#considering I definitely needed support after the fact I'm having a hard time resisting the urge

[trapper-spiritsunleashed]

Looking through people's posts on here has me a bit concerned... I'm starting to think we need a former possessed person support group

...how many of us are there?

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 19

First time reader click here

Summary+TWs: We're talking serious feelings here, okay? Reader, you're literally emotionally illiterate. You also have PTSD, which is finally addressed - kinda. Bruce does his best. And he also knows how to kiss... But y'all know that if you read my ramblings about lucid dreaming/shifting/whatever... Chile-, anyways...

My phone kept buzzing and I ignored it until Bruce declared it was time to take a break and review the results. Whilst the man was typing up the data on a nearby StarkPad, I fought the sudden influx of messages that I received from haters and supporters alike after Tony decided on tweeting a reply that could be interpreted in an alarming variety of ways. It was a smart move, I'll admit, but a fucking bother for me nonetheless.

Disabling my DMs and dealing with a follower increase in the thousands wasn't hard; I didn't consider myself a problematic asshole and didn't need to be afraid of "exposure". The parties I went to - I doubted there was any blackmail material in there and the few nudes I'd sent over the years were always face-less. As a gen Z, I knew my internet safety.

The trolls didn't bother me either. It was more sad than annoying, people shitting on others for clout. Iron Man stans were witty, at least, if jealous. I must admit I've never considered the influx of popularity I would experience should I publicly out myself as a friend of Tony's. Girlfriend? Intern? Science child? Whatever cover story he was going to feed the press worked for me, as long as I still got the hugs, the kisses, the dick and the attention.

"Tony..." Bruce groaned, evidently done with the data processing, had to have opened his social media to see his own skyrocketing popularity.

"Yeah, our Tony is being a Tony again," I chuckled, having reset my social media settings so my phone wouldn't constantly beep, vibrate and bother me. School was going to be fun.

Bruce shook his head, fond, coming over to my side of the lab after removing his own hazmat suit. His eyes shiny with newfound knowledge and hair turned adorably fluffy in the confines of the head covering. He was smiling softly. "Food?"

"Sure."

We chewed our sandwiches in silence for a moment, each of us lost in our thoughts.

"I still can't believe Tony told everyone on Twitter you're his girlfriend, usually he keeps this stuff private or schedules a fancy press conference," Bruce's tone was thoughtful.

I raised an eyebrow. "Is that what it was? Seemed ambiguous to me..." I trailed off, confused.

"He worded it like that on purpose, I mean, you're still in high school," The scientist was confident in his words. "But I know Tony. I'm a hundred percent sure that he meant exactly that. Aren't you?"

Shock flooded me. Suddenly, I understood I completely misread the situation. "Um, no? I thought we were, y'know, just fucking. We never defined our relationship and we're definitely not exclusive." I said, chewing on my lip. "You make a valid argument, I'm a high school student and he's a grown ass man that does grown man stuff. Putting aside the fact that he could have anybody in the world so why would he choose me?" I was rambling, thinking out loud. Discussing my feelings has never my strong forte. "It would be stupid to impose monogamy on such a complex man like Tony. Downright idiotic to expect a genius to confine to social norms just because it suits others." I finished with a wave of my hand. Another bubble of thought that had festered within me for the longest time. I felt relieved, finally voicing it out loud. A weight had been lifted off my shoulders, a weight I wasn't previously consciously aware of.

Bruce was watching me intently, with an unreadable expression that held the tiniest bit of awe, admiration perhaps. The silence that followed was unnerving. I fidgeted with my hands, not really knowing where to put them or where to look.

"You know," He took off his glasses, fiddling them in his hands. "I'm not going to sugar coat it. For the longest time, I thought you were going to inadvertently hurt him when you get bored with whatever you've got going on. I respect you, don't misunderstand me, but you are young. Now, I've changed my mind. You've changed my mind," He punctuated his statement with his hand on mine, grasping it. "I think you managed to understand him in a way most people can't. Or don't want to. Understand and accept him in a way that some of us can't even after years of working and living side by side with him." Bruce's gentle fingers skimmed along the top of my palm.

"I don't always understand Tony but I do accept him," I agreed. "Because Tony is a great man."

"I think you're in love with him," Bruce said, absolutely having ignored my previous statement. Just like that, point blank, he pushed to the surface the very feelings I got so good at ignoring. There was no rest for me in this place.

My heart fluttered, picking up the pace. I kept my mouth shut, not trusting it whatsoever. My thoughts became akin to panicked hares, jumping and zigzagging aimlessly in my skull. I didn't see the point in defending myself because the scientist had pointed out the obvious.

Bruce looked at me, softly, warmly. "And don't think we haven't noticed the rise in team morale. The improvement not only in communication, but on the battlefield, too. It's easier to entrust your back to someone with whom you've shared a laugh and a drink the previous night. You're the glue that keeps us together."

Something warm and wet was on my cheeks. I stared at our clasped hands, his words echoing in my head over and over and over. The moment I realized I was crying, I willed myself to stop and failed spectacularly - only more salty fluid streamed down, some of it getting in my nose, on my lips. The sleepless nights were making me unstable.

It took a single sniffle for Bruce to pick me up and wrap up in his kind embrace. I didn't resist, tucking my face into the crook of his neck, holding onto the back of his lab coat, inhaling the smell of his skin and chemicals. It was familiar, calming. Minutes ticked by with me slowly leaking the tension out of my body.

"He loves you, too, maybe he just doesn't realize it yet." Bruce whispered into my hair. "I've never seen Tony so happy, even with Pepper. You are special and you are loved."

There was something unsaid, I felt it. It hung in the ear, it burned the tips of my ears, stood sharp on the tip of my tongue. "I love you too, Bwucie-bear," I whispered into the space between his ear and his jaw. His arms tightened around me.

The man placed several chaste kisses in my hair, running a palm over my back. In moments like these, the crush for him, the very crush that got out of control, blossomed fully into a deep sense of respect and admiration. He made me feel safe. He said all the right words at the right time.

Drowsiness overtook me. As usual, any worries and anxieties I had evaporated, once Banner had his arms around me, shielding me from the world. I didn't forbid myself this time: delicately, my hand slipped through the man's soft messy curls, eliciting a contented sigh.

"You haven't been sleeping well," He more stated than asked.

I had no choice but to nod. "Clint keeps dying in my dreams. Or even worse, he doesn't, he just suffers, endlessly, painfully." I admitted.

Bruce flinched under me, tensing. My face was in between his hands in a second, the scientist sternly looking into my eyes. "Why didn't you say anything? All of us assumed you were okay after what happened." He looked - angry. Not Hulk-out pissed but Bruce-pissed, which equalled a kicked-puppy look seasoned with a great pinch of disappointment.

"I am okay." I lied, shamelessly. "It's getting better. That's why I want to have a party - relax a little, dance, socialize. I don't think Tony would let me go on my own so I figured I can convince him to throw one here." I looked away. It was better for everyone if I dealt with my own problems - they were superheroes, not babysitters.

Bruce frowned. "Why wouldn't Tony let you go?"

"Because of that one time I snorted coke," I rolled my eyes at Bruce's naiveté, leaving the less obvious parts unsaid. Tony knew exactly what I was going to do once I got free reign, he considered it destructive and told me so himself. Admittedly, he had a point but still... I wished I'd been given a choice.

"I'll talk to him," Bruce nodded firmly. "That's not acceptable. He can't forbid you from making mistakes and learning from them."

He was met with my shrug. No excitement came from me regarding this particular turn of conversation. I was drained, limbs like jello, thoughts sluggish. My face was drooping.

"Let's get you to bed," Banner stood up with me wrapped around him. "You need a nap."

"No," I protested. If I went to sleep now, only Satan knew at what ungodly hour I would wake up.

"Yes, Princess," Bruce smirked. I wiggled uncomfortably - when he went all caretaker like, my ovaries wreaked havoc on my body and brain. My thoughts weren't appropriate if Bruce wanted me to see him as a father figure. The signals he was sending were mixed. People around me did that a lot and I wasn't sure how to act so I usually just went with the flow. I decided to do the very same thing in that particular moment.

Curiosity sparked within me, tightly interwoven with the deep longing that settled below my collarbones whenever Tony or one of the others wasn't sitting next to me or talking my ear off. I've almost forgotten how it was to be alone with my thoughts. The maze of my very own self was becoming unfamiliar territory. Alarming.

I allowed Bruce to help me shed my shoes and outer layer of clothing, shivering in the coolness of my room. Despite being a frequent visitor, I still had a 'guest' room in the tower - I mostly stayed at Tony's or Wanda's anyways. During our sleepovers neither me nor the witch minded sharing her enormous bed, to be fair, we could have fit at least two more people in it besides us. Tony took care of his own - all the tower's residents had their apartments furnished with the best stuff.

"Sleep now, Princess," Bruce chastised, tucking a blanket around me, having noticed an earbud in my ear and my smartphone in my hand. I had hoped to kill some time online, damn well knowing sleep wouldn't come easy.

"I don't think I can fall asleep, Bruce," I admitted, looking away. There was just so much going on. My brain wouldn't shut up and if I couldn't drown out the cacophony by being productive, I'd troll the internet, as usual.

Banner sighed, coming to sit next to me, leaning against the headboard. Gently running his fingers through my hair, brushing the outside of his palm against my cheek. "How do you usually deal with this?"

Involuntarily, my eyelashes fluttered. "Tony does most of the work," I admitted coyly. The engineer had a whole arsenal of tricks up his sleeve - sexy and exhausting tricks.

"I see," Bruce muttered, thoughtfully.

I opened my eyes to see him looking down at me with a look I haven't seen before. The usual mildly absent, slightly anxious face he wore was replaced by something I could only describe as hurt envy, like a kid looking at their schoolmate who had all the newest, coolest toys. I used to be on the receiving end of that look far too often and I hated it.

I hid my face against his leg, rubbing my cheek on the raspy corduroy fabric of his pants. "Got any good ideas of your own?" I wondered lowly, thinking about what in the world possessed Bruce to wear corduroy trousers on a semi-casual day, in the twenty-first century.

"Only bad ideas," He replied in a matching low tone. His soft fingertips relocated to my nape, goosebumps rising down my back.

"Humour me," I grinned against his leg.

Bruce was quiet for a moment, the sound of his thinking screaming louder than any words could have done. Knowing the scientist so closely, I found out he was full of surprises - bolder than he appeared outwardly and competitive to a boot. He thought he had a lot to prove to himself and by extension, to others. The unknown, the mystery dangling in front of my nose was exhilarating, trepidation addictive. It took me away from the chaos in my mind.

A gentle grasp on my chin had me turning to look upwards, Bruce's face flushed and focused on my own, open and trusting. He needed to see the obvious, that I trusted him to take care of me. He pulled and I followed, sitting up on my elbows, coming up to his shoulder level, our faces inches apart, enveloped in the unique, intense scent of his herbal tea. It was a tart, strong smell and it suited his quiet but passionate character.

Once, twice, I caught my eyes sliding to his plump lips. They looked far too appealing in this position. I usually strategically stayed away from positions so compromising, fearing the very thing that I'd already let happen, however this time the atmosphere was different. We stood on ambiguous grounds, waiting for Bruce to make a decision.

The man wasn't stupid, he saw the way I looked at him. The nightmares and inability to take a break from life put a significant dent in my resolve to keep a distance between us, romantically - I could have settled even for a pity kiss, a pity fuck. Anything to put my brain on pause.

His lips were softer than I had imagined. Skilled, too, he easily steered the kiss into the shallow waters of our combined longing.

With Tony, it was like an avalanche. Tony ran hot like Peterbilt engines, hard and fast, almost angry in his race for satisfaction. Tony was a man that was used to getting whatever he wanted and it became plainly obvious when we fucked.

Bruce was the opposite. He savoured the kiss, losing himself in a way that could almost be described as delicate. Bruce was humming, softly, as we tasted each other, holding the left side of my face with careful fingertips. Almost as if he was afraid to break me. The feel of his skin on mine was soothing in a way that made me sigh and relax even further.

"Wanna make you feel good." His voice had dropped, gone husky, but his breathing held even. He must know all about self-control.

"Yeah," I was ready to agree with whatever the fuck he was offering. My eyelids remained shut.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie

PS. Letsby, please don't combust. The underwear is coming off in the next chapter. 😶

[sisterssafespace]

Assalamu alaykum🤍

Im the 🤍 anon :)

I just wanted to get something off my chest: my mother is muslim like me and dresses modestly but when i want to got to school wearing, long, modest clothes she forces me to wear jeans and a shirt or something like that.

She lets me wear the headscarf tho and approves of it, so I do not see why she behaves like that - or rather, I see why, but I don't understand it: she thinks I look ridiculous and out of place with long gowns and such things, and that "every place has its own dresscode" (though there is no ruling that prohibits long gowns at school) and she cares about what will people say. Also she seems to think that just because I am skinny and with no curves I don't have to dress modestly - my sister, who is far more curvy, gets the opposite treatment: what looks halal on me looks haram on her, and my mom always tells her that she dresses shamelessly and that she should put on larger, longer clothes.

I don't understand that and it makes me so ashamed that I've not been able to win this argument and that day after day I go to school in skinny jeans, astaghfirullah.

And I am just 15 (in a few months I'll be 16) so I have no credit card and no money to buy my own wardrobe, I really don't know what to do.

For now I am wearing the headscarf and see what she does, I don't know what she'll do when/if I tell her that I feel like becoming a munaqqabah, that it is the scholarly opinion that is more believable to me (for this at least I'm grateful for COVID-19, i can just put mask and headscarf and feel like I have a half-niqab).

Wa alaykum assalamu wa rahmatu Allahi wa barakatuhu dear 🤍🤍

I hope you are doing well and that you are staying strong and patient steadily walking your way on Allah's path 🤍🌼

So when I first read your ask, this came to my mind:

لا طاعة لمخلوق في معصية الخالق

‘There is no obedience to any created being if that means disobedience to the Creator.’ - The Messenger of Allaah, sallallahu alayhi wa sallam. Saheeh al-Jaami’ #7520

And on my way to Google the English translation for it, I found this detailed fatwah on this website, I attached the link so hopefully you get to check it and ponder upon it. I have a question tho, is your father or older brother or grandfather maybe present in the picture? If yes, what does he/ do they think? Do they support you or your mother's perspective? Because you can get the support of someone who hopefully can talk to her and convince her to change her position towards your issue.

And I know you said you just wanted to get this off of your chest, but I have a few ideas that I hope you can try, and hopefully in shaa Allah they'll work out for you:

1) Make duāa for her! You have already said that she approves of you wearing the headscarf, and that's great, so the next step is that she accepts the more modest style of clothing, and for that make duāa that Allah swt soften her heart towards the idea.

2) Some things can't be accomplished at once, some changes need to happen gradually. How about you switch to long skirts first, when you go to school, but keep the shirts? Maybe she can accept that? And then you start wearing longer shirts? How about your sister's clothes? Because you mentioned that you can't afford to buy your own clothes, how about you borrow your sister's larger longer items and make a nice outfit that can at the same time be accepted by your mother's standards and be comfortable for you. Some girls wear very baggy shirts with jeans. I say that you can be patient with your mother and take her slowly through the transition so that when it finally happens it won't come as a shock? But tbh as a Muslim girl who gave up jeans not so long ago and who has been facing resistance from her "quite religious" family, I feel you sis and I know how hard it must be for you. And I am so sorry, being forced to wear jeans and whatnot must be making you feel uncomfortable, sübhanallah, but at the same time, honey, you are only 15, legally you are still a child, and technically, you are still under your parents' custody.. it is a tough situation, and Allahuma barik you sound very mature for your age, and it is very clear the level of faith and love for Allah swt and for His beautiful religion in your heart, Allahuma barik laki 🤍🤍

However, I could tell you to pull something radical, like tear all your jeans or burn them or sth, but I am afraid that won't end well and it will only upset your mother more and lead to more complicated problems and conflicts. So, that's a no, I definitely do not recommend it .. 😅

3) my third and last idea would be to actually try and win her over? Try to get closer to her? I think some mothers (please read: most of them) they just want to seem and feel in control of something. Like, she just wants to feel powerful? Like she has some sort of control? So she is controlling the weaker members of the family that are you and your sister (it's a hypothesis not a fact, Allahu aālam). So how about, you make her your friend, you show her outfits that are both modest and cute, there is a lot of content online, modest websites (especially Turkish products) that are at the same time cute, fashionable, and modest in a very pleasing way. I also follow an modest Instagrammer who lives in Scandinavia and who wears long sleeved dressed from European brands like Zara or H&M (which could be ankle length or a bit above) but wears a long black skirt under them so that she is all covered up. It is a very creative hack. So my point is, maybe show her that modest dressing can still be cute and age-appropriate, show her outfits, designs, dresses, ask for her opinion like " oh what do you think of this dress...? Or what about this long skirt with this long shirt, I think they would look cute on me, what do you think? .. " Oh but you know your mother best so you know she needs to be very chill, in a good mood, when you want to bring up something like that 😅

Allahu al'mustaān habibty, Allah swt has given you a very challenging task at such a young age, which only reflects that He swt loves you just as much and considers you to be capable of taking this challenge, Alhamdulillah! 🤍🤍

I will be looking forward to an update, a positive one in shaa Allah! Don't forget to make duāa that Allah swt change and soften her heart!

May Allah swt fill your beautiful heart with patience and persistence, to keep steadfast on his path, ameen 🤍🤍

Stay safe my dear.

Fi Aman Allah.

- A. Z. 🍃

[burgerkang000]

Serve an ace through my heart

r

this is a Jongho fic and its pretty long so I'm gonna do the read more thing 

@beyoncesdragon   @aixy-hpsa(if anyone else wanna be tagged pls tell me!!!)

tumblr i hate u, u keep on eating my spaces TT-TT

Being out of your comfort zone; nobody likes that. For you, you never really got around into being comfortable with, well, a lot of things. And you never really saw what was wrong with that. You hear your friends talking about how they were dragged into doing things they never wanted to do, and they either end up loving it or hating it.

It wasn’t like you were entitled to sort out the uneasiness.

Right now, the uneasiness you felt towards playing volleyball is an example of something you didn’t want to sort out.

But the volleyball team was lacking, and the captain was looking for new players and training them separately, until their ready to join the team.

And you must have checked all the boxes for ‘volleyball player’, because the captain has been constantly nagging you to at least try it out.

And in a moment of fury, you had said no, you’re not interested, you’re afraid and uncomfortable.

And even though looking back on it, you felt that you were a bit harsh, but even so, you had thought that he was done bothering you.

But the next day Choi Jongho; the guy you spend YEARS pining comes up to you. And that’s new, because you’re sure he doesn’t know of your existence, and he says-

“Sometimes you have to do things that make you uncomfortable to actually like it”

And you don’t understand; you gape at him for what feels like centuries, as you haven’t caught on yet; for fucks sake the guy hasn’t even said hello.

And he sighs, as if he’s done with people not understanding him, and you blame exactly him for that because of the cryptic way he speaks, he could speak Morse code and you’d understand him better; and he begins to explain, as if that’s the most draining thing in the world.

And you think that this guy is getting less and less charming the more he opens his mouth (That is a lie).

“Play volleyball with us, join the team, you fit the qualities to be one, and its actually fun- not easy- but fun; and about the uncomfortable thing, sometimes you just need to get past the feeling, and then you can actually feel , once the cloud of poor judgement is out of your system.”

And he said a lot of things, he did, but somehow the moment you actually stop and say something you HAD to say-

“I have poor judgement?” and you blink up at him.

And let’s be honest here- scary looking, kind of jerk face, jock, probably bullied into asking you to join the volleyball team; totally would have said something along the lines of ‘of course, what do you expect your judgement to be? Reliable?’

But Jongho looked taken aback, sort of offended that you thought of him as lowly, as he aggressively shakes his head.

“I meant the being uncomfortable; it makes your judgement poor, and I would never say that, what kind of person do you take me to be?”

And you sigh and rub you’re temple. You can’t believe the fact that you’re actually considering this. It’s like the captain knows about your massive crush and is totally using it against you.

“I – well I – I’m not sure if I’ll like it.” You reply, fidgeting with the watch that has been strapped on your wrist.

HE sighs yet again (AGAIN) and says-

“Well, you’ll never know if you won’t try, I can give you a test run if you’d like.”

“Well uhh-“

“There are no girls on the team; we genuinely want people who think that girls can’t make it onto the team to change their mind-set.”

OK if anything can convince you, its woman empowerment, so you nod, and try to convince yourself that this is you’re part of showing support; and that watching hot sweaty guys (read: Choi Jongho)  play volleyball was just a plus side.

“Great, tomorrow, Gym, after school.”

And he leaves.

Where does he think he is in? High school musical?

“Tomorrow, Gym, after school” you mimic as you resume packing your stuff.

.

.

.

The school was empty and it was something you haven’t experienced before, other than the club people there was pin drop silence in the corridors, when you passed by the basketball court you could hear the aggressive squeaking and bouncing.

You had never really stayed behind after school, except that one time your whole class had failed on a test and all of you had to stay back for extra classes. But it was noisy then.

When you entered the gym, you spot Jongho and the captain talking. And once the captain notices you he smirks. The captain is evil, you think.

“So I thought you weren’t joining?”  He asks as he walks up to you.

You angrily mutter-

“Well, yeah, I’m here to watch”

You realise that you don’t know the captains name.

The captain chuckles and as he’s walking past you, you grab his arm and ask him.

“I didn’t get your name…”

“I can tell it to you if you join the team”

“I can ask someone here” you tighten the grip on his hand.

“….. Song Mingi”

You hum and let him go; he caresses his wrist, where red marks your tight hold of his hand.

“Oh don’t be so smug” he tells you.

“If anything it tells me you have good grip; that just makes me want you in the team so~ much more than the last time”

You poke your tongue out at him, because you’re a mature human being and walk towards the bleachers.

And after an hour of watching them play, you’ve gathered nothing.

All you think is that volleyball is cool. It makes the players look cool; and sure all of them are eye candy, but you’re eyes draw to Jongho more times than you would like to admit.

You can’t help it, the boy’s expression when he’s half crouched and waiting for actions makes you shiver, his hair sticking to his forehead, beads of sweat trickling down the sides of his neck, the slight exposure of his skin when he jumps or serves.

And you can’t get started on the guy’s thighs.

And you lied; the whole half of the game your eyes were trained on him, your mouth slightly agape as you watch him.

And if you knew you would have stopped, it was only when you were admiring Jongho drinking water that the captain- Song Mingi- decides to interrupt you.

You were in the middle of watching him gulp down water; sometimes he aggressively detaches the bottle from his mouth and takes sharp gulps of air before immediately bringing it back to his lips and gulping, and the water sometimes escapes from the corners of his mouth and-

Your soul has left your body, and you’re definitely drooling, and as you shuffle to get a more comfortable position and a better view, you feel a tap at your shoulder.

You shrug it off as being stupid, sometimes a hair moves a tiny inch on your body and your convinced it’s a spider, maybe it’s one of those times, and spider be damned, you’re looking at Choi Jongho in all his sweaty glory.

But then someone says-

“Like the view?”

And you startle backwards and see Mingi in stitches.

You look at him un-amused as he finishes up laughing, and once he’s done you want to hit him, but the thing is you have self-control. What you don’t have control over is how you want to stop watching some guy laughing and continue to stare at Jongho like he’s some interesting movie.

So you do exactly that only to find Jongho is dead on staring at you too, and you startle backwards yet again, hand flying towards your chest and hastily look away. And you can hear Mingi laughing again, then you look u to take a peek to see Jongho jogging up to you.

He’s panting and breathless and he smells like sweat, but he still manages to look drop dead gorgeous, he bends over hands on his knees and asks

“So…. Like volleyball yet?”

And he’s panting between his words; so it’s only kind enough to-

“Would you like some water?”

He nods, so you hand him your bottle and avert your eyes while he drinks, because they guy is right in front of you, and you don’t want to do anything stupid.

He hands you the bottle when he’s done,  swipes the back of his hand to get rid of the water that has clung to his lips and you’re eyes linger there more than necessary.

“So…?” he asks. Here he goes again with the cryptic speaking, you resist the urge to roll your eyes and you ask-

“So….?”

He sighs like he’s done with you and asks-

“So how do you like volleyball?”

“Oh... Umm its cool I guess, but I don’t think I can do all that- it looks hard”

“It’s a matter of practice”

“I don’t know”

“Maybe you shouldn’t join, if you’re this uncomfortable”

And you felt a pang of disappointment at that, as if you’ve let him down.

“I can try… to play- I mean”

He looks at you for a few moments and says-

“Great, be there tomorrow after school on the tracks; captain said I can train you”

He flashes a smile at you- gums and all, waves and hurry back to the game.

Something that caused you’re stomach to flutter was that he waved alright, walking backwards while you waved and smiled back, all the way to the centre of the gym until he hit the pole and sheepishly rubbed his head, waved one last time and let the game take over.

.

.

. 

The next day after school, you were in an empty track. You thought the track team would be there, but there was no one except Jongho and you.

You were told to run, and do all sorts of crazy exercises that you didn’t even know the name of. It was safe to say you were making demonic breathing noises through the whole ordeal, taking way too many water breaks and you looked far too messed up then you usually are. The uncomfortable feeling of sweat causing your clothes to cling to your body, and sweat trickling down the sides of your neck, was in fact not that uncomfortable. Quite the opposite; it was satisfactory, you think you look cool like those sports people in the ads, until you caught your reflection at a glass door and decided to not look again, and either way, you wouldn’t exercise for hours and NOT sweat.

And Jongho? He was pushing you through the whole thing, telling you what to do, how to do, basically training you; you haven’t even learnt one volleyball trick.

And you think this is hard.

Very hard.

But on the not so bright side, this time around you couldn’t stare at Jongho, every time he comes close; your heart does palpations, every time his skin comes in contact with yours, the warm sticky feeling made your stomach do summersaults.

And this continued on for a week. Yes, you, the most talented person when it comes to not doing any physical activity, did crazy exercise routines with a ball for Choi fucking Jongho, there’s no denying at this point. Even though you won’t voice it to him, Choi Jongho better be grateful or you’re going to die.

On the bright side, you and the team captain have been hanging out a lot lately, talking over coffees and homework and subtle smiles in corridors. And you voice it to him one day, of how Jongho should be grateful, because you can’t move your body.

“I must have been right to send Jongho to ask you then?” He says with a smug smile.

And you angrily mutter threats that hold no meaning and look away.

.

.

.

Even though it’s only been a month of training, and they want you to play.

And you’ve put all you’re arguments out on the table, and the team has shot all of them down as if it were that easy. But the whole idea of playing for the team, on a real match that counts, makes your gut churn and twist and tighten all at the same time.

And once all the members left, you see Jongho from the corner of your eye, sit next to you.

You feel his long, slender fingers rubbing you’re shoulder, probably for a soothing effect, that actually made the butterflies to flap and you didn’t really need that will all the churning, twisting and tightening happening down there.

And he says

“Calm down, ok” And you nod, but your attempts to calm down are useless, uneasiness clinging on to you.

Jongho sighs, and by now spending one month with him, you have noticed how he sighs a lot. In the past one moth, you both have been hanging out every chance you get, besides training.

It was really more calming, if you overlook the feelings on your side. Being with Jongho was calming, and knowing yourself, you usually are too busy trying to make memories you forget to live in the moment. But when you were with Jongho, you were pulled into the moment, in fact you were so into the moment, you haven’t even thought about making it a memory. And the plus side is you remember everything that happened when you’re with him. More than that there is this creeping feeling of how attached you’re growing to him that you will away for now.

One thing that makes your heart flutter every time is when he leaves, he walks backward, waving to you all the while, until he hits a pole, tree, human, pillar, or any object, then waves on last time and leaves.

.

.

.

You lost.

Great

You feel this intense mixture of dread and guilt.

It’s sad, it’s your first match but you’ve managed to lose for your team, because the other team could tell your inexperience, and even though you and Jongho had worked on your legs trembling while playing, you couldn’t control it out there.

There were people watching you so everything you did was a mess, every thrust was weaker than you thought, every opportunity was a lost one

You wanted to tell the team I told you so, but they didn’t look so bummed out, Mingi said some bullshit speech about how the team tried its best and it’s all about having fun anyways…

He also told you to take it easy.

But you felt like you were swallowing shards of glass, and breathing in iron fillings and as soon as the team left you could hold you’re tears back anymore, and it hurt because you were excited, and if it were not for you the team could have easily won, and you felt as if you shouldn’t have agreed to join in the first place, damn you Choi Jongho.

But really damn him; because he sat next to you and then one look at him was all it took for you to break down into sobs and he pulled you toward him, your face was snuggled up into his chest. And you were painfully stiff at first, until he started stroking you’re hair and whispering how its ok and how he’s proud of you and how you did well, and how everyone is proud of you and as you continued crying you were relaxing into his hold, which was stirring up warmth and you sobbed into his shirt for a really long time.

And when you were finally done, you looked up at him, and he was very close, like very, nose touching kind of close and you weren’t able to do anything but stare with wide eyes.

And was he getting closer?

And then there was no more distance between the both of you as a pair of lips captured yours, and at first your eyes were open and looking at Jongho’s closed ones, and soon enough he grew impatient and began prodding at your lips and you closed your eyes and kissed him back. Your heart was beating very fast, you wanted to swallow, but can you? Like is it allowed to swallow in a kiss, and it was painfully quiet all around you, until Jongho pulled away with a drawn out breath .You didn’t even have time to open your eyes, as a pair of lips part at your neck and he leaves open mouth kisses along the length of you neck, you hiss as he sucks particularly hard at a spot. He guides you to half lie down on the bench as he attacks your neck, and he scrapes his teeth along the attacked area and your hand shoots out to his shoulder, and he continues littering soft kisses and apologetic swipes of his tongue to sooth the pain. And soon enough he was back to sucking and nosing at your neck, and your grip on his shoulder tightens as you let out little mewls of satisfaction, at one point Jongho grunts and pulls away.

And you lie there and Jongho is back straddling you . His face hovers just above your ear, he says-

“I’m going to take you on a date and then we’re continuing this.” And it was so low and so husky that you can’t help the sound that gets past your lips.

He nips at your ear and crawls away from you.

You groan and cover your face in embarrassment before you say-

“Ok, let’s go on a date” And when you finally look at him, he’s beaming at you, and its blinding.

.

.

.

Your date was mostly looking at each other and you looking away every five seconds, giggling and then blushing.

And you were halfway through you’re drinks when you suddenly exclaim.

“I should lose more volleyball matches if I’m going to end up with really hot dates”

And Jongho looks at you with a pointed glare and asks

“Really?”

And you hum

And before you know it he was right in front of you, lips nipping at your ear again, and he says-

“No more volleyball for you”

And you giggle AGAIN, and he smiles at you. And you have got a good feeling about this, whatever you have got going on with Jongho.

.

.

.

[kneamet]

Angel of cards (13/16)

Trigger Warning: no.

Summary: Joker, Mr. J, anarchist psychopath, Tom Hiddleston. He had many nicknames. Joker was Gotham’s most dangerous and insightful man, with sharp makeup and horribly memorable scars on his face in the form of a smile. He was absolutely crazy and deadly. No one knows his real identity and everyone is afraid of his cruel jokes. But what happens when he becomes obsessed with an ordinary girl?

She belongs to him. No one can take her away from him. Even The Batman.

Chapter thirteen: the Hospital

"Dear Bruce,

I'll be honest with you... I'm going to marry Harvey Dent. I love him and I want to spend the rest of my life with him. When I said that if Gotham didn't need Batman anymore... we can be together... I wasn't lying. But I'm sure the day will never come when you don't need Batman.

I hope I'm wrong. And if so, I'll be there. But as a friend. If you have lost faith in me, please keep your faith in people.

With everlasting love, Rachel, " Bruce whispered the last sentence softly, resenting the loss. There were gentle tears in his eyes. The hand clutched the paper on which the love words were written.

Why Rachel? Why her? Why exactly the love of his life, and not... someone else? Why did the Joker say this address and not some other address? Why did he name the place where Harvey is?

"Alfred?" Without taking his eyes off the window, his right eyebrow slightly raised, but still with an emotionless, steely voice that had an anxious and trembling note in it, Wayne asked.

In his peripheral vision, Bruce could see that Alfred had entered the room, dressed like a string. He couldn't see his expression or feel his feelings, but he knew that his beloved butler was also deeply sorry.

"Yes, Master Wayne?" asked Alfred, in his usual voice, with a hint of regret in it. He knew how much his master loved Rachel.

"Is it my fault?" Bruce asks with a sigh, feeling the paper get wet because of his sweaty palms from the fear of responsibility. "I was supposed to inspire good... not madness and death, " Wayne's always calm voice faltered. His jaw trembled slightly. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

"You inspired good, but you spat in the face of the Gotham mafia. Did you think there would be no consequences?" Alfred asked, still holding the bottle of wine in his old hands, which Bruce would probably drink in one gulp. "Life always gets worse before it gets better," he sighed again and stood up from his comfortable black chair, turning to Pennyworth.

"But Rachel, Alfred," he countered, raising his voice slightly. It was too much to bear. Will Bruce be able to cope with such grief on his own? Would the general darkness swallow him up?

"Rachel believed in what you stood for. Gotham needs you, " the butler said in a reassuring old voice, moving closer to his master. He just looked down.

"Gotham needs a real hero," a real one. Not like him. Gotham needs someone who can always defend their rights and protect Gotham in a truly legal way. "And I almost let that psycho blow him to hell," Bruce whispered softly, referring to the Joker.

Wayne's hand, which was already holding the piece of paper with the love and voluptuous words, only tightened and tightened. The Joker. This blood-pumping and frenzied lunatic who only thinks about how to destroy Gotham.

And what about his equally beloved Blake? The same person who could always support him when Rachel was away? And if Rachel, he sighed, could be subject to that darkness, he didn't notice it for Blake.

Still, what does this fucking nutcase want with his best friend's niece? Bruce licked his parched lips of honey that had become wet from the tears of the meek.

He must understand everything.

***

"She wanted to wait for me," Harvey mumbled, gripping his aching knuckles tightly. He could still see the pleas and screams of his beloved as she died. Rachel. He opened his mouth slightly in annoyance, pulling his lower jaw forward. Will he be able to live without everything now?

First, the Joker took away the first ray of light in his life — Blake. His beloved niece, whom he adored with all his kindred love. Would he have been able to break into the ranks of prosecutors if he hadn't been there? Hardly.

The second thing the Joker took from him was Rachel. His favorite, his sweetest girl, for whom he was willing to do anything. Exactly the same one. The one who always supported him, helped him.

He didn't listen to Gordon's useless talk. Even aside from the fact that he was a very nice person who really felt sorry for him, Harvey didn't want to see him right now. His obsessive and mumbling behavior only irritated him and injected more anger.

"I'm sorry about Rachel," he said suddenly, after a long silence that lasted about a mortal two minutes. Dent choked on his breath. "The doctor says you have a terrible pain, but you don't take your medication. That you refuse... from a skin graft, " knowing that it would not entail anything good, Gordon said quietly. Harvey only stifled a guttural growl. Idiot. Idiot. What kind of mumbling creature is this?

"You remember that name... what you gave me... When did I work for you?" Dent asked, turning to face Jim, who was standing with his head down and his brown-and-green cap in his hands.

He could see the flash of fear in the commissioner's eyes, but immediately suppressed. Is he afraid of him? But why? What's there to be afraid of? These burns on the second half of the face? Or what?

"How was it, Gordon?" he asked in a more severe voice, squinting his right eye.

"Harvey, I am..."

"Speak up," Harvey said in a steely and very stern voice, feeling an uneasy shiver run down his spine. He knew the nickname. Knew. "Speak up!"

"Two-face. Harvey is two-faced."

"Why hide who I am now?" the man asked, baring his teeth and swallowing.

"I'm sorry," Gordon said in a low voice, only clinging more tightly to himself. He didn't like being shouted at, even though he'd seen a lot of things in his life.

"No," came the steely reply again.

***

Damn Moroni! The Joker thought furiously. His thoughts were now just a hailstorm of thoughts and a chaotic chaos that couldn't calm down. He licked his dry, bland, cold lips with a rough tongue. He was walking briskly toward Harvey Dent's room.

Oh, yes, the very man he had almost killed, and whom Batman had saved just in time. What a good boy he is. He would have to do it again somehow, and arrange a soft and favorable game for his favorite toy.

Although to be honest, Batman was eerily boring. That mumbling, stern voice and thoughts that he couldn't even properly show and say. Were you sure he was Bruce Wayne, the son of rich parents?

The Joker clenched his fists. His nostrils flared wide and he drew in a sharp breath. He resisted the urge to grimace. He likes the smell of the hospital. Medical supplies and equipment. Terribly. It's disgusting. Antiseptics for surface treatment, autoclave, hospital food, quartz, and the patients themselves, who apparently rarely wash, also had an unpleasant smell.

The Joker pressed the black plastic doorknob, pushing open the white door and entering a room that was clearly designed for premium guests. He chuckled, licking his painted lips again. Sloppy.

He quickly looked around the room, trying to find something that could be used against him. His quick and deft eye caught only a small silver tray, but he was unlikely to be able to defend himself with it.

The Joker sat down on the brown chair next to Harvey's bed. What beautiful burns the fire had left him, the Joker grinned. It definitely suits him. And how he hadn't done that to himself before. He stifled a small laugh.

"Hi," the Joker drawled, grinding his teeth together and making an unpleasant sound. Harvey, of course, woke up. The man saw the body of the injured patient tremble slightly and suddenly Harvey turns his head, shuddering slightly and trying to stand up.

"You know..." the Joker drawled again, prolonging the intrigue, until suddenly he noticed the terrible look of his interlocutor. Why is he looking so surprised? Oh, yes, the nurse's costume. In general, he liked it.

The Joker, or rather Tom, always liked to dress in women's suits. He felt to the bottom sometimes... more complete, or what? Yes, I suppose so, considering that it was only his mother who took care of Tom at the time.

He pulled back his fake red hair, trying to mess it up even more. Although it would seem that much more? They were already in a very sloppy state.

"...I don't want any hard feelings between us, Harvey, " the Joker curled his lips in disdain, slightly pinching his nose and frowning. "When my angel..." The Joker liked this savage look of Harvey, who was ready to tear anyone up for his favorite girls in the form of Blake and Rachel. But now that neither one, that is, Harvey, nor the other, that is, Bruce, has a favorite, how will they cope now?

How good it was that he had an angel of his own.

"Blake!" said Harvey loudly. The Joker grinned imperceptibly and raised his hands in the air, as if admitting the truth of the other person.

"...my angel was kidnapped ... " the Joker continued, taking great pleasure in Dent's anger. "...I didn't kidnap her. More precisely, I kidnapped her, but not to kill her. I'll do you a huge favor... My angel, or yours, or maybe Bruce's, Blake, is still alive. And I confess from the bottom of my heart, I'm being a gentleman to her," he saw Harvey's displeased face.

What doesn't he like? His niece is alive and well, she is happy to spend time with him, what is the problem?

"By the way, I didn't detonate those bombs," the Joker said quickly, as if trying to get off the subject, raising his hands again and licking his lips. To be honest, it was not pleasant for him to go without his favorite gloves.

It's terrible to look at your scars. They're so awful, Tom thought, suddenly breaking into the Joker's thoughts. Go away, Thomas! You're in the way! And didn't the Joker tell you that it's not exactly the right time to show up? Yes, and that very moment of obsession.

"These are your people. Your plan!" accused Harvey loudly, trying to rebel again, but the Joker only let out a nervous laugh, after which Det immediately stopped moving, froze with his eyes wide open.

"Do I look like someone who has a plan?" the Joker asked in an insistent tone, arching an eyebrow. He chuckled. However, suddenly, his eyes widened and he quickly jumped out of the chair, lowering his shoulders down and taking quick steps towards the door.

Harvey asked when the Joker was already out the door, but still not closing the door. The man just smiled reassuringly.

"My angel will miss you, I know, but I promise I'll beat the crap out of her and she'll be my wife," the Joker said unctuously, watching as Harvey's eyes began to grow larger. He tried to do something again and began to move quickly, trying to free himself and stand up. Suddenly, a door slammed. "Goodbye, Harvey-ee-ee," the Joker sang.

The man began to walk quickly towards the main exit. Now the fun begins. I wonder if the media will like this show? But he didn't want to think about it now. His biggest concern right now was his angel. Oh, how she must have missed him... Hungry and bored for sure. Well, he would help her.

And now we need to kill Harvey Dent.

[broken-heroes-and-potatoes]

hello hello!! i'm here to send some requests 💖maybe some Bakugou, Tamaki and Hawks best friends to lovers headcanons? good luck with your blog !! 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

Thank you so much senpai @bnha-imagines-forall for the shout-out and for the interesting request too, to be honest I have no idea what this is..I don’t think that’s headcanons though’ I hope it’ll be okay nonetheless, don’t hesitate to tell me how I can improve! #toomuchpressure

Katsuki Bakugo

- Being friend with Bakugo is already a big thing, I mean, being upgraded from despise/indifference to tolerance isn’t something Katsuki grants to everyone, so you probably passed some ‘unconscious tests’ throught the early steps of the relationship.

- First of all, you intrigued him, pricked his curiosity whether because of your quirk or your personnality, you immediately caught his attention and even with that, he was definitely not the one who will approach you. He [im]patiently watched from afar, listened to other talk about you, studying your every moves from the corner of his eyes. [spoiler alert, he ended up doing the first move because you took too damn long to give him attention.]

- He had everyone recognitions for his strenght and abilities, but he couldn’t really understand why it bothered him that you never showed him yours, not that he needed it anyways.. but still.

- You ended up hanging with him because of your friendship with Kirishima and even if you he gave you the cold shoulder at first, he quickly accepted you and, to the surprise of his closest friend, undertook friendly actions so you’ll feel at ease around him.

- Bakugo being Bakugo, you often get into passionate and, sometimes, sterile debates with him ‘cause of how stuborn he’s, it usually ends in screams and shouts, or pillow thrown at each other. Whatever, it stimulates him, and more important, no matter what, you still sticked to his side supporting him even when he was in despicable states and you’re defintely worth of his trust and respect because of this.

- You challenge him and it’s what drag him into you, not necessarily on a fighting level, but on a daily basis of every single aspects in his life

- On the other hand, you assure a kind of balance, appeasing him when he can’t go down from a high frustration and he realized that as things progress his feelings evolved too.

- You are one of the only person he never pushed away (too harshly at least), the one he thinks of before falling asleep, the one he felt the ‘need’ to be with when he has something happy to share or when he’s feeling overwheelmed by negative emotions

- He’s an emotional constipated boy, but when he pulled all the pieces together and understood what those...unwanting feelings was, it angered him to no point. You never thought a grumpier Katsuki could exist? Say no more. He’s on edge and fuming at everything and everyone. Midoriya breathing next to him? He nearly blew his head off His pen stopped working? He exploded it like confettis.

- Once he was aware of it, he can’t get it out of his mind and it pissed him off, the only logical option he came up with? Avoiding you. And when you try to act as usual? Ignoring you.

- The fact was that the thing he could least bear? Himself. For feeling that way, for realizing it, for being distracted and affected by something so trivial, for hurting you.

- One night when he couldn’t fall asleep because of the situation, turning and tossing in his bed, he angrily thrown off his sheets on the ground, storming off of his room and frowning while taking the direction of yours with a determine step.

- He knocked [BANGED.] on your door, not giving a freakin’ care that it was past midnight, and when you opened it slightly panicked in your nightie, rubbing your eyes, he just blurted out nonsens and the only words you grabbed were «can’t stop thinking about you – it pisses me off – I miss you – in love with you» ponctuated with some ‘shit’ and‘fuckin’ here and there.

- When he finally shut his mouth, his ears turned bright pink, stupor painted his face and as he was about to leave the same way he arrived, you grabbed his wrist to prevent him to vanish and dropped a quick clumsy kiss on his lips.

- His brain freezed, his eyes wide opened, he didn’t know how to react, not even realizing he woke the entire floor with his shouts.

Tamaki Amajiki

- He’s one of most the complicated person to reach, whether physically or emotionally, so it would take YEARS to make him accept that 1 – He can Love someone 2- He deserves to be Loved too

- Tamaki is a fragile little cinnamon roll that shouldn’t be pushed too much, it’s like sitting into bushes and wait to take wild animals in pictures. Patience and delicacy are required along with silence and empathy.

- If you both knew each other since elementary school, he would develop the same bond and dependance he has with Mirio, a solide relationship based on trust. But he would burried deep down his feelings so you would never discover his love to you, neither do he.

- If you met at U.A, then he would accept your presence only because Mirio and Nejire included you without his opinion to the group. If they do so without really consulting him, it's because they both know you could get along and won’t go beyond the pale and impose yourself on him.

- Either one of the other, he would very slowly open up to you, studying you at first, and leaving each time you sat next to him. Then he would accept that you could speak to him, sometimes he would even answer and to finish, he would talk to you and ask for your advices.

- If you’re lucky enough, you’ll be able to put your hand on his shoulder or brush his arm with yours after a few months!

- There’s something pretty reassuring about you, something that makes him feel at ease, almost confident when you’re around, the way you make all of those impossible things for him look so easy and smooth, and the bravery you show to accomplish little things in your life, even if it costs you a lot of courage to do so. He admires your convictions, the way you fight for what you love and what you believe in..

- He likes the fact you consider his feelings and apprehensions and don’t push him too much as much as you tend to help him find solution and don’t go and do the thing for him.

- You enlighten a path for him, guiding him throught the shadows of his emotional blinders, and help him make few steps in this horrific world. And he needs nothing more to fall in love with you.

- It was crystal clear for everyone to the point some people thought you were already dating, everyone except two persons, Him, and you.

- How he blushes each time you smile to him, how he searches you around when he losts sight of you, and how his own innocent smile gained his lips when you joke with him.

- Your two friends tried, REALLY hard to get you together, to help him realize and open up his feelings, to arranged some date between the two of you  while hidding to spy in the background.. but nope.

- When Mirio couldn’t bear it anymore, he took him under his arm to have an adult talk and it rang in Tamaki’s head like a bell.

- Thinking about it, the warm in his chest, the goosebump on his arms and the way he, sometimes [often], wanted to keep you close and don’t let you go after an afternoon by your side.. Mirio’s words do made sens.. and it was freaking him out now.

- A trap later settled into one more arranged date, he couldn’t look at you in the eyes, nor focus on what you were saying. You were so… and he was.. No. You definitely deserved better and there were no chance..

- «Are you.. okay Tamaki?» His heart was about to exploded when you got him out of his thoughts with the sound of his name, eyes wondering on your face in panic, what where you saying ? Why does he have to act like this, why do you look so sad? He’s already a terrible friend, how could he be a good boyfriend to you

- «No, it’s- it’s okay, I should have know you're not returning my feelings, I’am sorry I misread the signs-I .. I hope we can still be friend?»

- Tamaki thought he was about to faint when he heard you, wobbly legs, buzzing ears, blurry vision, he couldn’t think straight, but the tiny bit of reason in his head push few words to escape from his lips before he black out from the pressure. «I love you.»

Hawks - Keigo Takami

- This cocky Bastard had won your heart for ages but you kept it to yourself because you knew it was just a game between the two of you.

- You had to admit he was a pretty cute guy when you both met and began to work together, but this smart ass deserved some slaps on the head from time to time and it was a charm that would drag you to him even more.

- You were like an elusive target to him, reproaching his nonchalance and laid back attitude, spending your time pushing him away and resisting to his teasing demeanors.

- Despite the constant lazyness he tends to wallow in, he took it as a challenge and he put a point of honor to make you abdicate.

- [Un]fortunately, after months of playing with your nerves, he got caught at his own game and he was the one to fall deeply for you.

- You also fell for him hard, and quick after you two became friends, it was some kind of funny fight at first, a pleasant banter between two grown persons, he was throwing flirty comments your way and you answered to him with a wink accompanied by snarky remarks.

- Beyond that, the two of you created a really healthy bonds, he knew in a sec’ when something’s wrong and dropped anything he was doing to cheer you up, leaving all of the challenge out.

- He would took you on the roof of his building to watch a reassuring movie outdoor, your favorite snacks prepared, even if he would never admit that he fly throught the whole city to find them.

- It surprised him how much he remembered useless things when it comes to you, how many sugar you put in your tea, how your mustard scarf look good on you and how the tint of vanilla in your perfurme get along perfectly with the natural one of your skin.

- He also noticed the changed in his feelings toward you, for example, he was annoyed to the tips of his wings when Best Jeanist proposed to accompanied you to chose a new jacket to welcome spring and you seemed utterly happy about it.

- Whether for you or for him, it was more and more difficult to accept the situation when you realized how the feelings had settled down and there was no way to back off now that the relationship always been like that.

- He tried to didn’t take it seriously, but he liked this..thing.. going on between you too much, could he call it an addiction? He didn’t like it but, Maybe. Anyway, he would take the risk to confess even if it means not coming out unscathed

- Being an organised and clever guy didn’t help him much because each of is attempts to wooed you failed as you took it as the natural behaviour he developped toward you.

- And God knows how he gave it his best, he made it clear to call it «A DATE», he offered you flowers carefuly picked with his feathers while you were both sitting in a meadow as the sun set, he was neatly dressed and if you squinted a lot, he even did something to his hair!

- You wished all of this could be true but you refused to believe in it, because the fall would only be harder, proof with how hard the pain already thundered in your chest.

- When he leaded you home that night, you felt as if you didn’t wanted him to go, it wasn’t the first time, but right now, you would have given everything you could to keep him by your side. You anxiously turned to him once you reached the door, no word were needeed for him to understand what was going on in your mind.

- He approached confidently, shielding you both with his wings, his gloved hand on your cheek before you could react and his mouth on yours in a chaste kiss. You felt a smile crept on his lips when you put enough pressure to return it and he pulled away slowly.

- You plunged into amused golden eyes when his breath tickled you in a whispered words «I won», he laughed against your lips, trying once more to steal a kiss as you pushed him away gently, not-so-nice words leaving your mouth.

[scripttorture]

Have you played or experienced the Yakuza series? I'm really curious of how you feel about the character of majima goro, who was tortured before the games for a full year. Once released he spends game 0 trying to get back into the Yakuza, even though they're the ones who tortured him. He spends the rest of the games as a manic "joker-esque" character, becoming abusive towards his own subordinates, and becoming a master of disguise and personas, becoming almost impossible to read.

Ihaven’t played any of those games I’m afraid. And generally- I’mreluctant to review games on the basis of how much time they take toplay. It’s an investment of time akin to several tv series. Betweenthe blog, my job and my writing I don’t have an awful lot of freetime. (I have been playing and hugely enjoying Persona 5, which hassome interesting twists regarding the way they handle torture andsome interesting portrayals of survivors. I may review it later on.)

Basedon what you’ve said I’d consider this a very unrealisticdepiction of a torture survivor.

I’mnot sure where to begin- I suppose I’ll start with the time frame.A year is a very long time to be held by torturers and if a victim isbeing continuously tortured (ie every day) for that period of timethen whatever torture is used death before the end of the year isincredibly likely. This becomes even more likely when tortures arecombined and generally they are.

Scenarioslike this in fiction often assume a victim wouldbe tortured every day during captivity and this is often not whathappens in real life.

Torturehas a marked tendency to cause greater antagonism towards torturersand all they represent. Torture makes survivors more likely to resistand oppose groups they associate with torturers.

Sounless joining the Yakuza is a deliberate ploy to destabilise anddestroy them this seems incredibly unlikely.

Evenif it wasa deliberate ploy it still wouldn’t be typical behaviour in asurvivor. Most survivors avoidanything that reminds them of being tortured. Joining the groupresponsible for their torture seems likely to trigger their mentalhealth problems nearly constantly. I can’t imagine many survivorsvoluntarily doing anything like this.

Andif they did being constantly triggered by their environment would-well make for an incredibly ineffective Yakuza member. Someone in themiddle of a panic attack, a severe depressive episode etc is going tobe less good at their job then when they’re healthy, whatever thatjob might be.

Doingit soon after they were tortured seems even more unlikely. Therecovery period is generally years to decades. The way this characteris going straight from being tortured to joining his torturers is atbest unfortunate and at worst falling into the common tortureapologia trope that torture can be used to forcibly change a victim’sbeliefs.

I’munsure whether the rest of it is primarily a terrible depiction ofmental illness, a terrible depiction of torture or- What the hellit’s both.

Thesymptoms torture causes do not include mania and there’s nothing inthose symptoms that would make a survivor behave in a ‘Joker-esque’way.

Thevast majority of those symptoms would make disguise much much moredifficult. They’d make keepingupa consistent persona much more difficult. They’d make the basic actof remembering what the disguise or persona is supposed to be moredifficult. They’d make the likelihood of ‘breaking character’because of mental health symptoms much much higher-

Looksurvivors are capable of learning, growing, achieving their goals andbuilding the life they want to live. They can and do achieveincredible things.

Butthis scenario is like expecting a double above knee amputee to gostraight from the operating theatre to winning gold medals at theparalympics.

Asurvivor character mightbe capable of this degree of deception after recovery, intenseprofessional help and extensive training. Jumping straight into itafter torture? Virtually impossible.

It’sa massive misrepresentation of the kind of damage torture causes andthe effect those mental illnesses have on real people. It carries thestrong suggestion that mental illness makes people dangerous anduntrustworthy. It also seems to suggest that torture makes victimsabusers.

Thisis not true.

Theamount of torture apologia and/or damaging misrepresentation ofsurvivors in this character is just huge. Goingthrough the bullet point list I have of most common unrealistic anddamaging tropes- I think this arguably hits six out of eight.

It’sdefinitelyplaying in to the idea that torture survivors are ‘broken’. It’scertainlydepicting a survivor as incapable of living a normal, happy life.It’s definitelysuggesting that some responses to torture are ‘better’ thanothers and is morally judging the character for an unrealisticresponse that is nonetheless being shown as a symptom of torturebeyond the character’s control.

I’dargue that it’s alsostrongly suggesting torturers can control the responses victims have(he joins the Yakuza), that resistance to torture is unusual and thatsurvivors are forever defined by what they endured.

Itsounds generally like a very clumsy narrative use of torture.

Lookingat the scenario as a writer rather than through the lense of torturehere’s what I think the writers were trying to do:

Give the character a quick handwaved ‘motivation’ for anything bizarre the narrative makes him do

Attempt to make a villain sympathetic to the audience without actually investing any effort in the character or much narrative time in showing what he’s like

Provide an ‘explanation’ for the character being super humanly good at things without time or training

Provide an ‘explanation’ for the character being more aggressive and violent while trying to keep the character sympathetic

Theresult is a mess. It perpetuates harmful stereotypes about torturesurvivors and mentally ill people generally. But frankly- this isjust lazy.

Itlooks to me very much like the writers wanted the character to dohorrible things but couldn’t be bothered to commit and make himmorally responsible for his actions. Theyhad a series of actions they wanted the character to perform butcouldn’t be bothered to try to fit a consistent personality ormotivation to those actions. They wanted to write the charactersuffering but couldn’t be bothered to show the consequences of thatnarrative choice.

Sorather than do the work of creating a consistent character oradjusting the plot they tacked on an unrealistic stereotype of mentalillness.

Someabusers werevictims themselves. Survivor status does not confer moral superiorityor make people more ethical. Survivors are individuals and like anyother individuals they are capable of extreme behaviour, for good andill.

Butthis really isn’tthe way to discuss that issue. Because we know that the majority ofsurvivors do notgo on to become abusers whereas this sort of narrative suggests thatabuse always begets abuse.

Torturedoesn’t make people ‘special’.

Itdoesn’t give them a moral cop out excusing them from basic ethicaltreatment of others. It doesn’t make them super humanly good atanything, in fact it makes them more likely to struggle with learningnew skills and carrying on with old ones. It doesn’t make peopleviolent and it doesn’t make them weak.

Thesesorts of depictions are damaging. They teach people that torturesurvivors don’t need support after they’ve been tortured. Theyteach people that survivors are untrustworthy and violent.

Theytell survivors that they deserve the social rejection theyoverwhelmingly experience.

So-yes this is a poor depiction. Thatdoes not mean you’re wrong to enjoy the game.Every work of fiction has flaws. I think acknowledging those flaws isimportant but whether they take away our enjoyment of something is avery personal matter.

Ialso think that we should all strive to be the best we can be.Torture survivors in particular are incredibly poorly served bypopular fiction. So much of what’s available justifies, dismissesor condones atrocities sometimes even while trying to speak againstthem.

That’sbecause accurate information is so hard to find, because there aresystematic barriers to accessing that information.

Wecan do better.

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