#despite asserting ownership over his body

[many-shades-of-violence]

with an s/o that has their jolly roger tattooed on their womb I Shanks, Doflamingo, Crocodile

✢ characters: Shanks, Doflamingo, Crocodile

✢ content: tattoos, implications of suggestive themes

✢ requested by: @anonymous

✢ a/n: Only Shanky was requested, so have the rest for free ;)

Shanks would be initially surprised and amazed by your dedication and love for him and his crew when he sees your tattoo for the first time. He would appreciate the gesture and feel a deep sense of connection, knowing that his jolly roger is permanently etched onto your body, regardless of the placement.

He would shower you with affection and gratitude, placing gentle kisses on your forehead, and expressing how much your act means to him. Furthermore, he would feel incredibly lucky to have someone so devoted to him.

After you get the tattoo, Shanks would become even more protective of you, knowing that you have gone to great lengths to show your devotion. Ensuring your safety and happiness would become his priority, and he would always keep a watchful eye on you.

The sight of his jolly roger tattoo on your womb would awaken a possessive nature within Shanks. He would desire to mark you as his own, leaving a trail of passionate kisses and love bites around the tattooed area.

During intimate moments, he would explore your tattooed womb area with heightened intensity. The combination of physical pleasure and the symbolism behind the tattoo would create an incredibly intense and erotic experience for both of you.

Doflamingo would be taken aback by your bold choice to get a womb tattoo of his jolly roger. He would find it fascinating that you are willing to permanently mark your body in such an intimate way to show your devotion, especially since his jolly roger holds strong symbolism for the slave system on the Grand Line.

Despite his unpredictable nature, Doflamingo would feel a sense of pride and possessiveness over your tattoo. He would appreciate the dedication and loyalty behind the gesture and consider it an important symbol of your bond.

He would become even more protective of you, viewing the tattoo as a mark of ownership. Ensuring your safety and well-being would be his priority, and he would always keep a watchful eye on those who lay their eyes on you.

Doflamingo's dominant nature would be aroused by the sight of his jolly roger tattoo on your womb. He would desire to take control and possess you completely.

Your tattooed area would become a focal point for Doflamingo during intimate moments. He would take pleasure in exploring and teasing the area, heightening the sensations for both of you.

The sight of his jolly roger tattoo would reinforce his sense of power and control. He would use it as a tool to assert his authority and engage in a passionate power play with you.

Crocodile would be initially taken aback by your decision to get a womb tattoo of his jolly roger. He would maintain his stoic demeanor, but deep down, he would feel a sense of surprise and curiosity.

Despite his often cold and detached nature, Crocodile would secretly feel a sense of approval and pride. He would appreciate the dedication and loyalty displayed by you, recognizing the significance of your gesture.

The sight of his jolly roger tattoo on your womb would awaken a protective instinct in him. He would become even more vigilant in ensuring your safety and well-being, understanding the commitment you have shown.

Crocodile would silently admire the tattoo's symbolism, recognizing the deep bond it represents. He would find comfort in the fact that you have chosen to carry a permanent reminder of your shared connection within you.

During intimate times, Crocodile's curiosity would be piqued by the sight of his jolly roger tattoo on your womb. He would find it intriguing and fascinating, but he would keep his reactions restrained, not easily revealing his thoughts.

The tattoo would ignite a possessive desire within Crocodile. He would view it as a mark of ownership, heightening

[beardedmrbean]

Newly released body camera footage contradicts claims made by New York City Councilman Yusef Salaam, one of the infamous Central Park Five, regarding a recent traffic stop.

The incident, which occurred Friday night, prompted Salaam to accuse the police of racial bias and lack of transparency.

Salaam, who was on his way to dinner with his wife and four children, was pulled over for having overly tinted windows. The brief encounter, captured on the officer’s body cam, lasted less than a minute and concluded with Salaam being released after identifying himself as a councilman.

Despite the video evidence indicating a routine traffic stop, Salaam criticized the officer for not explicitly stating the reason for the stop.

“This experience only amplified the importance of transparency for all police investigative stops, because the lack of transparency allows racial profiling and unconstitutional stops of all types to occur and often go underreported,” Salaam, a Democrat, said in a statement.

NYC Mayor Eric Adams commended the officers involved, emphasizing the professionalism, courtesy and effective communication displayed during the incident. The New York Police Department later confirmed that Salaam was also in violation of state law for driving a vehicle with out-of-state plates and excessively tinted windows.

The police stop in New York City on Friday casts a renewed light on a police transparency bill, called the How Many Stops Act, a proposal Salaam supports that City Council members are set to vote on Tuesday to override Mayor Eric Adams’ veto.

It would require officers to publicly report on all investigative stops, including relatively low-level encounters with civilians. Despite being invited for a ride-along by Adams to showcase the bill’s potential negative impact, Salaam declined, citing the recent traffic stop as a reason.

Officers are not required to give a reason for a stop, but Salaam said the police should have done so voluntarily.

City Council Member Sandy Nurse said she was on a video call with Salaam and other people when he was pulled over. Nurse said she heard Salaam ask the officer for the reason for the stop, and none was given.

Marc Claxton, a former NYPD detective and director of the Black Law Enforcement Alliance, echoed the mayor’s sentiments, praising the professionalism exhibited by both the officer and Salaam during the encounter. Claxton emphasized that in the absence of the ongoing legislative context, the incident would likely have gone unnoticed, resembling routine stops that occur regularly in the city.

The New York City Benevolent Association president, Patrick Hender, called for an apology from Salaam and other elected officials who had criticized the police officers involved. Claxton, however, expressed doubt that an apology would be forthcoming, stating that the incident was a routine and professional interaction with no grounds for personal grievances.

In an interview, Salaam denied using his title to evade a ticket. He explained that he was in the process of transferring the registration of his vehicle from Georgia to New York. Despite moving back to New York in December 2022, Salaam still maintains ownership of a home in Georgia and has family residing there.

He expressed unawareness that his tinted windows, permissible in Georgia, violated regulations in New York City. Salaam asserted that had he received a ticket or warning, he would have promptly addressed the issue and had the tinted windows replaced.

[anemia-rp]

-The feeling of his nails scratching lightly over the skin of her lower back makes her tremble slightly into their tight embrace, feeling her body grow hotter and hotter with each touch. - You know I won't ever say no to you claiming me... I love it just as much as I love you. *Instinctively, Kukki grabs onto the vampire's shirt, resting her hands onto his chest, a slightly renewed smirk playing on her lips. - Or else what, babe? You'll chop off their heads and their dicks?~ *She hums softly, almost playfully despite the very dark nature of the conversation - Mmm... That sounds indeed dangerous... Would hate being the unlucky guy that'd dare look at me, checking me out, when they think I can't see them. Usually this type of men make me roll my eyes, since I find them distasteful, but I must admit that seeing you go berserk over them makes me want you even more, Fuji. I simply adore how obsessed you can be about me... And know that it's the same for you, I'd destroy anyone who'd ever dare even attempt to steal you from me... *Kukki then pulls onto his shirt to make him lean down to kiss her, biting down lewdly onto his lip.* How about you assert your ownership over me by covering me with your love marks? Then anyone would know who I belong to...~

-he snorts as a response to her words, not being flat out pissed off anymore but still somewhat moody, though it almost feels like something good since it's his possessive side speaking here and this side is spiced with lots of love thus he holds Kukki even tighter just to look at her with his visage still grumpy when she smirks at him- Yeah. You forgot to mention their hands and their eyes. -the corners of his mouth are lightly twitching now because he can bring on his dark humour now. Though it doesn't mean he wouldn't truly slaughter anyone who touched what's /his/; now he cups Kukki's cheeks and looks into her eyes with even more determination- So guess now you're conflicted between avoiding distasteful guys and luring them in so you can see me rage, huh? -well, he grins now as well since in the end he sometimes enjoys a good fight even- And that sounds good as well, you getting furious. -he kisses her as passionately as he feels in this very moment after the sweet little bite, and instead of giving a verbal answer he lets his lips wander to her neck, biting and sucking on the delicate skin until dark splotches would appear-

[not-poignant]

Is Lija going to confront Augus about Efnisien or expose to Gwyn and the rest of the family that he broke Ef's cheekbone/was extremely dishonest about the confrontation? I can't see how she could without breaking HIPAA/whatever equivalent medical confidentiality exists in Australia or the nebulous setting of FFS, but given that she felt entitled to pull That Shit on Efnisien in a vulnerable state, would she even have that respect for his privacy? Would she reveal the attempt + hospitalisation?

Tbh yes, given Lija isn't Efnisien's physician or involved in his care at all (he was discharged from her care like 3.5 years prior), she probably is going to tell Augus about what he did to Efnisien's face. And Gwyn has absolutely already told Augus about the hospitalisation (Dr Gary says that he's revealed where Efnisien is to Gwyn), and possibly the break as well (I don't know how much Dr Gary disclosed to him, given Gwyn is Efnisien's official point of contact, he may have left that out though).

I doubt it will go much further for anyone to know that she has made that violation in the first place, to be honest. It's not like Augus is going to shout it from the rooftops that he broke someone's face and could go to jail for it. (Which doesn't make it okay, but I think Lija will believe she can keep that information in a closed circle).

[grand-taire]

being a mormor shipper is amazing because, due to there being no source material, there are so many different dynamics you can choose from. and they’re all so good. for example, my favorites

jim and sebastian who are both fucked up people, who drive each other to higher and higher heights of violence, who don’t have a definable relationship beyond the neon burst of adrenaline the other brings. it is what it is, which is to say, something bright and sharp that can’t possibly last long before one or both of them burn up.

alternatively, jim and sebastian who come to understand each other deeply, despite not having made any other meaningful human relationships in their lives. they’ve both always felt seperate and disconnected from others, but for the first time, they’ve found a person who feels real. they’re not the same, not in the way jim always thought would be required for him to connect with someone, but they don’t have to be. they aren’t alone anymore.

intimacy issues TM: jim who doesn’t really think of himself as a human being, who has gone through life believing he’s a sociopath with no weak spots and no real emotions to speak of, who is suddenly confronted with the fact that he is not only incapable of killing sebastian anymore, but that he does care for another person. and he does not fucking handle it well. maybe he lashes out to prove to himself that it isn’t true, tries to push sebastian away or hurt him.

or maybe it’s about power, about nobody ever gets to me; maybe jim equates caring with weakness, and does everything he can to assert his dominance, stay aloof. keep sebastian in his proper place.

seb who is devoted, little better than a dog- he’ll admit it- but only for one man; he’ll stop at nothing to keep following jim, keep this going just a little while longer. he’ll be whatever jim needs, a warm body, a weapon, a soft voice or a whipping boy.

maybe jim isn’t able to love; maybe seb is just a toy or a distraction or a morbid experiment to see if he can build a shrine to himself in someone else’s chest. maybe jim uses him and gives nothing back; sometimes seb knows, and it’s fine. sometimes he never stops reaching for any shred of jim he can take for himself, and he never really can.

maybe sebastian is a revelation. he isn’t like jim but he isn’t like anyone else, either; they certainly aren’t going to fix each other but that doesn’t mean seb won’t always guide him, hollow eyed, back home; doesn’t mean jim won’t give sebastian a home to come back to, and every piece of himself he can spare.

speaking of seb as a revelation; maybe jim finally finds in him someone he trusts enough to fully hand himself over. sebastian doesn’t have to be the only one collared like a dog, on his knees.

seb who is cunning, capable and sarcastic, stubbornly refusing to be cowed by the most dangerous man he’ll ever meet, because he wasn’t built that way. who respects jim and would give his life for him; that doesn’t change the fact that he’s going to fucking push back. and jim. jim finds his match. jim’s fingers leave bruises around his throat; that’s fine, because jim has a matching set on his hips. reminders of ownership and respect and debts to be paid.

[spacesnail3000]

Let It Snow Chapter 4/4: Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Word Count: 7,051

Warnings: Smut, dubcon situations, emotional manipulation, more breeding talk/pregnancy fetish, come marking, oral sex, ABO dynamics and the nasty fetishes that come with it basically

Series Masterlist  Main Masterlist

A/N: So yeah this was all supposed to be a Christmas fic or at the very least a winter fic but now it’s April so, idk? Lol at least it’s finished, thanks for sticking with me through it. I may write an epilogue but I don’t want to promise anything because I basically have no motivation/time to write these days. Anyways, enjoy and let me know what you think!

It was around midnight when Steve awoke, restless, his heart in a flurry about finally having a mate.

Steve traced the lines of her face as she slept, gazing at her with so much love in his heart that it ached like a blow to his chest during combat. She would learn to love him, and she would come to accept their bond. All would come together in time, especially once she was carrying his child, which he intended for her to be by the time her heat concluded.

Since she had passed out after their first mating, Steve had waited for his knot to go down, and then he cleaned himself up and prepared a few meals for when she woke up. He had also ventured out into the shed out back for more firewood before it got too dark. There was a good foot of snow now and even if Steve wanted to drive them home in this blizzard, he knew it would be dangerous—even with the truck.

Good thing Steve was in no rush to get back to the city. Not with a needy Omega upstairs waiting for him.

Her hormones and scent had flooded the entire house now, almost to the point of making him dizzy. As soon as he situated the firewood by the fireplace, he turned back to her, undressed, and crawled back in their nest to lay with her. He was able to sleep for quite a while before he woke up, his Alpha yearning for her so much that it resounded deep in his chest, a constant thrum like an orchestra playing a symphony crafted specifically for them, for their love.

Now there was a flicker of anxious energy, the brass instruments of their orchestra buzzing around in his mind. It presented with the urge to claim her again, to make her his in every way possible. It had been too long since he’d had her, and he needed her, needed to reinforce his ownership of her. She seemed to feel it too, shifting in her sleep, her brow furrowing, lips turning into a pout. 

While he didn’t want to wake her up, he could still assert his love for her even while she slept. It wouldn’t be the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last.

So he began to scent her, rubbing his face on her scent glands, rutting his cock against her thigh and hips and stomach to mark her with his musk even more. One hand trailed down between her legs, where she was leaking his semen, and he pushed it deeper into her cunt with a few thrusts of his fingers.

He kneeled above her then, fisting his cock with the same hand, covering himself in both of their juices, pulling himself off with quick, efficient strokes for one purpose only—to mark her in his come. It wouldn’t be wasteful—the serum allowed him to create copious amounts of sperm, as well as regenerate it quicker than a normal Alpha, so he had plenty more to give her once he fucked her again.

But he needed to mark her in his seed, like a proper Alpha should. It would help her through her heat, help her body come to terms with their bond, with his ownership over her.

Just the thought of his cock knotted deep inside her, filling her up again—it brought him over the edge, and he spilled himself onto her stomach and thighs, countless white stripes across her smooth flesh, glistening in the firelight.

One of his strong hands came down to massage it into her skin, working at it until her skin was sticky and slippery and coated in his essence. He spread his come over her belly, up over her breasts, palming across her bonding glands to wipe his scent on them, and then down to her cunt, where she was visibly glistening with a mixture of his come and her own slick, her body already aroused from her heat, from his scent, from their bond.

He was still hard, his erection having never flagged once since their last knotting, and still antsy on top of that. This time, he wanted her to present for him, but she was still fast asleep and he didn’t want to wake her. His poor Omega was exhausted, and she would need her sleep.

Pushing her body onto her side, he laid down on the bed behind her and maneuvered her knee up and back over his thigh, his own leg thick and imposing stuck between hers. His cock slipped in easily, and he took it slow, rocking her back and forth as he fucked her, almost leisurely, taking his time to caress and kiss every part of her that he could reach.

As soon as he was inside of her, the music in their bond mellowed out into a soothing melody, and she relaxed into him, sleeping soundly now that he was in his proper place.

His hands slid over her abdomen, cupping it in one large hand, and he imagined how she would swell for him, his pups. She would grow so round, the skin taut against her belly, stretch marks decorating it like a painting of Steve’s ownership of her. He would worship her, rub lotion on her stomach, give her kisses all over, every single day.

Then he brought his hand up to her breasts, pinching at her nipples until she was squirming in her sleep. He couldn’t wait for them to grow along with her belly, engorged with milk, sometimes so swollen and painful that his sweet Omega would beg for him to help relieve some of her discomfort when the pups couldn’t. And he would oblige her with delight, happy to do such a service for his love.

Sharp teeth sought out her scent gland, which was swollen and red from his earlier marking of her. As he licked at it, cleaning the dried blood off, and sucked softly to stimulate more blood flow, he felt their bond sparking in his chest, sharp percussion tapping along his nerves, an electrical fire hot wiring his heart alive. Burying his face in her hair at the nape of her neck, he reveled in the feel of her warmth around him, her smell fogging up his brain. She felt like home, so warm and natural and comfortable, his mind completely at ease now that he was bonded with her.

“Sweet, sweet Omega,” he whispered against her neck, digging his nose into her scent gland, smelling the hot swirling tendrils of their bond. He was barely thrusting inside her at this point, more so rocking a gentle rhythm with his hips, basking in the slick heat of her around his cock. “What did I do to deserve you?”

She whimpered, the first crack in the shelter of her dreams, but he continued his slow tempo, his soft touches on her belly and breasts and hips, wanting to ease her into wakefulness, gentle, loving.

Her brain had other ideas, startling awake at once, alert and on edge at the feel of someone in her nest, someone she wasn’t prepared for fucking her awake. She jolted in his arms, and he could immediately smell it on her, the fear and anxiety and confusion, all overlaid by the residual desire from her heat. For a moment, she struggled against him, and Steve slid his hand up her collarbone to cup her throat, using a secure hold to press her against his body.

“That’s okay, sweetheart,” he whispered in her ear, then lapped at her bond mark again. “You’re okay, you’re safe, I’ve got you—”

“Steve?” she asked, voice thick in her throat, confusion increasing with her resistance as she tried to remember what happened. It tugged at their bond, harsh and unpleasant, and Steve scraped his teeth against the bond mark to spark the memory of it in her. It worked—she shuddered against him, the mixture of his hand on her throat and his pheromones flooding her senses forcing her to relax into him despite the uncertainty still lingering in the back of her mind. The presence of a strong Alpha taking care of her willed her body into submission, and he purred against her.

“Good girl,” he cooed, fucking into her with more force now that she was awake. She keened, clawing at his hand as it gradually placed more pressure on her throat.

“Alpha!” she squeaked, hips pushing back into him.

“Let me have your body, sweetheart,” he whispered, pulling out and turning over so she was flat on her stomach. “Be a good Omega and present for me.”

He adjusted their bodies so he was kneeling behind her, and she readily went up onto her knees, her head tucked into her arms to support her neck. For a moment, Steve admired the sight of her presenting for him, the slope of her back, the width of her hips, the shine of her cunt as it glistened up at him.

“Steve, Alpha, please,” she begged, heat peaking again without a cock inside her to appease her. As she tried to push her hips back, Steve held her still, wanting to take this at his own pace—although he loved it when she begged.

“Now, now, Omega,” he said, patting her ass firmly. “Your Alpha knows best. Trust me.”

She whined, and he could see her body tremble with anticipation when he ran the tip of his cock through her slick, but she didn’t say anything else. Satisfied that he had her submission in his pocket, he pressed in slowly, making her feel every inch of him as he penetrated her. Her whine tapered off into a shuddering moan, and it became almost a sob as he bottomed out deep inside of her.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she began to chant as he began to fuck her fast, his hips slapping against hers and echoing around the bare room. He admired her from behind, the arch of her back, her hands clawing at the pillows. Running his hands over the swell of her hips, her ass, he drew one hand back and spanked her with enough force to have her gasp and cry out into the mattress.

He kneaded her ass, pulling her cheeks apart and staring at his cock pistoning in and out of her. Their combined liquids frothed at her entrance, all around his cock, from the speed at which he fucked her, and he couldn’t help but to run his thumb across where they were joined, collecting the liquid, and then lean forward and shove his finger in her mouth.

She moaned around it and eagerly sucked it off, and Steve almost came right there from her blind heat-induced enthusiasm.

He changed his pace, now deep and slow, taking his time to feel every part of her. He was so deep inside of her and as he supported himself with one arm, he brought the other down to her stomach, cupping it and feeling her, imagining the day it would swell for him. She would make such a pretty little mommy, so sweet and perfect, making the perfect home for them, for their family.

Her whimpers filled the space, turning into high pitched moans as she lost herself again to the pleasure he graced her with.

“You love this, don’t you sweetheart?” he growled in her ear. She nodded, but he wasn’t satisfied with that. “Tell me, Omega,” he commanded her, voice deep. “Tell me what you feel.”

The first few sounds to come out of her mouth when she opened it to respond were not coherent words, but punched out moans as Steve fucked into her harder. “Oh, oh, God—” she cried, but settled down as Steve repeated his command directly into her ear, using a deeper Alpha voice, the voice of the Captain, one she couldn’t help but obey. “You’re—” she gulped down a moan, “So, so big… So big inside me, and deep, Alpha. So, so good—" Her words trailed off in a whimper. “Want your knot, please, Alpha, please—”

Steve grunted into her ear, his body practically flattening hers to the mattress as he fucked her harder, the urge to knot her too strong. He brought his hand down to rub at her clit, fingers sliding easily against her skin from all of her slick. “Love it when you beg me, baby, love you so much—”

“Alpha, Alpha—need your knot—”

“Tell me you love my knot Omega, tell me you love it—”

“Love it so much—need it—need you—” Her voice weakened to a squeal as her orgasm consumed her, burying her face into the pillow and shuddering underneath Steve’s hulking frame.

At the feeling of her cunt squeezing so tight around him, Steve roared out his orgasm, his knot swelling into place and locking them together, coming so deep inside her that he could feel her cervix pressed up against the head of his cock, everything so sensitive and soft inside.

“That’s right, sweet Omega,” he cooed, grinding his cock inside of her and grinning as she mewled, “So deep inside you, isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

She nodded and whimpered again, soft little sounds coming from her throat. Steve flattened his body over hers, providing a calming presence, sucking and licking at their bond until she shifted under him, at which point he turned them back to their sides and cuddled her against him with strong arms.

“Love you so much,” he whispered in her ear. She was still dizzy with pleasure, his knot pressing against her in all the right ways every time he pressed his hips into hers. He could feel her happiness and wholeness in their bond, the way she ached from how good it felt, the fogginess in her mind that remained from her orgasm.

Her heat was sated for the time being, and Steve allowed her to doze until his knot went down. At that point, he fetched some food and water for her, and when he came back into the bedroom, he roused her awake with a gentle tone. It was late and she was tired, but she needed to eat something and drink water before she went back to sleep.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmured, sitting her up and leaning her against his chest. Her head lolled back onto his shoulder, but he nudged her head up and encouraged her to drink from a water bottle. “Just a little more, honey—that’s right, that’s a good girl,” he cooed as she finished the bottle.

Based on how delirious she was, he had decided that the soup would be too messy for her to try and eat, so he fed her small bits of finger foods—dried berries, chunks of hard meat and cheese, and crackers. He hand fed her small bites and made sure she chewed them properly, letting her suckle the remnants from his fingers until she was too exhausted to eat any more.

At that point, he let her snuggle into his chest as she fell into a deep sleep, one that lasted throughout the night.

 X

Steve awoke before her the next morning. He got up to shower, eat, and rebuild the fire, which he had tended to several times in the night. Luckily she hadn’t woken up anymore, and although he loved being inside of her, he knew she needed all the energy she could get for the coming days.

He didn’t bother putting any clothes back on, which paid off when he came back into the master bedroom to see his sweet Omega writhing in their nest, a hand between her legs. He had heard her moans coming up the stairs, but he hadn’t expected such a sight, her hair sticking to her face, glistening with sweat, her other hand clutching the pillow beside her.

“Oh, Omega,” he groaned, his hand coming down to run over his cock, already hard just at her scent, before cupping his sac in his large palm. “My sweet, sweet Omega.”

Their eyes met and she shot up, eyes focused on his cock. “Alpha,” she whispered, high and needy. “Need you, please—”

He chuckled and stroked his fist up his cock. In the back of his mind, he wondered how desperate she was for his knot, what she would do for it.

“Come and get it then, sweetheart.”

She wasted no time crawling over to him, sitting at his feet. There was a frenzied look in her eyes, a sort of wild gaze as she gave herself over to her animal instinct. “Alpha—” she mumbled, but her plea was cut short as he took a fistful of her hair and shoved her face forward onto his cock.

He didn’t enter her mouth, but instead he forced her face to rub against the skin, nose and cheeks rubbing against the skin, lips right at his balls. She moaned aloud, the animalistic display of Alpha affection going straight through her. Through their bond, he could feel her arousal grow stronger. He scented her like this, his musk all over her skin and lips until her mouth was watering and she was mouthing at his balls, yearning for his cock in her pussy.

By the time he took mercy on her and crouched down, she was dripping onto the floor. She practically threw herself on him when he finally kneeled down next to her, knocking him on his ass and tossing her arms around his neck.

She wiggled around in his arms until she was straddling his thigh, pressing her body up against his chest. “Alpha,” she whined, grappling at his neck and chest. Her eyes were glazed over again, mind fogging with the urgency of her heat. “Alpha, please, need your knot, please, I’ll do anything—”

Well, Steve really couldn’t resist it when she begged so sweet for him.

He fucked her right there on the hardwood floor, pure animal instinct, growling and rutting and locking his teeth into her neck as he came, breaking the skin once more and sending her deep into the clouds, her mind dizzy and drugged with pleasure.

 X

Over the next two days, she was so consumed with her heat that he could barely get her to eat or drink anything between their intense sessions of fucking and knotting. As soon as he knotted her, she would be in a sleepy daze until her heat consumed her body again, turning her into a sex-starved maniac. There were several times that he had to force her to consume food or water as his knot was still inside, plugging her up with so much of his seed that he didn’t think there would be room for anything else. Sometimes he had to force her to sleep, too, rather than continue fucking her after his knot went down. Most of the time, the only way she could even fall asleep was with his knot lodged inside of her.

He was a good Alpha, taking good care of her during her heat. It filled him with satisfaction to hear her purring as she fell asleep, belly full of food, pussy full of his knot, completely and thoroughly sated until another wave of her heat woke her up. He kept her warm with the fire, kept her cozy in her nest, and he was there for her whenever she needed him to fuck her. He always knew what she needed before she needed it, anticipating every thought and urge she had, memorizing her mind like the words to a song.

Their bond was strong. He could feel her through it so clearly, and he was sure she could feel him just as well, feel his love for her, his adoration.

Steve couldn’t wait until she was all his. His kept woman, his sweet Omega, barefoot and pregnant, devoted to him and his family. Their family.

On the third day after her heat began, she slowly came back to her senses as the crippling need ebbed away.

“Steve,” she croaked sometime after his knot had gone down. She had been laying against his chest, not quite asleep, and he could feel the haze clear a little bit through their bond. Her heat was still there, he could smell it, but it was waning now.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispered, tightening his grip on her, placing a kiss on her head. She stiffened in his arms and that sour scent of confusion crept back up into their bond.

She sat up, gathering the sheet against her chest. “What—” For a long moment she was silent as she looked around, taking in her surroundings. The rumpled blankets on the air mattress, her clothes abandoned on the floor, the stack of newspapers Steve had been keeping himself occupied with when she wasn’t begging for his cock. Then she looked to Steve, eyebrows furrowed, a frown on her face. “Steve—" Her voice was hoarse, and she cleared her throat although it didn’t help much. “What day is it?”

“It’s Monday, darling,” he answered, purposefully keeping his voice even and quiet, trying to exude as much of a calming aura as possible. He could feel the turbulence on their bond, the ripples from her end as she questioned it. He wasn’t pleased at the sudden dissonance, but he also wasn’t surprised by it.

“And—and—my heat—”

“You’ve been delirious with it all weekend,” he informed her.

“All… all weekend?” He nodded and reached for her, but she pulled away. Fingers shaking, she brought her hand up to feel the skin at her neck, the inflamed gland still tender from Steve’s bite. “And you… you m-mated me…”

There had been so many reactions of hers that Steve had anticipated, so many plans he had in his head depending on her reply, and he had practiced so many different ways to respond to the feelings she felt now. He knew, from their bond, that she was confused, conflicted, saddened, angry.

“Oh, honey,” he cooed, understanding laced through his tone, just shy of condescending. “You wanted me to, remember? You begged me to bite you.”

She frowned, a lost little look on her face that made Steve want to gather her in his arms and kiss her. “That’s not true,” she whispered, “I didn’t do that… Did I?”

Of course, it wasn’t true—she didn’t beg for it, but she clearly was missing a few memories from the last few days, so Steve was going to roll with it.

“You did,” he lied, his tone steady and sure. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and she shivered from the touch. “You asked so sweet, too, when you begged me for my mark—"

She jerked away from him. “But Steve,” she hissed, eyes filling with tears as she glared at him, “Obviously I couldn’t really consent to that! To any of this! I was under the influence of my heat!”

A frown fell over Steve’s face, and his hand fell back to his side. He let that feeling sit on their bond—hurt, sadness. She could feel it, he knew, from the way she shuddered. His voice was low when he next spoke, eyes downcast. “So… you didn’t want me to mate you?”

“N-no—”

“You don’t want to be my Omega?”

“Steve,” she whimpered, feeling the tug of their bond in her heart, the primal urge to submit to him despite her reluctance. The bond was not to be underestimated—it tied them both to each other, and no matter if she wanted it or not, it was there. Steve was utterly devoted to her, and that could be felt in every pulse of the bond, overpowering her aversion to it.

And she was a sensitive girl, too—so sweet and empathetic, never wanting to hurt anyone. The first time she said no to a date with him, she told him how bad she felt, how she didn’t want to let him down, but she couldn’t compromise the project. Now, she could clearly feel his love for her. She could feel his devotion. And she could feel his pain, too, he knew, and he could tell it was hurting her just as much as it hurt him.

 He would simply have to convince her that it was the right thing for them, that it was meant to be. And, well, if she continued to reject him, reject their bond—he had a plan for that contingency, too.

Steve sat up opposite of her, taking her hands in his and forcing her to look at him. “Sweetheart, I know you’re not sure about this,” he began, pouring as much sincerity into his words as possible. “But I wanted this before it happened. I wanted to be with you before we came up here—and I know you wanted me, too.”

“No, Steve,” she shook her head.

“You didn’t want me? Can you honestly say that?”

“Steve—”

“No, you need to be honest with me, sweetheart. Because I don’t think I was imagining it. The lunch dates, the little baked treats?” He held on tighter to her hands as she tried to pull away, shaking her head. Tears fell down her cheeks but he could feel her emotions sparking in their bond—her guilt, yes, and her frustration, but also her fondness for him. “That time we went to Prospect Park and I bored you to death with all that stuff about the Grand Army Plaza? And then you fed your popcorn to the squirrels—and God, the way you laughed, the way you smiled. It was so precious.”

“But Steve—” He could feel the pain she felt as he overwhelmed her with sweet words. He could feel her warring with herself to give into the bond she never wanted. It was exactly where he wanted her.

“And that time you showed me all of your favorite places around Brooklyn, and I told you about how everything had changed since my time. You were so excited about it all, and then you got real sad, nostalgic. I knew then that you were perfect for me.” He lowered his voice, remembering the day fondly. “And that day I came for lunch and you were crying, and you told me about your father’s death, and I held you as you cried. Sweetheart, I want to be able to do that for you any time you need it—"

She wrenched her hands away, burying her face in her palms, shoulders shaking. “No, Steve—”

“I know you feel something for me,” he insisted. “I can feel it. I’ve always been able to feel it. And I’ve always felt this way about you, too. I was going to ask you on a date after we were finished with this place, even though I knew you probably wouldn’t say yes because you’ve got Tony’s new project to plan…” He trailed off with a well-rehearsed sigh. “But a man can hope, can’t he?”

“You don’t get it, Steve,” she choked out between sobs. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Sure, I liked you, I liked spending time with you. But I just wanted to take it slow with you. And now…”

Steve moved forward and gathered her face in his hands, wiping away her tears with his thumbs. “Honey, I know. I know. And I didn’t plan for this, either—but we’re in this situation now. If you want to medically break the bond, we can do that, but I’m also open to trying to make the best of it.”

Breaking a bond was possible, but the process was painful and lengthy, involving an injection of shots over the course of a few months to weaken and eventually break the hormonal bond between two people. It was contraindicated in pregnant women due to the potential for damage to the fetus, and there was no way she wouldn’t be pregnant by the end of all this. He felt certain she wouldn’t choose this route—could already feel her aversion just at the suggestion.

Even if she did choose it, he wouldn’t allow it. But he needed her to believe that he supported her no matter what.

Her panic mounted, and she met his eyes. “Steve…” she whispered. “Did you use protection?”

“No, honey, I didn’t. I thought you’d be on birth control.”

Another tear fell and her face crumpled. “I’m not… I’m not on birth control… I don’t like what it does to my body—that’s why I’m not on suppressants, either, Steve.”

Of course, that was another thing he loved about her—that she refused to put any of those modern-day poisons into her body. “I’m sorry, darling, I didn’t know that.”

False hope lit her face up. “Maybe I could get a Plan B pill—”

“Honey, it’s already been three days. And we’re going to be stuck here for another week at least before the weather clears up.”

“The—the weather—it’s still snowing?”

Steve gestured to the window, which was whited out with the snow falling heavily outside. “It’s barely stopped.” Her hope dimmed again, and he could feel her panic rising within the bond. Her breathing turned heavy and soon she was hyperventilating, letting out anxious sobs and moans. Steve took a hold of her again, forcing her head up. “Look at me,” he demanded, repeating her name and the order until she obeyed. “Breathe with me, darling. In and out, okay?” He coached her through miming his breaths until she was following along with him. “Good girl, you’re doing so good,” he praised her. “Just like that, keep breathing like that.”

Once she had calmed down, he drew her in against his chest, stroking down her hair and back to relax her.

“Sorry…” she mumbled weakly. Too weak to fight him off, too weak to question him anymore. Exactly where he wanted her. 

“It’s okay, sweetie. I know this is all overwhelming. I know it’s a lot. Just know that I’m here for you. I’m gonna take care of you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“Okay…”

“Let’s just take it one day at a time. The roads should be clear enough by the end of the week that we can head back to the city. We’ll stay here until then, and once we’re back in the city—then we can make the decisions. How about that?”

His meek girl, his feeble girl, although finding herself in an unwanted situation, was not going to fight him on it. She nodded against his chest, bending to his will so beautifully, his sweet, submissive girl.

X

Steve ran a bath for her and took his time washing her hair, conditioning it, and running a soft washcloth over every inch of her body. He soothed her until she was boneless against his chest, purring and shivering every time he went over any particularly sensitive area—her sides, her pelvis, the insides of her thighs. Once every perfect inch of her body was clean, he got her out of the tub and dried her off with thorough swipes of the towel against her skin, handling her with firm hands that had her nipples hardening and her scent peaking with arousal.

“S-Steve,” she whispered as he sat her atop the bathroom counter. Her small hands clutched at his shoulders as he dried himself off. “Steve, I think my heat is spiking again.”

“I know, darling, I’ve got you,” he assured her, wrapping the towel around his hips. She pawed at his chest, hands scrambling down his waist until he caught her wrists, long fingers encompassing her forearms completely. “Relax, honey,” he cooed, “Be patient. Don’t need you wearing yourself out again so soon, do we?”

“But Steve—”

He silenced her with a few tender kisses to her fingers, her knuckles, her palms. “Shh, baby. Let your Alpha take care of you—Alpha knows best, right?” At his words, his reminder of his ownership of her, he could feel the conflict within her. Her initial rejection of their bond followed by her urge to give into it. To give into him.

She whimpered at the feeling of that harsh, jarring tug on their bond. He felt it just as much as she did, the discord within their souls, and rather than let her dwell on it, he distracted her.

He ran his hands over her sides and tutted. “Your skin is a little dry, Omega. Can’t have that, can we?” Although she didn’t respond, she didn’t refuse him when he pulled out a bottle of lotion from the cabinet. “I’ll get you all fixed up, sweetheart.”

Steve started by massaging the lotion into her right hand, up her arm, and then doing the other arm before working on her shoulders with firm strokes of his fingers. He did her back next, stepping close between her legs and giving her sweet kisses as he blindly smoothed the cream into her shoulder blades, down her spine, into the divots of her sacrum. By the time he started working on her sides, she was trembling in his arms, hands clenched into fists against his shoulders as she tried to avoid pulling him against her or grinding her cunt against his pelvis.

“You’re doing so good,” he cooed, rubbing more lotion onto her neck and clavicles, before his hands wandered down to her breasts. Her eyes fluttered closed as he cupped them in his hands and massaged the lotion in. “Such a good girl for me.” She shuddered at the feeling of his calloused thumbs rubbing across her nipples, and then he continued down to her abdomen, spending a little extra time there admiring the softness, the life that had to be already growing inside. Then her hips, and her thighs, all the way down her legs to her feet, where she giggled and kicked reflexively when he dug his thumb in too hard.

“Steve,” she moaned, legs jolting from her arousal as he kneeled before her, teasing her endlessly. “Please, please, please—”

He grinned against her skin as he kissed up her shin, nipping at her kneecap, before spreading her thighs with his large hands. “Please, what, my sweet Omega? Tell me what you need.”

“Need you,” she gasped as his hot tongue lapped against the insides of her thighs, tasting her slick that had rubbed off halfway down her leg already from her squirming and writhing on the vanity. “Need you, need you so bad—”

“I know it, baby.” He methodically sucked the wetness off until his facial hair brushed against her outer labia. She cried out at that, hands fisted in his hair, nails scratching against his scalp.

“Please, Alpha—I can’t take it!”

He chuckled, lips pressed right against the juncture between her cunt and her thigh, and the deep vibrations of his voice so close to her core made her pulse with need. His palms ran up the length of her legs before stopping right at the apex of her thighs, and he used his thumbs to spread the lips of her cunt apart, having to dig in with some force to prevent them from slipping out of his grip with how wet she was.

“Fuck,” he cursed, looking at her exposed pussy glistening for him, all for him, flushed red from how much he had fucked it in the last few days. “Perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

With that, he wasted no time in burying his nose into her cunt, wanting to scent her deeply before he tasted her. He could still smell himself within her, and he rumbled with satisfaction that he would remain a part of her for so long, his come marking his territory, marking her as his.

The flat of his tongue trailed heavy up her slit, making the Omega keen, clench her thighs around his head until Steve gripped her knees and wrenched her thighs apart. He chuckled as her muscles trembled against his grasp, and the sound vibrated through her cunt and made her jolt in his arms.

Before moving forwards, he drew his head back to admire how swollen it was, flushed and engorged, sensitive to the touch as he ghosted his lips over it. He blew a line of air against her and she cried out, body shaking still. Then he wrapped his lips around it, suckling gently at first before swirling his tongue around, giving her a little nibble when she writhed against him.

Her reactions to him made his cock ache, the way she trembled, grinded her hips against his face. Her whimpers and cries and the way she said his name, breathless, whiny, desperate. “Steve, Steve,” she chanted, hips jumping with the rhythm of his tongue. “Steve, Alpha, please—” When he slipped two fingers inside of her, she went wild, crying, begging for his cock, his knot. “Need it, Alpha, please, please, please—”

It didn’t take much longer for her to come, what with how sensitive she was. He coaxed her slick out of her sweet cunt with his fingers buried deep inside of her, running his tongue around her entrance, around his fingers, licking up the fluids leaking from her. He was drunk off the taste of her, the taste of himself inside of her, the combination of them heady on his tongue like delicious mead, sweet and earthy, like tasting from Mother Nature herself.

She collapsed back against the vanity, her back against the cool mirror, panting and jolting with aftershocks as Steve continued to clean her up. Then he slowly kissed back up her body, placing sticky kisses against her skin until he reached her lips.

Her mouth opened for him on instinct, letting him lick into her mouth and share the taste of them until her mouth was coated in the taste of herself. After her whimpers started ramping up again, he pulled her against him, allowing her to grind her pussy on his abdomen while he caressed her body, plucked at her nipples, brushed his fingers across her mating gland.

“Alpha,” she gasped, pulling away finally. Her juices were all over his stomach and she was dripping onto his cock, impatient as he denied her. “Steve, Alpha, please, the nest, the nest, please fuck me there.”

“Aw, baby,” he cooed, cupping her cheeks and gazing at her reverently. “Of course, my love. Anything for you.”

With that, he scooped her up and carried her back to the bedroom, all the while praising the nest she built. “So soft and cozy, honey, isn’t it? You built it just for us, built the perfect nest for us. Such a good girl, such a good Omega, aren’t you? Perfect for me…”

He trailed off with his mouth on her breast, suckling her nipple after laying her down on the mattress. He was so wrapped up in her softness that he didn’t notice her lining her hips up to his or reaching for his cock until she was lifting her hips and fucking herself onto his cock.

“Impatient today, aren’t you, honey?” He chuckled at her responding whine, but he stopped torturing her, impaling her completely on his cock until he was buried deep within her. She felt like home, she felt perfect, comfortable and natural and warm. She was home for him.

Steve made love to her, whispering sweet things against her lips between sweet kisses, holding her safe in his arms while he moved within her, chasing her pleasure and his own. He worked his cock inside of her, so, so deep, right up against her womb, and the thought made him shudder.

“So good for me, so good to me,” he whispered over and over, laying kisses on her lips and then her cheeks once her mouth dropped open from the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her. He could feel it on the other end of their bond, pulsating with life and joy and comfort, every single bad thought drained from her mind because of him. He was the only thing she could think of, the only thing in her life, the only one.

And she was his only one. The only thing he loved, the only thing he cared about. Her, and the life that would grow within her.

“My sweet girl,” he rasped, voice catching in his throat. The overwhelming love he felt for her poured out. “My sweet Omega, my love,” he breathed into her neck, up against her mating gland, and she shivered, feeling their bond thrum like different strings of a harp being pulled all at once, a perfect harmony resounding and vibrating within them, within their souls. “I love you,” he whispered, kissing her bond mark. “I love you so much, I’ll always love you—”

She came around him then, sobbing against him, clutching at his shoulders and back with more strength than he would have expected from her, but his mind was blank at the feeling of her cunt fluttering, massaging his cock as his knot grew.

He was so, so close—just a little bit more—just a little. “Look at me,” he gasped, lifting his head to observe her prolonged orgasm. “Open your eyes, look at me, baby—” Once he took a hold of her jaw, she obeyed him, locking eyes with him as she writhed in pleasure beneath him. “Good girl,” he praised her in a low grunt, watching her eyebrows furrow in pleasure just from that. “You’re my good girl, my good Omega—I’m—"

He came inside of her with a groan and his knot locked them together. He remained leaning over her, careful not to put too much weight on her, and kept his eyes on hers. Her gaze never faltered, so full of emotion, and he preened under her watch, proud that he could satisfy his Omega so thoroughly. His happiness leaked into their bond, enough to sate both of them, and he soaked in the feeling of their bliss, their joined souls, his Omega happy. Happy because of him.

He couldn’t wait to fall asleep with her every night in this house, in their nest, with his knot buried inside of her. Couldn’t wait to have her sated and sleepy all the time, barefoot, pregnant, a perfect bundle of joy in her arms, mind blank and undisturbed from the gratification of fulfilling her Omega duties. She would never have to worry ever again.

Steve would take care of her. He would never let her go.

[ahgaseda]

enough | two

even if everyone else leaves me, you’re enough for me, you’re my only one, stand by me forever, only you, just you...

summary : to survive as a single woman in the big city, you resort to letting rich men pay for your company, but never anticipated that your first client would be the boy you once loved, Jinyoung.

warnings : strong profanity, explicit dialogue, references to prostitution, mentions of gang activity, graphic sexual content, potentially triggering elements involving mental health, panic attacks, etc.

miniseries chapters : one / two / three / four / five / six / seven

There weren’t enough cups of coffee in the world to rouse you after the sleepless night you’d had. Once Jinyoung ended the call, you searched the building for him, ultimately alarming security with the way you frantically checked every exit.

Eventually, you gave up, but his words haunted you and replayed in your mind the entire way home. Back at your apartment, you stripped to nakedness and collapsed on the bed, leaving your new violet gown lumped on the floor. Resting on your stomach with a pillow crammed between your arms, you felt your pulse quicken as you played his words over and over in your head.

It seemed Jinyoung had finally found you.

Your entire focus was fixated to him and refused to let go. Your heart raced out of control, practically dancing in your chest at the realization you were to be reunited with the boy you had once loved. Yet bitter tears pricked at your eyes, because you knew there was no reason Jinyoung should bear anything other than hatred for you after you left him.

He had tapped into the poison coursing through your home. He entered the perilous world of the gangs, vowing to surge up their ranks and provide some sort of stability for you in a town going under. But you loathed him for it. You despised the gangs with every fiber of your being for what they had done to your beloved hometown. When Jinyoung joined them, you ran. No, you abandoned him.

And understandably, he never forgave you for that.

Tightening the sheets around your naked body, you struggled with sleep. Jinyoung was your prospective client; the man who was willing to pay your bills in exchange for loveless sex. On your back, you pictured him above you, fitting himself between your thighs and owning you in every possible way.

God knows you had dreamt of this day since you left. What would happen when you were forced to reconcile with the boy you had promised never to leave?

Tears burned your eyes. You imagined Jinyoung taking his pleasure from your body, fucking his anger and stress out on you. Once upon a time, you would have enjoyed that, but now your mind warned you of an image of him pulling away from you and leaving a couple hundred dollars on the dresser.

Would that be your fate with Jinyoung? Was there a chance the love you both had shared was long gone and replaced with hatred? But everyone knew hatred wasn’t actually the opposite of love. It was indifference and just by his sharp tongue at the gala, Jinyoung was far from indifferent where you were concerned.

With a heavy sigh, you decided it was worth the risk. You had to know where this would lead or you would regret walking away. Again.

Staying in bed until the day was half over, you eventually crawled out from under a pile of blankets and called Seokjin to tell him you were ready to proceed. If he prepared a contract with your new client that entailed you sleeping with the man for money, you were ready to sign it. But you said nothing of Jinyoung.

Seokjin returned your initial call a few minutes later to inform you the client had agreed to a meeting and you needed to be at the office in one hour. Panicked, you quickly rushed off of the phone to shower and make yourself look as much like a prize as possible.

Despite arriving to the meeting by the skin of your teeth, you were still the first to enter the room. Of course, Jinyoung would be fashionably late. He probably wanted to ensure you had to wallow and wait for as long as possible.

Sitting at the conference table alone, you mulled over the decision. With your back to the expansive windows, you let the chair swivel to and fro as you tapped your bare toes on the floor. You had slid out of your high heels momentarily, stretching the bridges of your feet of their tension.

“Good afternoon,” Seokjin greeted, marching to the head of the table. You were in the center on the long side, knowing the heads of business always took the ends.

“Afternoon,” you replied tiredly, fighting another yawn.

“You look exhausted,” Seokjin commented, opening his folder and sorting through the papers.

You nodded, running a hand through your hair absentmindedly. “Didn’t sleep very well.”

“Did everything go alright last night?” he quickly asked, visibly concerned.

That always surprised you about Seokjin; how kind and compassionate he was toward his employees. Given his line of work involved trading flesh for money, you initially expected him to be a cold, heartless bastard. After years of having him as your employer, you considered him a reliable friend that you could call at your lowest, darkest times and knew without a doubt he would come to the rescue with sage words of wisdom.

“It went well,” you assured him with a soft smile.

Despite your respect toward him, you didn’t dare tell Seokjin the illustrious, new client was your ex-boyfriend. Knowing him and how he had a set of rules for almost everything, you assumed he would cancel the deal without a second thought. And right now, that was the last thing you wanted.

You needed to see Jinyoung with your own eyes.

Seokjin opened his mouth to reply, but his gaze fell to the approach of your client. You heard forceful footsteps that drew your attention a split-second before Jinyoung strode into the conference room, another man trailing behind him with a briefcase tucked under his arm.

Seokjin leapt to his feet, bowing dutifully, but you were frozen in place and your mouth fell open.

It really was Jinyoung.

He was taller, that was for sure, and much thicker than before. You remembered the skinny boy that had caused endless trouble with you as a child and passionately romanced you as a teenager, always complaining about his oversized ears and full face. Personally, you adored both traits. Once upon a time, you loved everything about him.

Even now, you took long, lingering looks at him, noting the years apart had aged him quite well. He was as handsome ever with his slicked-back dark hair, but there was something icy and rough festering in his eyes. He radiated power and strength, not just from a physical perspective. You knew he was the smartest, most cunning man in the room no matter where he stood.

It was evident that like you, the childhood innocence you both once shared was long gone and had been ripped away violently.

Clad in a crisp, charcoal suit, Jinyoung returned Seokjin’s bow shortly and didn’t bother to offer a glance in your general direction. After your boss cleared his throat, you lifted to your bare feet and bowed as was expected of you, nearly stumbling over your discarded shoes hidden beneath the table.

Jinyoung ignored you frigidly, sitting at the other end of the table and unbuttoning his suit coat as he did so. You were amazed how superior he looked at the moment. It wouldn’t shock you if he could buy the building you currently sat in a hundred times over.

“This is Youngjae, my attorney,” Jinyoung explained, gesturing to the smiling man alongside him. “He’s here to make sure I don’t get roped into anything.”

Seokjin nodded, resisting a frown at the insinuation. “Of course.”

Youngjae was kind enough to meet your eyes and give you a reassuring grin. His very presence flowed with energy and was a stark contrast to the icicle at his side. You found yourself returning a smile to the lawyer before his role in this meeting sank in.

You quickly gawked. Jinyoung had his own attorney? Beyond that, Jinyoung had a lawyer simply to navigate the contract between you and him?

The contract, you were abruptly reminded. That’s right. You were here to agree on a contract between you and your first - and presumably only - client. Bristling, you wished for the awkwardness to be at a minimum, though you trusted the parties involved to be the definition of professional.

For the most part, they discussed the privacy aspect of this deal. Everything would be done under foreign accounts and fake names. Jinyoung reserved the right to a certain degree of anonymity, given the fact he was a supposed pillar in his illegal community.

You furrowed your brow and knew in that moment Jinyoung had kept his vow of working up the ranks of the gangs. You were possibly looking at the kingpin of your hometown, but you also acknowledged he was now here in the city with you. Just how high did he want to go?

“Even with this contract and its inherent nature, consent is still required at every act,” Seokjin asserted, turning the page. “If there is any dissent with this clause, then we may as well call it a day.”

Jinyoung waved him away and nodded his compliance.

You wanted to laugh. Here you were - agreeing to a list of acceptable sexual practices with the only person you had ever been sexually active with. To you, the whole ordeal felt symbolic more than anything else.

Jinyoung wanted ownership. You had left him and now, he was quite literally buying you back. You knew you were in for a hell of a lot of vengeance, but had gradually come to terms with that. This was Jinyoung. No matter how much both of you had changed, you knew he would never hurt you.

“Alright, with the core rules in place, we can now begin with additions,” said Jinyoung’s attorney, glancing between you and his employer.

“No other parties ever,” Jinyoung said, twirling a pen between his fingers.

“What do you mean?” Seokjin asked for clarification.

You were also curious as to what he was referring.

Jinyoung glanced at your boss, as if it were obvious to a man of his chosen profession, and huffed, “No one else in the bedroom. No threesomes. Don’t bring another girl home for my birthday either.”

You snorted at the idea. Seokjin shot you a warning glare to be more respectful, still clueless as to the nature of your relationship with this surly customer.

“No ass,” you spoke up.

Youngjae looked over in surprise.

“No anal whatsoever. And none of that, ‘Sorry, baby, my aim was off,’ bullshit either,” you elaborated, tapping your hand on your thigh under the table.

Jinyoung chuckled at your sass, but kept his eyes on the contract. He was going out of his way to avoid looking at you. Probably because if he did, he would either melt or combust into a flurry of flames. It was hard to tell at this point.

“Did that happen to you before?” Seokjin asked under his breath, face creased with worry.

You shook your head and quickly explained, “No, never. But the girls have told me to err on the side of caution.”

With amusement, Jinyoung cut in, “I have great aim. Don’t worry.”

“Good,” you chirped, pretending to be impressed.

As the two lawyers in the room scribbled simultaneously on their contracts, you bit your lip to keep from giggling. This whole exchange seemed unrealistic and downright laughable to you. Crossing your legs under the table, you let your bare foot swing back and forth, distracting yourself from the humor of the situation.

Out of the corner of your eye, you took your time studying Jinyoung. The boy always did look damn good in a suit and today was no exception. But you were dreading the inevitable conversation both of you would need to have once this was finished. You needed to know where you stood.

A moment of tense silence later, Seokjin called your name, prompting you for anything else you felt worth including.

You mulled, then remembered, “Oh, my classes take precedence to... intercourse.”

Jinyoung snorted, his attention fixated on the pen in his hand.

“What do you mean?” asked Youngjae, bemused.

“I’m finishing my undergraduate degree. Pre-med,” you explained, sitting up a little straighter with pride. “My classes and exams will have priority.”

“You won’t be in violation of the contract if you choose school over me occasionally,” Jinyoung droned, skipping a perfect opportunity to be vindictive. “Moving on.”

You narrowed your eyes with annoyance on his profile, irritated at being dismissed so easily.

Youngjae met your visible scowl and said, “You will be moving into the Dongjak house.”

“Wait... what?” you exclaimed.

He added flatly, “It is one of Mr. Park’s properties.”

You were tempted to ask who the fuck was Mr. Park, but instead you turned to Seokjin and asked, “I have to move?”

Before Seokjin could pose a question of confirmation, Jinyoung’s lawyer answered, “Yes, we can better control security and access at this property.”

You quipped, “Are you worried I will try to escape or that I’ll have a steady flow of men coming in and out when you’re not around?”

Seokjin sucked in a breath as if he were having a sudden wave of heart palpitations.

Jinyoung lifted the corner of his mouth in a smirk, but still didn’t look at you. “You’re going to pay for that snark later,” he crooned under his breath.

Brow lifted, you asked coyly, “Am I?”

An image of Jinyoung slamming you against the wall and shoving his tongue down your throat passed through your mind. There was a time when you were young and reckless, and you exhausted every possible opportunity to get a rise out of him - knowing his choice of punishment was always rather gratifying.

Disrupting your imagination, Youngjae broke away from his page and asked, “Is the relocation a deal breaker for you?”

With a shrug, you replied blithely, “No, I could use the change in scenery.”

Relieved your acerbic tongue had yet to dissuade the very wealthy client, Seokjin said, “Many of the girls opt for a different location due to security protocols. It’s just a precaution. You aren’t in any danger.”

Brushing some of his hair from his eyes, Youngjae also comforted, “It has a stunning view of the river and is fairly close to Seoul National University, which would be much more convenient for you.”

Stiffening, you turned your attention back to Jinyoung and asked rather roughly, “And how do you know which college I go to?”

The lawyer glanced at Jinyoung for a suggestion of how to answer you, but Jinyoung merely shook his head and your question went answered.

A knowing smile tugged at your lips.

After receiving your acceptance of the deal thus far, Seokjin faced your prospective client and asked, “Are there any additional concerns?”

Jinyoung tapped his finger on the table to a rhythm and snarled, “Yes, I find the ratio of funds unacceptable.”

Seokjin rubbed his chin and inquired, “How do you mean, sir?”

Jinyoung took an outstretched paper from his attorney and scanned the page, finding the figures he was looking for and saying, “Of what I’m paying per month, she gets seventy percent. Your agency gets thirty.”

Seokjin bobbed his head and said, “Yes, that is our usual rate.”

Jinyoung frowned. “No, she gets ninety. You get ten.”

Your eyes widened.

Seokjin nearly choked and replied, “That is unheard of.”

Unfazed, Jinyoung cocked his head and smarted, “I’m hearing it now.”

Seokjin wavered in his seat, searching for a valid argument, and stammered, “Mr. Park, I can assure you that...”

Jinyoung shifted mercurially and threatened, “Keep talking and her share jumps to ninety-nine.”

“Ninety to ten is good, sir.”

Jinyoung plastered a victorious smile on his face and said, “Glad we understand each other.”

You still couldn’t comprehend who this man was at the end of the table, but you rather enjoyed the view. There were glimpses of the Jinyoung you knew - the boy who could literally talk his way out of anything. But the forceful, borderline aggressive man that appeared was an entirely new entity to you and you weren’t sure what the best approach was to dealing with him.

After the pair had finished jotting on their pages, Seokjin called your name and asked, “Do you have anything else to add?”

With a long exhale, you replied, “I want exclusivity.”

Exasperated, your boss whispered, “That is already in the contract.”

“No,” you spoke up, angling to Jinyoung and taking a deep breath. “I want him exclusive to me.”

Seokjin nearly choked again. He would have given you a swift kick under the table if you had been closer.

For the first time since this meeting began, Jinyoung met your eyes. A long glare of mutual defiance passed between you and him.

You didn’t falter under his unforgivable scowl and said, “If I am forbidden to so much as hold hands with another man, the same applies to him.”

Jinyoung chuckled and snapped, “Do I look like I’m gonna be holding hands with men anytime soon?”

You leaned in his direction, lacing your fingers over the table surface, and warned, “If you get close enough to another woman that she can catch a whiff of your cologne, I will walk.”

Jinyoung cocked his head, mouth twitching with annoyance, and seethed when he hissed, “Well, no one doubts you’re good at that.”

You narrowed your eyes at the retort, but felt your heart ache a little at his tone. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you asked, “Deal?”

Jinyoung studied you, letting a lull pass before he agreed, “Deal.”

“Mutual exclusivity,” said Seokjin, a certain edge to his voice that suggested he had finally noticed the tension between you and your client. His attention was piqued.

Youngjae nodded, smirking for a reason unbeknownst to you. “Added.”

As Seokjin and Youngjae chattered over filing the contract, Jinyoung rose and proceeded to button his suit coat. You scrambled to your feet, discreetly sliding back into your shoes, and approached him with caution.

“Gang leader extraordinaire, I see,” you murmured under your breath, careful to utter such bitter words lest anyone else hear them.

“Mm,” Jinyoung hummed as if it were of no consequence, glancing over his shoulder to see how dangerously close you came to him.

The scent of your ex-lover wafted into your nose at the proximity and you blinked through the threat of tears. His cologne was subtle and understated, but he smelled so good, so familiar. Voice quivering, you whispered, “What happened to you? What happened to the Jinyoung I knew?”

Jinyoung angled to face you and snarled, “He died when you left him.”

You stood there, shell-shocked as he stomped out of the conference room. For a moment, you merely wallowed in the silence and loneliness, grappling with the proper way to feel in this situation. You deserved the anger and resentment, but you also stood by the decisions you had made in the pursuit of a better life.

Then, you were reminded of what you just signed and realized that Jinyoung owned you now.

Eventually, Seokjin came to fetch you, saying, “His car is waiting outside. It will take you to his penthouse.”

Nerves bubbled in your throat. Jinyoung had paid the toll. Was it time to cross the bridge already?

Nodding an acknowledgement, you made your way toward the elevator, passing one of your co-workers on the way. She grabbed your sleeve, giving you a beaming, excited smile that comforted you in the midst of your conflicted reveries.

“What a catch,” Kyra sang quietly. “So many girls wanted a piece of that boy.”

The thought of another woman sharing a bed with Jinyoung made you bristle with jealousy. Discarding the idea, you flushed and groaned, “Thanks.”

Kyra clicked her tongue, adjusting a few loose strands of your hair, and whined playfully, “I wish I had your luck.”

You shrugged and began, “He wanted a virgin and I had just joined the second circle of hell, so....”

“Don’t be diluted, sweetie,” Kyra interjected with a scoff.

You tilted your head curiously, asking, “What do you mean?”

She giggled at you, surprised you didn’t know, and said, “He specifically asked for you.”

“What?” you exclaimed.

Kyra patted your arm, hushing you sweetly, and whispered, “I heard Lexi say that he inquired about you after one of his constituents took you to a gala.”

Your eyes were wide, but you quickly made the jump from shocked to annoyed. “Oh my god.”

“He waited for you to jump circles.,” Kyra teased, squeezing your shoulder in encouragement. “You must be exactly what he wants.”

Narrowing your eyes, you whispered scathingly, “That... bastard.”

Kyra gawked at you, confused.

Trudging outside, a black Range Rover lay in wait and Jinyoung perched by the back door, putting a cigarette to his lips and drawing a lighter out of his pocket.

“Are you kidding me?” you yelled, darting forward and snatching the cigarette from his mouth.

Jinyoung glared at you with a vengeance and hissed, “What? You’re the only one allowed to have self-destructive behaviors?”

“You inhale cancer on a regular basis now?” you asked scathingly.

“At least I don’t suck dick for a living,” Jinyoung returned, opening the door and motioning for you to get inside the car.

Glaring furiously, you passed in front of him, sliding into the seat and grumbling when he stole the cigarette from your hand, but didn’t smoke it.

Sitting in the car with Jinyoung was agonizing. Though he was within arm’s reach, he intentionally left a wide space between your bodies. You wanted to confront him for choosing you, but didn’t have the strength or energy for an argument.

You were starting to feel fortunate. Fortunate that your ex-boyfriend had bought you and not some old, entitled bastard. But you also knew the unresolved conflict between you and your first love would potentially leave you devastated all over again.

“Jinyoung?” you called shyly.

His eyes were on the window, as they had been for the entire drive. “We’ll talk when we get there,” he replied harshly, clocking his gaze at the lawyer and chauffeur in the front seats.

You wrinkled your nose, annoyed at being silenced by him for the second time that day, but saw where his attention had fallen and knew he wanted total privacy before such a personal conversation took place.

You were anticipating the moment you were alone for the first time with your ex-boyfriend. Despite Seokjin encouraging you to follow your new client’s cues to give him exactly what he wanted, you had no intention of kissing up to Jinyoung. If he wanted you to beg for mercy or forgiveness, he would be sorely disappointed.

Or so you thought.

The vehicle came to a stop outside of a luxury apartment building and you peered out of the car in awe. Jinyoung told you this was the back entrance and he had better never hear of you coming in through the front foyer. You wanted to sass him, but realized it was more than likely a security protocol.

You trailed at his side as Jinyoung led you to the service elevator in the back. He greeted an older man, an attendant by the name of Mr. Jung who wore a trimmed, burgundy blazer and sported a warm, round face with a bushy mustache.

“And who is this beautiful shadow you have, sir?” the attendant asked politely.

You returned his respectful bow and gave him your name.

“You will be seeing her rather often from now on, Mr. Jung,” Jinyoung explained, withdrawing a roll of cash from his pocket and handing the man a few large bills. His voice lowered to a stern murmur when he told him, “You never saw her. She was never here.”

“Saw who, sir?” Mr. Jung questioned, pocketing the money.

Jinyoung clapped the man on the shoulder and led you into the entry. Speechless, you gawked at the exchange and for a moment, felt like smuggled goods.

“This is my penthouse,” Jinyoung explained as you stood in the corner of the elevator, neither of you having spoken a single word to each other since the brief exchange in the car. The ebony box was cold and suffocating, and made you viscerally aware of your own vulnerability in these circumstances.

Your eyes were fixated on Jinyoung, every slight move he made just a few feet from where you stood. As the elevator ascended to the top floors, he would glance between the door and his feet, shifting his weight and letting out a long sigh of restlessness. You remembered Jinyoung never did have much patience.

The tension was palpable and you searched your brain for a way to cut through, but Jinyoung had made very clear his disposition toward you for now. You weren’t afraid of him, but given how badly you wanted his forgiveness - you tried your best to do what would make him happy. The idea of being wholly at his mercy was at the front and center of your mind.

The bell chimed the arrival at the top floor of the tower and you gripped the rails with anticipation.

The doors whooshed apart and Jinyoung motioned with his arm, singing, “Ladies first.”

You were tempted to roll your eyes, but fought back the urge as you strode forward, your heels clicking loudly on the hardwood floors.

“Wow,” you gasped aloud, taking in the sight of the expansive residence.

The apartment could have been an identical copy of those opulent homes seen in upscale magazines and interior design journals. The place was spotless with an open floor concept, decked with chrome accents in a predominantly white and black theme.

But it was glacially cold and seemed a grey shell with no life to be found in it. There were no pictures. No splashes of color. You immediately wanted to gather as many flowers as you could to stick in a vase and put on the table for a semblance of light in such a dark place.

“You won’t live here,” Jinyoung explained rather sternly, protective over his home. “It’s my personal space. But you’ll come here often to stay the night. There will be times I’ll have one of my boys bring you here to wait for me.”

You barely heard him and certainly didn’t register his words. You were running your hand across the granite countertop in the kitchen. You were reminded of the tiny, old houses you and Jinyoung used to call home. Memories of sleeping in his arms on a worn out narrow mattress came to mind.

The damn thing squeaked as loud as possible whenever the two of you fooled around. You always made Jinyoung sweep the entire house to make sure no one was home before you had sex. Even now you could hear the thing creaking rhythmically in your ears, followed by your laughter in the distance because Jinyoung never failed to accuse the mattress of breaking his concentration and interfering with his stroke game.

You quickly snapped out of the memory, clearing your throat. Jinyoung trailed behind you slowly, watching your every reaction as you meandered through the penthouse. When you came to the first closed door you had encountered thus far, you turned to face him and asked, “What’s behind here?”

“Bedroom,” he replied flatly, without missing a beat.

You shifted your weight nervously, feeling all of the blood in your body rush to your cheeks. Given the new nature of your relationship with your client, you assumed the bedroom would be the destination regardless. Turning the knob, you stepped inside.

“Holy…” you trailed, eyes wide at the floor to ceiling windows covering the entire east wall. You approached them like a jubilant kid, planting your palms on the tinted glass and peering out at the vast city below you.

The hues of Seoul reflected in your eyes, every color possible splashing across your vision. You imagined the sight from this window would be breathtaking when night fell. For a moment in the silence, you turned somber, reminded you were such a small person in such a gigantic universe.

But this was your reality and it was time you faced the music.

Pivoting around to put your back to the rest of the world, you dropped your purse loudly on the floor and began unfastening your coat.

Jinyoung furrowed his brow, his hands buried in his pockets, and asked sharply, “What are you…”

“How do you wanna do this?” you asked, emotionless as you pulled off your coat and tossed it on to the nearby dresser.

Disapproving, Jinyoung shook his head briefly and deadpanned, “That didn’t take long.”

Shaking your hair loose, you interjected, “Should I keep the heels on? I know a lot of guys are into that.”

Jinyoung glanced down at your shoes and ran a hand through his slicked-back hair, snapping, “Hold on.”

You stopped, putting your hands on your hips.

His voice cut sharper than any razor when he countered, “You think I brought you here to fuck you?”

You looked around and snapped, “Why the hell else am I here?”

“The house is getting ready for you,” Jinyoung explained, taking your words in stride. “My driver is going to take you there in an hour or so.”

Settling your eyes on the massive bed, you trailed, “But I’m supposed to…”

Waving you away with disinterest, Jinyoung interrupted, “I’m not in the mood for sex right now. Sorry to disappoint you.”

Taking a step toward him, you argued, “You bought me for sex, but you don’t want to have sex with me?”

His rage boiled over when he whispered, “I bought you so no one else would.”

You flinched.

Jinyoung shifted, rounding on you and raising his voice slightly to yell, “Imagine that - having to pay for the love of my life.”

Stiffening, you could feel the atmosphere devolving into exactly what you had been expecting. Trying to retain some semblance of control, you breathed, “Jinyoung…”

“Do you know what it cost me, sweetheart?” Jinyoung cut in, his tone shifting to something patronizing and resentful. “Do you know the price I paid to let you keep your soul?”

“I don’t want free money. I work for what I earn. You’re paying me to sleep with you,” you defended, almost shouting.

Jinyoung snorted. “Not just that.”

“Right, you’re paying me to ‘date’ you,” you sassed, scoffing with disgust.

Fire flashed in Jinyoung’s eyes and he quickly sneered, “I’m paying for you to do what I want - whenever, wherever, however I want it.”

You folded your arms in contempt and reminded, “I still have to give consent.”

“Of course, I’ll have your consent.”

You rolled your eyes.

Jinyoung smirked almost menacingly, running his tongue across his teeth to tease, “You don’t think I can see you, darling? Do you think I’m fucking blind?”

You blinked in surprise.

“Every time I get too close to you, you hold your breath and stare at my damn mouth.”

Feeling yourself spiraling out of composure, you barked, “Whatever.”

Jinyoung was back to the game you had lost the night before and his sinful words rushed back into your mind. Noting the indecision evident on your face, Jinyoung persisted, “Your body is screaming for me to touch you.”

“I don’t hear anything,” you retorted, brushing past him to avoid the impending confrontation.

Jinyoung grabbed your arm and spun you back around to face him, hissing, “I’m not going to fuck you until you beg me for it. Until you swear you’re going mad without me. You won’t feel me inside you until you scream for me to take you.”

Shivering, you whispered, “I’ll never beg, Jinyoung. You won’t break me.”

“I will break you. I will make you know what I felt. I want you to know how it feels to have the person you love break the fucking soul out of you.”

Tears were already festering in your eyes and your first instinct was to flee. This was what you dreaded most . You couldn't face the pain you had inflicted on him. You couldn’t be reminded what a cruel animal you were for abandoning him the way you did. Nearly defeated, you whimpered, “Jinyoung, please…”

Jinyoung was only getting warmed up. You could hear his strong voice quivering with emotion when he told you, “Because that’s what happened to me. You tore my goddamn heart out.”

“I…”

“You,” he yelled, releasing your arm and pacing away. “The one person who was always there for me, who swore on her life to never leave me, left me to die so she could save herself!”

You shook your head vehemently and cried, “It wasn’t like that.”

Indignant, Jinyoung hissed your name with a snarl like poison had filled his mouth. “I don’t want to fucking hear it. Make yourself comfortable,” Jinyoung snapped coldly, discarding his suit coat and draping it on the bed.

Down to his dress shirt, he loosened his tie and began unbuttoning the cuffs of his sleeves. As he did so, he dropped heavily onto the mattress, letting out a prolonged, strained breath.

For a moment, you merely stared at him. This had nothing to do with money; this had everything to do with the sweet boy you betrayed years ago. The wounds had yet to heal. You realized you were the creator of this monster. You had made him what he was.

Perhaps that meant you were the only one to coax him back to the surface.

Approaching with caution, you touched his arms gently, feeling the tight muscles beneath the white fabric of his shirt. He bristled at your touch, surprised you would take this route after all that was said and done, but settled down just as quickly.

Skimming your palm across his chest, you whispered, “Jinyoung?”

“Hm?” he huffed, resorting to hiding his face behind his fingers.

You kneeled down before him, forcing your way between his legs and resting your arms on his thighs. He had no choice but to lower his hands and look at you.

“Kiss me,” you murmured, staring up at him with the most innocent look you could muster. Making yourself appear demure and submissive, you hoped and prayed he would take the bait.

Jinyoung tilted his head, clasping your chin between his fingers and surveying your face. “Are you giving me orders, baby girl?”

You blinked and softened your voice, beseeching in a whisper, “Please, kiss me. Please.”

Jinyoung sighed, his breath warming your skin.

Impatient and desperate for a mere fragment of forgiveness, you placed your hands on his thighs, rubbing softly, and pressed, “I’m begging you to kiss me. Jinyoung, I need you to kiss me. Please?”

Truly, you thought he wouldn’t discard enough of his pride to indulge you, but then you felt his muscles flex under your fingertips a split-second before he leaned forward and captured your lips with his own.

Every memory of every kiss you had shared with this man flooded into your mind. The love you once shared together filled you with warmth and energy, enticing you to fight for what was once yours.

Time slowed, but at the same time passed much too fast for you to keep a grasp of the world around you. Jinyoung kissed you for what felt like days. You were lost in everything he made you feel, hyper aware of every part of him before you.

You soaked up the smell of him, knowing the taste of him would linger on your tongue for hours to come. His body felt firm and unmovable against yours. His hands were rough yet tender as they came to hold your face. He took the lead with his kisses, breathing softly into your mouth, and rendering you suspended in some otherworldly place you used to exist with him by your side alone.

Jinyoung teased his tongue over your bottom lip and you opened your mouth with a soft moan to grant him access, but he didn’t take it. He merely wanted to know if you were inclined to give it to him so easily.

When he pulled away,  you swayed between his legs, opening your eyes slowly and letting your vision focus on him. Jinyoung still held your jaw, searching your face for something to make him feel even a shred of mercy.

Finding nothing, Jinyoung lowered his hands and harshened his eyes.

And after a pause, he said, “That’s all you get from me for now.”

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a/n : this story was previously Lacuna on my old blog, minheoney. I’m really excited to finally finish it! This fic was my baby for so long and I’m ridiculously happy to give it a new home :)

Hey there, beautiful! If you enjoyed this, please leave a like or reblog or follow me! Or maybe buy me a coffee so I can keep writing? Or check out my masterlist here for more stories! Thanks for reading :) - Katya

This work is fictional and for entertainment purposes only, but is licensed and protected under a creative commons attribution-noncommercial-noderivatives 4.0 international license. Any instances of plagiarism will be dealt with accordingly. Do not re-post or translate without my permission.

{ copyright 2018-2020 © ahgaseda // all rights reserved }

[thedreammweaver]

You Are My Destiny (Burton-schumachervers riddlebird, angst, hurt/comfort)

Warnings: blood, murder, violence, arkham stuff, insecurities mention, poor self image mention

“Are you sure we should be putting him in here with...you know.”

“Who? Nygma? C’mon, he’s harmless. Poor son of a bitch can’t even talk anymore I doubt he’ll be any help to this one.”

Ed listened attentively to the orderlies outside his cell from where he was laying on his bed where he always was. He was aware that Arkham was facing an issue where they had more patients then cells and were cramming two or three into one cell despite regulations. Ed figured he was about to get a new cell mate, he didn’t very much care though. He’d given up caring about things months ago, at least now he’d have something to watch. He didn’t look up as he heard his cell door open and something being shoved in before the door was closed very quickly.

Oswald growled angrily as he worked at ripping off the muzzle that had been forced on him,?once it was off he chucked it into the wall. Ed just watched the other man look around the room, presumably for anything he could use to escape. He knew who Oswald was and Oswald had heard of the riddler but they’d never crossed paths before now, what an odd way to meet. Oswald immediately ruled out the vent as a way to escape, knowing very well that he would never fit through even if he could reach. It was the same with the high window, even if he could get the bars off of the it was too small for him to fit through as well. He cursed his ample form and decided to instead inspect the ginger man laying on one of the beds. “So you’re the infamous Riddler, huh?” Ed only looked through Oswald, not making eye contact. “Damn, they really did a number on you..poor bastard.”

    Over the next few days Ed payed close attention to Oswald though nobody was aware that Ed could pay close attention to anything anymore. He listened to Oswald rant about how it took a lot of care to properly make clothes for someone of his unique proportions otherwise there’s problems like the ones the hastily made striped jumpsuit he was in presented. Some of the seams had already started to give in places where it hugged his frame. He also complained about how the wide stripes made him look bigger, Ed didn’t think that but he’d gathered Oswald’s perception of his own appearance wasn’t the best. Ed wanted to tell the other man he was beautiful...but he couldn’t , that was a weird thing to think about a stranger and yet Ed thought it and thought it again. He always watched with great interest when the orderlies came to take Oswald for ‘therapy’. It took nearly five of them to do it, one of them almost always got bitten before they could force the muzzle on. Sedatives only seemed to make Oswald angrier, for someone of his short stature he could surprisingly hold his own in a fight. Ed missed Oswald when he was gone and was excited when he heard him being brought back down the hallway, he hadn’t felt excitement for the year and a half he’d been in Arkham besides when Chase Meridian came to see him...but that felt like decades ago. Ed was so intrigued by the shorter man’s habits, how he snored, how he twitched so much in his sleep, how he was a perfect mix of refined and crass. He was funny too, Ed forgot what funny felt like. Oswald must’ve felt comfortable around Ed cause he told him a lot. About his childhood, about himself, just a lot. Ed had started imagining they were best friends until it progressed to something more. When Oswald told stories of past romantic or sexual escapades Ed always imagined the person Oswald was speaking about was him, that’s when he realized he’d already started thinking of Oswald as a lover. The thought of Oswald being his made Ed feel and care and want, he never wanted that to stop.

     It was night now, Oswald couldn’t sleep. He lined his flippers up with the moonlight coming through the small window and made a shadow puppet of a bat on the wall. Ed made the effort to turn his head to the wall to look. “Oh, you like that, huh?” He chuckled as he made the bat flap it’s wings and started mimicking bat noises. “I see without seeing...to me darkness is as clear as daylight...” Ed recalled to himself so quietly it barely qualified as a whisper, his voice weak from disuse. Oswald didn’t hear him over his self entertainment. Ed smiled softly, that was it, he had to make Oswald his, he couldn’t stand not to. While still watching the other man he reached under his bed and felt for the screw that held the leg of the bed to the metal frame. He began turning it with his fingers, it was difficult as due him being catatonic for so long and Arkham’s failure to administer frequent physical therapy Ed’s strength had somewhat deteriorated. He felt the screw dig and cut into his fingers but he kept turning as he watched Oswald get bored of the shadow puppetry and turn over to try and sleep.

“Alright, up we go, Nygma.” One of the orderlies said as they pulled Ed to his feet. “Fuck, why is he bleeding?” The other one said in disgust as he noticed the blood dripping from Ed’s fingers.

“I don’t know, must be biting himself or something, who cares.”

Ed was slumped down in the chair as the doctor ‘evaluated’ him. Really it was just routine, he didn’t actually care how Ed was doing. “How do you like you’re new cell mate, Edward?” He asked rhetorically, knowing Ed wouldn’t answer. “I hope, for your sake, that you won’t miss him when he’s gone tonight.” The doctor said, looking through files on his desk “Since I know you can keep a secret and I’ve been just dying to tell someone about this little project, I’m going to let you in on something very exciting.” There was evil in the man’s smile as he continued “You see, our dear Mr. Cobblepot is not insane. Disturbed? Most definitely, however, not crazy so there’s no reason for him to be here.....but being a man of science I can’t just release him.” He got up to look through a file cabinet on the other side of the room “I mean, the man is a medical anomaly. The syndactyly alone would be enough but there is so much more....anyways, I’ve decided I must dissect him. I’m afraid that means you’ll be back to being alone by tomorrow morning, dear Edward.” It was easy for Ed to hide his distress but inside his mind was racing. They were going to dissect Oswald? Take him away? Take Ed’s Oswald away? No...they weren’t, Ed wouldn’t let them.

     Ed waited patiently that night for the orderlies to come busting in, Oswald’s snoring soothed him for now as he worked at the screw under his bed. It felt like it had started digging into his bone now, Ed didn’t care he kept turning. The door opened quietly, only one orderly came in. He was holding a syringe, Ed deduced that it had to be something lethal as they quickly stopped bothering with sedatives on Oswald in the first day. Ed finally got the screw out, seething as he watched the orderly walk over to Oswald. Filled with a determination only love could bring about, Ed ripped the leg from the bed frame and forced his tired body over to the syringe armed man. “MINE!” he yelled as he brought the metal stick down on the man’s head, the feral declaration of ownership startled Oswald awake but Ed didn’t stop, he brought the metal down on the man’s head over and over again, how dare he try to take his Oswald away. Spotting the syringe in the orderlies hand Oswald quickly worked out that Ed must be protecting him. Ed stopped once the orderly’s face was just a puddle of viscera “Mine..” he asserted quietly once more, his throat already hurting from yelling.

    Oswald stopped to catch his breath once he and Ed hadn’t heard the alarms from Arkham for a few miles. “Thanks,” Oswald said sincerely “I guess we can go our separate ways now-“ he was cut off by Ed suddenly hugging him and shaking his head in disapproval of that idea, almost in a panic. It took Oswald only a second to realize that Ed didn’t save him because he just needed someone to escape with, he saved him simply because he was in danger. “O-Oh,” Oswald was a bit flustered as the ginger man bear hugged him as if he meant everything to him “So it’s like that, is it?” he smirked, gently pushing Ed off. “Hmm, you’re cute,” he mumbled while studying the taller man’s face “I guess we can stick together for a while.” He grabbed Ed’s hand and they kept moving. Ed was grinning ear to ear as Oswald led him. ‘A while?’ He thought ‘I think you mean forever.’

[lovecinnatwist]

For the Omega verse prompt, Batman! Alpha Damian and his mate, Demon Head! Omega Jason.

I’m not sure what you wanted but this is what I came up with! Basically, Damian is Batman and has adopted Dick as his son. While Jason is the demon head so that Damian can live his life freely in Gotham. Well free from everyone but him...

--

" Beloved. "

A chill runs down Damian's spine, causing him to halt. He is tired and worn out from patrol. His body heavy and aching in a way that makes him question his mission. Question the suit. He doesn't need to turn on the lights to know who's in the darkness of his room. Still, the figure clicks on the lamp. Jason stands with an elegant regality that queens would be envious of. Body dripping in long, verdant green fabric that hugs the omega's curves in all the right places.

Years ago the sight would make his mouth water, now however he finds his throat dry for all the wrong reasons.

" My omega. "

Jason is clearly delighted by the phrasing. The suffocating scent of his pleasure thickens the room. He is near heat, Damian can tell without being told. The siren call of his fertility makes Damian's blood sing. His body reacts to his mate despite his displeasure.

Jason doesn't mince words. He never does. Instead, he clearly designates what he wants. The leather casing on the bedside table speaks volumes.

" My heat is coming. This time you will be joining me. "

Damian has worn Jason's band very few times. In the beginning, he spent many days with its weight heavy around his neck. A constant reminder of his ownership, of Jason's claim. It's been years since then. Since their inevitable courting and closing of their mating. Even without looking directly at the dense gold neckpiece, he feels the pressure.

" Omega-"

Jason's eyes sharpen. Glowing green for one threatening moment. Manicured fingers dance over the box with reverence.

" You will be joining me, and you will not leave my chambers until I am with pup. "

An heir. Of course, he knew Jason would come for one eventually. To be paid what he is owed. The knowledge of it happening now- of Jason wanting it now makes him feel nauseous.

" Beloved, our mating was to my mother's stipulations-"

" And it will continue to mine. I allow you to be here, in Gotham. I permit you to sully our name- my name, with a pup from lower bloodlines. But yet you will not do this for me? For your omega. "

Jason steps forward. Always dominant, always far more assertive than Damian will even be. The distance between them starts to close, and as it does, his will to resist falls away. His senses are filled with Jason. Elegant, strong, jealous Jason.

" Do not speak of Richard like that. "

A hot hand slides up his bare chest, making his heart hammer. There's a fire under his skin now. The need to be with his omega ignites at the contact. He hates losing control. Hates the way Jason rips it from his fingers. All it takes is a single touch.

" Any pup of yours is mine. If you do not give me an heir, I will take yours. "

Jason kisses him and it tastes like poison.

The antidote is the tongue that follows. The possessive action claims all arguments from his lips. Forcing Damian to submit to the cunning omega who owns him. For a brief moment, he thinks of who Jason used to be. The bright, witty omega he had fallen in love with.

That had been before the league. Before Jason had taken charge of an army of assassins.

Now, all that remains is the snake that his mother turned him in to. Frustration burns in the back of his throat. Jason's hands touch where they see fit. Taking off the flimsy pieces of clothing that separate them.

Damian hisses when Jason wraps his mouth around his length. The omega takes him to the hilt with little to no discomfort. Damian wraps his fingers in chaotic curls, twisting hard to get him to stop- or to go deeper. 

Like everything Jason does he brings Damian off with ruthless efficiency. His mouth is wet and wicked, tongue knowing all the right places to touch. Damian fucks into the heat. Taking out some of his frustration on plush lips.

Jason's lips are red from the action. He looks wonderfully debouch for Damian like this. Serving him with sparkling eyes that remind him of his love. Who his love had been before green waters and poisonous lies. That very thought causes his toes to curl and he finds himself spilling and spilling down the man's throat. Jason's hand squeezing his knot and milking him for all he's worth.

The omega suckles down every last drop. Leaving him over-sensitive and trembling. When Jason has gotten it all. He pulls back, somehow switching the power dynamic without even rising from his knees.

" Make sure to find a suitable replacement to protect your Gotham. "

[theculturedmarxist]

The Trump administration’s cynical announcement of a set of fraudulent “guidelines” that will serve to legitimize a rapid reopening of businesses and a forced return to work, in unsafe conditions, brings to an end any public pretense of a systematic and coordinated effort within the United States to prioritize health and to protect human life in combatting the spread of the COVID-19 pandemic.

The premature return to work that the Trump administration is orchestrating will lead to countless thousands of deaths, which could be prevented if a rigorous program of social distancing, supported by a massive program of testing and contact tracing, were implemented and sustained during the coming critical months.

There is absolutely no significant factual evidence, let alone scientific analysis, that can be cited to justify Trump’s announcement. Leading epidemiologists have already publicly challenged the validity of the statistical model being used by the White House. Referring to projections by the Institute of Health Metrics and Evaluation at the University of Washington, epidemiologist Ruth Etzioni of the Fred Hutchinson Cancer Center told the medical journal STAT: “That the IHME model keeps changing is evidence of its lack of reliability as a predictive tool. That it is being used for policy decisions and its results interpreted wrongly is a travesty unfolding before our eyes.”

The pandemic is exacting a horrifying toll in human life. During the 24 hours that preceded Trump’s announcement, the COVID-19 coronavirus claimed 4,591 lives in the US. This number was more than a 75 percent increase over the 2,569 deaths during the previous 24-hour period. Over the past three days, the nationwide death toll has risen from 26,000 to over 36,000.

It is widely recognized that the official figure substantially undercounts the total number of deaths. The discoveries of bodies of elderly patients in two different nursing homes are only the most frightful examples of the gap between the official and real death toll. At this point, there is no reliable tally of people dying outside of hospitals, either of an undiagnosed COVID-19 infection or of causes related to the pandemic.

This is a global pandemic. There are, as of this writing, 2,216,000 cases and 151,000 deaths. These statistics are no more reliable than those provided for the United States. The previously reported figures are already being revised upward.

Trump’s blatant ignorance and gangster-like persona imparted to the announcement of the guidelines the sociopathic and generally putrescent atmosphere that pervades all his public appearances. But his policies are not simply those of an individual. The criminal form in which the policies are presented is determined by the economic and social interests of the class Trump serves.

For the financial-corporate oligarchy, the pandemic has been viewed, above all else, as an economic crisis. Its principal concern, from the start, was not the potential loss of life but the destabilization of the financial markets, the disruption of the process of profit extraction, and, of course, a substantial decline in the personal wealth of the members of the oligarchy.

While in February and March, the Trump administration publicly downplayed the seriousness of the crisis, officials at the Treasury Department and the Federal Reserve worked in close consultation with the major banks to structure and implement a multi-trillion-dollar bailout that would dwarf that which followed the financial collapse of 2008.

During the first three weeks of March, the news was dominated by the mounting international and national impact of the pandemic on public health. Public attention was focused on the drama of the cruise ships, the deaths in Italy and the initial reports of infection in Washington state. The urgent need to implement quarantines and shut down non-essential businesses was, despite Trump, widely acknowledged.

On March 19, the “CARES Act” was introduced in the Senate. The rapid passage of the bailout of the entire financial industry was taken for granted. Indeed, corporate executives, kept well informed by their political servants in Congress, took advantage of the plunge on Wall Street to buy back billions in company shares in anticipation of the massive rally that would follow the final passage of the CARES Act.

As soon as the CARES Act was introduced, the focus of the media began to shift toward an aggressive campaign for a return to work. There could be no delay. The massive increase in fictitious capital—more than $2 trillion in digitally created debt—was to be added to the Federal Reserve’s balance sheet within less than a month. Additional trillions of dollars of debt will be added in the coming months. This represents, in the final analysis, claims on real value that must be satisfied through the exploitation of the labor power of the working class. The greater the debt incurred by the state-sanctioned creation of fictitious capital, the more urgent the demand for a rapid end to restraints on the process of profit extraction.

Thus, on March 22, even as the CARES Act was making its way toward passage, Thomas Friedman, the leading columnist of the New York Times, initiated the campaign for a return to work: “What the hell are we doing to ourselves? To our economy? To our next generation?” he shouted. “Is this cure—even for a short while—worse than the disease?”

The latter sentence provided the slogan for a campaign that became increasingly insistent in the weeks that followed. Arguments against excessive concern for the protection of human life became more and more brazen. Evading an examination of the socio-economic interests that had prevented an effective response to the pandemic, the Times began extolling the benefits of human suffering. “As much as we might wish, none of us can avoid suffering,” opined columnist Emily Esfahani Smith on April 7. “That’s why it’s important to learn to suffer as well.”

On April 11, the Times dished up further musings on the benefits of suffering and death. Ross Douthat, in a column titled “The Pandemic and the Will of God,” invited readers to consider “how suffering fits into a providential plan.” Another essay, by Simon Critchley of the New School in New York City, proclaimed that “To Philosophize Is to Learn How to Die.” Pretentiously invoking the authority of Descartes, Boethius, More, Gramsci, Heidegger, Pascal, T.S. Eliot, Montaigne, Cicero, Dafoe, Camus, Kierkegaard and even Boccaccio—all within the confines of one newspaper column—this academic blowhard summed up the wisdom of the ages by advising his readers, “Facing death can be a key to our liberation and survival.”

The brutal practical agenda underlying these rather ethereal ruminations on suffering and death found blunt expression in the text of a round-table video conference organized by the Times. Participants included Zeke Emanuel, who is notorious for arguing that physicians should not seek to prolong life beyond the age of 75, and Peter Singer, a bioethics professor at Princeton, whose advocacy of euthanasia for debilitated infants led to protests upon his appointment to the university post 20 years ago. The Times is entirely familiar with Singer’s views, as it wrote extensively two decades ago on the controversy generated by his arrival at Princeton.

The text of the video conference discussion was posted in the on-line edition of the New York Times Magazine on April 10, under the title “Restarting America Means People Will Die. So When Do We Do It? Five thinkers weigh moral choices in a crisis.”

In its introduction to the text, the Times asserted that it will become necessary to accept that there is a “trade-off between saving lives and saving the economy.” While in the short term the two goals may be aligned, in “the longer run, though, it’s important to acknowledge that a trade-off will emerge—and become more urgent in the coming months, as the economy slides deeper into recession.”

In its analysis of the “trade off,” the Times proceeds from the unquestioned premise that economic interests can only be those of the capitalist class. The profit system, private ownership of the productive forces and vast personal wealth are unalterable and eternal. Therefore, the “trade off” requires, inevitably, the sacrifice of human life, specifically, the lives of working people.

Singer declared that it is impossible to provide an “assistance package for all those people” for a year or 18 months. “That’s where we’ll get into saying, Yes, people will die if we open up, but the consequences of not opening up are so severe that maybe we’ve got to do it anyway.”

It goes without saying that none of the Times’ panelists called attention to the fact that Congress had just injected several trillion dollars into the coffers of the banks and corporations to save executives and shareholders. Nor was it noted that there are approximately 250 billionaires in the United States, who have a collective net worth of close to $9 trillion dollars. If this wealth were expropriated and distributed evenly among the 100 million poorest households in the United States, it would provide each household with a monthly income of $5,000 for 18 months!

Of course, the expropriation of this gargantuan sum of privately held wealth—which is entirely legitimate and necessary in the context of a massive social crisis—is not an option which the Times and its panelists are even prepared to consider as a theoretical possibility. But they are willing to accept the deaths of countless thousands as a matter of practical, i.e., capitalist necessity.

The subordination of life to the profit system is not confined to the United States. It is being proclaimed as a universal principle by the ruling elites in Europe. The Neue Zurcher Zeitung, the main voice of the Swiss ruling class, posted an article yesterday, that asks:

Do you want to live forever? This was the question Frederick the Great asked his soldiers at the Battle of Kolin in 1757, when they gave way to the enemy. One is inclined to ask the same question again in view of the disputable relationship between the corona sick and deceased on the one hand and the population as a whole and those suffering from common diseases on the other.

Some things here seem to be—literally—crazy. But also the collateral damage of disease with its wanton acceptance of the destruction of the economy provokes the whole question. Anyone who wants to put it drastically could say: We choose economic suicide to prevent individual elderly people from passing away a few years earlier than would be expected under normal circumstances.

The advocacy of a policy that accepts, and even advocates the culling of the aged and weak finds its most explicitly fascistic expression in a lengthy essay published on April 13 in the German newsmagazine Der Spiegel. Titled “We need to talk about dying,” it is written by Bernard Gill, a sociologist who has been associated with the Green Party.

In a sweeping assault on the development of science, Gill denounces the “heroic narrative” that celebrated the great nineteenth century scientists Louis Pasteur and Robert Koch “as heroes who made microbes visible, manageable and therefore controllable.” Gill protests:

In this story of creation, the microbes are aliens, which threaten us and therefore hold us down with power are best exterminated. “Our” lives against “their” lives—scientific knowledge and well-organized defensive struggle until the final victory of hygiene, which promises eternal life in a germ-free environment.

But this is a violation of nature. “Our life,” Gill declares, “is not conceivable without death.” But those who seek “to contain the infection with all means, also fights dying with all means.”

Gill advocates an acceptance of the natural spread of the pandemic—based on the program of “herd immunity”—which views “dying as a natural process that is individually painful for those involved, but from a distance makes room for new life.” With this approach, Gill argues, “we come to terms with the microbes in the knowledge that our life without death is unthinkable. We console ourselves with the prospect of new life.”

These are arguments with which Nazi leader Adolf Hitler, who committed suicide 75 years ago this month in his Berlin bunker, would have readily agreed.

Deeply reactionary and inhuman ideas are wafting about Germany. But there, no less than in the United States, they arise not from the sick psychology of individuals, but from the needs of the capitalist system.

The same publication, Der Spiegel, that provides a forum for Gill, warns that the German auto industry cannot endure a prolonged shutdown.

The longer the corona crisis lasts, the louder industry calls will grow for politicians to finally name a date for the easing of the shutdowns in order to provide companies with some planning security…

The automotive industry in particular is facing a trial of strength for which there is no historical precedent. In order to prevent a collapse, companies need to get their shuttered factories opened again this spring.

Involved as well are critical issues of global competitiveness. Der Spiegel continues:

There are also geostrategic interests. Executives at companies in Europe want to strengthen the European market in order to establish it as a counterweight to the United States and China as economic powers...

This is all the more true given that China, where the coronavirus originated, appears to be emerging from the crisis faster than the rest of the world.

The COVID-19 coronavirus confronts mankind with not only a scientific-medical problem, but also a political and social challenge. The response of the ruling classes to the coronavirus pandemic reveals that its interests are incompatible with human progress and the very survival of mankind.

In its failure to prepare for the pandemic, its chaotic and disorganized response to the coronavirus once the outbreak began, its subordination of every social need to its own economic interests, its nationally-grounded sabotage of all possibility of a unified global response to the disease, and its open justification of the reactionary and neo-fascistic program of social euthanasia, the ruling class is demonstrating the necessity of socialism.

For humanity to survive, the subordination of society to the money mad capitalist elites must be ended.

David North

[claudioseraph]

Yall wanna see my very rough rewrite of the tekken story where things remain mainly the same but I try to keep it sensible jk I’m posting it now and you have no choice but to witness Keep in mind a lot of characters are yet to be mentioned or expounded upon and I also started it with the mood of a youtube vid where you’d be listening to someone but it’s slowly turning into more of a wiki page. I’m at tekken 3 so far and I’ve been bouncing back and forth on the actual Tekken wiki page trying to get my info straight. Also trying to create the illusion that Heihachi MIGHT be a good guy like the series seemed to play with every now and again, or he might just want people to think he’s a good guy.

Let’s start at the beginning; with the young Heihachi and Kazumi meeting for the first time as she enrolls in Jinpachi’s dojo. Jinpachi and Heihachi are impressed by her ability to adapt to both her own Hachijo style Karate and Mishima style fighting arts. From here, Kazumi is but a carefully-placed plant, her current objective being to watch over Heihachi because of the risk of him causing destruction to the world. Kazumi does eventually begin to harbor real, genuine feelings for him, though, and as such the two get married. It’s from here that the warning signs really start to show, though Kazumi tries to ignore them despite her original purpose. Heihachi insists his father end his focus on fighting arts to instead focus the Mishima Zaibatsu on producing weapons and engaging in matters of warfare so that their name continues to have strength when what he sees as outdated fighting techniques are no longer relevant. Jinpachi refuses, and as such asserts that Heihachi will never inherit the Mishima Zaibatsu. By now, Kazumi is even more hesitant as she is pregnant with Kazuya and understands that if Heihachi does become a threat as foretold, so too will Kazuya. She does her best to persuade Heihachi to change his mind about the direction of the zaibatsu, doing her best to change his ways while dancing around the whole “my family foretold you would bring death and destruction to the world” angle. Heihachi assures her that he’s only concerned with his family’s name and status, not being a war monger. Kazumi “believes” him. Things calm down for a time, enough for Kazuya to be born and live a normal life until age 5. Heihachi still harbors outward resentment towards Jinpachi, and the two are all but estranged. Heihachi still keeps an eye on the company as Jinpachi’s health begins to decline and it becomes clear he’s nearing his end. Around this time, Kazumi’s devil gene is beginning to activate, seeing as the chance of Heihachi gaining ownership of the zaibatsu and enacting his plans for it is still very prominent. She does her best to fight it off but is overtaken by a fever one night which leads to the events shown in Tekken 7 of her transforming and revealing her true purpose to him before being killed. Kazuya witnesses only her death, and is understandably confused and angry. Heihachi is in no place to console Kazuya and instead responds in kind with anger. After Kazuya isolates himself Heihachi recalls that Kazumi revealed that she was not only sent to kill Heihachi, but would have to kill Kazuya as well, and wonders where that puts Kazuya in all of this. Did he inherit the same abilities? Would he stand against Heihachi in the future? Or would they work together? Rather than immediately casting Kazuya out, Heihachi intends to see what path Kazuya takes. He still lacks the emotional availability/complexity to properly raise Kazuya after the rift in their relationship and things are rocky between them to say the least. Kazuya doesn’t believe any excuse Heihachi gives him for killing his mother, but as he’s only a child there isn’t much he can do to retaliate. Jinpachi dies a year later and is burred under Hon Maru. Heihachi forcibly takes control of the Mishima Zaibatsu. Knowing this was against Jinpachi’s wishes and having been close to his grandfather, this only widens the rift between Kazuya and Heihachi. [Heihachi swiftly begins to use the zaibatsu to investigate a god of fighting rumored to be lying dormant somewhere in the world. This sends Mr. Chang to America where he falls in love with Mrs. Chang and Michelle is born.] Heihachi still intends to raise Kazuya to be a formidable fighter, and adopts Lee into the family specifically for the purpose of giving Kazuya a rival. Thinking it over, Heihachi decides that even if Lee isn’t a fitting rival, he’d raise him to stand against Kazuya alongside him should things go that way. Lee is more receptive to the ins and outs of business, to manipulation for the sake of his own gain, and Heihachi uses that to give him an edge against Kazuya. Understanding Lee and Kazuya’s seperate skill sets, Heihachi sends Lee to America on business while he sends Kazuya out to participate in  tournaments across the world. Lee meets Paul and Law while in America and trains alongside them. After Lee has returned to Japan, Kazuya meets with and fights to a draw against Paul in America. [Mr. Chang dies when, under threat of death, he begins to unearth Ancient Ogre. His death is covered up by the zaibatsu and when Michelle, 18, learns of this she joins the tournament to exact revenge against Heihachi.] In their 20s, Lee and Kazuya begin to conspire against Heihachi to wrest control of the Mishima Zaibatsu. Their union is shaky at best as both plan to head the zaibatsu in spite of the other, but they unify long enough to participate in the Tekken tournament Heihachi organizes with the intention of defeating him. (The tradition of fighting tournaments initially began as a smaller ordeal under Jinpachi, and Heihachi is only currently organizing a fighting tournament to keep the Mishima name in the spotlight). Lee, Paul, and Law meet again (outside of matches) and Lee learns that Paul has faced Kazuya before. Kazuya eliminates Paul from the tournament but in a show of good naturedness the two stay on good terms as rivals as Kazuya appreciates Paul’s strength. Eventually, Lee and Kazuya are pitted against one another. Kazuya emerges victorious and reveals to no one’s surprise that he never intended to share control of the zaibatsu with Lee. He does, however, offer Lee a lesser position. Lee finds that his pride is more damaged from losing to his brother than he’d expected, and he declines Kazuya’s offer. [Nina joins the tournament under orders to assassinate Heihachi but is defeated by Anna, who is then defeated by Paul.] Kazuya continues to the final stage against Heihachi, who is equal parts pleased with his son’s strength and cautious of it. Kazuya is nearly overwhelmed by Heihachi, who is fighting with his all, until the devil gene within him is activated and grants him immense power. Heihachi is overwhelmed both by Kazuya’s strength and by the revelation that he has inherited his mother’s ability. Feeling truly paternal for only a moment, Heihachi attempts to console Kazuya and explain to him the origin of this new power, intending to help and protect him the way he failed to with Kazumi. Kazuya, on the other hand, quickly abates his confusion and realizes that his power means he can no longer be subjected to feeling helpless the way he had as a child and under Heihachi’s strict and oftentimes cruel “parenting”. This power goes to Kazuya’s head, and he quickly dispatches Heihachi, disposing of his body off of a cliff near his childhood home in a mostly symbolic gesture. [Kazuya meets Ganryu in this tournament after the sumo is defeated by Yoshimitsu. He recognizes his strength (despite not seeing him as an equal) and appoints him as his body guard after taking control of the Zaibatsu. Kazuya extends the same offer to Paul but Paul respectfully declines in favor of traveling the world in order to become stronger. Kazuya learns of Heihachi’s search for Ancient Ogre and continues where he’d left off, sending Ganryu to attain an amulet currently in possesion of Michelle Chang that has some connection to the fighting god. Ganryu fails, falls in love with Michelle, and never returns. Ganryu’s abandonment is no great loss to Kazuya.] As Kazuya gains power of the Mishima Zaibatsu, Lee isolates himself in the wilderness to train. It is here that he meets Wang Jinrei, a skilled martial artist who knows of Lee’s connection to the Mishima family. Wang offers to train Lee in exchange for Lee bringing about the end of the Mishima clan as he, like Jinpachi and the Hachijo family, foresees the destruction they will bring to the world. When Lee tells Wang that Heihachi is already dead by Kazuya’s hands, Wang reveals that he can still feel Heihachi’s energy and that he has not yet been killed. Lee agrees to do what he must so long as it means becoming stronger than Kazuya, unaware of how Heihachi’s intentions of creating a division between the two had deeply affected his psyche. As leader of the zaibatsu, Kazuya organizes another tournament two years later to test his ability in battle. His power has gone to his head and he has become even more millitaristic than Heihachi, planning to seize control over all of Japan after he has ascertained the limits of his strength. He has also ordered genetic experiments on living creatures to understand the effects of the Devil Gene. His collective actions draw the ire of wildlife conservationalist Jun Kazama, and she joins the tournament in order to stop Kazuya. Jun is also able to sense the evil habituated within Kazuya, and intends to dispell it from his body to keep he and the world around him safe. Meanwhile, Heihachi has recovered and healed, sharpening his skills before the tournament in order to stop Kazuya, whom he no longer sees as his son but as a demon. Lee joins the tournament only to be defeated by Heihachi, whom he is still surprised to find alive despite Wang Jinrei’s words. Lee is then officially expelled from the Mishima clan. Jun meets with Kazuya outside of matches to arrest him, but instead convinces him to end his experiments on animals. While Kazuya initially intends to cast her aside he is drawn in by her strength and bravery, as well as the strange calm that overcomes him whenever she’s near him. Jun is then able to see that there is some good in Kazuya still, and takes an interest in him as well. Kazuya becomes compelled to act on her wishes and ends the animal experimentation. He never vocalizes it but Jun knows that Kazuya has the intention of changing his ways and as such Jun forfeits the tournament, seeing no need to proceed. [Nina is again sent to assassinate Kazuya and fails due to Anna’s intervention after she became his body guard (alongside Bruce*) for the sole purpose of stopping her sister. Nina is captured and used in Dr. Bosconovitch’s* experiments which would put her into a deep cryosleep. Seeing no fun in living without her rival around for years, Anna volunteers to also take part in the experiments.] Any intention Kazuya had of changing is swiftly brought to an end once Heihachi reveals himself to still be alive. Kazuya is defeated and Heihachi regains control over the Zaibatsu. In an attempt to assure Kazuya’s demise, Heihachi throws his body into an active volcano. Lee distances himself from Mishima matters. Jin is born months later after a tumultuous pregnancy wherin Jun had to ward off the influence of the devil gene. Jun recieves word of Kazuya’s demise but senses that he may still be alive. She believes that Heihachi was only acting for what he believed to be the greater good and harbors no ill will towards him. To protect Jin and reconnect with her spiritual energy she raises him in semi-seclusion, teaching him Kazama-style fighting arts in an attempt to continue protecting his soul from the devil presence. When Jin turns 15 Jun has a premonition of her own demise and as such instructs Jin to seek out Heihachi should anything happen to her, being estranged from her own family after her father’s death and unable to reach out to them. Her premonition comes true as a newly-awakened Ancient Ogre attacks them and presumably kills her. Jin assumes as much when he awakens after the attack, their home burned to the ground and neither Jun nor Ogre anywhere in sight. [Ogre’s appearance awakens Anna and Nina, Nina having lost all her memories of Anna and their rivalry. Anna, as such, attempts to remake their relationship to avoid becoming rivals with her again, realizing that they only really have each other. Nina is unfortunately possesed and controlled by Ogre, making that impossible.] With some difficulty, Jin does find Heihachi who takes him in with minimal questions. Having been mostly isolated Jin is ill prepared for city life and instead spends most of his time training, which Heihachi is unopposed to. Jin knows nothing about Kazuya and Heihachi’s falling out and is subsequently unsuspicious of Heihachi’s possible response to the devil gene dormant within him. Heihachi does consider raising Jin properly, but remembers how Kazuya had easily turned on him once his devil gene was activated. Heihachi properly enrolls Jin into Mishima Polytechnic and Jin is very receptive to his lessons. Heihachi sends Jin on small business trips once Jin is old enough in order to test his business savvy, and on one of these trips Jin meets and fights to a draw against Hwoarang. In the years after the second tournament, Heihachi had been using the zaibatsu to regain the support of the public by way of creating the Tekken Force which was sent worldwide on good will missions to provide aid to impoverished nations. This force was, at the same time, searching for any evidence of Ancient Ogre. It isn’t until 15 years later that one of their expeditions properly unearths Ogre, who wipes out the team. Word reaches Heihachi of Ogre’s appearance just before Jin is sent to him. For the next four years Heihachi trains Jin as a possible weapon to use against Ogre while trying to again ascertain the monster’s whereabouts. He sees the pattern of Ogre’s appearances; only appearing to face strong fighters, and organizes the third Tekken tournament in order to draw Ogre out and obtain his power. [Baek was one of the fighters to have been unfortunately confronted by Ogre, and this pushes Hwoarang to join the third tournament to obtain his revenge and settle the score against Jin.] [Paul receives an invitation to the third tournament and joins to test his mettle against his rival’s son and father. While he never meets with Jin or Heihachi, he does defeat Kuma and Ancient Ogre. He leaves the tournament prematurely to find more challenges, not realizing Ancient Ogre had been revitalized as True Ogre.] Jin and Hwoarang meet at the third tournament and once again fight to a draw. Jin is allowed to continue on through the next stages and Hwoarang is forced to return to Korea for his mandatory military service. Jin meets with Heihachi next, who claims to want to test his strength before Jin continues. In reality, he wishes to fight in order to draw out Ogre. This plan works, as a weakened Ogre appears and is swiftly defeated by an enraged Jin. At his second defeat, Ogre takes Heihachi’s power and becomes True Ogre, whom Jin also defeats with terrifying power. Regaining consciousness just long enough to see this, Heihachi then knows that Jin has inherited the same devil power as Kazuya. As he’s calming himself from the fight, Heihachi takes the chance to shoot Jin, then calls in the Tekken Force soldiers to retrieve his body. However, Jin reawakens as Devil Jin and

[not-poignant]

Pia omg I loved the last chapter so much, I was definitely crying along with ef. I’m kind of wondering what Lija was hoping to get out of coming to see ef? It seemed a bit unprofessional/insensitive to come visit a potentially suicidal patient and then talk about a bunch of potential triggers like augus, crielle, gwyn? I get that she was like ‘I want to check on an old patient’ but seems like a bit of a conflict of interest when you’re also the mum of the guy who just punched him out. Seems like if your priority is making sure this guy doesn’t want to hurt your kids then you shouldn’t be seeing him in your capacity as a medical practitioner??

Oh man Lija was 100% unprofessional, inappropriate, and insensitive, and could easily be reported for her actions.

When Dr Gary finds out, he's going to rip her a new one. And he'll be right to do it. Efnisien literally sat there, cried, and wished a nurse would save him from what she was putting him through, until she badgered him into regressing so severely that he began treating her like Crielle. And we actually haven't seen him regress that severely since the night on the bridge.

She's basically put his life in danger again. I don't even think her main priority was 'checking on an old patient.' I think she was curious, and wanted to see the person who had made people close to her suffer, and had the power to do that. And I think she genuinely and mistakenly thought that saying something like 'I don't want you to die' would mean anything when she's also saying 'I'm so angry at you.'

Seems like if your priority is making sure this guy doesn’t want to hurt your kids then you shouldn’t be seeing him in your capacity as a medical practitioner??

Absolutely.

I honestly think Lija has believed what Gwyn and Augus and many of the others have believed, because all of her information mostly comes from Gwyn and Augus: That Efnisien couldn't possibly have really changed, and that even if he's feeling vulnerable and she doesn't want him to die, she still needs to make sure that he's not going to hurt her son or daughters (or Gwyn) again.

Even not knowing about those things being potential triggers and not understanding the complexity of Efnisien's trauma or inner landscape, she:

* Casually asserted ownership over Efnisien's body in a way that was callous and authoritative ('that's my work' not 'that's your body'). No wonder he was reminded of Crielle, who did the exact same thing. She basically made it seem like she owned a part of him. She doesn't.

* Interrogated him, and refused to stop when he began to cry, or get the nurse, even knowing he was in a psych ward for suicidal intent.

* Threatened him by saying she might come back, despite - at that point - finding it clear that he was being retraumatised.

* Went there as a protective mother who didn't really give a shit about Efnisien as a person.

* Used a 'tough love' approach which is profoundly inappropriate for most suicidal patients or people experiencing serious mental illness.

* Constantly seemed to assume that just saying 'I don't want you to die' while also constantly reminding him of his crimes would actually be helpful. That's some guilt-tripping right there.

* The absolute power trip of the words 'I saved your life' (and therefore you owe me some of your time now) and not 'I did your surgery with a team of competent people who I was absolutely dependent on.'

I could list more things, like the fact that she did that while Efnisien was incredibly vulnerable and medicated, for example, but that's a good start! Dr Gary will probably list the rest, lmao. He's going to be furious.

Like, yes, did she eventually realise she'd fucked up and back out of there and get a nurse? Absolutely. Thank god she's not a total asshole. But did she 100% do a completely unethical thing that there could be professional consequences for? Absolutely. She should never have been in that room.

You can absolutely bet that she lied to the nurses by saying: 'Oh he was my surgical patient 3 years ago and I saved his life and I just wanted to remind him that his life is worth living' and just casually forgot 'also he tortured my son and my son's boyfriend and was a threat around my daughters and my son is the one responsible for his worst physical injury right now.'

Bridge interrogating Efnisien was bad. Lija doing this was worse. He's not her patient anymore, she discharged him years ago. And her casually asserting authority over him and his fragile and vulnerable body to the point that he profoundly regresses, and then not leaving after that, is a cruel thing to do. Whether she did have some good intentions there actually doesn't really matter, she dropped a bomb in Efnisien's lap, and she left a nurse to deal with the aftermath.

[randomlycynical]

The Burning Absurdity of Asian Masculinity (draft)

In the climactic scene of Lee Chang-dong’s Burning (2018), Jong-soo, the meek and listless protagonist, finally confronts Ben, the mysterious and rich embodiment of all of his jealousy and rage. In a shocking explosion of violence, Jong-soo stabs Ben, douses his body and car with gas and lights them on fire, but not before throwing his bloody clothes in the blaze. He drives off, naked as the day he was born, as the film fades to black.

A depressing ending, to be sure, but one that many critics have described as “inevitable” and “unavoidable.” For me, no other movie has encapsulated the destructive potential of Asian masculinity more succinctly: the entitlement, the repressed rage, the insecurity, the inferiority, but perhaps, most destructive of all, its dangerous inability to read.

But, even with all of these things, is the violent outcome of Asian masculinity truly inevitable? Does it have to be?

Chang-dong’s film is striking in its ambiguity. By the end of the film, nothing is certain; the truth is never revealed. Did Ben kidnap Haemi and sell her into human trafficking? Did Haemi simply disappear on her own? Was Ben truly the villain that Jong-soo made him out to be? The film has yielding edges that give and shift, porous borders that fuzz.

Because the film is focalized so strongly through Jong-soo’s perspective, the film is somehow both constricting and expansive. The most common technique Chang-dong uses is the close-up on Jong-soo’s face, so while we see his reactions to his world, his world at large remains just out of our vision.

As such, we see the absurdities of contemporary Korean life and the pressures it places on Jong-soo, who serves as our hapless male center. His Creative Writing major has landed him no job prospects or assets aside from his father’s isolated farm near the North Korean border and he has no friends or interactions with anyone aside from his father’s lawyer. The members of his father’s community by and large treat him like a pariah due to his father’s violent streak, which has landed him in jail. In other words, Jong-soo’s outlook is bleak.

Nowhere is his isolation more palpable than in those mysterious phone calls he receives frequently in the middle of the night. He receives calls, but no one is there on the other end of the line. Despite his desperate pleas for someone to answer, for communication, for interaction, no one seems to hear him. The phantom phone calls taunt Jong-soo with the tantalizing possibility of human connection, which he ultimately cannot have.

So when Haemi comes into his life, seemingly randomly and effortlessly, she appears like a miracle: she is pretty, lively and, much more significantly to a lonely man in his 20s, has sex with him mere days after they meet.

Or re-meet.

Haemi claims that they knew each other in high school, claiming that Jong-soo called her ugly when they were younger, which then had a hand in her having plastic surgery done. Jong-soo claims to have no memory of this.

Here is the first instance in which we see the film’s assault on Asian masculinity, slight as it is at first. Jong-soo’s cruel and demeaning insult to Haemi in high school is our introduction to the consequences of Jong-soo’s toxic masculinity that will reach its apotheosis in the film’s final moments. In light of things to follow, we are led to believe that Haemi’s involvement with Jong-soo and subsequent disappearance was just an elaborate gambit to exact her revenge on him for his toxic ways.

Or was it?

It is precisely this ambiguous and mystifying nature, this push-and-pull, this sense of well, that definitely could be one explanation that is the central conceit of the film. This is Jong-soo’s vision of the world.

As the film progresses, it builds a deliberate, but closed, system of logic in Jong-soo’s twisted male mind. Because so much of the film is focalized through him, we come to understand his thought processes, as warped as they may be.

And how does Jong-soo make sense of the evidence that builds up in front of his eyes? It is through that sense of entitlement so endemic to males, and in particular, Asian males.

Entitlement is necessarily a warped view of reality. Nobody is entitled to anything, least of all people. But after Jong-soo has sex with Haemi, he believes he has the right to her. The most perverse and striking form this takes is his violation of her physical space: while she’s gone on a trip to Africa, he begins jerking off in her room indiscriminately. Claiming ownership of her body extends to his claim to her space.

Haemi eventually returns from her travels with the mysterious Ben around her arm. Ben is everything that Jong-soo is not: handsome, worldly, confident, well-connected and, most importantly, rich.

This new, electric masculine presence cleaves Jong-soo’s vision of him and Haemi in two, for Ben has now come to threaten his perceived ownership of her. Ben begins to flaunt his wealth by taking Haemi to restaurants and buying her things, and he makes Jong-soo watch.

For Jong-soo, the evidence continues to build:

Jong-soo is entitled to Haemi.

Ben is a triumph of Asian masculinity.

Haemi is a sexually active woman.

Ben and Haemi are spending more time with each other.

The premises are laid, the conclusion reveals itself: Haemi is a “whore.”

This is Jong-soo’s ultimate, fatal failure of reading, of countenancing all of the evidence and coming to an absurd conclusion, a bastardized and perverse understanding of the logic of cause and effect.

This is the illogical world that Asian masculinity creates.

It all adds up, and yet, it doesn’t. For Jong-soo, the world has ceased to make sense for Asian males.

And for the ultimate senseless act, Haemi disappears without a trace. No word of warning, no letter, no call, no text.

Nothing infuriates men more than women who do not follow their easy, orderly scripts, women who do not adhere to their warped ideas of them, women who assert their own agency, women who do not care to explain anything to them, women who tell men clearly and plainly: not only are you not entitled to my body, but you are not even entitled to know anything about me.

This is when Jong-soo falls off the rails. Faced with the ultimate illogical outcome – a woman he thought he owned disappearing without a trace – he begins to seek ways to recede back to a logical order of things. He jogs around his neighborhood to take stock of the various greenhouses to see if they burn or if they have been burned, suggesting a suspicion that Ben, that figure of mystery, danger and power, has taken Haemi’s body and disposed of it by incinerating it in a greenhouse. Marking these locations, he creates a schizoid’s scatter graph, one that reveals no line of best-fit, but one that is as haphazard, senseless and random as the world he lives in.

He does this in the hopes of regaining and reasserting a masculine logic over an illogical world. But when he finds that things do not add up, and never will, despite his efforts, he reaches another, even more absurd conclusion, one that produces no answers, no closure, no resolution and one that all men, of course, must come to: that he must resort to violence. Destructive, indiscriminate violence.

I refuse to believe that the violent outcome of the movie was inevitable, as critics have claimed. Time, death and the rules of science may be inevitable, but when it comes to human beings and violence, nothing is. To think otherwise is to concede to the cynical fact that Asian masculinity is and always will be an essentially violent enterprise.

Imagine, for just a second, that Jong-soo chose not to read into the dominating frameworks of Asian masculinity and all of its false premises and promises of entitlement and claims to women’s bodies. Imagine, for just a second, that Jong-soo did not attempt to align his worldview to the seemingly “logical” proposition that Asian men own Asian women or that the success of Asian masculinity lays in wealth and power.

Imagine if Jong-soo stifled his worst impulses, worked against the logic of the world and deprogrammed himself from what he had learned through years and years of brainwashing and paranoia. Imagine that instead of thinking the world were illogical that it was he who was illogical. And finally, imagine that he instead created his own system of logic, a system that didn’t burn him and everything around him to the ground, to ash.

[ivnwrites]

How Asuka Langley Soryu is a realistic portrayal of teenage female sexuality

Neon Genesis Evangelion is a legendary science fiction and mecha anime created by Hideaki Anno in 1995 (though there's some heated debate over the second designation given the reality of the evangelions). It's noted for its psychological and theological discussions and its questions about humanity, loneliness, and what it means to live with other people. The main characters have also achieved this sort of legendary status, becoming easily recognizable, but they also are notable just for how well they're written.

Asuka Langley Soryu is one of the main eva pilots and, I am going to be talking about how she is depicted in terms of her developing romantic and sexual awareness in the series and how it's still one of the most accurate depictions of female adolescent sexuality in any media.(I am doing this as a currently 21 year old woman who went through being a 14 year old girl)

Asuka fits almost perfectly into the mold of a traditional mecha anime protagonist; we're told that she got her college degree at 13, she's an ace pilot, she's assertive and much more determined than the actual main character, and has a dead parent. But Evangelion isn't a traditional mecha anime so none of this happens without consequence. Asuka's accomplishments and her need to be the "best" are shown to be the result of her desperation not to be ignored. This in turn stems from her mother's insanity during which she thought a doll was Asuka and couldn't recognize her own daughter. Needing her mother to see her is so important and fundamental to her character that knowing her mother is still literally there 'watching over her' inside the eva is enough to pull her out of complete catatonia in the series ending. This background allows Asuka to have more depth than a traditional character who is simply portrayed as sexy with no knowledge of it or acknowledgement from other characters in the series, making her simply eye candy for the audience but has no ownership of her own body.

The most famous (infamous?) scene that needs to included in this discussion happens when she is attacked by Arael in episode 22 and has her mental breakdown, we see a snippet a the scene I'll talk about later with Kaji. It repeats over and over the last moment when she yanks open her shirt to expose her bra and the top of her breasts and screams "Look at me, dammit, look at me!" As a result of her mental state, we don't know if this is what actually happened, but that doesn't matter because the scene tells us that this is part of how Asuka thinks of her body in her own mind. One analysis I've read talked about this scene as Asuka's frustration that "her body isn't developed or adult in the way she wishes it was." I agree with this, and also read the scene as her sort of trying to physically reinforce her assertion that she's an adult, and her saying 'I have an adult body, why don't you want me?'

This frustration and anger stems from the conflicting messages that girls receive. They're told at various young ages that they're women just because of their bodies development. Growing breasts mean that they are "getting a woman's body," they "become women" when they start menstruating. However, these physical experiences are universal, and pay no heed to a girl's individual mental development. Physical changes can only exacerbate this, because girls see their bodies matching those of women, and so does society at large. Girls the world over start to be treated as adults the instant they start developing breasts when it comes to seeing them as sexual objects, but at the same time, they are still belittled and told that they aren't smart enough to know their own bodies. Girls are also told that they supposedly mature faster than boys, and all of this together creates a strange conflict where girls are at the same time told that they are supposed to be adults and yet only treated as adults when it is convenient for those around them, or when they do something wrong, otherwise they are seen as foolish children. "Save the world, but don't expect your emotional turmoil to be taken seriously."

This can be seen clearly in her relationship with Kaji. Throughout the series, Asuka is shown to be infatuated with him, even though he’s in his 30s and already in an on-again-off-again relationship with Misato. He's shown openly flirting with other adult characters in the series, and multiple characters even get in cracks about it, but from his first appearance onward, he brushes off every one of her advances. We see what is perhaps the most significant their interactions during the Arael scene. The audience is shown a flashback to the two of them having a nighttime conversation on the deck of a ship while they're traveling to Japan from Germany during which she tries somewhat clumsily to seduce(?) him and convince him that she's not interested in anyone else. His ultimate response is to tell her that she's still a child and doesn't have to rush into everything because she still has time.

In reality, it isn't rare for teenagers to develop crushes on adults in addition to their peers. In real girls, the same way as in the series, they can see it as a sign that they are more mature than their peers or even more ready for an 'adult' relationship than those around them. Asuka has what is probably the best outcome; the subject of her affection turns her down but is otherwise kind, as are the other adults around her. In the end it's her own deeper unacknowledged problems that cause the situation to spiral. The problem is that unlike in the series, there often seems to be no way for girls to win psychologically. In real life, if a girl's feelings are returned this leads to obvious problems, and public rejection can lead to ridicule. Girls are blamed for mistakes on the one hand, and belittled on the other. They aren't given the compassion and understanding that they need most at those times.

Through her interactions with Kaji, we can see the disconnect between Asuka's desire to be seen as an adult and her actual actions. She become hyper, somewhat aggressive, and slightly possessive when Kaji is around, becoming frustrated when the relationship between him and Misato rekindles. From Asuka's perspective, she can't see why she isn't the better choice. As discussed above, she sees her physical body as functionally the same as all the other women Kaji expresses even passing interest in, and psychologically she sees herself as more mature than Misato (and she is both right and wrong depending on which aspect of their personalities you examine, but that's a whole unrelated issue). The problem is that she has no idea what the adults around her are thinking; an adult man will not be attracted to an adolescent girl, and though all of the women around her can see that this is just a teenage crush, Asuka herself doesn't have the life experience to know this yet. This, combined with her fear of being ignored, means that what is actually a perfectly reasonable rejection registers to her as abandonment.

We can see this even more clearly if we look at her relationship with Shinji. The two of them are the same age, classmates, living together with Misato, both lost their mothers at a young age, both pilot the evangelions, and have grudging sexual tension that persists to the very end. Despite this, their personalities are pretty much incompatible. The line that is most iconic between them is Asuka's  "what are you, stupid?" (the english dub's version of her japanese line "Anta baka?" basically asking 'are you dumb?'). Shinji is a lot more timid and less self confident than Asuka, and she frequently is shown literally pushing him around. We see in other parts of the series that he is attracted to her but is too intimidated by her to really be able to do anything.

At one point when the two are alone at home, she kisses him, explicitly stating that it's because she's bored. It predictably doesn't go well, with Shinji just standing there frozen until Asuka backs away and then runs to the bathroom to dramatically rinse her mouth out, declaring that she should never kiss to kill time. It's played as a funny scene, but later we see that it actually had a deep effect on Asuka. It's implied that she did see Shinji as a potential romantic interest, but saw his silence and his lack of engagement with her as rejection, and this along with his improvement as a pilot over the series leads her to resent him more and more. During her mental breakdown, Asuka sees an image of his face and screams "You won't help me! You won't even hold me! You're no one! No one!"

In her mind, she has been rejected by all of the people sh's approached romantically. This leads her to feel unwanted and she starts to draw in on herself, and her feeling of animosity grow to encompass all of the characters in the series. In the same episode as her breakdown, she's shown standing naked in front of a bathtub (see note below) saying how much she hates having to be so close to Misato and Shinji. She become more and more worked up until she kicks something across the room yelling "I hate Misato, and I hate Shinji, and I hate that First Child bitch Rei! I hate my dad, I hate my mom! But mostly, most of all, I hate myself! I hate this! I can't stand it anymore! Why do I have to do this! Why me?!"

It is intriguing that Asuka, and the other female characters in Evangelion who show similar insight, came from the mind of an unmarried (at the time), childless man in his mid-30s. Anno himself says that "I like to read romance novels written by women. Since I'm a male, I don't really know the emotions of women. And because I want to understand their feelings, and create more realistic female characters, this is something I have to pursue." and there are plenty of accounts of him asking female animators and voice actresses for their input on characters to ensure that they were realistic. Because of this, Anno allows Asuka to express some of the frustration teenage girls feel with their bodies, and manages to walk the thin line of making Asuka real as a burgeoning sexual being without crossing into the sexualization of a minor.

Note: It is uncomfortably easy to find sexual art and dolls of the underage main female characters in the series but none of this comes from the series itself (there is one character who provides occasional 'fanservice', but she is an adult woman in her 30s). In the actual anime, nudity is not treated sexually, rather it is used to represent and heighten characters' feelings of vulnerability and isolation, reinforcing the idea that characters have been left completely alone with nothing except for their own skin, and at times not even that. Despite this, fans in Japan fixated on the character Rei Ayanami, which Anno attributed to the fact that "They can't handle strong women such as Misato and Asuka." This is even more unfortunate because it abandons the character's stoic loyalty and dive into self reflection midway through the series in favor of reducing Rei to an injured quivering victim using just the visuals of episode 1 (though once again, there's character traits there that are ignored as well). The most important part to say about this is also the fact that both Rei and Asuka are 14 YEARS OLD IN THE SERIES. For god's sake Japanese men, WHY!

Another Note: Actually I can explain why; the age of consent in Japan is 13 which has led to entire industries based on the exploitation of teenage girls, which means that child prostitution and pornography are rampant. Essentially, pedophilia is totally legal in Japan, in addition to child pornography as long as it isn't of real people, meaning that pedophilic anime and manga are totally legal, because easily available child pornography has 0 negative impacts, right? (WRONG). industries based on exploiting young girls: https://www.washingtonpost.com/world/asia_pacific/for-vulnerable-high-school-girls-in-japan-a-culture-of-dates-with-older-men/2017/05/15/974146c4-035d-11e7-9d14-9724d48f5666_story.html?noredirect=on&utm_term=.a58a262e1867 child pornography laws in Japan: http://time.com/2892728/japan-finally-bans-child-pornography/ https://www.bbc.co.uk/bbcthree/article/57eaaf23-0cef-48c8-961f-41f2563b38aa

[lentaska]

Deep Water - Part 3

A/N: Featuring Sami Callihan. WWII setting, OFC, third-person POV. Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from wrestling, I do not claim any ownership over them. Any resemblance to real-life historical events, organizations, locales and countries/union is entirely coincidental.

Tagging people who gave likes to my work: @thecristsandcallihanmadness @monstersmaid @cherryfinolahobbes @i-ship-it-okay @ohcristimhookedonhavocimsodunne @amariemoore @jonmoxley4ever @morie-leigh Thank you for your support (please let me know if tagging is not ok for you)

When Anka woke up, Sami already set up campfire to keep them warm. Anka moved closer to the fire but kept some distance, since she could only feel its warm. Her world was pure dark, but somehow she thought she could see very dim light spot quivering.

“I found some food in a hidden cabinet.” said Sami, sitting down beside her. She heard him opened up a tin and sighed, “well, canned mushrooms are ok...”

“I used to pick mushrooms with my mom. Lublin (Note 1) has large area of forest.” Anka took one bite of the canned food, it was salty and sour but still better than nothing.

Sami took away the awful-tasted mushrooms and handed her another tin, “eat this.”

It was canned meat. She ate some and gave back to Sami.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think it’s unfair to you because you found it.”

“Your condition is worse, plus I have more.” he took a quick look on the rest food he found, which were just canned beans and dry cheese. “I’ll go to find a container so we can make soup...”

Anka tried to reach to him but was drew into a warm embrace that she didn’t expect for. The more surprising to her was the fact of how familiar she had become with his contact. She remembered the intimacy between them when he led her hands to feel his appearance last night, and it gave her shiver from cheerfulness, but she didn’t want to assert the reason of his behavior.

On the contrary to her emotional struggle, Sami was more open to how he felt towards Anka. Her existence had become an important part to him, because not only she was a companion that kept him away from loneliness, but also the merits she showed. The more time they spent, the closer he wanted to approach to her.

“Your hands are cold.” Sami frowned.

His breath swept her neck, the tickles made her step back and it confused him. “Are you alright?” he asked, worried. She was not fully recovered from what the war had done to her, the fear of losing her reminded him how much he cared yet how helpless he was.

The girl nodded, “I’m fine...”

A faint noise emitted from outside alarmed her. She lowered her voice, “I heard something.”

“It could be just wind.” Sami comforted her but couldn’t help feeling unease growing. He grabbed weapon, enjoined her, “stay here.”

The training in army allowed Sami to move almost soundlessly. He left their temporary lodging and found a hiding spot, then took a good observation of the environment around to make sure there was no track of another person. He walked further into woods to enlarge the searching range. The woods surrounded him were quite, he could even hear the light footsteps left by a running squirrel, but that was all he had. Let out a relieved breath, he decided to return, but something by his foot caught the attention.

It was a piece of fabric from uniform.

Sami picked it up. This could be left from one of the soldiers who searched the abandoned house long time ago, but it looked comparatively new. He had bad feeling. To risk his and Anka’ lives by staying longer was not wise, even though his evidence might be unnecessary and he catastrophized the situation, it’s time to leave.

With his mind made up, Sami immediately returned. When he was at the front door of the house, he heard a man’s voice angrily speaking foreign language.

The perturbation froze him. Despite being panic, he sneaked in quietly. In the living room - where they stayed, a young man in USSR uniform was gripping Anka’s hair in ruthless way. The soldier shouted something in Russian, Anka responded with silence, which infuriated him. In the next moment, the girl received one slap on face.

Wrath rose up in Sami like wild fire. He jumped on the man with fierce hit right on head by gun stock. To avoid attention could be drew by gunshot, Sami strangled the man who was in semicoma and bleeding, until he was motionless.

For a long time, neither of them spoke one word, until Anka’s question broke the ambience, “is he dead?”

“Yes.” Sami covered the body with sundries. “I lost control when I saw him hurt you... Did my doing scare you?”

Anka shook her head, “No, you saved my life again and I’m grateful.”

“I promised to stay with you and I always keep my promise. What did that bastard say?”

“He saw you went out and recognized your nationality, by your uniform I think. He interrogated me about who you are and why we’re together.” Anka paused and took a deep breath, “he said, disobedient Polish were executed, they are enemy of Soviet Union.”

Despair fell upon them like black veil.

“Does establishing union make killing people correct?” asked Anka in husky voice.

“No it does not. War is the most disgusting thing.”

“Then why are we left to die?”

“I don’t know the answer for that question, but listen, I’ll do whatever I can to keep you alive.”

His words brought up the perplexity Anka had craved an answer for, “is it... because you pity me?”

“It’s not fucking pity.” he sounded anxious. Although it’s not possible to see his facial expression, Anka still could tell how frustrated he was based on his voice. She sometimes wondered if being blind was really a bad thing, since her auditory sense became keen, and it was one self-deceiving excuse for her to “unsee” how malicious the war changed the human to. But suddenly she realized how much she wanted to see what Sami was like.

Slowly, the black-haired soldier pressed himself closer to her, measuring how intimate the relationship that she would be fine with. It was a cunning move, but he did not intend to take advantage when she’s in misery, he wanted to be the one on whom she could depend.

Sensed the change of distance between them, Anka was surprised but didn’t step back, Sami took it as acceptance. The slim Polish girl said, “when you found me, you said leaving me to die was waste of my voice.”

“That was my first thought. But it didn’t take me long to learn how much I like you.”

“I don’t understand...” In the next moment, she felt his hand touched her cheek, the rough texture rubbed against her skin, left transitory warmth behind.

“If I ever tell my friends that I fall for a Polish in war within one day, they will think it’s a joke ‘cause this war pretty much fucked up everyone’s life.” Sami chuckled in self-mocking way, “you’re gonna think I’m weird, aren’t you?”

But she shook her head.

No more hiding, no more hesitation and confusion, Anka stretched out hands and touched Sami’s face, this time, she took more time to feel his facial features. “You are not weird, for reason that I feel same.” she said.

Nuzzled her ear, Sami whispered, “I love you.”

Yet the war hadn’t shown its most merciless side to love.

Note 1: Lublin, the Polish city where Anka and Sami were. It was taken by Soviet Army in 1944, a puppet government was established in the same year.

[wherecanibuyhghcanada-blog]

Where can i buy HGH Canada?

Human Growth Hormonal Agent, Baseball, as well as Athletes

When Jason Grimsley, relief bottle for the Arizona Diamondbacks, had his residence plundered by Federal Brokers in very early June they were trying to find Human Growth Hormone and other "performance enhancing" drugs. A lot of misinformation and also unfavorable assumptions were promoted concerning HGH. Not only can you purchase real HGH legally, over the counter, yet also there's a huge distinction in between development hormone as well as steroids. The previous is a firecracker, the last an atomic bomb!

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Because HGH activates the liver to produce IGF-1, which is the invigorating material, it would certainly make sense if you could just put IGF-1 into your system. Regrettably the particle hasn't been replicated in the laboratory the method the HGH molecule has actually been duplicated. The Good News Is, Velour Deer Antler specifically duplicates the buildings of IGF-1. There are homeopathic oral sprays readily available online for over-the-counter sales that contain actual HGH plus IGF-1 from all-natural Velour Deer Antler. This is considered the "future generation" of stimulating enhancement items.

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Probably the worlds best unidentified nutrient and also greatest secret among expert athletes and performers of all kinds is moringa pills. The United Nations treats malnourished infants in Africa with the pure powdered fallen leave from the moringa tree and also within one month their swollen stubborn bellies return to normal as well as their orange hair go back to its natural black shade. If it's risk-free enough for ill infants, this natural substance is completely non-toxic for grownups. The source of the power is not sugar based so the power is long enduring. The common dose is 2 to 4 tablets everyday however some baseball players, basketball gamers, track celebrities, and also some Hollywood actors have been known to take between 10-12 capsules before their efficiencies. So not just is moringa fallen leave the globe's greatest unidentified nutrient, yet it's likewise the world's best unknown secret amongst high stressed out performers.