaming down your face. The man swears to stay by your side as he helps you recover. Unfortunately, the world still moves, and he's forced to complete his daily match(es) before he can return to your side.

Norton hates having to see you in pain let only hearing you moan in agony. Norton's already had to change your sheets twice because your cuts kept bleeding through the bandages— and oh god he just hates seeing you like this. The Prospectors pissed that Geisha left you in a state like that, as bleeding out is a serious deal and shouldn't be taken lightly. But at last, Hunters will be Hunters. He can only hope that you heal up quickly as he spoon feeds you a second serving of soup.

The Painter

Edgar finds out earlier than Norton, having gone to your room after he finished his last match. All he wanted to do was cuddle a little with his s/o before falling asleep, but it seemed the manor had other plans for him. After opening the door, he's greeted with sniffling and immediately knows something's wrong. Turning on the light, he rushes over to you and bombards you with questions as to what happened. Gently lifting up the covers answers all his questions, as he's met with countless scars and bruises across your body. He thinks he might cry just seeing you like this. The Painter slowly lowers himself into your bed and wraps his arms around you in an attempt to comfort you.

The Painter brings his painting supplies over to your room, as he's in it almost half the time. He's inside your room even more now that you're hurt. You wonder how Edgar still finds inspiration to paint in your room, he just says you are his inspiration. Wherever you are, his heart can't help but follow. You think it's true, as he seems to paint even more when you're with him. So despite you being bed bound, he'll stay by your side.

note: i didn't think art block would kick me in the a this badly, sorry this is so short :(

(2023)©️fishermanshook — do not steal, translate, plagiarize, or repost my work on any other platform

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fishermanshook · 5 months

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When You’re Gone (survivors x gn!reader)

all photos found on Pinterest

The manor must have deemed you worthy of freedom. Freedom through the means of death. Oh what shall these poor Surviors do, when their love has been ripped from their aching hands?

# major character death (aka you)

The Novelist hasn't experienced death in so long, he isn't sure how to mourn your loss. If it weren't for his books he thinks he'd be void of the feeling completely. The feeling of despair, of hopelessness, of tragedy. When he is told of such news, all he can do is nod his head before quickly retreating back to his room before his composure betrays him. Alice does check in on him though, attempting to provide him with as much comfort as she can provide.

His only way of coping seems to be through writing, which really shouldn't be surprising. He finds ways to slip your character in every novel and poem he writes, drafts that have your name embedded into them somewhere. All of them revolve around you and it pains him to not be able to share them with you. You may have escaped the manor, but you'll never manage to escape from his heart

"The Prisoner" doesn’t believe it, no, he can’t believe it. Someone as bright and lovely as you couldn’t have fallen victim to the manors prying hands. Luca immediately falls into the 5 stages of grief, with the denial stage lasting far longer than it should. He throws himself into his invention, the only thing he can think of that will distract himself from your untimely demise . He wishes to forget everything revolving around it, and, unfortunately, forgets everything about you in the process

Nothing the Survivors (and even Hunters) say can trigger a memory from Luca. Even when Emily showed his lovers dead corpse, he struggled to remember their once warm embrace. Oh well, guess there’s nothing the Survivors can do about this one. All they can do is whisper a good night and wish them an eternity of rest.

The Entomologist is similar to both of the men before her. She understands that you're dead, but still can't wrap her head around the fact of it. You're actually dead, gone, lifeless and she hates it. She can't stop the tears that flow from her eyes and for the first time she finds herself thankful for her gauze hat to hide her face.

To make matters worse, where ever Melly looks she's reminded of you. Any plant, animal, or painting manages to remind her of you and only pains her more. Norton brings her food when she skips out of it. She wishes you were here, she’d take an eternity of being here if it meant you stayed by her side.

note: I am not mentally stable

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fishermanshook · 5 months

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The Whole World and You (painter x gn!reader)

changge0u0 on Twitter

"If this painting is a window, I wish it would lead you into a world no one knows but me." - The Painter

To love someone means to open your heart to vulnerability.

No matter how messy the situation gets.

The Painter has only ever had one love before, and that was for his art. Something that he has poured obscure amounts of his undivided attention and devotion into. So when he starts to lose the passion to create and express his emotions with a brush and canvas, what is he to do?

Searching for new inspiration, a new source of creativity, he travels to the Oletus Manor. Infamous for its own horrible and depressing reasons.

And if inspiration was what he desired, he got more than enough of it from you.

The Painter had approached you one day and asked if he could paint you. It was a simple question, really. But he couldn't mask the eagerness present in his voice that day. You agreed quickly, no one has ever wished to paint you before. Thus, he grabbed your hand and led you to where his easel was set up. A multitude of paints surrounded it, while brushes of all shapes and sizes adorned his side.

The sunlight poured in through the glass panels of the greenhouse perfectly that day, while Emma's flowers decorated the scenery around you. There was no doubt this wouldn't become one of his favorite paintings.

Hence, the start of your ever growing friendship.

You very quickly became a source of inspiration for Edgar, his one and only muse in this manor of horror and terror. You were the light that shone darkness into his life and he couldn't be more thankful for you.

He started to notice himself asking if he could paint you more just to be around you. No matter how many canvas cluttered and filled his room he wouldn't stop, he couldn't. Plus, it seemed you didn't mind. When is it everyday that one of the most famous painters of your time wishes to etch you onto a canvas for all to see? Not often, is it?

He (also) found the two of you becoming closer, talking and confiding in one another more often than usual. He couldn't help himself, you brought out a side of him that was hidden under years of guilt and his own mental hardships.

He had to confess to you.

The Painter can't stand the thought of getting rejected in person, especially to you of all people. So his only other option seems to rely on pen and paper. And oh did he use a lot of it.

Pieces of paper decorated his dorm floor, words of love inscribed onto each one better than any poet. Maybe not Orpheus though, Edgars work isn't bad though, no not at all. Each word is carefully chosen to construct just how badly Edgar has fallen for you. But after some misconduct sentences, a few broken pens, he thinks he's finally done it. The letter is then sealed in an envelope and a red sticker. He decides to seek you out, maybe giving it to you in person will be better. Rather than just slipping it under your door.

So Edgar starts his journey to find where you are. He asks around, questioning some of the Survivors (and even Hunters) who lay about outside of their dorm rooms. Most of them reply with no, others say they thought they saw you leave the room with the Prospector not too long ago.

Oh. Huh. What could you possibly be doing with the Prospector?

He eventually tracks you down, about to call out your name he sees you with the Prospector. The two of you seem to be engaged in conversation, he can only make out a few words, but it seems to just be manor gossip.

It's not nice to spy on people though, and Edgar's got a letter to deliver. But he can't help but pick up on the end of your conversation.

"Y/n, there's something I've been needing to tell you for a while now." The Prospector claims, before Edgar hears him confessing to you.

No.

There's no possible way it's happening, but what's being shown in front of him can't be a figment of his imagination. Yet he is blinded when the Prospector presents a shiny ring that gleams in the sun. It's beautiful, and the Painter can tell just how much work he's put into it. As if things could get worse, he pulls you in for a kiss. One that lasts longer then it should.

It's only then does Edgar tear his eyes away from the scene when he runs back to his room. Tears begin to show as they run down his cheeks. A loud slam of a door can be heard by nearby residents.

He cries like a baby, stuffing his face into a pillow to muffle the ever growing sounds he emits. Why would you feel the need to toy with his delicate feelings like this? Was it out of boredom? A bet? He must find out. But he soon realizes he's dropped the letter--oh and the tears are back. There's no way he can go out there now, not with his feelings written out there for everyone to see. He hopes that someone picks it up with the horrible intention of throwing it away. Or better, burn it. He'd rather burn with his words rather than have to confess to them anyways.

It seemed like it had been forever since he witnessed the confession. He's so numb from crying that he doesn't show up for dinner, he wonders what you're doing right now. Probably getting a room with the Prospector. He can't blame you though, Norton was probably the better option, no matter how hurt he feels admitting it to himself.

A sudden rattle of his door knob shakes him. Edgar makes his way to the door and slowly creeks it open.

"Edgar." You say.

"Hi y/n, where's Norton?" Edgar asks with a hint of snarkiness in his voice.

"I brought you food, and I read your note." You say, watching as the Painter's eyes go wide.

"Look, I know your with Norton now so don't worry about it-" But Edgar doesn't get another word in because your mouth is on his. He tries to not let himself give in, but he's no enraptured by you right now.

He soon breaks the kiss. As much as he hated having to, you still owe him an explanation.

"I know I'm sorry, Edgar I know you saw me and Norton and I just want you to know I don't have feelings for him. He was the one who pulled me in for the kiss and I already let him down. He knows I like you." You explain.

"I think the kiss made it pretty obvious. But yes, y/n I love you so much. You wouldn't believe how many letters I re-wrote because I couldn't get my words out right. I want you by my side, I want you to be mine. Could you?"

"I wouldn't want anything else."

You embrace each other and share another kiss, because right now it's just you and him.

And you wouldn't want it any other way.

note: ate

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