[start image description: Two digital drawings of characters from the game Blaseball. Both drawings are primarily sketches on a grey background. The first depicts of Wesley Poole, Baby Triumphant, and Mullen Peterson. Wesley and Mullen stand proudly on both sides of a resigned Baby. All three of them are wearing the same navy t-shirt with a fish and fishing pole on it that reads: "Gotta love a good pole dance."
The second image depicts Rivers Rosa and Lou Roseheart. They are seated at a table, reacting to the sight of the fishing t-shirts. Rivers drinks from her cup, mildly disturbed to see Baby wearing such a shirt, while Lou hides their face in her hands so Baby cannot see the expression she is making. /end image description]
Roped into a fishing trip and they made a big deal of it.
[Image ID: Digital lineart illustration of Rivers Rosa and Declan Suzanne tightly embracing. A small solar eclipse symbol hangs above their heads. End ID.]
Rivers Rosa was a player who first played on the Chicago Firefighters in Season 1 of beta. they eventually also played on the Ohio Worms, before landing on the Houston Spies during Fall Ball.
Please welcome Mimosa Arslan to this splort.
more minific moments bc blaseball is coming for the jugular this week so have some baby ruthless pov (cws for incineration/death, grief)
You can feel it before you actually hear about it; in the subtle rumble of the bricks beneath your feet, the way the rafters start to shake. It reminds you just a little too much of the day that Josh died, and that’s why you start to run.
On your way out of the dugout, you barrel into Hank head on, who stumbles back a few feet with the weight of you. Steadying your shoulders, you know he can see the panic in your eyes, the fear in your chest, and it stings even worse.
“Rue,” he says, voice low but steady, “what’s going on? Everything okay?”
You shake your head, unable to get the proper words out. “Something’s wrong, I can feel it.”
You don’t say the truth you know to be real at this point: by wrong, you mean dead.
He glances towards the field, uneasy. “I’m sure no one will notice I slip away for a minute,” he wavers, though you can both see the two outs on the board even from here.
The shaking’s gotten more noticeable in both you and the building, and you haven’t felt an urge to run this strong in many decades.
“No,” you say, slipping past him, “I’ll be right back.”
“Rue!” He yells, but you’ve already broken into a sprint and you don’t turn back because you need to get out of here before they announce it, you can’t– you need to see it for yourself first.
Here’s the thing. You know this building better than anyone on the premises; fifty-odd years will do that to a person. These are the stones and bricks you grew up with, in every sense but literal, and so your feet take you exactly where you need to go.
You barely make it to the door of the garage before you’re stumbling, tripping over your own two feet as a cry confirms your worst thoughts.
On the wall you see it: Rivers Rosa in shades of glass, sitting perpendicular to Tyreek Olive. You take one heaving breath, and then your legs are giving out.
And it’s that position Hank finds you in after the game, eyes still glued to the window.
