#I could go on about this more I'm actually very upset about it like so far all of sam's love interests have been fun and it's annoying

[trippiexlove]

Heart of a Woman

Author Note: Based on the song Heart of A Woman by Summer Walker. Y'all chose it! I hope you enjoy. If you want to leave a song request for a one shot please comment on this post. Check out my master list for other one shots / stories.

Warning: Smut, Angst, P in V, Oral (f! receiving), Profanity, Praise, Toxic Relationship

Pairing: Zilla Fatu x Black OC

Word Count: 3,210

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Only thing that saving you...

Is a Heart of a Woman…

Indya leaned over the large island in the kitchen of the house she shared with her boyfriend of three years, Isayah. 

Pissed wasn't even the word. She was livid. 

Moments ago she received a random message from an unknown number. It was a message every woman dreads to get. 

A coming to you as a woman message. 

Normally she would ignore it, majority of the time it was just women trying to ruin their relationship. She knew how popular Isayah has become in the last year. His wrestling career really taking off this past year. She knew groupies came with this lifestyle. She had trusted him. But this was a constant cycle they went through. 

But this message was different. It had actual concrete proof. Pictures, screenshots and screen recordings of multiple messages and FaceTime calls.

She couldn't help but to feel the hurt and betrayal. Most of all she was more upset with herself. Knowing that this wasn't the first time, but continuously keep giving him second chances. 

She was so focused on the messages. Continuously scrolling through them, in denial, trying to find something that didn't make this true. The more she kept looking it the more she became upset. Indya was so focused on the messages until the familiar ringtone, signaling an incoming FaceTime from Isayah, came to her phone.  

When she answered the phone she could see he was outside somewhere. Seem like he was talking to someone beside before his focus turned to the phone. "What's up ma, you good?"

"I'm coo'" she was very short with him. Her attitude evident as he furrowed his brows together. She walked into the living room, propping the phone on the table before sitting on the couch. 

Isayah could sense her energy through the phone. "You sure? Yo' tone says otherwise" concern laced in his voice. 

"Who's Erica?" She didn't waste any time, crossing her arms waiting for an answer. 

Isayah scrunched up his eyebrow, a look of confusion on his face "What'chu talkin' about?"

She rolled her eyes before continuing to speak. "I won't ask again Isayah," she stated pointedly "who is Erica?"

He looked away briefly before looking down into the phone "I don't know what'chu talkin' bout Indy"

"So we're going down the route of acting like we're dumb" she nodded her head. She grabbed her phone off the table, going to the message thread. Once she pulled it up she sent all the messages and screen recordings to him. 

Isayah phone dinged from the other end. She watched his face as he read through the messages. He kissed his teeth, exiting out the thread. "Indya that's someone I used to deal with a long time ago. Haven't seen that girl in years"

"Do you really expect me to believe that?" Indya frowned. "You must take me as a dumb bitch if you think I'ma just let you sit here and lie to me when there's fucking proof!" she raised her voice. Getting more and more upset. 

"You just gon' believe her over what I'm tellin' you. I'm yo' man right?" Isayah voice rising with every word. 

"Are you my man though?" Indya lifted an eyebrow. She stared right back at him as he shot dagger through the screen. 

"Indya, stop fuckin' playin' with me. I told you I ain't seen that girl in years, the fuck you trippin' for?" Indya was token back from his words, before nodding her head.

"You know what since you wanna play dumb, I'll act fucking stupid. Go be with that bitch and stay the fuck away from me. You're single, fuck you!" Indya hung up before he could get another word in. She threw her phone down, before placing her head in her hands. She felt the tears that have been threatening to fall for a while. The constant ringing of her phone, as Isayah kept calling and texting, sounded throughout the living room. 

After a while, she wiped her eyes before grabbing her phone and blocking his number. Heading upstairs to sleep the night off. 

[Few Days Later]

Indya was out on a girl's day with her best friends, Sabrina and Tara. They got her out the house to take her mind off the fight she had a few days ago with Isayah. Refusing to let their friend to wallow in her feelings. 

They spent the day shopping, getting their nails done, and were currently at their favorite restaurant to have lunch. 

After placing their order with their server, Sabrina looked over at Indya. "We've been avoiding this conversation all day, but I think it's time to address it" Tara nodded knowing what Sabrina was getting into. "How are you feeling Indy?"

Indya sighed, throwing her head back slightly "I think I am just more mad at myself for continuing to keep taking him back."

"You can't be upset with yourself about that," Tara grabbed Indya's hand "It is not your fault that he can't grow up and see what an amazing woman he has and to treat you accordingly"

Sabrina nodded in agreement before adding in her two cents "You have been nothing but great towards him and will literally drop everything just to make sure he's ok. We all make mistakes but it's just how we learn from it"

Indya nodded. Taking in her best friends words. "It's just so hard because I really do love him." she sniffled a bit, wiping the tear that fell. 

"We understand girl," Tara sympathize with her best friend "but sometimes love isn't worth the hurt he's causing you" 

"What do you plan on doing now?" Sabrina asked as she leaned back in her chair. 

Indya sat in silence for a moment, she knew what she had to do. The decision didn't come so lightly "I'm done and forreal this time. I can't keep doing this"

"We your girls, we love you and will support you" Sabrina smiled grabbing her other hand. Tara nodding in agreement.

Indya blinked back more tears smiling at both her best friends. Truly appreciative of them. "Thanks I love y'all"

Soon the server brought over their food and the conversation shifted to something lighter. For the first time in a last few days Indya felt a weight lifted off her shoulders. Forgetting about the drama and enjoying the rest of the time with her best friends.

They paid the bill once they were done. Hopping into Sabrina's car, she started heading towards Indya's house. When the pulled up Indya sighed when she noticed Isayah's car in the driveway. 

He was back after being gone for a week due to having shows and appearances. Sabrina looked over at Indya, a certain look in her eye. "Do you need us to come in with you?"

Indya shook her head as she grabbed her keys out her purse "It's fine"

"You sure?" Tara leaned up from the front seat "We can just go in and beat his ass real quick and get your stuff"

Indya softly laughed at her friends "I promise I'll be fine. I'll text y'all"

"Ok," Sabrina said unsure "you better text us"

Indya promised she would text them as she got out, Tara taking her place in the passenger seat. She waved bye to them before walking up to the front door. She blew out a breathe before unlocking the door going inside. 

When she walked in Isayah was standing in the middle of the living room. She turned to the door locking it. 

"Where you been?" Isayah questioned, watching her every movement. Indya ignored him, throwing her keys in the bowl by the door. Walking right by him. He furrowed his eye brow as he watched her walk towards the stairs.

With quick movements he grabbed upper arm, making her turn towards him. "You hear me talkin' to you" 

"Unless you're here to admit to what the fuck you did, we don't have shit to talk about" she tried ripping her arm away from him. This caused him to grip tighter. 

"I keep telling' yo' ass that ain't shit happen between me and that girl" His frown deepened looking her dead in the eyes. 

"She literally sent me screenshots of y'all messages!" Indya felt her temper slowly increase the longer he held her arm. She was beginning to become frustrated.

"Her ass could've faked those messages and yo' goofy ass sitting here believin' them!" He raised his voice slightly. 

Indya widen her eyes in shock. In disbelief of what he said. She pushed on his chest, finally releasing herself from his grip. "Explain the pictures and videos of y'all on FaceTime then Isayah! Do you think I'm dumb?!"

"Indya tread lightly on how you speakin' to me. This is your warnin'" He squinted his eyes her direction. This only fueled the petty side of her. No longer caring how she was making him feel. 

"I don't give a fuck, you ain't scaring shit over here. You can go be with that bitch and y'all both can be hoes together!" She turned to go up the stairs, but before she could, she was pulled back. 

Isayah wrapped a hand around the based of her throat, pulled her close which made her look up his towering frame. She slightly shuddered at the the look in his eyes. His eyes going completely dark, a mix of anger and lust lingering inside them.

"I done let'chu get fly at the mouth one too many times. Now it's time for you to listen to me" Indya was getting upset with herself for just how quick she submits to him. Knowing that this was the issue in the ever ending cycle of their relationship. 

First their good, then she catches him cheating, he uses his manipulative ways, he dicks her down and then the cycle starts over. 

He could see the wheels turning in her head. Knowing she was going to try to resist he quickly scooped her up, making his way up the stairs to their shared room. 

He plopped her on the bed, hovering over her. Placing both hands on the sides of her head. He leaned down placing kisses along her neck and behind her ear. 

Indya didn't want to fall into the same old pattern again. She took her hands, pushing against his chest. "Isayah we can-" her breathe hitched as he sucked on the spot right below her ear. 

Surely leaving a mark, he took one of his hands trialing down her sides til he reached the hem of the shorts she was wearing. His hands found their way in, brushing against her wet folds. 

Indya softly moaned, arching more into his touch. He entered one finger in her, groaning at how wet and tight she was. He leaned up to look her in the eyes, entering another finger. Indya moaning out as he quickened his movements. 

"What were you sayin' baby?" Indya couldn't make up any coherent sentences, as her core tightened. "You want me to stop?" When he didn't get a response he slowed down "Do you want me to stop?" his voice deepened. Indya eyes popped open looking at him.

She whined as she moved her hips, desperate for any type of friction. Isayah took his other hand, placing them on her hips to still her movements. "No I don't want you to stop" completely submitting to him.

Satisfied with her answer he pulled her shorts and underwear off, leaving her lower half completely bare. He removed his shirt, throwing it across the room.

He left wet kisses trailing down her chest and stomach til he was leveled with her intimate area. 

He skipped all the teasing, quickly latching on to her sensitive bundle on nerves, switching from flicking his tongue across it and slightly sucking on it. His fingers entered her once more. 

Indya loudly moaned at the double stimulation. She grabbed at the sheets on the bed, trying to ground herself. "F-fuck Isayah .. I'm cumming" 

Isayah sped up the strokes of his fingers. Hitting her spot continuously, Indya reaching her climax soon afterwards. 

Isayah sat up, cupping her chin with his hands "open up for me baby" Indya stuck out her tongue, knowing exactly what he wanted. He stuck his fingers in her mouth, letting her lick off all her juices off his fingers. Once she was done he brought her into a searing kiss, tasting her sweet essence. 

He pulled away looking her deep in her eyes. "Face down. Ass up. You better arch how I like it"  he stated in a commanding tone.

Indya wasted time doing exactly what he said. Arching her back just how he liked. Isayah let out a groan of approval, sending a smack to her backside. 

As Indya waiting in anticipation, she heard the soft sound of a zipper, as Isayah shredded the last bit of clothing, coming up right behind her. She felt Isayah glide the tip between her wet folds. 

He slowly pushed in, Indya moaning out as he stretched her out. He stilled for few moments to allow her time to adjust. "Fuck, you're so tight for me ma" 

Craving more, Indya moved her hips back. Isayah taking it as a sign, picking up his rhythm quickly. Indya screamed out as he practically fucked her into the bed. 

She brought her back against his abdomen, trying to slow him down. He quickly grabbed her wrist, pinning it against her back. "Ain't no running. You been talkin' yo' shit, talk it now" 

Indya couldn't think, her brain clouded by the immense pleasure he was giving her. 

"I-Isayah I can't!" she moaned out loud. Feeling that familiar burn in the pit of her stomach. 

"Shut the fuck up and take it. This what'chu wanted right" Indya moaned loudly, Isayah groaned as he felt her clench around his length. He knew she was getting close and stopped all movements causing Indya to whimper. "You don't get to cum til I tell you to"

Isayah grabbed her other arm, holding both in one hand. He rammed back into her, causing Indya to gasp loudly. Isayah's strokes were relentless. 

The only sounds throughout the room were their skin slapping together, "Fuck, look at'chu takin' it for daddy so well" He sent a smack to her backside, Indya moaning at the stinging sensation. 

"Baby I can't hold it," she let out a breathy moan, her climax being so close "I need to cum please" she begged desperately. 

Once again Isayah stopped his strokes abruptly, pulling out of her. He laid down, pulling her on top of him. "You want yo' nut, you gotta earn it" 

Indya straddled his waist, reaching back grabbing a whole of his length. She slowly slid down, both groaning at the contact. He took a hold of her hips, bringing her down more, engulfing all of him.  "S-shit"

Indya placed one hand on his chest as she slowly went up and down. She moaned at the new angle she was in. Isayah hitting a new spot. Indya threw her head back as she picked up the pace. 

"Who pussy is it" Isayah wrapped his hand around her throat "hmm, tell daddy who pussy this is"

Indya gasped, feeling that burn in the stomach "Fuck daddy it's yours"

She rotated her hips, earning a deep guttural groan from Isayah. "Fuck, you ain't leaving' me." He moaned out again, feeling his release brewing "Damn, you feel so good baby keep it right there." 

She smiled inwardly. Feeling a little motivated sped up her movement, the grip he had on her hips tightened. "Isayah I'm cumming" she whined out. 

Isayah felt her movements slow down, he sent another smack to her backside causing her to whimper. "Keep goin' and you better not fuckin' stop, daddy cummin' wit'chu" 

With his hands wrapped around her waist he assisted by moving her faster up and down. Indya let out a drawn out moan as she released.

Her released triggering Isayah's own, pulling her into a searing kiss as they both came down from their euphoric high. 

Indya woke up, feeling extremely groggy and sore from the events earlier. She groaned as she turned over, seeing Isayah still sleep. She heart feeling heavy, remembering everything that happened. 

She reached for her phone seeing she had multiple missed calls and messages from Sabrina and Tara. 

Bri🔥: Indya are you good? Bri🔥: I swear if something happened I will sliced tf out of that big ass Samoan idc Tara❤️: Girl you need to call us back. Tara❤️: Bri is going crazy over here. You better call soon or we're pulling up.

Indya quickly texted them both back, telling them that she was ok and that she would explain in a little bit. She noticed it was a quarter after midnight. She quickly but quietly got up, throwing her clothes from earlier back on. 

When she looked back at Isayah, she felt rage start to build inside of her. Many thoughts were going through her mind. Then an idea clicked. She acted quickly, going into the closet and started grabbing his clothes. 

She moved quietly, not wanting to wake him up. She walked outside going over to Isayah's Mercedes, stuffing the clothes in there. She repeated this process about 3 more times. She grabbed the keys, backing the car away from the house. 

She went back inside grabbing the bags she had already packed, putting them in her car. Turning towards Isaiah's car once more, she took a lighter out of her pocket, flicking it on. 

She hovered the flame over a piece of clothing til it caught the flame. Quickly spreading to other article of clothing. 

Indya stood there for a moment, staring at the flame. Feeling it burn away all the hurt Isayah has cause her, feeling a sense of calm. She was quickly token out of her trance when she heard noise come from the house. Knowing it was Isayah coming, she quickly got in her car, starting it. 

When she started backing up she saw him run out the house with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. 

He saw his car in-flamed, his eyes widening in shock and rage "Indya what the fuck?!"

"Have fun with that bitch!" She quickly pulled off as he tried running towards the car. 

Indya couldn't help but laugh but also cry as she felt the overwhelming feeling of freedom and her shoulders feeling lighter. 

She didn't know how she did it but she found herself pulling in to Sabrina's house. Grabbing her things, she walked up the short walk way, knocking on the door. 

The wait wasn't long, as Sabrina quickly opened up the door, staring at her friend. Eyes drifting to the bags beside her. Without saying a word she grabbed a bag, leading Indya in the house and to the guest bedroom. 

She turned towards Indya, stood in the middle of the room. Silently crying. She brought her into hug as Indya began sobbing on her shoulder. 

"I am here for you. I am so proud of you, finally choosing yourself" She let her cry on her shoulder for a while til she stopped. She pulled out the hug, wiping her friend's tears. "Get some sleep and we'll talk in the morning" leaving the room. 

Indya sighed, going into one of the bags, changing into a pajama set. She crawled in the bed, engulfing herself with the pillows and blankets, sleep finding her quickly. 

[sdv-confessions]

Seeing alot of discourse so, I'm gonna say something about all the characters i can remember myself, to try n lighten the mood!

Sam would use a LOT of emojis when texting. i mean Look at him. he also gets very insecure about how he comes across after sending texts.

sebastians bong no longer exists because he kept smoking up his room and it got confiscated because just walking in could render someone high.

I think Abigail could probably bake decently! no clue if its been said otherwise or not, i just think she would be able to. she also would be an amazing reptile/bug parent, please give our homegirl a katydid to care for.

Robin, she's a decent cook but theres some things she absolutely can't make. she's sometimes tasteblind and thats fine. Also no doubt, but she smells like burnt wood constantly.

Demetrius can bake, really well for some reason, but he also sucks at certain baking activities. he's also judges food very bluntly, if he dislikes it, you'll know, BUT if he realized he upset you, he'll try and give you tips on how to improve it.

Maru, she also likes motorcycles like Sebastian does, but she'd rather put one together than buy one. it's just more interesting in the long run.

Jodi, I don't know much about her. but I can definitely see her giving tips and stuff when she can to other parents in town.

Kent, I really think he'd like oatmeal raisin cookies? I also don't know much about him, i love oatmeal raisin cookies myself. i think he'd like cross stitching, even if he isn't good at it.

Pam, I think she and Willy hang out on occasion to fish together, chat about old times because it makes her happy, i also don't think she gets on well with alot of the other townsfolk in recent times since she seems to be quite self isolated like her own daughter. so the times she does talk with others can lighten her day, She also has a habit of being abit rude to those she cares for in a joking manner.

Willy! That man and Clint are friends, Good friends! though I don't think Willy is on bad terms with Anyone. besides being annoyed with lewis sometimes, but he still cares for him. something tells me he likes knitting scarfs and mittens. but thats when he isn't able to fish. He can't knit a sweater and he swears he gets worse every time he tries.

Clint, i think Clint is also good at baking, though he surprisingly has a habit of burning his hands, keeps thinking he can grab the pans he's using without consequences. i think his favorite to make would be Blueberry or Carrot muffins :]]

Emily! she tries her best constantly, and is actually very nervous of how to make a good first impression, but she also acts on impulse which can be a rocky mix. i think she really likes roller skating, Haley probably does to, so its probably one of tbe activities she cherishes because its time she can spend with her sister.

Haley, It think she'd actually really be able to get into the punk/rock scene if you take the time to introduce her to it. she wouldn't change up her style no, but she'd be able to enjoy something outside of her usual comfort zone.

Alex. i think he couldn't roller skate for the life of himself. and would take alot of time to accept help in learning how to. but he doesn't want to admit it because he has an easy time ice skating and thinks he should be able to roller skate just fine.

George, He likes to go rock picking, and when i say that I'm not just saying that because of how many rocks he gived you, i think he likes to search for agates, has afew glass containers full of his favorite finds, And wouldn't admit it, but he'd be really happy when people join him in the little hobby kf searching

Evelyn, i think she actually really likes fishing, and used to fish at some point, but can't really do it nowadays, but i think she'd like to hang out near the river and talk to Willy when he's there.

Marnie, she's a heavy metal girl, she secretly knows so many metal bands it would surprise you. she'd be elated in a surprized reaction from whoever she's telling. She knows alot of niche bands aswell.

Shane, he once got an eyebrow piercing, but it rejected so badly he couldn't build the courage to get any other form of piercing for ages, He does now have ear piercings though.

Pierre, he has really bad luck, and by that i mean he's extremely clumsy, He walks into so many things, accidentally shuts cupboards and doors on his fingers or foot. curses like a sailor afterwards, likes to jokingly blame Joja for bizarre happenings as abit of an inside joke. Also he's the one usually cooking.

Caroline, THAT WOMAN, i fully believe she knows kick boxing, i just, get that vibe from her. She totally would, She also does most of the hard work around the house as her husband sits around looking pretty. Strong lady, can't convince me otherwise.

WIZARD, He can't cook, not at all, he keeps saying he'll learn, but its just not working for him, It should be just as easy as potions right? No, but he is really good at making tea. he has several blends he favors, and he wishes to share them with someone again someday.

Morris? He actually does feel abit bad for the inhabitants of pelican town, be he can't pinpoint why, so he blames it on the idea that he's just sorry they won't accept Joja. as mean as he is, i do think he has a heart somewhere beneath the Joja logo in his chest cavity 😔 I think he's also the son of the CEO. But I also think he worked Really really hard to get to his position. Morris also has a habit of not actually getting sleep. like, to the point he'll just crash in the work place and get woken by an employee clocking in, Usually Shane. Because Yoba knows Shane wouldn't hesitate to dig in to the fact Morris was sleeping on the Job. Morris used to have slight buck teeth but got them shaven down, (This is lowkey because of an inside joke that takes a LOAD of different characters from different fandoms and chucks them into the same family, because they have similar characteristics.)

FIZZZZ, theres not much on him, But i think he likes to play up on the stuff he does, such as practically scarying the player, He's playing it up, Morris is scared of him. but also has mad respect for him. I know that just because they're some of the only Joja workers that aren't exactly important, that i shouldn't immediately decide they know eachother, BUUUUT, I think they're actually friends, like, MORRIS crashed on Fizz's couch often, his own house was too far back in zuzu city for him to get there on time and still have enough time to sleep, and that they'd also be friends with Dobson if he was part of the game. Though Dobson wouldn't share the sentiment .

Dobson. Dobson should be real, Not just left in code. Thats not a headcanon, just sadness. But I think that if he was in the game, he'd be even harder to convince of not being a member of the Joja workforce than Morris or Fizz would be, he'd be Devoted to it. absolutely devoted. Theres a cardboard cutout of a heart in his chest, and when you turn it around Joja. Co is written across the back in blaring blue ink.

The Cashier girl! She actually is good friends with Sam, Sam was helping her come out of her shell while she worked there, but, when Joja mart is ran outta town, she had to leave aswell since she just oustide of town, (someone help her she had to drive quite the ways to work.) She HATES Joja but she needed the income. She doesn't hate anyone who works under joja, but aren't high ranking ranking, she pities them knowing they aren't actually evil, just, stuck in a hard work environment. I agree that her name is Carrie, it just suits her.

Gunther, That man is literally so gay, You can't tell me otherwise, that man is a fruit. Also, he is related to the guy who sells mermaid pendants, something tell me they are.

Elliot, he's learned how to fish from Willy. he was more than thankful to be taught, i think he's been learning alot from afew of the residents, Like Evelyn, and Caroline, i think they taught him how to Garden, Leah told him alot about nature. Abigail Sebastian, and Marlon told him how to get out of a pickle if he's dealing with monsters if he ever gets stuck in the mines.

Linus, I think everything i can say for him is expected, but i think he used to take great joy in crocheting.

Leah? I'm shocked to say i know nothing about her and i can't make an accurate judgement, same goes for Harvey.

Sorry if I left anyone out, and I'm sorry its easy to tell which characters i am hyperfxating on. peace out. - 🔹️

.

[clemelntine]

The Heart killers ep 11 stray thoughts

With accompanying screenshots, cuz I take to many and they can't just go to waste

Once again/still Keen just wants to be included. Now that he has seen Lilly will never see him as equel to his brothers, he is trying to get validation from Bison and Fadel.

Right, cuz you look like you're good at that. We will just pretend that we haven't seen your backbone turn into jelly when you're around Captain

Wait, so they didn't kill him. Where has he been this whole time, in between staging his murder and this scene? Was he just chilling with Nont in Fadel and Bisons kidnapping lair (which they apparently have).

He just knows a guy, casual .

He also just has a whole plan planned out. You'd think he was the one with the training in this shit, not Fadel

The look of concern in his eyes. Because of course, Style was able to spot the slight change in Fadels expression, indicating he was upset/weary/uncomfortable.

Doesn't he say younger brother (nong chai/shai [im not sure how it is written]) here, why would they translate it like that, this makes it seem like he doesnt see Fadel as his brother.

Finally somebody is giving that tattoo the love it deserves.

Facts

Also the first time (or one of the rare occasions) that we see Fadel with genuine, borderline crazy/psychotic anger in his eyes. He's usually the one to be more calm and

Oh, they're using their height, narrowing in on her, forcing her to look up, making her feel small. Stunning, just what she deserves.

-I love you so much; I'd give up my freedom for your safety

-I love you so much; I'd give up my life for your freedom.

Also, btw, 5 years of prison for the number of murders they committed, thats pretty nice. Of course, i wanted them to be free, but looking at it logistically, that is a solid deal

It does imply a timeskip, whomp whomp

Just give me a clear yes or no. Is Bison religious (christian, to be specific)? Cuz this is just a saying and stuff, but also putting it next to all the other christian Bison stuff we've seen, im starting to believe it

Ah, look at that. Fadel got his family (parent), and Bison got his little brother (Babe). These boyfriends are adding way more to their life then you would first assume.

Also, Styles dad immediately suggesting they get married as soon as he realizes they are genuinely dating it ao cute. He has/knows as lil casual-/subtlety as Style does. I guess it's genetic

Omg they are so sweet. Not hiding/secret but private cuz its their communication, their comfort.

I needed this scene to be like an hour long actually, just them cleaning each other with the garden hose, sweetly talking about whatever.

Right. I'm not surprised, I could tell Style was a bitter but like looking at his and Joongs laugh afterwards (and just the absurd inconvenience of it) I'm gonna guess this wasn't scripted, just Dunk. Which.. raises some questions, but we'll keep moving.

Dude was straight up beefing with a child

So he is either assuming hell die a natural death or he's killing himself. Cus i assumed he'd probably die on the job, get killed by someone, but that for sure requires there to be another person. I guess he could also be insinuating that when he dies, he'll be alone in the sense that he is leaving no one behind, no loved ones.

Idk what is sadder him thinking no one would love him when he died or him assuming he'll die by his own hand.

Are they at a graveyard? It doesn't look like it. Because, im not very educated on Thai law, but i can't think it would be legal to just bury someone wherever.

Style earlier the episode saying he'll die for Fadel(s safety) and Fadel saying he'll live for (/with) Style. God, i love them

Glad we are at least acknowledging the absurdity of it.

Are we talking (/joking) about Bison lactating? Cuz that would make that this shows second mpreg/omegaverse reference.

Forever watchfull Style

Forever considerate Style. Even with the garage to work at (and low key co-run) he is willing to give up time, just to keep Fadels dream/passion alive

Did Style fucking make a heart out of the sauce?! Why didn't we get a better shot of that, that is so cute.

So all the other boys his dad mentioned were just one night stands and situationships. Fadel was the first guy he actually wanted to settle down with. (Also, dont take this to mean anything, but it kinda mirrors Joong and Dunk. Joong having had an acting partner before Dunk, but splitting up under unfortunate circumstances, mostly out of their hands. Joong being Dunks' first actor partner, only having had a small unnamed guest role before working together with Joong)

Ive never seen to guys look so sad while eating burgers , like it was actually making me emotional. Cuz there was no big sad outburst or anything, just the everpresent underlying knowledge that this will be the last meal they'll get to share in a long time. Just the subtle sadness in their eyes and the little sniffles. I low key didnt expect them to be this good at conveying such subtle yet intense emotions.

The look in their eyes, i am actually so not okay

Not to be critical or anything but no way in shit that was done by an amateur. Like i get he'd have a pretty steady hand due to his training with guns. Bit not only does Bison usually hold his gun with both hands, it is an entirely different grip and requires such different muscles.

Yo wtf, I wasn't prepared for an emotional scene of just Kant and Style crying

This episode was just so full of cute scenes omg. I have so many notes that are just screenshots of a sweet scene or moment where the only comment I had was just saying aaahhw or some shit. And although I would love to share those with you, Tumblr has an image limit, so unfortunately, this is all I could stuff into one post.

I am a lil weary/concerned with how they are going to finish this all in one episode though. Like we have five years of prison to still cover and only an hour of screentime left.

Favorite scenes

Lillys confrontation was very satisfying

Style and Fadel cleaning eachother of after the paint fight ofc

Kant and Bison in the planetarium (specifically watching the stars)

Fadel and Style at the support group talking things out

Everything in Heart Burger, from the cute cooking together to eating through tears. Absolute perfection.

Kant and Bison tattooing eachother and just the sweetness of that all

And although their goodbye and Kant and Style crying in eachothers arms wasn't fun, it was a really good scene.

Also, there are no in-depth screenshot stats today (this post has already taken too long). Just know I took a total of 245 screenshots (funfact: that is actually more picture than I have of myself on my phone)

[perfectwitchcrown]

Ekuoto Witches' Sacrifices

Cw/Tw: Mention of in-canon CSA, SA, suicidality and violence/death

I’m not sure if anyone else has caught this, but when I was rereading Ekuoto for my witch meta I noticed something about one of the individuals we see the witches sacrifice and wanted to discuss it below the read more. I'm not sure if others have caught it or not, I only did because I was reading through it very rapidly this go around, so I thought it might be worth bringing up. A warning again that this post discusses some of the more upsetting elements of Ekuoto.

So, it’s definitely very clear that the people the witches are sacrificing are people who’ve abused their position as a part of the church, especially based on this file:

Like, the people who are being killed are so awful that whoever wrote this, who is aligned with the church, is only able to halfheartedly muster any hopes for their return. In the Beelzebub arc we see that the witches have sacrificed a number of people to Beelzebub, and we actually see them sacrifice one of them. They strip him and drive a stake up through his body.

The part that I'm not sure I've seen anyone catch is that I am almost certain that this is the exact same man who we see in Belphegor’s array of images he showed to Priest in chapter 76 I think? Somewhere around there. In the panel where we see the POV of various people who want to die, one is from the POV of a child who is being assaulted by a man, and there's also a priest in the corner. On my first read through I noticed it, but only thought of it in terms that we would likely be touching on the topic of abuse in the church (which then was solidified not many chapters later). On my second read through I noticed that the man in that panel has the same haircut and body hair as the man we see the Witches sacrifice much earlier in the story that I've included above. I haven't included a screenshot of the panel, but as I mentioned, I believe it's chapter 76, or at least around there.

I’m not sure if we’re supposed to view this man appearing twice in the narrative so far (once as he's getting executed, and once in Bel's image of the perspectives of people who wish to die when Priest was a young child) as an indication that one of the witches knew or was victimized by this man, or whether it is just supposed to serve as confirmation that the people they’re killing really are awful people. I could potentially see it going either way. Either way, I thought it was an interesting detail, as there’s many chapters in between, so it seems like an intentional reuse of the character design. With context, the manner in which he's sacrificed, taking the form of violent penetration, also seems potentially intentional.

[skibasyndrome]

.

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

it's like. everything happens so much. it's all happening right now but at the same time nothing is happening whatsoever. it's a liminal space of an existence. it's slowly crushing me under the weight but when I look up there's nothing actually bearing down on me. there shouldn't be any weight. something is wrong but nothing has happened. I'm simultaneously overwhelmed and utterly bored. nothing is happening and maybe that's the everything that's happening. maybe the everything is the nothing. we aren't there yet but it's all so imminent. either everything is going to crash down or nothing is. I'm just waiting to figure out which.

[depresseddepot]

in today's installment of "I have personal conversations with my parents once a year" I learned that I was a twin and may possibly have chimerism

[giantkillerjack]

Catholicism.

[.... oops I accidentally wrote real analysis in the tags lol]

why is he like this

[pygmi-says-hi]

STOP DOING THIS IN INJURY FICS!!

Bleeding:

Blood is warm. if blood is cold, you’re really fucking feverish or the person is dead. it’s only sticky after it coagulates.

It smells! like iron, obv, but very metallic. heavy blood loss has a really potent smell, someone will notice.

Unless in a state of shock or fight-flight mode, a character will know they’re bleeding. stop with the ‘i didn’t even feel it’ yeah you did. drowsiness, confusion, pale complexion, nausea, clumsiness, and memory loss are symptoms to include.

blood flow ebbs. sometimes it’s really gushin’, other times it’s a trickle. could be the same wound at different points.

it’s slow. use this to your advantage! more sad writer times hehehe.

Stab wounds:

I have been mildly impaled with rebar on an occasion, so let me explain from experience. being stabbed is bizarre af. your body is soft. you can squish it, feel it jiggle when you move. whatever just stabbed you? not jiggly. it feels stiff and numb after the pain fades. often, stab wounds lead to nerve damage. hands, arms, feet, neck, all have more motor nerve clusters than the torso. fingers may go numb or useless if a tendon is nicked.

also, bleeding takes FOREVER to stop, as mentioned above.

if the wound has an exit wound, like a bullet clean through or a spear through the whole limb, DONT REMOVE THE OBJECT. character will die. leave it, bandage around it. could be a good opportunity for some touchy touchy :)

whump writers - good opportunity for caretaker angst and fluff w/ trying to manhandle whumpee into a good position to access both sites

Concussion:

despite the amnesia and confusion, people ain’t that articulate. even if they’re mumbling about how much they love (person) - if that’s ur trope - or a secret, it’s gonna make no sense. garbled nonsense, no full sentences, just a coupla words here and there.

if the concussion is mild, they’re gonna feel fine. until….bam! out like a light. kinda funny to witness, but also a good time for some caretaking fluff.

Fever:

you die at 110F. no 'oh no his fever is 120F!! ahhh!“ no his fever is 0F because he’s fucking dead. you lose consciousness around 103, sometimes less if it’s a child. brain damage occurs at over 104.

ACTUAL SYMPTOMS:

sluggishness

seizures (severe)

inability to speak clearly

feeling chilly/shivering

nausea

pain

delirium

symptoms increase as fever rises. slow build that secret sickness! feverish people can be irritable, maybe a bit of sass followed by some hurt/comfort. never hurt anybody.

ALSO about fevers - they absolutely can cause hallucinations. Sometimes these alter memory and future memory processing. they're scary shit guys.

fevers are a big deal! bad shit can happen! milk that till its dry (chill out) and get some good hurt/comfort whumpee shit.

keep writing u sadistic nerds xox love you

ALSO I FORGOT LEMME ADD ON:

YOU DIE AT 85F

sorry I forgot. at that point for a sustained period of time you're too cold to survive.

pt 2

also please stop traumadumping in the notes/tags, that's not the point of this post. it's really upsetting to see on my feed, so i'm muting the notifs for this post. if you have a question about this post, dm me, but i don't want a constant influx of traumatic stories. xox

[firebirdsdaughter]

Oh, just…

… Rewatching Nikita again and finally fully understanding in s1 the degree to which Percy really fucking just used Michael and Birkhoff's friendship as a tool/weapon and being filled with murderous rage.

[ourceliumnetwork]

the list of traumas i need to unpack still and my coping mechanisms (or, more frequently, lack-thereof) keeps getting longer and i'm not sure i like that. I think i like less how much i already know they're hangups before they become a problem i have to actively work on, too.

[chemicalarospec]

My experience with Hannibal so far:

Jeff the killer: kills people. Mutilates and eats them too.

Me: Yeah that's alright with me (skipping the eye gore tho)

Jeff the evil liar: evilly lies to someone about the cause of their psychosis

Me: I Am Not Okay With This

[sevenstevearmy]

... Guess who learned about cluttering and disorganized speech today... Guess who was struggling with those symptoms this whole time... Guess who has comorbid disorders... Guess who's not happy about learning new things about themself...

[falling-hand-in-unlovable-hand]

i'm so tired of fucking dealing with people today. i'm the only one awake in my house rn and somehow i'm still dealing with people

[talkorsomething]

Too [insert adjective here] for guard ...................

Well, it's only half related.

We "hit a pothole", "had a slipup", whatever you want to call it — sunday. Aka: for the sake of my sanity we are not labeling it a relapse but good god does it feel as though I have invited the demons back in.

I know why, but I don't really know why. Because, I mean... I never have, to begin with. So: when I decided i was doing it sunday, i accepted it. "Let it happen", as someone would probably say to me. It's not...

I've been thinking about it for a while now. It's like anything - it comes and goes, a few times a year, and no matter what, I always ignore it.

Except, maybe there's something I'm not paying attention to? Or, ignoring, is the better word for it?

Of course it would be the one thing I have happening in my life.

November, I was burnt out for unrelated reasons. It was a lot to take in. That made sense. Now? ... why now?

There's not really any pressure on me. Yes, I have to do things, yes, it will be noticed if they're bad, but ...... it's not important. We don't spend time on it. I'm coming back next year, but it might be at the cost of ... all of this. I think it's progress. I haven't touched my guitar in any serious capacity in over a year. I think it's progress.

I don't take compliments well. I can't tell if that's why I don't get them, but I'm not being corrected much either. Only when I drift too far from what the work is supposed to be, only after weeks of it going, I can only assume, unnoticed. I keep getting stuck.

...push it back down.

Telling me I'm doing good isn't telling me what I know I have to be getting wrong. I could take it, at the cost of... all of this. I'm anticipating, and I know it can come. This is not where I was when I started.

It's been said, I haven't been told, that not starting it means you're more of a burden, by making the other person have to do it first. I know that. I do. And still it doesn't help. I'm not drowning. It wasn't an accident, but it wasn't planned, either. I don't know you.

I don't know you.

I'm not a good person. I'm not a nice person. Every week I tell myself this is really it, and every week I come back, and ... what? Forget I ever said anything? Forget we're not friends?

Well, we're not, huh? Nobody is, with me. What you see I swear you misunderstand. You don't ask. If you do, well, I can't answer. We're at an impasse.

It's not even my fault we didn't make it. I shouldn't feel like this over nothing. I don't do anything. You will, correctly, not let me do anything, because potential doesn't matter if you can't back it up. If you won't back it up. I let things happen to me.

I don't even feel better. And, actually, ironically, i think i know what would let me feel better. If I can't be upset with anyone else, at least I can be with myself.

... but, well, not even that. Your heart in my hands, but I mean it diegetically. And metaphorically. I hate putting myself out there, I hate having to actually perform, and yet every time, no matter what, I do it. I'm fine. I only cared at the start, and even then not very.

I don't feel anything. Not a lot, anyways. I don't let it happen. I can't. I don't know what it'll mean if I start being honest with myself.

...

I've pulled myself out of this before. A few times, now. Different circumstances, but I've done it all the same. Seasonal depression notwithstanding.

I'm only here because I did things I was scared to. And still, I'm the same. No progress made. The only way out is to do it again but I feel like I can't. I can't.

Will someone just let me say that?

Will someone just fucking help for once?

[nereidprinc3ss]

ghost in the machine

in which spencer reid coaxes reader out of an episode of extreme dissociation after a triggering therapy session

angst, fluff warnings/tags: established relationship, accidental mild injury, blood, unspecified trauma, but at the very least implied past emotional abuse, anxiety, reader has ptsd and is in #denial about it a/n: I'm hellaaaa chill sometimes I just lose hours of my day if I think about my childhood too hard

It’s normal for you to get home and immediately wash your hands—a habit you picked up from Spencer. So you walk through the door, and you close it, and you take off your shoes and you hang up your coat and he calls hey from the couch. 

You don’t respond. Or do you? You’re not sure. But you’re washing your hands, and then as you go to dry them, you notice your coffee mug from this morning, still sitting on the counter. 

I should wash that, you think, and so you pick it up and you take it back to the sink. 

Sink. Sink equals washing hands. 

You’re washing your hands again. 

What did you mean to do?

Dishes? Right. The mug is… gone, seemingly, but there’s a knife in the sink, too—you pick it up, and you’re about to rinse it off, and then it’s clattering from your hands. Somebody is pulling you back from the sink. 

Someone is saying your name a whole bunch of times. 

You turn, blinking, and there’s Spencer, glowing softly in the yellow light of the kitchen. 

He looks so concerned. He strokes your cheek but you feel it less than you seem to observe it from a distance. Says your name one more time, eyes softening a little. 

“What?” You murmur, as if in a trance. 

He blinks. 

“You dropped a mug. You’re bleeding.”

Well, that’s news to you. It seems like a preposterous claim, but you look down, and sure enough—that coffee mug which had disappeared from the sink is in pieces on the floor and the tile is smeared in red. 

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? Are you okay?”

“I’m bleeding.”

His brows furrow. 

“Yes, I see that. Do you remember breaking the mug?”

The mug. Oh, yeah. Now that you think about it—yeah, you do remember dropping it. Watching it break into a hundred pieces. That noise, of dishes breaking and clattering—suddenly you inhale deeply. 

“I broke it,” you whisper. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I broke it—”

The memory of the sound is cacophonous, deafening and completely inescapable. 

“Hey, hey. You’re okay. Nobody’s upset at you. It’s just a mug.”

But that doesn’t make it any easier to lower your shoulders from where they’ve tensed to your ears, because once a dish breaks, there’s always a second of terrible, tremulous silence, before it explodes and somebody is screaming, painting every wall in the house with their rage. You squeeze your eyes shut. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry, you whisper, wordlessly, just as you did so many years ago. 

“It’s just a mug,” he says again like that will help. “I’m gonna clean it up, okay? It’s gonna be like it never even happened.”

And that does provide some comfort—the fanciful idea of undoing. Of closing your eyes against the something terrible and wishing it away like you’ve always done and having it actually be gone when you open them. Spencer must be magic. 

“I’m gonna clean it up, but I want to make sure your foot is okay first. Is that okay?”

You take a deep, shuddering sniffle and nod, but that warm fog is pouring down the corridors in your brain like smoke in a maze. It obscures everything. Your feelings. The pain. The fear, thank god. There must be shards in your foot. Spencer apologizes from below as he peels off your bloodied sock, where he’s pulling the first aid kid from under the sink and working on you, but you don’t feel the pain. You don’t feel anything except the pressure of the bandage around your foot as he stands. 

He says your name again. 

“Hm?”

You’re scaring him. That much is evident from the look on his face. You wish you could stop, but it’s like you’re in a dream again. The brief clarity that moment of panic had provided is gone. 

“Can we just—can we go sit down?” He asks, already putting a hand on your waist. Sure. Why not. He supports your weight as you hobble around the broken mess on the ground and all the way to the couch. Oh. It’s too soft. Too forgiving. You sink into it too deeply, like you’re being swallowed, or breathed into a pair of monstrous lungs. 

Spencer is crouching in front of you, pushing hair from your face. 

“What’s going on, baby?”

“Nothing,” you murmur. “I’m fine. I just… dropped… a mug.”

“You didn’t remember or notice that you dropped the mug until I pointed it out. You washed your hands twice. You were about to try and wash a knife without a sponge.”

“No, I’m just… I’m tired. It’s…”

You trail off again, any further attempt at a meager excuse walled off a thick swirling fog. It’s like you’re trying to walk but you can’t see more than a few feet ahead of you. You can hardly think, let alone speak. 

Spencer frowns deeper. 

“It’s what?”

You pause for a long time. 

“Um… Don’t remember.”

“You’re scaring me,” he whispers, and again you wonder why, only you can’t really wonder at the moment. “Did you hit your head? Where did you come from?”

“When?” You ask. 

“Just now. When you came home, where were you coming from?”

“Diane. I was, um—I was at therapy.”

“No stops on your way home?”

“No,” you say. You’re pretty sure. You actually have no memory of what happened between leaving Diane’s office and walking through the front door. 

“Did you feel okay before you started therapy?”

“… Yeah.”

“So this started after?”

“What?”

“Your inability to put a sentence together, honey. You’re really out of it.”

“Oh.” Your eyes sting. It feels like an insult. “‘M fine.”

He reaches up to cup your cheeks. 

“What did you and Diane talk about?” He asks gently, a little less anxiously, like he’s figured out what’s wrong with you. 

At this, your mouth goes dry. What was before swirling fog has become a hulking black wall of solid obsidian. There’s nothing. 

“Um…”

“Can you remember?”

Something hot traces the length of your cheek from your eye. 

“No,” you whisper, sounding utterly distraught. “No, I can’t remember. I can't remember anything.”

More tears are coming now. How could you forget? You’re trying so hard to remember. How did you even get home?

“Okay. That’s okay, angel. You don’t have to remember.”

“I’m sorry. Something’s… wrong…”

“Don’t be sorry. I think you just got really overwhelmed at therapy and now your brain is trying to protect you. Can you tell me what you’re feeling in your body?”

Your… your body?

Nothing. It feels like nothing. 

“Why don’t you try and take a deep breath? I’ll do it with you.” He brings your hand to his chest, and your finger twitches against the hard abalone button. His chest expands, and you try to do the same, letting the cool rush of air down your throat. The room spins. 

“Woah,” you mutter, suddenly hyper aware of your breathing. 

“Slow down. We’re okay. You’re safe.”

He leads you through a few more deep breaths and you manage to get to a place where they don’t feel so precarious and unsteady. Your head sparkles with fresh oxygen and everything is too much. After a moment you’re settling your elbows on your knees and burying your face in your hands. Spencer rubs soothing lines up and down the side of your legs. 

“How do you feel now?”

“Not good,” you whisper. “My foot hurts.”

He hums. 

“Technically I shouldn’t let you take Ibuprofen because it’s a blood thinner and you have an open wound, but I think it’ll be okay just this once. You okay if I go get some?”

You nod, rubbing at your eyes with your palms until you see stars. The brain fog hasn’t lifted, but it’s thinned considerably. 

He comes back a few moments later with two round pills and a glass of cold water. The shock of it in your hand zaps your brain and you almost drop it but Spencer seems to have anticipated this so he hadn’t let go of the glass yet. He administers the pills once your hand is steady and you take them, feeling the river of ice down your throat and into the pool of your stomach. It seems to travel outward, extending into every reach of your body, bringing the sensorial world back to the forefront of your consciousness. Spencer must notice the goosebumps because he’s unfolding a blanket and wrapping it around you tightly, before pulling you into his arms where he sits and tucking your head beneath his chin. You let your eyes flutter shut, embracing the warmth, the pressure, the soft fabric against your skin. 

“I don’t know what happened,” you murmur. “I don’t… feel right.”

“That’s okay. I know it feels scary, but nothing’s wrong. I think you maybe talked about something that’s really hard to talk about when you weren’t quite ready. Sometimes when that happens, your brain tries to protect you from perceived threats by dissociating. It makes thinking straight really difficult.”

You frown. 

“How did I… How’d I get home?”

He strokes your hair. 

“The parts of your brain responsible for procedural memory aren’t as impacted during episodes of dissociation. But it’s actually not uncommon for people who don’t have PTSD to forget their commutes. It’s called highway hypnosis.”

“I don’t… I don’t have PTSD,” you insist. When Spencer doesn’t answer for a long moment, only continues stroking your hair, you swallow. 

“We don’t have to talk about this right now, angel.”

“Okay,” you whisper, like a child too weary to argue. He kisses your head. 

“It might be good for you to take a nap,” Spencer says, like he can read your mind. “I bet you’re tired.”

“How’d you know?”

“Because I know everything,” he says simply—a line borrowed from you. “Here’s what we’re gonna do, okay? I’m gonna order from Tandoori, and you’ll fall asleep, and I’ll wake you up when it’s time to eat, and we can watch your show.”

You smile despite yourself. 

“So assertive.”

“I’m thinking I can get away with it right now.”

He’s only teasing. You cuddle closer. He holds you tighter. 

“I’m the boss. And I want Thai food.”

“There she is,” he murmurs, rubbing your back over the blanket. The warm saccharine sweetness of his tone dizzies you, muddles your mind more pleasantly this time. Your heart rate slows. Your breathing goes back on autopilot. The rise and fall of his chest rocks you like the sea. Just at the cusp of sleep, he whispers one more promise. Of safety. Of love. 

When you wake up, you’ve forgotten all about it. 

But there's pad Thai on the table, and the kitchen is devoid of blood or broken glass.