#faceless background player

[ubejamjar]

Personae non Gratae > Gather information in Tertium

You get the sense you've seen this woman before, though you cannot recall where. ...It seems she has nothing more to say to someone like you.

[kindahoping4forever]

is ash in the background of the second pic on michael’s latest instagram post? (about the gender reveal)

Hard to say tbh!

[thecoochiefairy]

74. onyankopon.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 14.5K word count. blackfem!original character, onyankopon, basketball player!onyankopon, sweet!onyakopon, dominant!onyankapon, arrogant!onyankopon, unprotected sex, creampie, vaginal penetration, lil bit of sweet talkin’, creaming, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, kinda aggressive dirty talk, oral [f], nasty sex chile, just a fine ass black man, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘����𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ i think i like this one. i’m not sure yet, hehe. inspired by one of my fav comfort movies, just wright. + i think of it won’t stop by sevyn streeter when i think of this fic. love you. bye.

(was having a hard time w/ nasty links this time w/ black couples so sorry for that. you get the point. visual. visual. visual. )

HEARTBREAK ANNIVERSARY PLAYED ON A LOOP WITHIN HER SPEAKERS. Being stuck under the covers was never the plan for today—but she was in a funk. 

Her eyes peered over the olive green plush of her comforter, acrylic nail swiping across the screen of her phone as she mindlessly scrolled on social media. She refused to do what became a habit at this point—but damn, did she want to. 

It’s unfortunate that she did it anyway.

Clicking on the previously searched profile, she goes onto the page to see a new picture had been uploaded. That familiar smile, arm wrapped around a faceless figure, dark hair spilling through his fingers as his hand sat on her lower back.

ALL MINE, it captioned.

Her vision locked along the screen, noticing that her sight began to blur. She hated crying. She felt like her tears weren’t deserved, yet she wanted to release them anyways—she felt weak. 

When the phone suddenly buzzed, her eyes caught sight of a familiar number. She couldn’t keep ignoring calls. Parting out a sigh, she pressed the phone to her ear. 

“Yeah?” 

She tried to sound as normal as possible, wiping her eyes with a quiet sniffle. Allergies were her planned excuse if she was questioned. 

“I know you’re not crying right now.”

That’s exactly how she expected her friend to respond. But she wasn’t going to give the satisfaction of admitting how embarrassed she was. So she replied with, “Allergies.”

A long, exasperated sigh echoed before the feminine voice replied, “You should know by now that I know when you’re lying” 

Ama. 

“You’ve been out of it for weeks—Cooped up in your apartment, calling into work. You’ hiding from that nigga or something?”

She rolls her glossy eyes, deepening herself within the covers as she mutters, “No.”

“You can’t stay in bed forever,” Ama sterns, “How long has it been since you ate? Look—I know you’ over there with that cornfed ass, but that doesn’t mean you can’t eat a lil’ more!”

That actually gets a weak laugh from her. She runs a palm along her cheek as she sighs, “I’m not too hungry, Ama.”

“So you’re really not finna’ come to my momma’s barbecue?”

“You want me to come to your momma’s barbecue all sad and shit? Yeah, no. I’m good on’ that.”

“You know my momma gon’ kill you if you don’t show up. So I suggest you get off your ass, fix your face and—don’t make me grow wings and fly into that window.“

She could hear Ama shuffling in the background, meaning she was on the way. Her friend was entirely serious about dragging her out of bed, and Ama’s mom would kill her for not showing up.

She adjusts her body to sit up against the bed, sighing as she replied, “So you tellin’ me I gotta get cute? Who gon’ be there—Lance Gross? Jalen Hurts?”

Ama sighs, “Unfortunately, no. You’d think Usher was coming with the way my momma set shit up. I think she’s all excited for Onyankopon to be back home.”

Onyankopon. 

That wasn’t a name she heard too often. Ama made it a habit not to mention her brother, as she spent years  behind his shadow, always being known as his sister and nothing more. He was the star of the family. It didn’t help that he was recently signed to New Orleans’ basketball team, and a well known face within the city. She was the only girl that didn’t squeal when Ama mentioned who her sibling was—but it might’ve helped that she also had never met Onyankopon. 

She raises an eyebrow, “Your brothers back in town? I thought the Pelicans had a press run?”

Ama sighs, “Chile, they did. But he told me that they’re having playoffs down here in a couple weeks— he’s been craving to play a game in the boot. I’m sure he also can’t wait to tap some southern ass. Slut.” 

She chuckles, “Don’t act like you ain’t excited to see yo’ brother, Ms. Fraternal Twin.”

“If I wasn’t driving, I would smack you. You’ always tryna use our bond against me. Point is, you better be standing outside your door in the next forty-five minutes or I will get violent.“

“That’s why I’m finna’ get back in bed.”

“Yeah, okay. Do that and see what happens.”

“Bye, Ama.”

“Bye!”

If one thing Ama was right about, she did need to get out of bed. The time rushed by as Ama yapped while she got dressed, talking all the way up until they made it back to her mom’s place. It was exactly how a family cookout would look—two story house, a baby blue color painted along the wooden roof and walls. The smell of hot dogs, burgers and fries wafted in her nose as she squinted from the sunlight, standing next to the bucket of drinks as she waited for it to be refilled with bottles of water. The longer she went without eating, her stomach growled. 

Seeing her friend's family was different from her own—playing card games, from old jams to bounce remixes, to routined line dances—the energy was enjoyable, and she didn’t have the urge to check her phone again. She felt at ease. 

“You still ain’t finna’ eat?” Ama questions, holding a plate up to her face as she stood beside her friend, nose deep into a plate of jambalaya.

She shakes her head, “I need water. It’s hot as hell,” she huffs, fanning a hand above her face. 

“You’ so dramatic—“ Ama starts, halting as she follows the sound of tires screeching in front of the house, “—Oh, there he go’ with the water.” 

Their eyes follow to the blacked out H2 Hummer, large wheels rumbling the ground as it leans atop of the curb. Two bodies step out of the car, her eyes familiar with one of Ama’s cousins, Shaun—but seeing her brother was a different story. 

Neatly braided cornows to the back of his head was the first thing she noticed, his lineup as sharp as his jaw. Brown skin shined under the sun like iridescent honey, tattoos cascading across his muscular frame, all the way up to his cheekbones. Love was written in cursive above his eyebrow, full lips a dark pink beneath his goatee and facial hair. Rings cladded along his thick fingers, muscles flexing beneath the fitted white tee he wore with navy blue basketball shorts. 74 glittered around his neck, his number meaningful in every room he walked in—he was fine. 

“Took you long enough,” Ama rolled her eyes, “Everybody finna’ die of dehydration!”

He’s already walking towards the cooler, effortlessly dropping bottles into the ice water. A slight smirk curls from his lips as he replied, “You’ aight. Me and Shaun’ was tryna’ roll up before we got back, you know momma don’t play that shit.” 

His voice was deep, yet smooth—velvet almost.

“You ain’t supposed to be smoking anyways!” Ama reminds, “You’ got playoffs in a couple of weeks—they don’t drug test y’all?”

“Yeah,” He starts, plopping a few more bottles into the ice, “I got the next two weeks to do that, you act like I won’t be straight by then.”

He glances beside Ama, raising an eyebrow as he questions, “You don’t speak or sum’?”

She blinks in reply, realizing the question was for her. Her eyes travel down to the cooler before she points to herself—“Me?” 

“Nah, the nigga standin’ by the tree—Yeah, you.”

His sister then scoffs, “She’s just not used to seeing big ass niggas like you.”

“Bro—stop talkin’ to me,” He warns. His glare stays in Ama’s direction before softening his gaze back onto her friend, “You got a name, you?” 

“Nuh-Uh! Nope. She don’t! Don’t be tryna’ push up on my friend. You got bitches all over New Orleans for that,” Ama interrupts.

She scolds in reply, “Ama—lawd, I’m good. Chill.”

She then scans him up and down, noticing how big he was in comparison to her. She’d only seen him on TV, and only ever heard the amount of shit his sister talked about him. She honestly didn’t think she’d ever meet him, and maybe that’s why she suddenly felt so insecure. 

But if only she could see herself.

Her bistre skin was like chocolate melting beneath the sun, midnight black hair slicked back into a low bun out of her face—edges styled along her forehead in perfection, small flyaways curled along the back of her neck. Feline eyes tilted above her full lips and freckles he could only notice as he observed her. But the star of the show was her eyes—a deep cobalt, giving her an almost villainous look. But nothing was more pure than her angelic face. 

She gives a small wave, wanting to smack herself at the childish gesture as she softly introduces, “I’m Blue.”

Her voice was quiet, but sweet.

“Blue. I like that.” 

Ama interrupts the moment, “Don’t be complimenting her, my friend know’ she's bad!” 

The way her name rolled off his tongue made a chill run through her spine—she had to pull it together. 

Onyankopon steps closer to the cooler, his eyes flickering back to hers as he questions,”You don’t drink?”

“Hm?” Blue raises an eyebrow, “Oh— No, I don’t. It’s easier to drink water. I mean, you should always drink water— If you’re dehydrated, of course. but if you’re hydrated you should be fine—“

She stops herself, realizing that she’s rambling. 

Blue clears her throat, playing with a curl along the side of her face as she blows out a flushed smile, “…Yeah.” 

God—she wanted to dig herself into the nearest hole.

Blue adjusts herself a bit, now feeling entirely naked under the snug white tee she wears, showing off her midriff and heart shaped nipple piercings, denim washed jeans that clung to the harsh curve of her ass, orchid sandals along her French tipped toes. She was pretty.

“Oh hell,” Ama groans, “I thought you said you wasn’t’ a fan?” 

“I’m not—“

Ama shakes her head, “Anyways, Blue’s an athletic trainer—she be around you niggas all the time. So I don’t know why she even actin’ like this. You’ making my friend uncomfortable, Onyankopon!”

Her rambling was cute—refreshing, to say the least. He lets out a small chuckle, finding it a bit endearing as her brown cheeks went warm. 

“Oh? You’ an athletic trainer?” 

“I just work with college students,” Blue shakes her head, “I’m still working on my masters to move into professional athletes.” 

“She used to play ball too,” Ama adds, “Better than yo’ ugly ass.”

He subtly flexes his jaw in annoyance of his sister, but the mention of her playing ball piqued his interest. 

“What position?”

“Um—point guard. Like you,” she clears her throat, “It was back before I graduated,” she ends with a weak smile.

He raises an eyebrow, his fingers itching towards the silver piece around his neck. 

“Why you’ all shy about it? Don’t be, I like that shit. You was nice onna’ court?” 

It seems like the conversation becomes more intimate. As Ama gets distracted with her cousin that walks up, Onyankopon leans closer—Blue has to tilt her head up to get a good angle of him. 

His body smells of a cocoa musk, and the scent clings along her senses, almost trying to coax her in. She was never this silent with anyone, her chest feeling heavier by the second. 

Blue then replies, “Are you?” 

His teeth flash a bit with the question. Her words were just a slight jab, but he appreciated it. 

“I’m him, ain’t I?” 

His fingers finally make their way to his necklace, pulling the silver up a bit, the numbers glistening in the sun as it reflected into her eyes. 

“You tryna’ front like you ain’t never seen my games?”

“Ain’t nobody tryna’ front,” she confirms, “I watch more of the WNBA—you niggas get whatever y’all want even if you play around on the court.”

He shakes his head, a faint grin stretching from ear to ear, “You’ cute. You know that?”

His compliment makes her go stiff. Her lips part open a bit, but she doesn’t speak, unable to find any words to say back.

“You ain’t watching the right niggas,” He smacks his lips, “So what—a nigga gotta’ play for yo’ heart or sum’?”

Don’t get her wrong—Blue enjoyed a little flirting. But just in that millisecond, her mind trails back to someone else charming her with just their words, and that’s how she ended up with her first heartbreak. 

She shakes her head, “I heard you got plenty to choose from—you should be fine getting benched by me.”

He narrows his lids, noticing that her expression grew more distant. There was a shift. An airy chuckle escapes his throat, glancing down at her with low eyes.

“You’ cold as hell. That’s cool.”

“I know it is. Can you back up off me now, 74?” she raises an eyebrow, azul vision flickering along his face.

He takes a second, staring at her facial features to memorize them. She was interesting to say the least. 

Finally, he steps back, “My fault, Mama.”

Ama interrupts at the perfect time as she calls, “Yo’! Momma wants you to come carry the other grill outside, Ony!—And I told you leave my damn friend alone—fifty feet, nigga!”

“Damn—Fifty feet is crazy,” Onyankopon chuckles, glancing down at Blue, “We was’ just talkin’, huh?”

Blue tilts her head a bit, trying to push down the smile that wants to grow on her face as she replies, “…Mhm.”

“I’m finna’ start counting!”  Ama threatens, her hands now on her hips.

“You gotta’ calm down,” Onyankopon groans to his sister, looking back once more, “Let me know when you tryna’ have me as yo’ point guard, Blue.”  

Before she could respond, he was already walking away. She’s able to see his full frame—the muscles in his back flexing within his arms, leaving Blue just how she introduced herself—Quiet.

She tries to distract herself for the next hour. Her eyes glanced over to Onyankopon every few seconds, noticing something new about him each time. The open faced grills within his mouth, the stud within his nose, the lyrics and verses along his neck and arms. Fuck. 

Her eyes couldn’t help but trail back to her screen, absentmindedly clicking onto social media. That was until her phone was snatched from her fingers.

“Ama!” 

“I’m saving your mental, girl,” Ama replies, holding the phone up to her face as she types, “Don’t make me delete Instagram.” 

Blue sighs, “You know that nigga is in a new relationship already?”

Ama sighs, tapping on the picture of him with a nameless figure wrapped around his arm. 

“He never had loyalty, you know that. Stop fuckin’ with these ball players and find you a lawyer or some shit.” 

Blue felt stupid. To have fallen for someone she knew had the reputation of careless acts—what else did she expect? But he made her feel like she was important. That she was different.

“I’d rather be by myself. A lawyer might lie even better than a ball player,” Blue murmurs, digging her fork into the piece of cake she’d had her attention on, Ama finalizing her words as she agreed, “That part.”

Everyone watches as the younger men make their way towards the basketball court within the driveway, Blue’s attention pulling back to that damn smile as Onyankopon’s silhouette moves past her. 

He questions, “We finna’ hoop. You gon’ watch yo’ man?”

“Who?” She scrunches her nose.

“You heard me, girl. Quit playin’.”

Blue turns to Ama, “Why yo’ brother won’t get off me? Didn’t you say he got bitches to choose from?”

Ama shrugs, “He tryna’ be cute, and you blushing—I’m mindin’ my business.” 

She then stands from the table, a mischievous smile across her face, “I gotta make sure my uncle doesn't break his hip on this court. You comin’?”

“Watchin’ yo’ uncle possibly fall and break all his ligaments? Lemme’ grab my cake,” Blue chuckles, standing with her food as she follows behind. 

Everyone crowds around the court as the family game begins, but it’s unfortunate that Blue can’t stop watching Onyankopon—especially when he keeps howling each time he makes a shot. 

This was her first time seeing him on the court, and to say that he played how he looked on TV was an understatement. To her dismay, he had bragging rights. The way he easily dodged and maneuvered around the court, his height gave him a slight advantage as he easily made shots to the rim. 

“You see me? You like that?” he calls, his attractive face more threatening each time he calls out to her, “You gon’ have a seat right up in the boxes watchin’ me!” 

Ama replies back, “She don’t’ see shit but yo’ hoe ass bullying your family on the court. Stop playing like this a championship, stupid!”

Onyankopon smacks his lips at his sister, catching the ball before dribbling up the court again. But the person he was up against this time, was not as easy—the cousin he always played with, who was just as good as him. He had quick reflexes, almost magic as he stole the ball out of Onyankopon’s palms, making his way towards the rim, dunking the ball against it. 

“Oh—we playin’ forreal? Aight.” 

They’re still playful with one another along the court, but that didn’t make the game any less serious. Both men were good at stealing the ball from each other. The family watched in entertainment, yelling and calling out moves as if it were a real game. Blue couldn’t help the small laugh she released. Damn, he was good.

 Everything was going well—until it wasn’t. Onyankopon’s cousin shifted his body a little too quickly into him, harshly knocking his shoulder to where he tripped over his own legs, crashing into the ground before he could catch himself. Everyone knew something was wrong the moment he grabbed his knee, a pained look against his face.

It’s as if Blue sobered up in that moment, her eyes widening slightly as his cousin bent down in front of him with panic, “Yo—Ony, you good? Shit—I’m sorry.”

“Fuck—” Onyankopon groans, clenching his jaw as he attempts to sit up. He wanted to hide the immense burn he felt rushing through his entire leg, but he was in pain— His knee was locked. 

The entire court was immobile. It’s as if no one wanted to panic, but panic all at the same time. A single voice called over the silence as Ama exclaimed, “Blue!”, rushing around the court towards her brother.

Blue was right behind her, dropping herself towards the ground as she immediately reached for his knee. He jerked at the touch as she softly whispered, “I’m sorry,” keeping her palms in place, even as he tried to push her away.

“You have to tell me what hurts, Onyankopon.”

“It’s—” He starts, hissing between his teeth as she kept her hand on the swollen part of his leg, “—Fuck, it’s my entire leg. From the top, to the ankle.” 

Everyone around them grew nervous. She could hear the worry in Ama’s voice, and she could see tears forming in her eyes as she called for her father.

Blue didn’t need anyone to freak out. She turns towards her friend, “Ama—go inside with Shaun and grab an ice pack, okay?”

If Ama’s panic wasn’t helping the situation, a shriek coming from the front of the house makes it all

the more worse—Onyankopon’s mother tosses the pan of meatballs within her hands, nearly falling down the stairs as she rushes over to the court, “Oh my goodness, my baby! Oh lawd—What happened?—Who hurt my baby?!”

“I did something stupid, Ma’! Quit fussin’. Lawd, I’m fine,” He manages to groan out. 

His body was sweating, the veins in his neck going rigid as he fought to keep his composure—each time Blue’s palm slid across his skin, he wanted to scream.

Blue places his arm on her shoulder, huffing as she lifts herself and his weight along her body. She manages to say at the same time, “Just lean on me, okay? Don’t put any weight on it.”

Onyankopon could hear the slight wheeze in Blue’s breath as his mother started to yell, “Get him on the bench! Where’s the ice pack—Where’s Ama?!” 

“I can try to walk, Blue—ion’ need you hurting yourself tryna’ help me.”

“What happened to all that flirting you was’ doing earlier—You don’t wanna be close to me no’ more?” She questions, distracting him as she takes another step towards the house.

A painful chuckle pushes from his lips. He had been trying to show off—and look where that got him. It was almost pathetic. 

“Your name really Blue, forreal’?” 

Her lashes flick up to him, the sunlight cascading within the ocean of her pupils. She then raises an eyebrow, “You’ really injured yourself tryna’ impress a girl?”

It wasn’t supposed to happen—but it did. Onyankopon blushes, the warmth across his face growing with embarrassment as she calls him out. 

Finally, he answers, “Yeah, aight. You got it.”

When they finally get him inside, the previous outburst of Onyankopon’s mother turns into an all out tantrum, up to the point where she kicks everyone out. Throughout the chaos, all Onyankopon could think about was the softness of Blue’s hand in his—the way each time he looked back at her, she squeezed his fingers, giving a soft smile. He thought about her as she sat across from him, and even at the hospital when she’d already left. 

Why couldn’t he get this girl off his mind?

Standing in front of his condo the next day wasn’t in Blue’s original plans. When Ama told her that his condition wasn’t looking too good, regardless of how overly flirtatious he was—she felt bad. And being the empath she unfortunately was, she was now standing in front of his door, bifold glass seeing right into the tinted foyer of his home as she stepped in. 

Sleek black interior accompanied paintings hung above the minimalist styled furniture. Her curiosity came to a halt as she heard a couple of voices at the end of the hall, making her way to where they followed, but slowing down when she heard the conversation. 

Onyankopon sat along the bench of his indoor gym, frown locked down to his knee wrapped in gauze as the doctor continued to speak to him.

“It seems you’ve torn your PCL.”

“And what does that injury intel?” His father questions, “Is that the same as tearing your ACL?”

“Not as severe, but still just as bad. With rest and rehabilitation, you could be back playing within the next  two months.” 

Two months?

His father shakes his head, “Hollon’—He has playoffs in four weeks. He just signed a contract with the Pelicans, he can’t miss that. Two months isn’t plausible—Is there any way we can speed up the process?”

“Pops.” 

Onyankopon’s voice is a warning, already frustrated with the news he receives. His father wasn’t helping that. 

The doctor sighs, “Well, it’s not that easy. Onyankopon would need extensive physical therapy if he wants to be ready for the playoffs. If he doesn’t take the right precautions, he could risk tearing his ACL, and he’ll have to sit out for a lot longer—or in the worst case, have a career ending injury. If he listens—” 

His father cuts him off. 

“I’ll get him in the best goddamn rehab in Louisiana—We’ll make it work.”

That’s when they all hear a phone ringing. Blue curses, immediately cutting off the sound as she looks down to her screen. She blows out a breath as she peeks to the other side of the wall, seeing all three men looking over at her.

“Sorry,” she softly greets, “I um—was just bringing Ony something—I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“You can come in. It’s aight,” He tells her, his gaze flickering over her form.

She notices a scowl along his face, seemingly irritated from this conversation. She couldn’t help but take account of his shirtless appearance, eyes wavering over the strength he holds in the broad frame of his back, muscles structured beneath his intricate tattoos. 

The doctor looks away from his father, looking back to Onyankopon as he questions, “Do you want to take that risk?”

His jaw flexes at the question. He didn’t want to ruin his career by possibly hurting himself more, but he also had a family to be successful for. He didn’t have a choice. 

“I’ll be ready by’ playoffs.”

The doctor sighs, unable to argue with his decision. He then says, “We’ll find the best athletic trainer for you. But if you feel your knee worsening—you’ll have to consider sitting out.”

That’s when Onyankopon catches sight of Blue again. She looks as if she’d just come from the gym— indigo baby tee and yoga pants hugging her curvy figure. Square glasses tip on her freckles nose, curls out her face from a matching headband. 

That’s when he says, “I want her.” 

Her eyebrows raise. Blue frowns, “What?”

Onyankopon looks at his father as he continues, “She used to hoop back in college. Now she works with athletes— I need to play shit safe and get someone good.”

Blue’s frown deepens, “Onyankopon—I can’t accept that. I’ve only worked with college athletes—I don’t even have my masters!—“

“I trust you.”  

His voice holds no hesitation, his piercing gaze meeting her eyes as he promises, “I will do what I have to do. But I want you to be the one to get me there—can you do that?” 

He can see the hesitance along her face, the baby pink box she holds tightening under her fingers. 

Onyankopon looks towards his father as he dismisses, “Lemme’ talk to her, Pops.”

Both men exit, their footsteps growing quiet as they leave them in silence, Blue’s face nowhere near convinced on this idea. But instead of him immediately reeling back the conversation, he scoots off the bench as he questions, “What you’ got me?”

She looks down to the box, now feeling a little childish. 

 “Oh—um—I knew you were upset with everything that happened yesterday, so—I got you a lil’ cupcake at this bakery by my house. They put a basketball on it?” 

She lifts the box towards him, “I just…wanted to make you feel better,” she nervously giggles, lifting the desert towards him.

A grin slowly curls onto his full lips. He chuckles for a second, “You only being nice to a nigga ‘cause he hurt—that’s cold,” He shakes his head, standing to his feet, the muscles in his arms flexing with each motion. 

She notices that as he makes his way over to her, Onyankopon places his weight on one leg, limping on the other. He takes the box from her fingers, his hand grazing Blue’s in the exchange, catching the softness of her palm again. Warm. That usual blush appears along her face as he opens the box, staring down at the small cupcake topped with a basketball.

“You should be using your crutches,” she looks behind him, seeing as they lean along the bench.

“C’mon, Mama. I ain’t even hired you yet and you trippin’—quit all that,” he smacks his lips, “I’m tryna’ have you feed me.”

She looks around, “Feed who? The grown man standing across from me?”

“Lawd, here you go with that attitude. I liked when you was playin’ soft,” He murmurs, breaking the cupcake in half, reaching a piece out to her. 

She looks down at his hand, sighing as she reluctantly takes the other half from him. Her lashes flutter as she blinks, “You’ serious about this? Me getting you ready for ‘playoffs?”

“Yeah.” 

This close, Blue can smell his cologne again—the mixture of spice and cocoa. His cologne combined with his natural musk was intoxicating. He notices how she swallowed her nervousness, his lip tipping upwards for a moment before he asks, “I make you nervous or sum?’”

“Save that for your groupies,” she dismisses, “I’m not here to fuck around with you, Ony. You’re not gonna blame me for making your injury worse, meaning you need to be serious about wanting to be back on the court by playoffs.”

He hums at that, “I like when you tryna’ be all professional. It’s cute. What you’ need me to do? Beg? Get on my knees?”

“The knee you don’t have?” She fires back, “Yeah—aight. I’m gone,” she grabs for her bag, “You’re not taking this shit seriously.”

“Blue,” He calls, letting out a long sigh as she begins making her way out, “C’mon, girl. What I’ need to do?”

“Call your father and have him find you a rehab center.”

She disappears behind the wall—but the front door shutting is what really signifies that the conversation had ended. 

“Blue—Yo!” 

She was gone. 

He groans, sucking his teeth as he grabs one of the crutches in the corner. This was gonna be a long four weeks.

                                      𝓐ᥫ᭡

THE SUNLIGHT WAS PEACEFUL AS SHE SAT ON THE BLEACHERS. Blue was finishing off another week in her work schedule, ending a therapy session with one of her students who was now scattering across the court at practice with the rest of his team. Multiple men passed the ball, talked shit to each other, pushing and shoving along the court as they played an unserious game. Seeing the smile along their faces made her realize how important this sport was to someone like them—how important it was to her. 

Her phone buzzes. Ama, as she expected. Blue sighs, pressing the phone to her ear as she greets, “I hope you ain’t calling to cuss me out ‘cause I didn’t take the job your brother offered.” 

“I come in peace, promise. I know his big headed ass is hard to deal with,” her friend chuckles, “Are you at work?”

“Yeah. Just finished a session with one of my ball players. He’s doing really good— ecstatic to be back on the court,” a small smile comes to her face. She can’t help but ask, “How’s Ony doing?”

“He’s…okay? Off the crutches, been doing a lot of PT, even shuffled around the court this morning.”

“But?” 

Blue could hear the uncertainty in her friend's voice, hearing a sigh come through the phone as Ama continues, “But—he’s not himself. Kinda hurts to see my twin moping around, y’know? Look, don’t get mad but…he really needs you, Blue.”

She sighed, “Don’t start, Ama.”

“I’m being serious!,” She exclaims, “I don’t know how, but…Blue—He’s different since you’ve been around. After you left his house, the nigga started PT that same day! I ain’t never seen him be so on top of something since his Nike had a sale,” She takes a breath, “Please? It’s just for the playoffs. Just three more weeks and then you’re done. My twin is all sad, and if he’s sad, I’m sad, and you don’t want me to be sad, right? ‘Cause you love me. Exactly.”

Blue rolls her eyes, giving a soft laugh in response. She’d never heard Ama be so adamant when it came to Onyankopon, meaning she was entirely serious. She hoped that their last interaction put a fire under his ass, and gave him the encouragement to get himself together in time for his next game. Being there for him wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

She finalizes, “I’ll go back over there tomorrow.” 

And she did. Blue was up early the next morning, already pushing her way into the glass panel of his front door, two machas within a cup holder as she quietly entered the condo. It was more peaceful in the morning, the sunlight tilting into the windows—but she was distracted by the sound of a bear growling.

It in fact wasn’t a bear, but Onyankopon passed out along the sofa as he slept. Blue thought Ama was exaggerating when she said that her brother was in a funk—but when she saw the open box of pizza beside his head, his pillows fallen all over the ground, and his body wrapped up in a hoodie—she might’ve been right. 

Blue glanced over to the TV that played cartoons, looking back down to him as she called, “Onyankopon.”

Nothing.

His snores nearly bounced off the walls, rumbling the bottom of her feet as if he were an animal. She rolled her eyes, leaning down as she shoved his shoulder, “Onyankopon.” 

Still nothing. 

Okay. She sat the matcha down, going into the kitchen as her eyes searched around his cabinets. Retrieving a bowl, she went over to his fridge as she filled it with cold water, adding ice within the mixture before making her way back into the living room. And without another thought—she tossed the contents on top of him.

“Nigga—” 

His voice sounded like a low growl, his large body jolting as he felt the water on his skin. He blinked the moisture from his eyes, slowly becoming conscious as the room came into focus, “The fuck?!”

“Get up,” she demands, raising the bowl as if she were going to toss it, “You better—“

“Don’t you see me up?!”

“No! I see a nigga hibernating on the couch!”

“I was asleep!”

He grunts, shifting himself to sit up before the coldness settles onto his chest. His brows furrow, glaring at the bowl in her hand before he stood. 

“You better back yo’ ass up before I come over there.”

“That’s if you could limp over here in time!” 

She raises the bowl again, Onyankopon flinching as he says, “Aight! Damn. I’m up, I’m up.” 

“You up?” she questions, bucking the bowl one more time.

"Blue—" 

He groans, "Get yo' lil' ass out the way with that bowl, forreal. 'Cause if I get over there, imma’ have you runnin.’ Swear to god.” 

Blue narrows her eyes, taking a step back as she lowers her hand. She then smiles, “Meet me in the gym after you shower—and drink your matcha!” She calls, disappearing into the hallway. 

“This girl here, man.” 

After Onyankopon cleans the living room, he quickly takes a shower, making his way towards the gym—music is already humming along the room, catching sight of Blue who stands in the middle of his miniature court. The architecture was a matte black, matching equipment with silver linings all across the floor. His eyes lower to Blue’s ass as she stretches, too distracted to hear him entering. 

“You know what you’ doing, Ms. Trainer?” 

She turns her head, looking across the entrance as she sees Onyankopon, Nike long sleeve hugging his muscles, his team's sweatpants matching the navy blue top he wears.  

She pulls her eyes away from how big he was, reaching for a ball along the wall as she says, “C’mon.”

“C’mon, what?”

“We finna’ hoop.” 

He doesn’t budge from his spot, raising an eyebrow.

“You think I’m joking?” 

Blue locks her fingers at the edge of her sweatshirt, pulling the oversized material off her body and tossing it on the ground. She begins to clip her hair up in her orchid comb, “They’ told me you’re off the crutches— I wanna see how comfortable you are on the court.”

A smirk curves along his lips when she removes her shirt—the baby pink workout set she wore hugs her body perfectly. 

“Yo’ mama know you got that ass?”

The moment he comes closer, she’s quick. She opens her palms, tossing the ball towards him with a tilt to her head, “Quit distracting. Show me why they made you’ point guard.” 

Blue takes a step back, squatting herself down a bit. Her eyes watch as he steps forward, but she catches the light limp he does as he begins dribbling. 

She points out, “You’ll have to put your weight on it eventually.”

“You gotta’ let a nigga warm up.”

He’s making his way towards the rim—but he was slower—he couldn’t use his speed to his advantage like he usually did. 

The moment she’s close to him, Blue snatches the ball from his hands, hugging the object within her fingers. Onyankopon backs up. 

She raises an eyebrow, “What are you doing?—I know you ain’t scared to hoop.” 

He scoffs, “Nah, it’s just—you got that pretty face. Ion’ wanna’ bump you.”

“I play with niggas all the time,” she re-ties her hair, “C’mon. Play like you forreal’, pussy.”

It was like a switch went off in his body at the insult. Onyankopon gave her a warning, “Watch yo’ mouth, Blue.” 

“Come take the ball from me then.”

“I heard you’ the first time.”

He was more focused this time around, hand swiping the ball from her fingers before she could blink. Blue let out a grunt as he easily moved around her, and that’s when he shoved her body to the side— Blue stumbling back, watching as he took long strides towards the basket—But before he could even attempt his shot, her hand interfered, breathlessly swatting the ball out his hand and taking it into her own.

“I thought we was’ playing forreal’?” He retorts.

As Blue begins sprinting, Onyankopon catches the back of her sweatpants, yanking her back as he grunts, “Where you goin’?”

Blue shrieks, dropping the ball as she smacks his hand away, “That’s a foul, dipshit!” 

“You on my basketball court,” He replies, lifting his hand to snatch the ball before it touches the ground, “Foul my ass. I thought you wanted to see some real effort?” 

He grips her forearm as he pulls her back beside him, turning her body as he places the ball within her palm, “Show me that college ball player shit. You’ wastin’ my time.”

“Oh?” She glares, “Okay—Guard me from shooting then.”

“Ion’ need to guard you,” He steps to the side, leaving the rim wide open, “Shoot. Gon’ head.” 

And as soon as she did, he was quick in interfering with her motion, his long arm palming the basketball. She let out a small huff in defeat—but she could be faster. Blue manages to retrieve the ball in time and the moment she turns, her body slams into his. 

His towering frame blocked her pathway to the rim as she tried to move in another direction, but her hands couldn't catch the ball—Onyankopon now had it back within his grasp. They both give each other a breathless laugh, and despite this moment being important—they were having fun. 

As Onyankopon goes to take another step, he stops, sucking in a breath as he places a hand along his knee. A sharp pain shoots through his entire leg. 

Blue immediately pauses, “You okay?”

At first, he wanted to deny, ignore the pain—but it was evident along his face. His voice lowers, “I’m good—I, damn—“

He’s unable to finish his sentence, gritting his teeth as he tries to move towards the bench—but he’s unable to. After another moment, Blue’s shoulder presses under his arm as she murmurs, “Lean on me, alright? We’re both done playing.”

“I’m good,” he brushes off, “I’m tryna’ do some training.”

She kept him leaning against her, even if he was trying to move away. Blue questions, “You sure? We can just play it safe—do a couple stretches, Ony.”

His head tilts down at her, his hand gripping the curve of her shoulder as he answers, “Play it safe for what? I was just runnin’ around with you on the court—I gotta’ be back up in three weeks, Blue. I can’t do safe,” his voice is harsh, “I’m good.”

Blue pulls away from him as she relents, “Okay.”

After a while, they began moving into a couple of exercises—one of them being where Onyankopon had to lay along a yoga mat as he raised his knee a couple inches off the ground, attempting to reach Blue’s finger tips. While that might’ve sounded easy, he was huffing through the tightness within his leg, trying to shove down the uncomfortable position. 

Blue’s touch might’ve been a helpful factor to each movement. Her warm palms gripped along his ankle, guiding him in the correct angle. 

“Three more,” she promises, “Just gimme’ those, and we’ll move on.”

Onyankopon is quiet during their session, his grunts sounding with each new exercise they’d done. It wasn’t until he was on his feet, doing a movement that called for a slow squat where his groans began.

At the same time, Blue stands across from him as she makes sure his form is correct. She had to stop him a couple times to show the proper stance, squatting herself down for demonstration. She could feel his eyes.

“You’ good at doing that.“

Blue’s sighs, “Focus, please. Let’s try this again—I’ll do it with you.”

There was one thing that Onyankopon hadn’t mentioned in this entire process. In between each set, Blue would glance at her phone. She wasn’t distracted to a point that interfered with her work, but her attention was …diverted. 

It wasn’t until he was doing his final exercise that he said something. He sat upright along the floor as a towel wrapped around the base of his foot, both palms grasping the ends of the material as he slowly pulled his leg back and forth. 

Blue’s gaze wavers against the screen of her phone, her attention being pulled away as she hears him say, “Who’s the nigga you over there so worried about?”

Her brows furrow at the question. She places her phone down, raising her palm over his, “You’re supposed to be pulling with your hands, your leg shouldn’t be doing the work.” 

She then decides to respond, “Who said I was worried about a nigga?”

“You just seem distracted.”

He continues the movement, following her instructions as he grunts, “He must’ve done somethin’ to get all that attention I’m not gettin’. What if my knee shatters right now?”

“Ony,” she flinches, “Don’t say that. I’m sorry, okay? No more phone.”

“I didn’t say to blow off my question.”

Blue blinks at him, annoyed with his pressing. She then says, “You wanna hear that I’m stalking my ex and his new bitch?”

“There we go,” He answers, his leg returning down towards the floor as he begins the set again, “That’s what you should’ve been said.” 

He looks up as he questions, “Why is he yo’ ex?”

She doesn’t expect him to be curious. Blue waits a couple moments, not entirely comfortable as she flatly says, “He played ball like you, was better at playing me.” 

“I’m sure it’s more than that,” his brow quirks, “Keep talkin’. I’m tryna’ hear your mouth run.”

“And why do you care?” She adjusts the towel under his foot, “None of that matters. He’s in a relationship, and I can’t be mad at that.”

“But you’ mad cause he fucked you over.”

“Did I say all that or were you just listening too hard?”

“You don’t have to,” He counters, raising his leg back down for one final set, “I already know.”

His brows knit together as he grunts, his body tensing as he forces his knee back. 

Once he’s done, he continues, “And what you talkin’ bout? He could be the President, don’t matter—the fact you can’t get over it tells me he must’ve hurt you.”

“People get hurt all the time, Onyankopon,” Blue reminds him, “I’m a big girl, I survived. I just—need to get over the situation like he did.”

“And how you gon’ do that?” he questions, sitting back up straight, his hand throwing the towel beside him. 

He was looking at her. Studying the way each curl fell along her face, “By being on your phone at every break? Don’t sound like you’ tryna’ get over it to me.”

“Do I tell you how to handle the relationship aspect of your life?” She squints, “You and your groupies have a very close bond—I’m sure. Ain’t nobody tryna’ sit there and tell you how to stop fuckin’ around on multiple bitches.”

“Whoa,” He raises both palms, a soft chuckle coming from his lips as he says, “Aight, aight. Sensitive topic, I see.” 

There’s a moment of silence as he stares down at his fingers, “My groupies ain’t the problem. Can’t compare that to your cheating ass nigga.”

“I think sometimes you just like to hear yourself talk,” Blue mutters, “Get in the crocodile stretch so I can massage your knee, please.”

“I like hearing you talk more.” 

He scoots down along the floor, using his hands to slowly roll himself onto his chest. He grunts as he continues, reaching his arms above his head and hiding his face within both of them.

Onyankopon’s jaw tenses, his brows pinching together. But soon enough, a small sigh leaves his lips as he feels her fingers run along his knee. She takes her thumb as she digs it into the muscle, deeply knotting her bone into a specific spot on his leg. 

Blue then admits, “…I didn’t mean to snap on you. I just—hate that I’m not over the situation. That’s all.”

Her touch was so gentle.

He let out a grunt of relief, lifting his head off his forearms to look back to her. His eyes narrow, a soft chuckle leaving his lips as he murmurs, “You gettin’ soft on me, Mama.”

She rolls her eyes, “Are you listening, or is this you just wanting to hear my voice again?”

“Both. Yo’ voice pretty as fuck.”

He sees the glimmer of freckles on her umber complexion, watching the way she nibbles along her lower lip, lowering her lashes. Shy. That’s the word he could think of. 

“Are you ever gonna keep it professional with me?” She questions, glancing up to the TV that plays along the wall from across, the smallest smile along her face.

“Don’t wanna’. I can’t lie to you.”

He then catches her smile, and that’s when he says, “See. You know what it is.” 

His tone lowers as he questions, “Why you gotta’ be so scared of a nigga trying to get to know you?” 

“You beggin’ me now?” she raises an eyebrow, pulling herself back from his leg.

“Damn.” 

He rolls over on his back, sitting up straight as he reaches for the towel beside him, wiping the sweat from his chest as he concludes, “Can’t do nothin’. You’ cold again.”

When she glances back up to the TV, she slows her movements as she sees a familiar face—his to be exact, different cuts from Onyankopon’s seasonal journey. He’s rushing across the court at one of his games, smiling ear to ear as he’s being interviewed.

”The star player was just signed to the Pelicans two months ago, and is already facing a career-threatening injury. Will he power through back in time for playoffs?

“I certainly hope so. Otherwise, he’ll be forgotten like anyone else just starting up.”

“Can you turn that off?” 

His voice was stern, a glare on the screen as highlights continued playing. Every layup, every block, every dunk—it was a reel of everything he couldn’t do right now.

She reached for the remote as she shut it off, standing from the position she was in, “Earlier when we played—I could tell you were scared to move around the court. You can’t be afraid to do that.”

“Ain’t nobody scared.”

She crosses her arms at that, seeing that he’s growing irritated at her words. 

“You can be mad. That’s fine.”

“Why you tryna’ make me mad?” 

The frustration was evident in his tone, his eyes narrowing as he continued, “You think you got a nigga figured out when you just met me a week ago.”

“This coming from the same nigga that said he trusted me a day after meeting?” she reminds, “I’m not here to make you feel worse. I’m here because I know how you feel— Nobody is gonna believe in you if you don’t believe in you.”

And that made his expression falter. 

He couldn’t speak. Onyankopon stares for a few moments until he lets out a heavy breath, his head shaking as he says, “I’m just mad.”

“I know that.”

Blue scans his face, seeing an uncomfortable sense within it. She then says, “Your progress is better than any patient I’ve had. You love the court, I can see that. You’ll be there by the playoffs.”

He stays silent at that, her words filling his head before he murmurs, “Yeah— Thank you.”

“You also need some milk,” she adds on, “Your bones feel brittle as hell.”

He lets out a low chuckle, staring down at her hands. His large palms could cover both of them. He then pushes back the vulnerable side that wants to come out, “You’ hungry?”

“I am,” she sighs, walking over to the court as she pulls her sweatshirt back on, “I was gonna eat once I got home. You did good today— we can start back up tomorrow.”

“Stay and eat, then.” 

She looks back at him, her hand halting along her duffle bag. His smile grows, “Got shit in the kitchen, we just needa’ run to the store for a couple ingredients—I’m more than protein shakes and smoothies.”

“You need rest, Onyankopon. You ain’t finna’ sleep if we’ playing around in the grocery store,” she reminds, placing her duffle over her shoulder.

“C’mon,” He smacks his lips, taking long strides to stand in front of her. His broad shoulders blocked her path to the door, “Tell me you ain’t craving some food-food. What you’ want? Dirty rice, red beans? Let me know sum.’”

Blue looks up at him, the height gap so evident as he finalizes, “You’ll sleep good as fuck after. Promise.”

“This your way of tryna’ get me to stay?” She sighs, “You’ sure you can cook anything without burning the house down?”

He moves towards the double glass of his front doors, “It’s my way of apologizing to you, aight? I was kinda’ a dick head earlier, forreal’—my food’ good as hell, Mama. You gon’ be beggin’ for more.”

“Wrong. I don’t beg.”

They make it to the nearest Whole Foods, Onyankopon protesting as Blue forces him to push the cart, wanting him to have something to put his weight on. She walks slowly as she glances through the aisle, “What you’ in the mood for?”

“You.”

There’s a small smirk along his lips as she glares at him, his tone growing low again as he murmurs, “My bad, my bad. Whatever you want, I’m not trippin’.”

She keeps walking, now ending up towards the produce aisle. She scans the selections, “You’ got enough fruit for your smoothies? I may need to grab some for mine,” she mutters, leaning over as she scans the basket of bananas.

“Are you a banana?” 

She turns her head, frowning at the question, “What?”

Onyankopon leans towards her, “‘Cause I find you real’ a—peel—ling.”

Blue’s entire expression drops, “Oh no—We’ve moved into bad pick up lines. Jesus Christ. Please don’t—“

“Ooh, girl. You must be a strawberry or sum’,” He interrupts, tossing the items within the basket, “‘Cause you’re berry beautiful to me!” 

“Is this my personal hell? I’m walking away from you!”

“Chill! Chill! I have one more—” 

He lets out a laugh as he follows behind her, still leaning against the cart’s edge as he looks over to the section of pineapples. 

“If you were a fruit, you’d be a fine-apple!” 

“How about you make like them’ bananas you was talking about earlier, and split?”

Onyankopon’s mouth drops open, watching as Blue waltz further away from the basket, playfully twisting her hips with each step she takes. 

She turns back to him, “Oh you liked that one, huh? That was good?”

A man walks past the both of them, Onyankopon leaning towards him as he questions, “Nigga—you heard that? How she came back at me with my own puns? You hear them’ wedding bells? Do you?”

She giggles, seeing the man’s frown as she exclaims, “Please ignore him—I’m sorry!”

When they go into the aisle of pastries, a gasp falters Blue’s lips as she speeds around a table full of cupcakes, “You think they have—“

Her eyes search, her face dropping in disappointment, “Ugh—They don’t have them,” a pout almost comes to her lips, deciding to look along the other options of cakes and bread. 

“What you’ lookin’ for, Mama?” 

She sighs, “They usually have these red velvet cupcakes I like. They have frosting on the inside of them!—“

She halts, realizing she’s a little too excited, “Sorry. Yeah, they’re good.”

“Stop apologizin’. They don’t got’ them?”

“No,” she’s now pouting, genuinely disappointed. 

“We can go to every Whole Foods in the city until we find em’. Quit allat’ pouting.”

She rolls her eyes, “You wouldn’t do that.”

“You think I’m playin’?” he questions, eyes narrowing at her, “I’ll take my ass to muhfuckin’ Mississippi if you need me to.”

She hates that her heart flutters. Blue then shakes her head, voice soft, “It’s fine—I’ll go look in another aisle, okay?” 

She goes to the next area of snacks, trying to find a sweet substitute for her cravings. She ends up finding a pack of Oreos, seeing a red velvet flavor at the top of the aisle, unable to reach it due to her height.

“Hell,” she mutters.

“Need help?”

The voice is…familiar. It’s as if her entire body goes cold, and immediately recognizes the tone without him having to say anything else. When her face turns towards him—there he is.

Hazel brown eyes, only made of the devil if she had a comparison. Light brown skin, his dark hair in waves, as handsome as he wanted to be. Fuck, why were evil men so fine?

To make matters worse, that faceless body that was within the picture she constantly stared at now had a face—she was the complete opposite of Blue. Tan skin, close to an olive tone. Her hair was more wavy than curly, a smaller frame, as if she were able to slip in anything and look good. She was perfect. 

“Trey—Uh—hey?”

“Wassup, Blue?”

Something in her body flinched at the sound of him saying her name. 

A smirk grows along his lips as he looks down to the cookies in her hand, “I remember these were your favorite.”

His voice was the same, smooth. 

His eyes linger on the length of her, “How you’ been?”

How have I been? 

She wanted to smack him, get violent. Maybe even smack the woman next to him. 

“I’m good,” she pushes out, “Who’s this?” She looks at the woman, giving her best attempt of a polite smile.

“This is Nia,” he introduces, his arm now circling around the woman as he pulls her close, “My fiancè.” 

Nia smiles, “It’s really nice to meet you, Trey’s told me so much about you!” 

Blue could have cried on the spot. Her face felt entirely warm, and something in her was starting to become extremely upset. 

“It’s uh…nice to meet you too. I hope all good things were said.”

Onyankopon turns down the aisle in search of her, finding Blue interacting with two strangers—but just by the look on her face, he knew exactly who they were. You could say he had a flair for the dramatics. 

“Yo’, baby, you found what you was’ looking for?”

Blue frowns, “Huh?”

He walks up to her, “Why you’ always tryna’ do shit by yoself’ when you know you got me? C’mon,” he reaches up for the sweet treat, tossing it in the basket.

“Who’s this?” 

Trey’s question felt a little sharp. Nia on the other hand, looks entirely starstruck. A blush comes along her fair skin as she swats Trey’s arm, “Honey, this is the new player on the Pelicans—Onyankopon, right?”

Onyankopon nods, his arm now going to mirror Trey’s action of holding his girl by the waist. But instead of going for Blue’s hip, his palm latches onto her ass, squeezing the flesh under his fingers, tugging her closer to his large frame.

“You gon’ introduce me, huh?” Her murmurs, mouth hovering along hers, Blue able to feel the warmth of his breath. 

Her cheeks feel detached from her face. She stutters, “U—Um, this is Onyankopon, my—“

“Her husband,” he finishes, “Baby always being shy on shit. She ‘real adamant on getting our rings cleaned every other week, so she can’t show off that rock that be’ on her finger right now.”

His face is centimeters from hers. Onyankopon’s voice is low as he questions, “You’ got everything you need?”

Blue’s lashes flutter, trying to hold her composure as she nods, “Yeah—“

And then, he kisses her. 

Their lips smush together, a low groan coming from his throat as she lets him taste her. 

Blue tries to pull back, but Onyankopon's hand wraps along the back of her neck, holding her in place as he keeps going. His tongue slides along her own, sinking in and out of her mouth. It sends a jolt all the way between her thighs, Blue lightly panting in a way she didn’t expect herself to. 

When he pulls back, she exhales, pressing her hand against his chest as her face went from warm to entirely hot. Her face pulls back to the couple across from them, both her ex and his fiancè shocked at their affection towards each other. They’re almost bothered at the sight. 

“Um—“ a nervous giggle releases from Blue’s lips, “It was nice seeing you, Trey. We um, we have to go. Yeah?” She turns her face back to Onyankopon.

He presses one last kiss to her lips, a look of irritation on Trey's face he glares daggers.

Blue was officially red, Onyankopon's arm going around her waist as he said, "I’m hungry as hell. Finna’ fuck around and eat you. C’mon."

She politely waved to the couple, tugging at Onyankopon's arm, dragging him around the corner towards the check-out lanes.

That’s when Blue finally released an actual giggle, the sound unfamiliar to Onyankopon as she whispered, “Why did you do that?!”

“To piss him off,” He answers, “And it worked. I hope that nigga’s jaw is clenched as hell right now.” 

He slows down the cart as he then asks, “You aight, though? You look like you seen’ a ghost earlier.”

“I’m okay—I just didn’t expect to see him out of all’ people. Not to mention that he’s engaged,” she places the items atop of the lane, pushing them forward with a soft frown along her face. 

“You thought I was gon’ let that nigga just embarrass you? Fuck allat.’”

“Why did you go as far as to say we were married?”

Onyankopon shrugs, “Manifestation?”

And once again, Blue laughs.

Two weeks had gone by. Intense Physical therapy, exercising, and training was the only thing filling Onyankopon’s schedule. His family was shocked to hear how miraculous his recovery was—and he had no one to thank except Blue.

It was now the night before playoffs, Blue coming over to drop off the new knee brace she’d bought for him. She closes the door behind herself softly as he’d told her that he’d be going to bed early, trying to tip toe towards his gym. But when she sees the kitchen lights on—she halts.

She looks along the marble counter, seeing different ingredients from flour, sugar, eggs, butter, and oil. A frown came along her face at the cupcake pans next to the supplies.

She slowly walks forward as she questions, “Ony?” 

A figure appears from the bathroom. Her mouth immediately parts open, a palm going over her lips as she sees him shirtless, a chef's hat slanting on top of his head.

She giggles, “What are you doing?”

“You thought I was just bullshitting about finding you them’ red velvet cupcakes?” He questions, going to stand in front of the kitchen’s island, “Imma’ make them for you.”

Dammit. There goes her heart fluttering again. She rolls her eyes as she goes over to him, pulling the hat off his head while wiping the flour along his nose, “Maybe I can help with that. What do you need me to do, chef?” 

Spending time with him outside of PT was different. Seeing him go as far as to make the dessert she’d wanted weeks ago, made her realize how much he’d actually been thinking about her.

Blue watched as he stood on the other side of the counter, rolling up a blunt they’d agreed on smoking together. Her eyes might’ve been…drifting at him doing such a simple task, palm slow in mixing the batter.

“You gon’ have to keep them’ pretty ass eyes off me, Blue. Unless you tryna’ have a nigga come over there.”

Onyankopon eyes are still down. His tongue rolls across the blunt, sealing the object.

A small smile comes along her face, placing her focus back along the batter as she replies, “Sorry.”

He chuckles, placing the end between his lips before igniting the blunt—taking a long drag, smoke wafting out his nose as he questioned, “Yo’ momma named you that ‘cause of them’ oceans you got for eyes?”

She softly laughs, “No. I was stuck in the hospital a couple weeks after she gave birth to me—premature, less than five pounds. My mom said I cried like hell in that incubator, and it made her cry. Gave her the blues. My eyes are on the account of my grandfather who had some syndrome, passed it down to me. I guess it just felt appropriate.”

Her voice was smooth. His eyes watched as she moved, trying to keep her composure as she poured her batter into the cupcake liners. It had to be the smoke, or the fact that he liked her, as his mind began to wander on how she’d sound moaning in his ear. He takes another hit, the blunt still between his fingers as he exhales, passing the object over to her.

She reaches over, pressing the brown bud in between her dark pink lips. She then questions, “Why you’ so interested in me? You ain’t got a bunch of bitches lined up to play basketball wife?”

“And I know you got a lot more niggas than me tryna’ talk to you, but who’s the only one making you them’ cupcakes?” He questions, leaning against the kitchen counter. 

“Still not you. I’m the one mixing the batter,” she points out.

She looks up to see the instant irritation on his face. 

He eases up as he leans forward, “Pass that shit back, you blowin’ me. Throw a nigga a bone. Somethin’.”

Her eyes are still against the burgundy contents of the batter, thinking of his words. It was hard for her to open up at times—but she’d spent a lot of time with Onyankopon at this point, and she couldn’t deny the feelings developing for him. It was time to give him some vulnerability.

“I um—I tore my ACL back in college.”

Blue can see the frown that comes to his face. She hates that she can feel a heaviness within her chest, pushing herself to continue, “Had a girl off another team push me the wrong way, and my knee shattered when I stumbled. I mean—I still do something I love, but I loved playing ball more. I think that’s why I tend to be so hard on you about your recovery. You still have the opportunity to play—so play.” 

He remains quiet as he digests what she tells him. Going from knowing nothing about this girl, to knowing all of the shit she’d been through—it made him want her more.

She notices his face, releasing her hands from the bowl as she apologizes, “I wasn’t tryna’ fuck up the mood.”

“You didn’t,” he says, his words a low murmur, “All that shit you went through made you who you are now. You tough as fuck, Blue. Selfless as hell, too. Nobody could take that shit from you.”

Her heart beats as he comes around the counter, distracting herself as she steals the blunt from his fingers, “You just sayin’ all that cause I got you ready for playoffs.”

“You hear me, right?” 

He was so close, tilting his head down, keeping his face close to hers. 

She blinks slowly, exhaling the smoke from her lips as she nods, “I hear you, Ony.” 

“So why you actin’ like you don’t believe that a nigga got feelings for you?”

“Cause you’re sayin’ all this when you’re high.” 

“I’m barely high,” his eyes wandered down to her lips, “Why you frontin’?”

Her high was now hitting her, creating a buzz along her body, her lids a little heavier than before. She turns towards the counter, grabbing for the frosting bag as she grins, “You ain’t finish making my cupcakes. I thought you said you liked me?” She tilts her head, eyes glowing a slight shade of red.

“I like you like hell,” he grunts, latching a kiss along her cheek, it makes her giggle and push at his chest. He notices the way she relaxes, “How’ you feelin’, Mama—you good?” His tone was sensual, but genuine, “You wanna’ lay down?”

“You think I can’t handle myself?” She frowns, “I’m good, boy. Want some frosting? I hope it’s buttercream!”

She wraps her arms around his neck, “Put me on the counter. My feet hurt.”

He chuckles, grabbing her by the waist as he sits her atop the island, sliding both her legs apart. 

“Better?”

“Mhm,” she nods, beginning to rub her palms along the sides of his neck, “You’re so sweet.”

“You the sweetest thing on this island,” he counters, sliding her lower along the edge. He stands in between her legs, palms along her thighs.

“Sweeter than the frosting?” She questions, squeezing some along her finger, wrapping her lips along the tip of her index.

“You playin’.”

Onyankopon’s large hand wraps around her wrist, pulling her finger out of her mouth. He then takes her digits in between his own lips, tongue dragging along the frosting.

Blue takes more frosting along her free hand, plopping some on the edge of his chin. Her giggles aren’t something he’s used to yet. He could replay them over and over. Now seeing her like this—floaty, flirty, it might’ve had his mind elsewhere. 

She blows out a breath, eyes boring into his as she pouts, “You gotta re-light the blunt, it went out.”

She was seated on the island, and yet his head was still level with her own. His voice was a low rumble as he continued, “Why you’ worried about that? Youn’ want my tongue instead?”

“On me?”

“All over you, girl,” his voice drops further, lips inches from her own, “Where ‘you want me?”

She searches around his face, lightly pressing her teeth along the plush of her lip. Squeezing out more frosting, Blue swipes it along the side of her neck, her voice soft as she sighs, “…Here.”

“On that pretty ass neck,” he murmurs against her skin, lips dragging as close as possible. His kiss was light, teasing as he slowly made his way back up. Her neck smelled of cinnamon. 

She was within his grasp, tongue coating along her skin, the frosting smearing across her throat. Onyankopon could feel a shiver vibrating throughout her spine at the contact, Blue’s thighs squeezing together in response.

Her giggles lessen as his tongue drags all along the length of her neck, softening into breathy inhales. When she goes to pull her face down—his fingers dig into her curls, yanking her head back. Blue’s eyes roll back in response. 

“It t—tickles, Ony…”

He chuckles against her neck, his tongue coiling around the inside of her ear. It goes down, gliding past her jawline, lightly rushing across her lips.

The moment she feels his mouth along her own, her entire body tenses, thinking back to the kiss he’d given her in the store. Her palm slides to the back of his neck, breath wafting along his mouth as her thighs repeated in squeezing together. It’s as if she’s anticipating his next move, more needy than she expected herself to be. 

She lets it slip out as she whimpers, “Why won’t you kiss me…”

He pulls away, leaving only an inch of space between them, “Thought you didn’t believe a nigga liked you?”

The grip at the back of her curls loosen only slightly, his voice a husk as he grunts, “Open.”

A small giggle falls from her lips as she sticks out her tongue in response, rims of her eyes a dark azure. He lets out a low groan, tongue plunging deep within her mouth, twisting around her own. Their kiss makes her eyes feel heavier, her brain emptier, her thoughts—hornier. The frosting along her skin smudges everywhere as they move together, dropping along her thighs, sliding lower on her legs. Without another thought, Blue’s shriek echoes the walls as he locks her legs around his hips, carrying her onto the sofa.

Her back lays atop of the pillows, eyes flicking over to the mirror giving a perfect view of their bodies—The balls of her feet slide against his chest as she keeps her legs up, Onyankopon hovered above her, pressing the blunt back between his lips, swiping the lighter across his thumb. 

Blue’s low eyes watch him. He pulls the bud from his mouth, pressing a kiss to the side of her foot, pecking his lips towards her French tipped toes. 

“We were supposed to be baking,” she huffs in annoyance, but yet, she lightly rotates her hips at the sensation of his mouth.

When the blunt is lit, he drags his tongue along her calves. 

He then questions, “What were we makin’ again? Tell me.”

Her legs shake as he snatches the skin going up her leg in between his lips, “T—Those cupcakes you promised to make me, Ony…”

“That’s what you want right now?”

She wanted to answer back—she really did. She just couldn’t.

Onyankopon hands her back the blunt, Blue watching how his lips went from the back of her knees, to now meeting at her thighs, tongue gliding across any part of her skin he could reach.

When he drags more upward, there’s a smack when his lips meet her own. He watches as she pulls smoke into her mouth, holding it there until he grunts, “Give it to me.”

She pushes the smoke out, silence between the two as their lips seal together cohesively. 

His lips suck against hers, the kiss loud and sloppy. Blue softly whines. Her head nearly falls back to keep up with him, thighs opening, hung along the broad frame of his back. Onyankopon’s head was beginning to fuzz, which coaxed his head to duck down, tongue swirling, dancing along the inside of her thigh.

“Talk to me,” his voice mutters a seductive rasp against her skin, nose and mouth smushing against the warmth, “Whatchu’ thinkin’ about?”

She doesn’t wanna admit to what she’s actually thinking. But with his lips everywhere as he’d promised, smoking, and suppressing the tension she’d felt the moment she’d met this man—she couldn’t help it anymore.

“Want you in me, Ony.”

Her voice is pleading. Blue tugs the fabric of her panties to the side of her pelvic, too impatient to actually remove them, spreading her legs a bit wider. 

He groans at the sight. His eyes drop down as he grunts, “Lemme’ see that pretty ass pussy.”

Blue snatches the material farther, showing off the glistening sight of her bubblegum pink core, delectable under the lights of his home.

Onyankopon places the blunt on his glass coffee table, lips moving back up her skin until he meets her own again. He was already tugging down his sweatpants, hand coming up to the back of her neck as he kept her lips locked against his own. His tone was lowered.

“You sure?”

She nods her head, using her own hand to swipe along her pussy. She’s twisting her lower half a bit, “C’mon, Ony.” 

The sight of his tip was—not what she expected. It was a darkened pink, weighted, long as it smushed along her wet folds, kissing at the hidden part of her clit— Heavy, was all she could think. 

His voice is a grunt while he speaks, “I’m not gon’ fit like that. Lemme’ eat you.” 

“Make it fit,” she whimpers, splaying her fingers along the back of her thighs, spreading herself even more. 

His jaw clenched at her words. Onyankopon was practically glaring down at her. He grunts into a soft kiss as he leans down, capturing their lips together. He takes her legs, pressing her knees beneath his chest, ankles against the sides of his head as he has her trapped.

The moment she feels herself within this position, she rethinks all of her pleading. But it’s too late—Blue’s eyes lock down to watch his tip sink between her folds, an ache throbbing against her entire lower half. Her hips tense, but as that discomfort wafts through her entire body in waves, another ocean arises— a sense of pleasure meeting with that. Her mouth lightly parts as Onyankopon keeps his face close, Blue quietly inhaling, a long exhale panting from her lips. 

She places her hand to the back of his neck, a frown coming against her lips as she shudders, “O—oh shit…” 

His mouth covers all of her own, muffling her whimpers as he holds himself by the base, pushing in farther. His words are a low rumble, “You know I wanna hear you. Get loud.” 

Blue clutches the back of his head, eyes rolling back as he still hadn’t really moved, yet she felt everything. Their foreheads meet as she gives him another gasp, thighs trembling in response to his words.

“Ain’t no one ever took you this deep?” He grunts, his lips dragging to meet her neck, “Told you’ you wasn’t ready for allat.’”

He presses his mouth down to her throat, Blue’s bottom lip drooping even lower, her eyes screwing shut, feeling a rapture of pleasurable tears wanting to form. He still hadn’t moved. 

“You gon’ take me, ain’t you?”

 His tongue rolls along the skin closest to her shoulders.

Her legs vibrate in between their bodies, arousal creating a tiny puddle against the furniture, Blue knocking her head back along the sofa, trying to find words—she can’t. 

“S—shit, Ony,” she trembles, “Wait…”

“Nah,” he grunts, his voice a low growl. 

Deeper. 

“You can,” His eyes burn into her own, tip kissing at her opening as he drags out, sopping the warm skin of her pussy.

His voice is taunting. 

“This’ what you wanted, huh?” 

“Ony.”

He gives a low groan when she says his name, pressing their lips together as hips sinks back in. 

When their lips pull apart, his eyes lock on hers, “You so muhfuckin’ pretty, Mama.”

The compliment, his glare—it’s all too much. When she realizes she has no way out of this position, she raises her mouth up in the want of another kiss, her voice soft as she gives him a breathy whine, pouting along her mouth, moaning pitifully against Onyankopon’s lips.

His tongue coils along her own, sucking at each corner of her mouth, “Why you pouting’?”

She wraps an arm along the top of his back, pulling his face closer within her neck, allowing his nose to nudge against the warm flesh. His mouth is directly next to her ear, as hers is equally close to his own. She finds her words in a whine.

“Stretching me, baby…” 

She clutches him closer in, her eyes fully rolling back as she hides her face within his shoulder, “So full…” she whimpers.

The sensation had her eyes watering, and it made her shake against his body. Onyankopon lets out a low snarl. Hearing her right beside his ear was driving him insane.

“Look how you takin’ allat’,” he murmurs, giving her a slow grind, lips dragging along her temple, “You’ hear allat’ noise?” 

The noise she heard was wet—schluck, schluck, her walls bear hugging the stretch of his dick, practically sucking him farther in. 

A moan. It was vulnerable, a pure sound of pleasure. She hides her face within his shoulder, opening her legs a little more, keeping his nose against her throat. 

His hips now sling forward, a loud clap resounding as their thighs met. His hand grabs her thighs, pushing them upward, the new angle allowing him to go deeper inside.

“…Fuck,” she groans, placing the back of her palm against her mouth, her other fingers imbedded into his skin, “Ony, baby.”

“Ony nothin’,” he snatches a kiss from her mouth, tugging her face back to his, “Look at me.”

Her face is on fire, but she could care less. Blue’s mouth unlatched from its lock, moaning in repetitions, “Keep going. Fuck me, Fuck me, baby. F—fuck me.”

“You gon’ keep moanin’ for me like that?” 

She nods, giving him a soft peck, one that made him lowly laugh along her mouth. 

She pouts, “Don’t laugh.”

“Ain’t laughin’ at you, Mama. You’ just cute.”

He brings his hand up to clasp along her throat, keeping himself chest to chest with her, gyrating his hips— It makes Blue shudder, attempting to keep her eyes against his. 

“Had all that fuckin’ attitude when you first met me.”

His hand clasped tighter with his words, making Blue clutch her fingers around his wrist that held her throat, whimpering, “Ony.” 

“You ain’t believe a nigga when I said I liked you,” he grunts, tugging her face closer, “You got me showin’ that shit.”

“I’m sorry,” she whines, her eyes flicking back to the mirror, seeing her body folded beneath him. Her eyes are low as she’s in a pleasured haze, looking back at him as she says, “I like you so much, baby…”

“You just talkin’,” his abdomen bumps harshly with the back of her thighs, drenched in her own wetness, “We still gon’ have them’ problems when I’m done with you?” 

The smack of skin against skin was soaked, Onyankopon going so deep it sent Blue’s eyes back. He could only chuckle at the sight of her, voice a low grunt against her ear, “What you gon’ say?”

He slides one arm beneath the back of her neck, the other hand going along the front of her throat. Their lips pressed together in a kiss as he murmured, “You gonna’ be my girl?” Blue’s lips trembling against his own, “You mine after this?”

It’s a particularly harsh thrust that has Blue gasp, gripping along the top of his back. Her mouth quivers, her legs mimicking as if she’d been tased. 

She could only get out, “Y—yeah! Ony…”

His mouth slides down her jaw. He growls, “That nigga wasn’t doing all this to you, huh?” 

Now he’s being petty. Her mind rushes to her ex, and she whimpers, “Stop it.”

The pressure from his hands has her mouth open. His low grunts were loud, a clack sounding as he pressed his forehead against her own. 

Even deeper. 

“You’ doing good, baby. That’s my fuckin’ big girl.”

She doesn’t know what’s happening—what she’s feeling. Her stomach coils within itself, lower body rapturing in a sense of pleasure she’s never felt before, almost to a point where it feels violent. The moan that comes from her lips is louder than she expects it to be, to a point where she grips onto him for dear life, trying to relax her body as she orgasms. Onyankopon leans himself down, capturing her clit within his mouth as he just couldn’t help himself—he eats away at her, letting the gush fall straight onto his tongue, shaking his head between the folds of her pussy to drown in the taste of her. 

“Shit tastes better than that fuckin’ icing.” 

Blue’s gasping.

But she doesn’t expect what he does next. Throughout her entire body responding to each touch, sound, affection he gives, Onyankopon flips her, to where she’s now on her stomach against the sofa, his chest against her back. He slaps his tip in between the parted space of her ass, nudging it between her folds all while sinking back in—When she feels her ass clap against his hips in the middle of her orgasm, Blue moans, desperately trying to pull away from him, curls falling along her face as he snatches her back.

It was an animalistic motion, his hand wrapping around the back of her neck, shoving her face into the corner of the couch.

“You runnin’ from me?” 

He’s using his elbow to slam her down, her pussy squelching with each pull. Blue can see herself from the mirror, and it makes her pout, looking directly at Onyankopon, reaching her arm back as she whimpered, “N—no, B—baby…”

“You tryna’ take my pussy away?”

“No, Ony.”

His mouth goes back down to her skin, breath hot against her spine, “You want it slower?”

She adjusts her legs, arching her back as she turns her head to meet his. She begs, “Slower, yeah, need to feel it like that.” 

The hand she places along his abdomen, he catches, using that as leverage to give her the slow pound she was looking for. His hips slowly pull back, rocking forward. 

Blue hisses, going back to the mirror, “Just like that, baby...”

Onyankopon could feel Blue fluttering around him, he groaned against her ear, “Just like this?”

The question alone makes her nod, his groans making her stomach twist. 

“You hear me, Mama?”

Her back arches more, her face shoving into the sofa’s material to release a loud moan that's muffled within the pillows. Her eyes screwed shut as he clutched her hair, tugging her face upwards.

His voice was low, “Look at us.”

Blue’s eyes come open, seeing their frames colliding together. She’s able to tug his upper half down, twisting her body to somewhat face him, wrapping her hand along the back of his neck as she pulls his face close to hers. 

“Stay here,” she lightly gasps, “Here.”

One of his hands is tangled in her curls, the other hand clamping her face, lips a mere inch between each other. This way, he could watch her. Blue’s eyes looked over him, and she watched back.

“Spank me,” she whimpered, “Please.”

“I thought you ain’t beg?”

That question. 

Her freckled cheeks return to warmth. She gives him a soft kiss, “Please, Ony. Please.” 

His smirk grows, Onyankopon slamming his hand against the skin of her ass, shaking the ripping flesh, the sound reverberating against the walls. Blue sultrily giggles, her eyes narrowing, hips beginning to fuck him back, wanting him to receive the pleasure he’d been giving her. He was rocking along with her, hand gripping onto her ass with the other hand pushing against her back.

His voice was low when he spoke, “You know I love how you look at me, right?”

Blue’s eyes were a haze, a small breath coming out while swirling her hips, “So handsome, baby. Can’t help it,” her curls hang along her face, Blue mindlessly blowing them out the way.

“What’ I do to deserve you?”

That’s when he places a foot along the couch for a better grip, keeping Blue’s legs straight below him, once again having her stuck—His hips are dropping down, the sound of her ass applauding back on his dick so loud that it causes her mouth to completely part open. She’s unable to hold herself back, face twisted within the mirror as she released, “Ungh, fuck—baby, Ony…I’m cumming…”

“You ain’t gotta’ tell me,” he hushes, biting down on her shoulder, nearly sinking his entire bottom lip into her skin, “I know. Cum all on this muhfuckin’ dick.” 

His palm clasps along her mouth, sounds still pushing out between his fingers, her face drenched with tears, eyes rolling back as she sobbed beneath him. She couldn’t stop looking within the mirror at him, pleasure, an admiration too full to hide.

He made her watch, his hand gripping under her chin, forcing her head upward to watch their bodies connect. It made him grip her hair tighter. 

“You watchin’?”

“I’m watching.” 

The mirror showed everything—Onyankopon had her in a complete lock. 

His toned was breathless as he moaned, “Fuck, I’m finna’ bust.” 

Their lips met, tongues tangling together, groans coming from deep within their throats.

Her scream swallows down his mouth, his deep moan hidden under the skin of her throat as he places his face there, the warmth of his cum spurting the tightness of her walls. It felt all the more real, the symphony of their bodies coming together like a song on loop—never ending. 

The music humming along the room returns to her ears, the scent of icing all along her skin. Blue tries to control her breathing as she drags his palm to gently hang along her face, glancing around his chest as she sees the scratches against his skin. 

“…Sorry.” 

Her voice is breathless, wanting to pull him down for another kiss.

“What’chu apologizing for?” His voice is a low husk, eyes piercing into her own, “You got me good.” 

Blue’s chest heaved, Onyankopon’s thumb pushing down against the swell of her bottom lip. He grunts, “You need a minute.” 

“No,” She’s wiggling, “Wanna’ keep going.”

His eyebrows raise, “I ain’t do you in like I needed to?”

That’s when she gives a tired giggle. She might’ve lied, as her eyes feel extremely heavy. Her palm grazes his chin, “I’m not gonna’ admit to that.”

“Still stubborn as hell,” he murmurs, catching her lips within his.

He scans her eyes, seeing that they’ve become lighter now. He couldn’t stop looking at her.

He then says, “Ion’ think I ever said thank you for helping me out.”

Blue runs her thumb along his mouth, her voice soft, “It’s my job. You don’t have to thank me.”

He stares at her, “Nah.”

His fingers sink into her hair, “You had my back,” He continues, “You meant it when you said you was gon’ make sure I was good. I’d never had someone like that before,” His voice is a hushed whisper, “So thank you, forreal’.”

He leans down, pressing his lips along her own again, “Imma’ make sure to have yours, Blue.”

Instead of her heart fluttering this time, it explodes. To think she hadn’t taken this man seriously before, she had no reason to not to take her chance with him. 

She gives a soft smile, “You’re such a lil’ sweetie. You wanna go finish baking?”

He shakes his head, “I’m comfortable,” he murmurs, “Just lemme’ be here like this. I’ll buy the whole muhfuckin’ Whole Foods for you when I wake up.”

Her giggle is like a lullaby, pretty, which makes him chuckle. 

But of course, Onyankopon had to ruin the moment.

“So you my girl now, huh? I mean—you said it while I was in your shit. You was like ‘Yeah, Ony, Ugnh!’—“

“Onyankopon!”

“Imma’ love hearing that all the time,” he sighs, “Night, Mama.”

[lopposting]

ALSO ALSO!!

Gemini uses informal speech with P, very kind of buddy-buddy. cute

There's a really interesting line by Gemini that is being interpreted, it's during the alchemist tower climb before the manus fight where he says:

"Did you feel that? It's like someone walked across my grave."

Gemini mentioning his physical "grave" piqued a lot of interest for some, while others think that the line is an expression only. I wanted to check what the korean text was to see if the grave mention still exists (because then we might assume that the grave mention is an idiom since it appeared from conveying the meaning of the text, right?)

It doesn't really prove anything, but it's an interesting thought experiment or whatever. Here is the quote in korean:

Gemini's line read in the english version by Rasmus Hardiker:

Did you feel that? It's like someone walked across my grave. I sense Ergo everywhere. I mean, this place is saturated with it... like what you'd expect from a mountain of dead puppets.

The subtitle lines I found from a korean playthrough, with a translation:

느꼈어? 여기 오싹한데... Feel that? It's creepy here... 수많은 에르고들이 느껴져. 마치 시체의 산처럼 가득…. I feel so many ergos. Like a mountain of corpses…

I don't know if a similar expression (walked over my grave, as in a paranormal chill or feeling that is said to be a premonition of walking over ones own future grave in english-language folklore?) exists in korean. [Also, Gemini saying "dead bodies" instead of "dead puppets"!]

btw, I think it's more than valid if people think that the korean version doesn't matter at all, since the official language is english, and the devs still chose to include the grave line in one way or another. I thought I'd share for what it's worth, take it for what you will.

[lionheartedmusings]

bear with me bc this is gonna be a bit of a long one, but i've seen folks talking about how they're excited to get the horrors back on the qsmp and while i totally agree that i miss those blood-curdling, creepy, uncanny valley sort of scenes... i think the beauty of the overall storyline (as much as it's execution can be criticised ) is that we as the audience are seeing things in a vacuum.

the qsmp storyline is a living breathing player alongside our povs, and while we're aware of that, we're also not always engaging with it. we're getting swept up in the day-to-day of it all and getting lulled into a sense of security that ultimately makes us unable to truly comprehend the horror of the last few months until we take a step back and analyze it bit by bit.

children went missing in the night, leaving only their identifiers behind on empty beds. there were no leads. people looked and looked, and found nothing. parents were mad with concern and grief, and the all-seeing, all-powerful entity that rules their lives trapped in this hamster wheel of an island has no answers.

then, the items left behind on those beds vanish too.

then, there's mind-controlling, happiness inducing drugs being pumped into people against their will. still no news of the children. people are falling apart at the seams.

people are led to a maze where a wheel is spun and everything they have left of the children of this godforsaken island is gone. burned up. what does it mean? no one knows. they have to live on.

suddenly, a game is played. a clone of a dead child shows up, leading some of them into the same maze, forcing them to walk through a maze of doors and corridors, only to find a game of dice orchestrated by an unknown entity.

new people arrive, bearing witness to the hopeless, grim, sad reality of everyone who was already there. there's hope — there's always hope — but my god the pain is overwhelming.

there's clues, but there's not. the government keeping them trapped here against their will still has no answers, nothing to point them in the right direction.

faceless bears go missing.

faceless bodies show up on the streets. bloodied. dead. eaten.

suddenly, there's thunder and lightning and oh! oh, their children! of course they'll get on the train, that's where the children are!

but they're hijacked. stolen. once again, their autonomy is stripped entirely as another entity with power they cannot comprehend forces them to split into factions and compete for... something. their children's lives are on the line and they maim and kill those they call family because they fear they have no choice.

everyone went through hell — purgatory was a bad title for what they went through. it was hell, with no salvation in sight.

when all is said and done, when all the murder and backstabbing is over, they see their children through glass they cannot break. one escapes because chance said so, and the rest are left behind as the ceiling collapses on them.

the world is ending and their salvation is one singular boat a thousand blocks away. lovers can't say goodbye, friends run for their lives together, a father and a son dash desperately with no hope in sight. some stay behind, through choice or chance.

the government official that has made their life hell returns the children to them, and brings some new ones. those new children get carted off to new parents without option (again) and suddenly everything's supposed to be fine! nevermind your friends are gone! nothing to see here!

behind the scenes, the all-seeing all-knowing government is breaking apart, there's something far more horrifying and twisted at play in the background... but it's nothing the islanders can help with. nothing they can do. they have to live on and pretend their golden cage is fine and dandy bc at the end of the day, it's their only option.

one-eyed creatures show up demanding something "of theirs" back and bc humanity is strong, one islander refuses to hand someone kind and innocent off to them.

it dooms them, as their humanity has every single time.

now, they're under attack and they can barely defend themselves despite months of prep and having amazing gear — again, they try their hardest but everything is stacked against them. they fight, and fight, but their children are on the line and that's their main concern.

every fight? there's bodies littering the ground and panicked screams. explosions. chainsaws revving, and worry, and it's a war ten times a week.

a child loses a life, and now it's personal, but what can they do? no one listens to them, no one has ever listened to them.

and in the middle of all of this? their family is still gone, trapped in a wasteland, or missing, or... dead.

there was no funeral for q!maxo bc there's no stopping to smell the roses on quesadilla island, not really. where's slime? where's pol? where's the people who they haven't seen yet? gone, yes, but they don't have time to stop and worry about them. they don't have time to mourn losses and grieve their dead.

luffy, who came to try and help their friends, was stolen and hurt.

those eyeball workers? they were people once, maybe good people. maybe the best people we never got to meet, but they got shifted and changed into something monstrous and out of their control.

my point being: the story that the qsmp is telling is innately horrifying. it's not just creepy — it's twisted, and tragic, and absolutely terrifying. it's about loss of agency and running on an endless hamster wheel of someone else's making, and how you just sort of... live with it after a while.

and i think that's really fucking cool, because like these characters we too get used to the tragedy of life, little by little, and forget to see the whole thing from a bird's eye view (pun intended).

[cupidseok]

things that evoke memories of riize

💒 — SHOTARO AS

the bittersweet tug of homesickness, the aromatic smell of freshly ground coffee beans that first hits you upon stepping into a cafe, unexpectedly meeting a high school friend you really missed on the streets, the solace found in being able to comfort you, the warmth of sunlight kissing your skin, ties with cute little patterns on them, the click of film cameras while taking photos of you, the lingering feeling after a hug, getting bungeoppang in the winter and chatting with the street vendor while waiting for his order, carrot cakes, a large collection of bucket hats, love countdown by nayeon, wonstein

🩰 — EUNSEOK AS

soft ballad music playing in the background, the gentle warmth of intertwined hands, early morning strolls, the adrenaline rush coursing through you while riding roller coasters, holding hands in haunted houses, long facetime calls spent in silence, brushing his lips over your forehead, trembling lips as he lets himself be vulnerable to you for the first time, exploring a place he has never been before, the feeling that you’re going to know each other for a long time, a handsome stranger you saw on an overseas trip once and never again, watching studio ghibli films together, carbonara pasta, breathe by lauv

💭 — SUNGCHAN AS

texts to check if you’ve eaten, greeting dogs that pass by, wandering aimlessly in an art museum, purposely stepping in a puddle of water just to splash someone, playfully fighting you for the tv remote but letting you win in the end, opening jars for you even though you can do it yourself, letting him play with your hair until it’s all tangled, the chime of school bells signalling the day’s end, taking photos with friends on the last day of school, the soft brush of elbows while writing side by side, keeping your hair tie on his wrist, eating vanilla ice cream on sunny days, 爱你 by kimberley chen

✨ — WONBIN AS

late night walks under the moonlit sky, someone’s hand slipping in yours, dark chocolate, dazzle of fireworks illuminating the night, reflecting on his eyes, learning how to play a new instrument, a faceless photo of you and him on his lockscreen, watching a drama together and rooting for different male leads, putting on a facade of toughness to impress you, gently reassuring him that perfection isn’t always necessary, clothes that fit you just right, love at first sight, matching earrings, only letting you touch his guitar, the reluctance to bite into cute chinese piggy steamed buns, wish you were sober by conan gray

💌 — SEUNGHAN AS

sweet goodnight texts, good luck charms handmade with endearing clumsiness, trying new food, finding something you thought you lost, autum leaves rustling in the wind, holding the door open for you, exchanging affectionate words endlessly, winning a soft toy at an amusement park on the first try, patiently teaching you how to play games, looking through his photoalbum when he misses you, doodling shinchan on the corners of your worksheet, taking a bite of your spicy bibimmyeon, then complaining that it was too spicy for him, die for you by the weeknd, ariana grande

👒 — SOHEE AS

shopping for caps together, a tranquil morning greeted by a gentle breeze, buying a new fuzzy blanket, curtains billowing in the wind, waiting for you to come home to him, the comfort of oversized plain white shirts and grey joggers, playing rock paper scissors to divide household chores, needing to pause and go outside for a breather every time he realises how down bad he is for you, trying to order a kids meal at a restaurant and getting embarrassed after the waiter doesn’t allow it, getting tteokbokki together after school, candy by baekhyun

🎧 — ANTON AS

wired earphones connected to an mp3 player, warm beach towels, trying to make an asmr video, eating cake off the floor so you wouldn’t feel bad for dropping it, constantly sending you tiktoks that remind him of you, water parks on hot summer days, classical music, old books with yellowed pages and worn covers, putting on sheet masks together, reading children’s storybooks for you to help you fall asleep, making eye contact across the room, the moment where you realise that he feels the exact same way that you feel at the same moment, snow on the beach by taylor swift, lana del rey

© cupidseok — do not copy / repost / translate my works

[mydearestbeloved]

Reader strongly reminds me of Seele from Honkai impact 3rd. More specifically, her Herrscher of Rebirth form. They both have the flowers and butterflies thing going on, the whole persephone vibe, even similar powerset as Seele's thing is Life and Death. Now I can't stop imagining Reader with Seele's face.

To clarify before I dive into this discussion: This is a Reader-Insert, so you all can imagine Trial Player!Reader in any way you want. Below are just my ideas of her if inspired by the inspo this dear Anon mentioned.

Yes, YeS, YES! I really love Seele’s Herrscher of Rebirth design. It was just so… beautiful to me. If we’re talking about Trial Player!Reader—though, of course, you all can imagine her however you like because this is a reader-insert story—if she had a form inspired by Seele’s Herrscher of Rebirth design, I imagined some tweaks.

For one, less of the blue color scheme and more gold, with hints of silver. We can keep the hint of purple as a nod to Jinwoo, and the flowing outfit would be a balance of white and black, with the black blending into a glittering effect as a nod to the starry sky. The flowers stay, though I’m leaning more toward red spider lilies, and absolutely adding more butterfly motifs both in the clothes—maybe settling onto the flowers—and her aura, which could replace the deer. The branches can remain as they still relate to plants.

The humanoid being in Seele’s design could be one of TP!Reader’s butterflies' manifestations, but with less distinct details like hair. Faceless, but maybe with closed eyes that only show eyelashes, giving off a more ‘serene’ vibe. Definitely, the wispy outfit could have butterfly wing motifs. Background-wise, a starry sky is the way to go, with clear water as the ground beneath and red spider lilies as a reference to the surreal realm in Chapter 20, where she brought Min Byung-Gyu back to life. I already like the circling ruins in Seele’s design, which could represent TP!Reader’s realm or garden. If they’re more portal-like, it could also be a nod to her origin as an isekai. Oh, and instead of a scythe most of the time, she would wield her scepter-like staff.

I’m still on the fence about this, but adding a veil and head jewelry also kind of works. Not over-the-top jewelry, certainly, but silver jewelry draped over the body could look beautiful (see the image below of the switched body of MC from Secret Kiss with Knight otome). Thigh and leg jewelry, if her legs are exposed, maybe. Barefoot or wearing heels—both still look good, I just can’t decide. I’m also unsure about this, but as a nod to how she first ascended from the Trial to the ‘Trial’ stage, maybe tips of her fingers to some part of her arms, and toes to legs could have inky marks that blend into butterfly shapes? Or just make her nails black—that works too. The ribbon-like elements in Seele’s design could instead look like 'fabric of the universe'-like pattern for TP!Reader.

Seele's Herrscher of Rebirth design for comparison:

Some of the jewelries inspirations from Secret Kiss with Knight otome:

_____

I got too overexcited, my apologies, everyone.

Thank you, Anon, for mentioning this wonderful inspo! I’m already flattered that you can imagine TP!Reader in a design inspired by Seele’s Herrscher form, which, I admit, has never really left my mind since the first time I saw it. I don’t play Honkai Impact 3rd, so I avoided mentioning the similarity in powers that you brought up because I don’t know much about it. I didn’t want to give my commentary based on limited research, just in case of misunderstandings, and out of respect for the original.

Thank you for your interest and support in this story of mine!

[danieyells]

Hi Dani, how are you? Hope everything is well or in the way of getting better! ❤️‍🩹

So I have been following your page for awhile and I wanted to know your option about MC. Do you think she will ever have a storyline about her? Like… that helps her character growth or that makes it more layered?

I hope it doesn’t sound as if I don’t like her, I do. I think she is a sweet MC and is actively trying to be better but she also lacks independence? Like the first chapter of the game was so good for me because the MC was doing all these things and there was so much mystery around her. I wonder if they will set up the ghouls background and then the school and then go back to her growth as a character.

Hiya! I'm okay! I'm sleepy so I'll probably take a nap soon. I have to try and remember to do some like medical stuff calls tomorrow. . .but otherwise all is well. Things sre progressing towards improvement! Loom at all the asks I've answered lately! Now if only i could respond to all the other stuff i wanna respond to. . . .

Hopefully your day's going well ok anon, and that things are good or getting better!! Life really is hard isn't it.

Personally I kind of doubt it. . .? She's her own character sure but she's "an ordinary person thrown into a supernatural world." She's not supposed to be the interesting one or the focal point of the story and I personally don't foresee them as making hera more detailed character. That reduces her potential for player projection.

I'm also not sure what you mean by there being mystery around her--or that she was *doing a lot of stuff*?. . .? Like that she got the ring and is special? I don't think she's supposed to be independent. She's [probably] the champion but the ghouls are supposed to protect her and she's supposed to support them with her ring against the tragedy and the Institute. I'm sure they'll expound more on her being champion and the ring and all and maybe someday we'll learn why she was chosen or what makes her special, but ultimately I imagine all of this will be in the context of the ghouls and the tragedy, not so much her.

I doubt that they'd make her a semi-faceless MC if they were going to give her her own detailed character arc or something. Also I don't think it'd fit the world or setting of the game for her to be the focus and not, y'know, the ghouls and institute and school and anomalies. She's supposed to be an ordinary person in an extraordinary situation. I think the interesting thing is supposed to be the extraordinary situation more than her as an individual. But maybe I'm biased--I would find a story about an ordinary person's growth while in an extraordinary place less interesting than supernatural things, a secret/hidden world of suoernatural things, and the systems as people fighting within and how they plan to make changes or defend things or whatever else.

But it's pretty hard to say. The story is pretty early in. But I really doubt that it'll pivot to being about her rather than Darkwick(the Island), the ghouls/house/factions/Institute, and the tragedy. I just don't think that's what they were making a story or the mc herself for

Hope that makes sense! I may not be entirely positive that i'm typing coherently atm. Definitely gonna take that nap lol

[bbuzz28]

Separate

Another Note-app fic import, please enjoy :)

(Setting is mid-80's post portal incident, the Mystery Shack is mostly up and running. A *lil* angsty but mostly comfort--which is my personal favorite flavor of Fiddlestan.)

As soon as the day began, Fiddleford knew it would be a long one. When he and Stanley had gotten up that morning, they immediately knew something was wrong. They could hear something-something no one should be able to hear. Alarm bells. They were muffled, but considering where they were coming from was what was worrisome.

After some investigation, they found that a gang of gnomes had made their way into the wiring for one of the primary satellite dishes outside the Shack. Their sharp teeth fraying and stripping the copper connection wires woven inside the base; all of which was connected to a dozen different sensors underground in the secret basement laboratory. The damage to the satellite had resulted in absolute chaos. The alarm bells were so loud in combination with each other that Stan and Fiddleford could hear the noise through the several layers that lay between the main house and the secret basement. There should be no way that could happen unless every single alarm was going off at the same time.  

As soon as they opened the door to the basement, with the litany of blaring sounds calling out for attention, a tour bus pulled up in front of the newly renamed “Mystery Shack”. Wordlessly they looked at each other and knew what they had to do: they had to separate. It would be a first for either of them; Fiddleford had been in the background for the handful of previous tours- making sure different elements went off at the correct time or making sure stragglers weren’t wandering off into the rest of the house.  Stan would always be the face of the Mystery Shack, he was a born showman, but he always had Fiddleford as a buffer if he needed him. As for their work in the lab, it would be the first time Fiddleford was in the lab alone since…well. Since Stanford had been on this side of the dimensional rift. Stanely had been the only reason he had been able to cross back through the threshold all those months ago.

Stan put a large hand on Fiddleford’s shoulder- a painted smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’ll be fine Fidds. We both know I’d just be all thumbs with whatever is going on downstairs- just gettin’ in your way like usual.” Fiddleford tenderly wrapped a hand around Stan’s forearm. “Stanley, now ya know you’re the only reason anythin’ gets done ‘round here- includin’ in that damnable basement. I know you’re gonna do great with the tour, ya don’t need me t’ make that happen.” Stan paused, moving his hand to trace up to the back of Fidd’s neck, his expression intensifying. “If you need me, I don’t care if I have to run every one of them outta here myself; you come get me.” Fiddleford nodded, knowing he wouldn’t listen. They absolutely needed the cash flow that the tour group outside would spend—he would have to brave the lab by himself whether either of them liked it or not.

He reminded Stanley to put the record player at full volume to drown out any basement noises and slipped behind the old tapestry of Ford’s they had haphazardly installed to cover the door downstairs until they came up with a better solution. As Fiddleford slipped behind it, he could almost feel the faceless pyramid watching him enter the dank stairwell that led to the elevator that would take him below, the only witness to their secret.

The silver lining of the overwhelming amount of noise in the laboratory was that it helped Fiddleford hyper-focus on his task. Even with a pair of safety earmuffs he grabbed from the connected office on, his sense of hearing was entirely engulfed by the pulsating rhythm of the alarms. There was no part of his brain that could focus on anything but his task in this current state. He was able to completely ignore the giant triangular portal glistening in the glow of the flashing lights, along with the little odds and ends that remained of his former research partner. A dried out BMU mug on its side, his notes in his recognizable handwriting spread all over the floor and desk, his attempts at his own inventions while Fiddleford had been…when he was gone. All remained as it had been at the far end of the room, almost as if Stanford could walk through the door and pick it all up again any minute. Both men avoided the area like the plague; one in reverence of the space and the other in hopes not to trigger any connected memories.

After unsuccessfully attempting to disconnect the intricate wiring, he simply chose to dismantle all of the physical components to the alarm systems. He knew he was causing himself a lot more work in the future, but he needed to stop the noise more than anything else. If anyone discovered this place, the tenuous grasp they had on normalcy would be gone. He knew his truth-Fiddleford was the best version of himself if he was able to fix something.  He needed to be useful; it was one of the only things he had left after everything had fallen apart.

One by one he worked around the room ripping the mechanics of the alarms out of the walls until finally he was left in the eerie silence-without even the background hum of machinery to keep him company. A bead of cold sweat rolled down his back as he removed the earmuffs; he had no idea how long he had been down there. The lack of noise brought the world back into focus and it could have been an hour or four-he had no frame of reference in the windowless room. The alarms may have now been off, but he could still feel the pulse of them reverberating throughout his body-like an echo of what had been.

Suddenly the quiet felt overpowering; memories trying to push their way back through the dense fog of his mind. Flashes of conversations overlaying each other; laughter and harsh words alike trying to break through. Normally when this started, he had Stanley nearby to distract his spiral-but he was alone. Fiddleford was alone in the room where it happened. The room that had ultimately tore apart his friendship, and more importantly took his friend from this fabric of reality. He clutched the side of his head, his fingers raking through the longer hair he had grown to cover his star shaped scar and let muscle memory lead him to the stairs. I need to get to Stanley was the only conscious thought he let himself focus on. He left everything he had dismantled out, a voice that sounded familiar in the back of his mind chiding him for leaving such a mess of wires and debris. It didn’t matter-he had fixed the problem.

                             - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

By the time he reached the top of the stairs he had managed to calm himself down. He just kept repeating what he thought Stanley would say in his mind: you did it, it’s over now, you’re done. Over and over, he repeated those words on his long journey leading back to the surface. A large part of him was ashamed with himself. He was an adult; it was impossible for him to expect to be able to be with Stanley every second of the day-that didn’t sound healthy. They weren’t kids; he shouldn’t need someone to hold his hand. But he had done it; the person he was just a couple of months ago wouldn’t have been able to take the elevator by himself let alone do any work. Fiddleford had survived being in that awful basement, and if nothing else that was something.

He silently edged the door open a crack, listening to hear if anyone was in the immediate vicinity. He closed his eyes and distantly heard Stanley in another part of the Shack they had deemed the ‘museum’ saying something about the prehistoric “gorr-icken”, of which they had fossil evidence. They didn’t, of course; but if you gave that man a glue gun and half an idea, he could make some of the most incredible things Fiddleford had ever seen. He had often wondered if the Pines brother’s creativity was a genetic condition.

 Fiddleford inched himself out of the door, still concealed behind the tapestry, and silently closed it behind him. He could see two figures through the fabric who were aimlessly walking in the opposite direction of Stanley’s voice and towards the room he was in. It was currently their overstock room, that Stanley was hoping to turn into an official gift shop for the Shack.  

“This is boring dude” one of them said as they picked up one of Ford’s remaining specimen encased in glass from a table in the middle of the room. Fiddleford narrowed his eyes, burrowing them into the back of the young man’s head as his companion looked at something else on the table next to him. “ Oh, I don’t know man, some of this stuff is neat. Plus, it beats sitting on that bus with my Aunt Mildred.” As the two young people faced the opposite direction of the doorway, Fiddleford slipped out from behind the tapestry. Noiselessly he walked up behind them and waited. “I just thought it would be scarier. Plus, I am pretty sure most of this stuff is fake. Not to mention that ‘Mister Mystery’ guy is so over the top-like we get it. You’re some weirdo who lives all alone in the middle of the woods- bet your mother’s proud.”

Fiddleford hadn’t let himself feel angry in a long time-but he found it easily enough as he straightened himself to his full height. How dare this insignificant little pissant insult his Stanley. Stanley that put so much effort into putting a good show on for these people? Stanley who worked all day long, just to turn around and work far into the night to bring his brother back?

He plucked the glass casing of the specimen from the young man’s grasp, reaching over his shoulder and intentionally eliciting a yelp of panic from him. “Who the hell are you!?” he asked, stepping away from Fiddleford and pushing his equally as surprised friend away with him. Fiddleford felt a dark smile form on his face as he towered over the young man, pushing his hair up to show off his scar “this here is the Mystery Shack. I’m what happens when ya run your mouth about things ya have no business talkin’ bout. Now, unless you wanna end up as an exhibit yourselves, I reckon ya both should rejoin your tour group-now how’s that sound?” Wide eyed with fright, the two young people scrambled back down the hall towards the sound of Stan finishing up his tour.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Hours later, they were finally getting ready for bed. Fiddleford could still feel the slight pulse from the alarms behind his eyes when he closed them and hoped he would be able to fall asleep quickly. Stan flopped into bed, hair a mess and eyes heavy himself. He opened his arms and gave Fidds half a smile in invitation. Fiddleford effortlessly granted him his wish as he eased himself into bed, throwing an arm across Stan’s chest and settling himself against it as Stan wrapped his other arm loosely around his waist. It had been a long day, longer than most, but this moment and those like it made it all worth it.

As he was on the edge of sleep, Stan said “Fidds, I’ve been thinkin’ .” Keeping his eyes closed, Fiddleford responded as he nuzzled deeper into his partner’s chest. “That sure can be a dangerous thing dependin’ on whatever the rest of your sentence is Stanley.” He felt more than heard the rumble in Stan’s chest as he chuckled. “I was just thinkin’…we could…we could always just walk away” he said quietly. Fiddleford stayed completely still for a moment and let the sentence hang in the air. He didn’t know what response Stan wanted him to give.

“Where’d we go?” he finally asked as he opened his eyes to stare at Stan’s chest, curious where this train of thought was going. Stan breathed out as though he’d been holding his breath. “Wherever you wanted. We have a little money now. We’d just need to make a stop in Vegas, I should be able to double it.” It was Fiddleford’s turn to laugh “isn’t the entire state of Nevada off limits to you?” Stan tightened his grip on his waist as he said “yeah, but not to Stanford. Just one last good round of poker and then we could go anywhere. Get away from all of this. No one would come lookin’ for us for a while, and they’d just think he- I went crazy. I’ve already laid the groundwork for that pretty well with this whole ‘roadside attraction’ bullshit. We could seal everythin’ up before we went- or hell, blow it up- no one would ever have to know the truth.”

          Fiddleford couldn’t help but be seduced by the thought. He wouldn’t have to wince when walking by certain rooms in the house, wouldn’t have to be in that damned lab again, never have to face the possibility that their hard work would pay off and he would come back into their lives. He finally angled his face up found Stan was watching him, trying to read his expression. Fiddleford moved his arm along his partner’s chest and traced Stan’s jaw with a finger, letting himself have the fantasy of walking away for one more moment before saying “ya know how I know you’re lyin’ right now, Stanley Pines?”

Stan looked panicked for a moment before recognizing there was no malice in Fiddleford’s voice. He felt Stan’s thumb start tracing small circles on his waist as a smirk grew on his face.“ I’d guess because my mouth is movin’ ?” Fiddleford smiled “because, if ya really wanted t’ leave, ya simply would’ve already. Ya wouldn’t be doin’ all a’ this with me or the Shack if that was ever a real option. You’re too good of a brother t’ just disappear, no matter what anyone might have told ya before.”

Stan’s smirk disappeared and was replaced with a look of concern. He readjusted them so that they were forehead to forehead now, pulling Fiddleford closer. “Yeah well…I wanna to be good to you too. I hated leaving’ ya alone when ya needed me today. We’ve made a lot of progress from where ya started but I…I know it’s still hard. And I’m not worth much if I can’t keep the one person still here safe. We don’t even know if we’ll get him back Fidds. You…ya never signed up for any a’ this.”

Fiddleford looked at Stan and tried to find the right words. “No, I s’pose I didn’t-but you didn’t neither. N’ I’m not made a glass anymore-thanks t’ you. There’ll probably be a hundred bad days for every good one. That’s just the truth of this life we’ve found ourselves in-but I’m here in it with ya Stan. Willin’ to stand with you for as long as you’ll have me.” Stan looked at him like he was gift, drawing him even closer to his chest. “Well then, I guess you’re never gettin’ rid of me cowboy” he whispered as he leaned in. The kiss that followed was deliberately deep, as if they were both apologizing for needing the other as badly as they did. And boy, did they need one another.

          Fiddleford knew they couldn’t live in the what if’s; he had been there and done that in more than one way for the better half of his life. What if he never answered the phone that day, what if Stanford had just listened to him about how dangerous the portal was--what if he never invented that damn memory gun? The only thing anchoring him in place was this: in this strange, confusing and sometimes devastating life, he chose to be in it with Stanley-who wholeheartedly chose him back.

[bumblehoneybee]

You know those faceless yellow almost crash test dummies from the Grabpack videos? I love imagining the former employee as one of those who’s a recluse to society already. So, what if the reason the Farmer could do all those crazy things was because they were one of those? Maybe they just take to wearing things to hide their face, but they are clearly not fully human looking. The Farmer definitely withdrew from seeing or speaking to people after Playtime turned them into… this. (They still text, write letters, and the whole shebang to their parents. It’s just. They won’t—can’t visit no matter how much they want to.)

Anyway, the Farmer found that running a farm was much more freeing than having to constantly hide in the city. They gradually build privacy fences, make friends even if tentatively, and just live! It’s freeing, it’s nice not having to hide as much, they have a non-human roommate named Krobus who gets them, they—

The damned factory is a few miles away from Pelican Town. No wonder some of these roads looked familiar besides the one to Grandpa’s farm. I can imagine the Farmer/Ex-Employee/Victim avoids Playtime Co. property like the plague for the next few years. They don’t have to get involved in that hellhole, they don’t owe Playtime anything! So a few years pass by with them continuing to farm, monster hunt, and fish in peace. Maybe they will eventually show a few people what they really look like. They have cautiously showed Emily since no one will believe her.

This avoidance eventually comes to a boiling point when they receive the letter and old commercial. Farmer’s set on a war path because they can hear the Prototype’s whispering in the background of the video. If that amalgamation wants to play this game, they’ll beat it on hard mode! What’s a few man made horrors to the creatures hidden in the mines?!

Player asks a few of the people they trust to watch their farm for a week: Sebastian, Emily, Robin, and maybe Shane (he’s a natural with the chickens). They cite having some family business that’ll take them out of town for a week or so… Safe to say, the events of Poppy Playtime get wrapped up in record time due to the now veteran monster Hunter Farmer.

They blast or hack through any doors that don’t open, disarm (not literally) the smaller toys.

The others are getting saved whether they like it or not—if the Prototype isn’t doing all this for a good reason, then they are setting off one of their experimental bombs.

(Sorry for the ramble. I like combining ideas.)

god i can see the player being that meme of "i'm a pacifist but-" while combining copper and such into cherry bombs to throw at things

poppy is so. . . overwhelmed, because while she's glad she's gotten her angel, they're. . . a lot more than what she was expecting. so many bombs. . . and the sword that's the head of a giant bug? eugh. . .

kissy couldn't care less EXCEPT she wants the bug head so bad PLEASE angel can she use it on the mini critters they're so annoying angel please-

dogday. . . dogday is really thrown for a loop, because while poppy had told him the angel was a previous experiment gone off the rails, he wasn't expecting them to be this. . . determined? they just mow down everything in their path, not caring what stands in their way. he's happy they're here! so happy! but my god WHY is there a shadow man giving you a gun???

[mamasplat]

I know you've mainly been focused on other stuff like getting the Rotomblr blog set up, but is there anything interesting going on with the Kalos VS Amour shipping au?

Oh my god i totally left that in the dust didn’t i? I’m so sorry my mind has been elsewhere

Alright let’s retread the plot real quick!

Calem is shown as a faceless character during Summer of Discovery! Along with Trevor Tierno and Shauna, watching from the sidelines and just narrowly dodging Serena’s gaze as she can feel someone watching her. He’s the camera man and isn’t there of his own will.

He continues to make silent cameos as a background character with no role in the episodes, simply standing amongst other nameless set decorations.

He is first officially introduced in Party Dancecapades! Where it’s revealed he’s with Shauna for the event and he’s been traveling alongside her (acting as a mirror to Alain and Mairin) and that he and Serena were neighbors. He waits to get the chance to dance with Serena, Serena waits to dance with Ash, and the music cuts before either can get what they want

And then he goes on to become a main player in the story as team flare becomes a constant and the storyline ramps up

Before the climax Calem would be removed from the plot, needing to focus on protecting Shauna who has continued to antagonize team flare causing them to go after them. Before he splits from the main cast he has a one on one moment with Serena. Expressing that he’d really rather her follow him for her own safety, and that when she left without saying goodbye to start her journey he was incredibly worried. Before being able to finish his sentence with a “I don’t want to lose you again” he is cut off by Serena who expresses her determination to fight by Ash’s side and commit to something for once, as her mother once doubted her. Seeing the passion in her he relents, he only says goodbye to her before leaving.

He would then show up in the championships but seems to avoid much in terms of interaction with his neighbor (shattered ego.) but they share a few smiles to give some hope for their future.

Of course the main purpose of this beyond simply inserting Calem into the anime would be to establish a more complex shipping dynamic at hand

Calem likes -> Serena.

Serena likes -> Ash

Shauna shows interest in -> Calem

And Ash is oblivious all together with Bonnie being the main narrator to the hijinks that follow, recapping all she’s picked up on between the four chess pieces on the romance board.

Oh- Tiernos there too. He likes Serena but it’s played more so as a gag so no one takes it too seriously.

Five chess pieces.

[hexxter]

Player 2:

- not even out yet

My brain:

OK but Player 3 would be lit

They could be Sora, Yozora…

Or a background faceless character we didn’t knew about in the games till will point out later

They could be a character in Quadratum as they’re pretty much dead so

They could have their heart resting in another’s person (subject x for example)

Idk just give me Player 3.. Player 2 is confirmed dead anyway 😔

[reversemoon255]

5th Review - Ohsama Sentai Kingohger

I have watched 14 seasons of Power Rangers, and 18 seasons of Super Sentai, aaaaand…this is the best. Like, I don’t even know if anyone else even competes. It’s that good. Which is weird, right? This is the CG-heavy bug season, and yet it stands above all the others? It’s truly a marvel of Tokusatsu that they can take these bizarre, wacky concepts and forge something fantastic out of them. But we’re not here for my platitudes, we’re here for me to give my thoughts on a show.

The Good: Something I really like about the characters in general is they all embody a negative characteristic of leadership, but turn it on its head, allowing them to display both the the negatives aspects on occasion, but also how you can spin those impulses for the betterment of yourself and the people around you.

Gira is Power. It’s not uncommon for stories to portray a character as seeking power for the purposes of protecting others. In fact, it’s very common. But Gira portraying himself as the villain, acting as the tyrant, added a nice flavor to it that made it stand on its own. Gira does fill the role of the red chosen one in many ways, but because of the show’s focus on unity and teamwork, he always feels more like a perspective character, which I think is a positive. On top of that, he’s very kind, earnest, and the most down-to-earth of the kings, adding to that perspective character role. His kingdom of Shuggodom also had a lot of side characters, such as the orphans, his brother and attendants, and the angry yelling guy. “He’s louder! He’s the real one!” was such a great payoff to that character’s existence. Also, any Sentai character that can unironically say “I will hear you scream,” is pretty cool.

Yanma is Pride. He rarely backs down or bows to anyone else. And while this can sometimes get him in trouble, the people he stands up to are always more powerful than he is. It’s often more determination than anything, and that determination gets the team through many tough situations. As for characterization, Yamna is a genius, but also very childish and a bit petty. The pranks he pulls are always very silly. His aide, Shiokara, was also a nice foil; childish in nature, but serious in role. And it was nice how he and Gira really did end up being good friends by the end.

Ran is Selfishness. Unsurprisingly; she says it all the time. But while she occasionally displays true selfishness, it is often used as a mask for selflessness. She selfishly wants to help people, but is portrayed as selfishness, which is funny in many situations. She was a majoritively serious character, which made the moments she leaned into humor all the funnier. I also liked that she was part of two goes-nowhere romances with both Yanma and Rita. She’s the beautiful one, so it makes sense romance would be part of her themes, even if underplayed. And Sebastian was one of the sillier aides, with a ridiculous backstory to match that silly nature.

Kaguragi is Deceit. We all expect those in power to lie, and Kaguragi does frequently, constantly switching sides and misinforming his allies to get his way. But at the end of the day, everything he does is for the sake of his people. And because of the scope of his deception, he is privy to more information than the rest of the cast, being aware of both the teams’ and Racles’ plans. Speaking of Racles, his sister was also a surprisingly big player at times, getting more attention than his personal aide, even if not seen as often. And his aide, Kuroda, being a Kuroko, filled his role as more of a background character, though did have a distinct personality that worked with his faceless appearance.

Rita is Authority. Not only is she a king, but also the world’s judge, holding power over even the other kings, making her the absolute authority on Terra. But she never abuses her power; always seeking to be a neutral party in all goings-on. Also, this series got pretty sapphic at times, and Rita was always at the center of it. Good to know the writers are back at it again after all the mandates they suffered through with 40-42. And while there were some off-and-on moments with Ran, most of the time it was with Morphonia, who was, again, a nice foil, being much less motivated and more prone to her own desires. Though, of all the aides, she probably grows the most, eventually accepting her role as the next king of Gokkan, which she was less interested in accepting compared to everyone else.

Even our main villains follow these trends to some degree. Deathnarok shows the negative aspects of all these traits, but is later shown to be doing so begrudgingly, while Dugded also does, but in a very childish way. Which is almost worse than just being a normal bad king, because it’s weirdly more sincere?

And Jeramie is Eccentricity. He is aloof and wordy and doesn’t act like a good king would, playing a role more similar to one of a king content with his power, but his attitude and ability are separate things, as he is shown to have great battle prowess and leadership abilities. Jeramie has his own things going on with being half Bugnarok, so it was really just flair given to his character, and to add a bit of confusion to his introduction. And while Gerojim wasn’t as present a character as the other aides, he did provide a very distinct visual compared to everyone else, especially after all the Bugnarok were relegated to just the foot soldiers. I’ll also add, having Jeramie be the narrator, even before his introduction, really helped everything feel cohesive and intentional.

Speaking of that cohesion, that’s part of what makes the story so great. Every episode contributes to the ongoing story. Even those episodes that seem like filler have at least a small addition to it. Especially after the last few years, where episodic has been the priority, this drastic shift is very welcome. And there are tiny hints at the bigger picture even in the early episodes, like Racles missing all of Gira’s vitals for instance. I may go through the show a second time to see how many instances of foreshadowing I can find at a later date.

And while the finale was good, the penultimate episode was amazing, calling back to almost every character we met over the course of the entire show, including ones only seen in the movies and Racles’ mini-series. It was a great way to cap off this already good show.

And lastly,  I love the presentation of this season. So much of this season is filmed on green screen to both amazing and hilarious effect. It’s honestly very impressive some of the stuff they managed to accomplish. BoonBoomger seems a lot more grounded, so it’s unlikely this trend will be further polished in the next season, but they did very well in the time they had.

The Bad: While the effects and sets are a lot of fun, they aren’t always great. They sometimes have difficulty tracking walking or running while moving the camera. Some other effects, such as wide shots, or fire tend to not look good, but it doesn’t take away from the overall experience.

Also, more than any season in recent memory, the action was occasionally hard to follow. All the effects, plus the CG backgrounds, plus the constantly more ridiculous and interesting camera angles Sentai likes to use add up to some very messy scenes on occasion.

I’m also a little sad we dropped the gear gimmicks. While I’m not upset to see them go, I was kinda hoping we’d continue with it until the 50th anniversary where we’d have a big payoff. It may have originally been in the cards, but I only say that because of the rustic machine nature of the Shugods and the general design work or Shuggodam. Remember, toy development takes a while, and while I don’t know the over-under on BanNam’s cycle, I know Hasbro has gone on record that if they rush a product they can get it done in 9 months. Kingohger was probably in the concepting phase during early Donbrothers at the latest, so it wouldn’t be surprising if a few small references to the idea were still there if it was the original intention. And out next season is a vehicle season, which is perfect for mechanics and gears.

Though I’d say the biggest issue is it’s just Super Sentai. For all my praise and bravado about it at the start, it’s not like Shin Godzilla, where I can show it to someone who normally wouldn’t be into Tokusatsu and have them walk away enjoying it; if you don’t like Sentai, this season isn’t going to convince you otherwise. For example, I tried showing it to @jaybuilds, and he just wasn’t into it. It’s fine, it happens, but don’t expect that one person you’ve always been trying to convince to watch the show to see it and have it convert them, is all.

The BoonBoomening: I actually haven’t seen anything for BoonBoomger yet. Just the costumes and toy listings. And as someone who focuses on the toys, I’ve seen quite a few gripes that BoonBoom Robo isn’t articulated. But, like, it’s a heavily gimmicky toy, so I get it. If you’re not going to do a gimmick, articulation is fine, but I can understand getting rid of some articulation for a fun play pattern. These are for kids, remember?

Overall, this was a great season. While I enjoy most seasons of Super Sentai, this one in particular had everything I tend to love and want out of a season. Makes me slightly less upset at myself for buying every Megazord associated with this season. Slightly.

As for my usual Megazord recommendations, this is a real all of nothing series. Either go for King-Ohger alone, or everyone for God King-Ohger. You only really need one of each, so you can skip all the premium versions, unless the colors do it for you. And the new Kyoryujin and the upcoming remolds are their own beast to consider separately to the rest of the line.

[sonofthesaiyans]

To the gal who is most deserving of a second chance, Happy Birthday Ymir. 🎂

There is so much to be said about Ymir, she is without at doubt one of the most intriguing and and perplexing characters in Attack on Titan. There's so much we don't know about her, even her real name remains a mystery. For me, Ymir was set up to be a much bigger player in the war to unravel the mystery of the Titans, and her story to me is one that demands an urgent continuation in some form.

Ymir definitely holds a special place in the story, she often comes off as cold and distant, and one to take particular pleasure in messing with the few friends she has in the 104th. Her motivations are never clear and she's an incredibly hard person to read, but then again many of my favorites elsewhere also fit that bill. Her one constant companion is Historia, and to call them an odd couple would be a huge understatement. It is however very entertaining to see how they play off each other, with Historia constantly in a balancing act with Ymir's more jaded attitude towards all that's going down with the Scouts.

While Ymir may be cold, distant and detached a lot of the time, she isn't without heart and has come through for Historia and the others several times when it really mattered. She has been through hell and back, having easily one of the most messed up backstories of any of the Scouts. Literally everything Ymir knew from her past life in Marley is long gone, she doesn't even remember her own family. And was condemned to an existence by Marley that nobody should have to suffer. Ymir literally has nothing to lose, with the people of Paradis being the first chance she has had to escape her long personal hell.

Ymir as the Jaw Titan was an impressive reveal, and she could seriously have helped level the playing field against the Warriors and the Marleyans. Her unique bond with Historia would have been all the more interesting to see develop after Historia assumed her rightful place as the Queen of the Eldians. And let's be real, nobody wanted to see Historia end up with some nameless , faceless farmer who she may not even have been attracted to in the first place. Ymir and Historia both have similarly tragic backgrounds where they essentially had no family left to turn to, with only each other to fill the void. Theirs was a rocky relationship that nonetheless shone brightly......Certainly more than Eren and Mikasa ever did, and I stand by that, people.

For me personally, Ymir's long absence and ultimate fate was one of Titan's biggest bad calls, we all expected more. And we absolutely deserved more, she is undoubtedly one of the story's biggest missed opportunities. And now we're left to fill in the blanks as to what the full story behind her is.

There's something really compelling about Ymir, even at her worst she was still a good person deep down, and one who deserved that chance to escape the insanity that robbed her of so much. I wanted to see her relationship develop with the other Scouts, and to see how she evolved as the Jaw Titan. Feels like the story we should have gotten with all that was set up around her was sacrificed for something that denied her her chance to shine.

I want to know more about Ymir, I want to connect with her more strongly, I want to know what her whole story is and see what might have been. I think Ymir could've easily carried a plot of comparable caliber to Eren's. It was all there, they had everything they needed.....Now somebody needs to step in and do what Hajime Isayama failed to take advantage of. Show the man how it's REALLY done.

For now, best wishes to the girl who so richly deserved a second chance to live a life that was all her own, to find the freedom she never had. I only hope one day she truly does get another chance. 💚 ⚔️ 💚 ⚔️ 💚

And to close that out, a special shoutout to the incredibly talented Elizabeth Maxwell, who we have to thank for giving her voice to this amazing character. I can only hope she too might one day get another chance to do so again.

Thanks for the amazing picture, Liz! It was truly an honor to have shared our appreciation of Ymir with you. ❤️

[greenbloods]

🔥 harrenhal play

im assuming this refers to my earlier post about play adaptations of asoiaf, specifically what one taking place in harrenhal might look like?

harrenhal is the convergence point of westeros; king's landing may be larger, and oldtown older, and winterfell may loom larger for the storyline of the starks, but history has a way of coming back to harrenhal. harrenhal/the godseye was where the pact of the first men and the children of the forest was made. it's where black harren and his sons were roasted alive, placing the castle under a blood curse from which it's never recovered (if you believe in blood curses, which i do). it's where maegor slew aegon the uncrowned, and where aemond and daemon danced with dragons. it's where the tourney of harrenhal happened where all the key players of robert's rebellion met together and jaime was knighted and rhaegar crowned lyanna his queen of love and beauty and ned danced with ashara and the knight of the laughing tree and--

harrenhal's important. thematically it's the gothic castle haunted by ghosts and the sins of the past, feudalism in a nutshell. so the story has to have these themes at least in the background. confining ourselves to the main series timeline, the best time to focus on these themes is probably 1) the occupation under roose bolton (arya, ghost of harrenhal, etc.) or the occupation under vargo hoat (jaime and brienne's captivity), and the best genre is probably going to be black comedy or tragedy, or maybe a musical. tragedy is too obvious, so let's go with black comedy.

probably a black comedy romance revolving around a love story between a bolton soldier and a scullery maid as they attempt to stay alive during the occupation and shifting political alliances, all the while being haunted by ghosts that roam the castle. one ghost tries to wingman each of them while arranging trysts in the godswood. the story ends when the soldier reveals sorrowfully that theyre actually a faceless man, and the maid reveals theyre a faceless man too.

[restlesscrow]

random thought dump bc new hyperfixation alert

TW for death and frightening/distressing elements below!

Since I'm fixated on the idea of Pokepasta (pokemon creepypastas) and just video game horror in general, we need to expand on some of the ones that exist already outside of their source material.

Let's take the 'Faceless' glitch in Genshin. Sure it's a graphical glitch or a weird occurance of Ayato/Itto/etc found in a 'pirated' copy from a sketchy site, but what if it could be a virus that could infect the REAL copy of Genshin?

Imagine. You're playing and you come across a random, t-posing character you don't have, but when you go near the entity the game crashes or all background ambience/music just...stops.

There could also be a story a la Strangled Red with Ayato and Itto. Some sort of betrayal leads the oni (rather than Ayato) to strangle his best friend to death and occasionally break the 4th wall.

My other thoughts involved a weird screenshot of Kaeya I found that I drew, along with a glitch my lovely friend Foxy found with Aether. I'll be making art/writing of that soon (note: MY WRITING IS NOT THE BEST, but it fits the cliche creepypasta format. lol)

As someone who has loved internet horror since they were a wee lad on the internet, I adore finding other ways to make things horrifying moreso than they already are.

---

Cutting that ramble off, I have a few ideas for these! Since I have the time lol

The Faceless is a virus group that eventually hacked into Genshin's master copy and infected thousands of new users and old users via 'update' that fixed certain things with Ayato. However, it gave Ayato self awareness, and they also released a fake patch involving Itto. These copies of the two characters often cannot render with their head model in the game. The story follows an unsuspecting Genshin user downloading this patches and experiencing the horrors that ensue.

Disintegrated Kaeya is based on that weird screenshot I found. This follows a user discovering an odd document in the game files and using it to their advantage, causing (again) Kaeya to notice he's just a game character and eventually killing off the main cast in frustration that only he came to this realization.

Alternate Aether (YES THAT KIND OF ALTERNATE) is a glitch within one of the quests (I think it was Albedo's first one? I don't remember) where you see an Aether without the glowy elements of his outfit. Slowly, this Aether impersonates the player and eventually makes the game no longer playable for the player.

If anyone would like to contribute ideas PLEASE tell me. Be it via message or askbox! Especially for Honkai Star rail good god.