#the best way to exert control over this generation is to put them to work moulding the next one in your image

[jjsanguine]

@cryingatships post just made Pisaeng click for me.

It makes SO much sense that Pisaeng is a "pastors son." In my social circle of working class Nigerians the parental occupation that produces these character traits is usually pastors (Christian ministers), but it could be anything. Politicians, showbiz parents, headteachers, whatever, it just boils down to the same ingredients:

Social capital: high,

Charisma, high.

Money, high.

Ambition, through the roof.

Image control, vice. like.

I could have ended up like this but my parents stopped having money too early in my life. Only time it's paid to be poor Imao.

With parents like that you end up with someone who is charismatic, with a fake smile that's very very convincing because they use it more than their real one. Even if they aren't conventionally attractive they never have a hair out of place. Most important, it takes a lot a lot for them to lose control. But when they do? Hai god.

But that's in their adolescence. Of course, they will fail earlier if the parent lacks in one of your key ingredients, like having ambition but enough competence to realise it. But if not, in adulthood you get 1 of 3 outcomes.

Someone so suited to be another "pastor" it's like they were designed in a lab.

Someone who goes off the rails and crashes, hard.

Someone who goes onto a different, healthier path.

Pisaeng looks like he's headed for option 3 but sometimes, oftentimes actually, you have to go through option 2 to get there. And option 2 is always messsssy.

[wolfjackle-creates]

Bring Me Home, Chapter 2 Part 3

A little shorter this week. I had my graduation ceremony over the weekend and the opportunity to hang out with my sister-in-law for the first time in a few months! (She and my brother moved states a few months back.) If you scroll down a bit, you'll be able to see how I decorated my graduation cap! I love how it turned out.

But you don't care about that. It's Wednesday! Time for a WIP Wednesday segment!

Story Summary: Tim and Danny are both neglected by parents who care more about their work than their families. They deal with this by spending too much time online and find each other playing MMORPGs. They keep up their friendship as Tim becomes Robin and Danny becomes Phantom and don't bother keeping secrets from each other.

First, Previous

Word Count: 1k

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Unable to get Tim’s attention, Conner asked, “Who’s Technus?”

Danny shrugged. “One of my rogues. Tuck thinks he’s the ghost of Nikolai Tesla. He’s interested in controlling all technology and will make himself a giant mechasuit cannibalized from any electronic he can find in, like, a half mile radius. Super annoying.”

Tim hummed. “You didn’t tell me about him being Nikolai Tesla.”

“It’s a new hypothesis of Tuck’s. He’s been trying to research all the ghosts that come through as part of our profiles on them. That involves trying to figure out who they might’ve been in life. We’re hoping it’ll help me deescalate confrontations to cut back on property damage. Thanks to my parents talking about how evil all ghosts are, no one trusts Phantom and I get blamed for everything.”

Tim reached out and squeezed Danny’s shoulder. Practically everything Danny ever said about his parents made him like them less. To change the subject before he learned something else that’d make him want to attack Jack and Maddie while they were under the same roof, he asked, “So why does ectoplasm harm electronics anyway?”

Danny seemed to lean into his touch. “Well, ectoplasm is complicated. It is generated in this dimension but doesn’t really belong here. It comes about through death and leads the way to the Ghost Zone. At least… that’s the hypothesis I think is the most likely. I’ve only really been studying it for a few months since my own accident, though.” He shook his head. “Anyway! When it interacts with things on Earth that aren’t trying to get to the Zone, things get weird. Especially with non-sentient things that can’t will the ectoplasm to act in a specific way. Even animals can exert some control over ectoplasm. But electronics can’t.”

It was only a few minutes more before Danny had completely disassembled the phone. He then grabbed another pipette and adjusted the volume and added ectoplasm to certain pieces. Then took a third size and did it all over again.

“How on earth did you find out how much to add?” asked Bart. “You’re changing quantities constantly.”

“Trial and error. Long and tedious trial and error. We tried dipping sections in the ectoplasm to start, but that generally fried the tech and mutated its function. Wires do do best with submersion, though. No more than a second or two for small ones. Even after we stopped submersion, we started by adding way too much—spreading it over the entire chip. But that also didn’t work. Realized just half a microliter applied to the connections was best. The camera, speaker, and microphone need more. Those get ten microliters apiece. And we just kept trying different amounts until we had something that worked. We ruined four phones before we started testing each component individually.”

Conner let out a low whistle. “Well we’re glad you have. Thanks for helping with this.”

“Of course. Anything for Tim.”

Tim’s face heated as Cassie laughed. “Yeah, our Tim has a way of winning people over, doesn’t he?”

“I think I won him over, actually.” Danny hung the pipette back up on the holder. “All right, now just to put this baby back together. Who’s hungry?”

“Me!” called Bart. “It’s been ages since we’ve last eaten.”

“You’ve got an accelerated metabolism, right? We’ll stop by a store and get some extra stuff if you need anything overnight or tomorrow.”

“I like you,” said Bart. “You should come with us when we leave. Join our team.”

Tim buried his face in his hands, did none of his teammates know the definition of subtlety? Offering Danny a place with the Teen Titans or Young Justice was the first thing he tried.

“Thanks for the offer, but as I’ve told Tim, I can’t leave Amity. No one else is capable of responding to ghost threats.”

Conner shook his head. “Looks like your parents have it under control.”

Danny laughed. “Oh hell no. They’ve got a lot of inventions and most of them do something. But it’s not always what they expect them to do. And dad’s aim is terrible.” As he spoke, he continued to reassemble Tim’s phone.

Tim couldn’t help but admire how expertly Danny’s fingers moved over the pieces. And before he knew it, Danny was handing the phone back to him.

“Should work now. Turn it on and double check.”

Tim took it and held the power button until the WE logo appeared. Sure enough, once the screen loaded, so did a dozen missed phone calls and even more missed texts.

Bruce, Dick, and Barbara had all attempted contact multiple times. Even Alfred had called once. He winced and immediately called Bruce back.

“Hey, B,” he said as soon as the call connected. “We’re all fine. Just crossed an area that messed with our tech.”

“How did it mess with your tech?” Bruce demanded.

“It’s normal in this area. But I’ve a local friend and he fixed my phone. He’ll take care of Conner’s, Cassie’s, and Bart’s after we grab some dinner. So if anyone else is worried, tell them we’re fine and they can call me in the meantime if they have questions.” Tim made sure to use civilian names so Bruce would know they were no longer in costume.

“Who is this ‘friend’?” asked Bruce.

“God, B, it’s fine. I’ve known him for years. We game online together when we can. Have since we were kids.”

“Hn.” Why was it so much harder to read Bruce over the phone than in person? It was so annoying. “I see. Where are you currently?”

“We’re in Illinois. Will probably stay here a day or two with Danny and his parents. And then we’ll come home and share everything about our trip.” Aka, submit an official report about the outcome of their mission.

“Very well. I expect to know all the details. And I want twice daily check-ins until you’re home.”

“Fine, fine. Will do. Bye, B.” Before Bruce could demand anything else, Tim hung up on him. Next he shot texts to Dick, Alfred, and Barbara assuring them he was fine and his phone was working again. Replies came instantly and he ignored them all. “All right, that’s done. Let’s go eat.”

---------

Next

I think this is the first time I've had an actual scene break to stop the segment at. I usually just go until I see a change in the conversation, but I've got my <hr> marker at this point and there's gonna be a scene change! (So I won't have to repeat a paragraph or two next time I post.)

You get a different explanation for ectoplasm in this fic! Wasn't planning on that, but it happened and I like it.

Hope you enjoyed.

Tag List Part 1

@gremlin-bot, @bonebrokebuddy, @britcision, @lady-time-lord-, @welcometosasakiworld, @akikkobara, @phoenixdemonqueen, @dolfay, @skulld3mort-1fan, @we-ezer, @markus209, @sjrose1216, @onyxlightdragon, @dragonsrequiem, @jesus-camp-the-sequel, @spidey29phangirl, @kyrianclawraith, @evilminji, @introvert-even-on-the-internet, @emergentpanda-blog, @lexdamo, @v-inari, @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit, @longlivethefallen, @undead-essence, @xye-chan, @liandrin, @seraphinedemort, @kisatamao, @schalensitzbucket, @caelestisdreamer, @runfromthemedic, @nutcase8691, @channajen, @tonicmii, @ambiguouslyominous, @vythika96, @addie-lover-of-stories, @ironicvixen, @violetfox2, @pickleking8, @mysticalcomputerdetective, @ark12, @mygood-bitch99, @squirrel-wolf, @satisfactionbroughtmeback, @sometimesthingsfallapart, @automaticsoulharmony, @d4ydr34min9, @revnantdpxdclover, @midigeria, @raginblastocyst

[heaven-s-black-box]

Notes-General Miyuki & more

Return to File

Recovery date: September 17th, 2024

Description: Gotcha gotcha! If you're comfortable, can you do nsfw headcanons like when they're in a relationship for Miyuki, Mochi and/or Mei

Includes- Aged up Character

Notes: Recovered in conjunction with an anonymous researcher, we thank them for their contributions. I will say this was actually really difficult, but it was also kind of interesting. That is to say, I'm not sure how I feel about it (the execution, not the prompt itself)

Back to directory

Miyuki Kazuya

A tease, but not a brat

The kind to put his hand in your back pocket and when you point it out says “it’s an accident” but doesn’t move

Runs his mouth, always teasing about the face you’re making or your reactions

Praise him, he shuts up so fast

At least at the start of your relationship, eventually he gets used to the praise and you consider buying him a gag

Until then, oral keeps him pretty quiet

Giving, I mean, when receiving this man is loud

I think it’s pretty agreed upon that Miyuki deserves to be taken care of

He also does not like giving up control, DO NOT restrain him

That’s the easy way out and he will tease you

Instead wine and dine him, draw a nice bath for the two of you, and then treat him to a night of praise and ecstasy

Assuming he doesn’t fall asleep before you get that far, sometimes he just needs a night of pampering

In the same vein, likes showering together; would love to try shower sex but is terrified of injury

Like, I feel like he’d be pretty adventurous with sex if he wasn’t worried about hurting himself and not being able to play baseball

He pulled a muscle once and almost had a breakdown (you know, the kind where you know you need to flex the muscle but it feels like that’ll rip it in two?)

Miyuki just needs someone to care for him, if you can do that he’ll do just about anything for you

Kuramochi Yoichi

Great stamina, I mean it is Mochi

Strikes me as someone who likes his hair pulled

Also seems like he’d fluster pretty easily

He’s a tease, but he does not take teasing well

“Would you shut up?” “That’s not what you were saying last night”

He goes red

I think he also likes trying out new positions

Kind of like Miyuki where he wants to be adventurous but is kind of afraid of injury

But he’ll start suggesting something and then realize that it’s probably not the best idea

Someday, he tells you

I can see him being pretty romantic, not a huge tease

The amount of times you two have been play fighting and it’s turned into a makeout session and escalated?

You have damn near ruined wrestling for him, and it’s entirely his fault

Discovers sex is a much more interesting way to work off excess energy than swinging a bat, and he has a ton of excess energy

Seriously, once after a really bad game he did 100 swings after and then chased you through your house into the bedroom and fucked you, hard

He didn’t get on base once that game, like I said, bad

Bonus points because it means he’s not over exerting himself

Kuramochi needs someone to match his energy and playfulness, and even if you can’t always keep up he’s more than happy to cuddle up with a videogame

Narumiya Mei

Be surprised, he’s such a brat

And a pillow Prince

I could totally see him trying to pretend you’re doing things “wrong”

But you can also see the way he’s biting the inside of his cheek to stay quiet

Narumiya Mei not running his mouth? A baffling concept

Don’t get me wrong though, he still runs his mouth

Like I said, he’s a brat

He also doesn’t ask for sex unless he’s suuper pent up

He just, riles you up until you catch on

Also, not necessarily NSFW, but he walks around shirtless a lot if he knows you’ll stare

To quote Deadpool “Put your greasy tits away you preening slut”

Anyways, I don’t think Mei ignores is partner’s pleasure by any means

Will, on occasion, treat you like pillow royalty but there has to be a trigger

Like jealousy/ the fear that he’ll lose you

And even though he’s a brat, sex isn’t always rough

Honestly I don’t ever see Mei out growing his overconfident facade and that bratty streak of his

But, as he outgrows his insecurities they become less abrasive in his day to day life

[permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88]

So after the final round of chemo before a month-long break, I have some…thoughts.

Definitely don’t feel like you have to read below the cut!

I can hardly believe how quickly time has flown! It’s already been a little over six months since my diagnosis, but there was another half of a year prior to that of symptoms.  It’s been like a night and day difference in so many more ways than just physical, though, and I really think I can use this as a sort of divider for my life, as cliche as that may sound.  The 'then', and the 'now'.

Then, not only was I dealing with chronic cough, insane levels of fatigue, progressively worsening shortness of breath, and a general lack of motivation to do anything, fun, or otherwise, but I was also fighting a pretty significant battle against my own mind.  Some of my mutuals may already be aware of just how far into the “pits” I’d traveled, but it was like I couldn’t get anything right.  My viewpoint was that, generally speaking, anything and everything bad that happened to me, I somehow deserved.  I was nothing but a giant burden on everyone I’d ever met, and anyone with two brain cells to their name would wise up, eventually, realize that, and leave.  It was a mindset that got in the way of many friendships and familial relationships, and I was pushing people away left and right.

If you are one of those people, and you are reading this now?  I am nothing if not sincerely sorry for putting you through that.  But I hope that, if you’re still around, you can see how honestly I am trying to change.

(We’ve come to the ‘now’ stage, by the way.  Just in case you were curious.😉)

Now, it’s like I’ve received a well-deserved (and much-needed) slap in the face.

January 18th, aka diagnosis day, came and went, and rather than see this as yet another thing that I “deserved” for being such an inferior and unworthy person, it’s like everything started to shift.  I hadn’t made any conscious effort on my part (that I was aware of, anyway).  It just sort of…happened.  Anxiety wasn’t even a thing.  I met with my doctors and the rest of my care team in the hospital, we put together a care-plan, and that was that.  I was moving forward, ready to fight, and yes, I was reeling (still am, occasionally), but it was like I was finally able to put every last ounce of that worry on something else.  Or rather, someone.

God.

Prior to all of this, I’d always kind of scoffed at the sentiment of “If God brings you to it, He’ll bring you through it.”  My negative vibes just couldn’t grasp it, or at least they couldn’t, as far as it might ever pertain to me personally.  For years (read:  35 of them!) I hadn’t been ready to give up the rigid level of control I tried (and failed) to exert over every possible aspect of my life.  And I think this was finally the one thing that I realized wouldn’t work with that frame of logic.  It just…couldn’t.

Hearing from my primary care physician, who is the one who sent me to the ER to kick-start the diagnostic process in the first place that if I’d waited any longer, I likely wouldn’t have survived at all, only added to the mental booty-kick that I so desperately needed, and now?

It’s like coming that close to death was all that I needed to become a completely different person.

Don’t get me wrong, I still have my negative thoughts.  I give in.  I’m only human.  But by and large, I’m much less anxious.  My first conclusions on a situation aren’t always negative like they were, before.  I can look at myself in the mirror, and still not be 100% happy with the reflection, but it’s not to the point where I fully believe I have zero value anymore.  I know I can contribute to society, and my relationships, in a positive way, and I am determined to try my very best to do so from here on out.

There’s still a potentially long road ahead of me.  In August, I go back for more scans, to determine if any of the original tumor is left, and if there is, more treatment will be on the table at that point.  I understand that, side-effect wise, I may not get as lucky as I was this past time, where a bit of fatigue for a few days will be the only thing that goes “awry.”  But now, I can look to those moments with acceptance and hope, rather than dread and fear.  That makes absolutely all of the difference in the world.  

My doctors have me.  God has me.  And really, that is all I need.

Lastly, to all of those who witnessed my attempts at pushing them away—who saw every last bit of the ugly that was my attitude a year ago and before—THANK YOU.  Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for staying.  For being patient, when you could have (and maybe should have) just walked away.  I will never be able to repay your kindness, but I am hopeful that I can at least make a concentrated attempt to start!

[firesign23]

I am so sorry you are not having fun anymore, is there anything we could have done? But thank you for the Heads Up and also thank you for the reminder to always immediatly download everything I want to keep re-reading! Are you absolutely sure you don't want to do the orphaning option, so more new people can find joy in your work in the future? And you don't have to curate anything, you can just ignore it! (I have no experience with orphaning my work, but I believe that's how it would work?)

So, first of all, thank you (and everyone else) for the lovely messages. This response might be a little long and I apologise in advance for that.

My reasons for planning this deletion are not, really, about not having fun with it anymore, because I am still foolishly besotted by these noble idiots. It's been on my mind for a few months for various reasons, and honestly the specifics aren't super important and until recently were outweighed by the good parts of participating in the fandom. But once that balance began to tip, I took a few days serious contemplation to make sure this was the route I wanted to take, consider alternatives, etc and reach the conclusion before making any mention of it, even to friends. Because the absolute last thing I wanted to do was enter into a cycle of… validation, I suppose? where I feel bad and people say nice things and then I kick the underlying issue down the line and repeat the cycle. A few very long time followers (well before JB) might recall exactly why this is on my radar. It's not a good or healthy way to approach fandom. I debated posting about the deletion at all, for fear of that same cycle, but as someone absolutely awful at downloading I have mourned so many fics lost to me and decided it's what I would prefer from another author.

As for orphaning, I am generally hugely in favour of it over the deletion. I am often the person making sure people know it's available, because it's a great option! In this case, the loss of control (we'll be coming back to this in a moment) over my work was definitely not the route I wanted to go. I considered anonymising them all instead, but that wasn't actually a solution to my specific problem.

Here's where it gets��� well, I don't want to say interesting. 😂 But psychological, I suppose. I made this decision the way I usually make decisions. Matters were weighed up, factors thought through, I made sure it wasn't an impulsive choice. We've all got brain gremlins and this is how I make sure mine are not calling the shots, because they're dicks. And I posted yesterday very confident that it was the best option.

Enter: one asshole (my husband) (affectionate(mostly))

Because he pointed out (far less articulately than I am going to now, but damn if he didn't nail it) that if I really had been considering it for months and not yet acted, was I sure I wasn't doing this in reaction to the Grandmother Situation? My grandmother, beloved, died recently. Tumblr isn't the place for all the details, but suffice to say it has been a clusterfuck, as deaths in families often are, and it has been made significantly worse by the fact I am a continent away and have absolutely no way of dealing with the fallout. And, well, "Exerting control via social withdrawal to deal with the complete lack of control elsewhere" is… plausible. Having one's art shared, anonymously or not, is exposing. And usually that's one of the real joys of fandom, but when you're already exhausted and worn thin by Drama even a pebble in your shoe can be A Lot.

What does that mean? Honestly, I don't know. It doesn't mean that I was wrong in my conclusions. It doesn't mean that I won't delete the fics. It does mean that I will be putting a pin in the deletion plan until the Grandmother Situation gets a little less ridiculous and I can re-evaluate though, and I'm not sure how long that will take. It's really fucking ridiculous. Some real Lannister drama on a redneck budget.

I do still recommend people make sure anything they want to keep is downloaded in the near future, and if I do delete and you have missed a fic you're welcome to message me and I will send a copy. And maybe, instead, I'll find my equilibrium and not delete at all. That's going to be something I have to figure out myself. But there is some absolute joy in this fandom, and whatever I end up doing I'm very glad to share it with you all

[gulliblebarrel]

Is Covert Hypnosis Really Used on Me?

Today you might see the accompanying terms used instead of covert hypnosis, for example, secrecy hypnosis, moment hypnosis, underground hypnosis, subliminal hypnosis, conversational hypnosis, to put it another way, this is an approach to subtly communicating with someone else's subconscious mind without them visit site here in any event, seeing it. This expertise is the ability to hypnotize individuals without them knowing it.

This is as of now the most well known, as it is the subtle art of hypnotizing someone without them realizing - thus the 'covert' factor. Covert hypnosis is likewise named "conversational hypnosis" however it works in an unexpected way. This likewise is the utilization of techniques and methodologies to change the perception and conduct of others in a totally subtle and unconscious manner. The question of what is this expertise is something that many individuals ask, and assuming you are hoping to see how you can manage it and how it can help you in your everyday interactions, you ought to start off with a couple of essential advances.

Obviously, conversational or gained ability isn't generally so straight forward as many individuals suspect. However, there a common misunderstanding about subtle manipulation is language designs, for a great many people figure hypnosis must use some somewhat language designs. This is a method for controlling individuals covertly in just about a manner, beyond their conscious mindfulness. That is the art of secretly hypnotizing others. The art of covert hypnosis is a thorough and successful program is a field that is quite one of a kind to some other field within hypnosis home concentrate course.

This is the ability to subtly communicate with someone while establishing subconscious suggestions over the span of the conversation. Expertise is a phenomenon not excessively not the same as indirect decisions, but rather the characterizing highlight is unquestionably the demonstration of a singular subject becoming impacted and participating in hypnotic phenomenon without conscious exertion/decision - - this expertise works through covert and subtle means. The program is very satisfying and exhaustive the art of deception is contained 15 sound sections with over 8+ long stretches of sound instruction.

Indeed, using this resembles getting unjustifiable benefit over others. To best understand the expertise is via narrating. As its name suggests, deception is a subtle approach to impacting the mind of the subject. Covert hypnosis is an undreamed method for holding onto control of your life.

[disco-wyrm]

Honestly, only @cipherbunz would know who any of these OCs are, but it looked fun to do :P if you wanna know more about them, feel free to ask, i will gladly wordvomit about them <3

tw: torture, physical & emotional ab*se, mental health issues and death.

1. I don't really have one in particular for this one? If I had to choose, it'd probably be Swan. She's a tough lady, but she's just not built for deserts and hot environments.

2. Nobu, the man doesn't really even notice most of them anyway. Could definitely see him with a couple injuries he hasn't even noticed/doesn't think they're that much of an issue. Downsides of a really good pain tolerance, I guess?

3. Maverick. Hands down, that poor bastard's been through so much lol. His fiancée gets killed by his own father, his clan is destroyed, he gets dragged into TWO wars, experimented on, and then isolates himself because he's afraid of entering cities for reasons he can't even remember. Oh, and Death won't let him die bc Fate told them to for the plot and didn't elaborate on why so he's stuck surviving all of it.

4. Onyx, by his own adopted brother at that. Arcus didn't really take Onyx's (percieved) abandonment of him very well. Both of them need therapy, yeesh...

5. Leo and his crew. They're my world-hopping pirates, and definitely not of their own choice. Leo has sworn to kill whatever fate or god has damned them to getting yoinked into different dimensions, so I should probably watch my back lol

6. Alexei. Man has a while doomed yaoi thing going on with his ex/bestie for the past millennia or so. I guess both being vampires from Shakespearean times in a cyberpunk future equals some kind of trauma bonding? They don't even realize they're still flirting, it's painful to watch, really.

7. Onyx, he's one of my oldest ocs and i love putting my lil guy in Situations.

8. Leo and his crew again, for obvious reasons

9. Aster, by a young water spirit. She healed him, and he helped care for her in return. She then taught him alchemy, something her species knows instinctively via generational memories. He's now one of the best alchemists in the region.

10. Onyx and Maverick. Both killed by family and revived for different reasons. Maverick was bc of the plot, while Onyx was revived bc his s/o made a deal with Death for him. Maverick is in denial about his immortality, while Onyx is completely unaware that he actually died.

11. Winter/Winniel. Poor guy's scared of being even slightly out of line due to the tyrant king of his homeland. And as the royal alchemist, he's pretty close to the king. The king has convinced him so much of his weakness that he doesn't dare consider rebellion, convinced that he stands no chance even though physically he could definitely take him in a fight.

12. Kipp has compartmentalized his trauma and stress from his work, putting on a cheery and almost innocent persona to put his loved ones (and himself) at ease. At this point, he's not really sure which "him" is the real him anymore.

13. Acheron, constantly. It's technically magic tears that leak out no matter what he tries, and occasionally they form into little blob crows. They are his babies and he loves them dearly.

14. I'll pick Juno for this one. He's stuck in a control spell by an evil sorceress, and she usually gets him to kill people she wants to get rid of, or sometimes even people he comes across. He hates the lack of choice, so often he makes the choice to attack them on his own. Not healthy at all, and he'd rather not, but it's the only way he knows to exert control over his life.

15. Usually "comfort after a nightmare" scenarios are my favorite. Once they're calm(er), it's usually a pretty sweet moment. Easily turns to fluff afterwards.

Torturing your ocs ask game :)

(Delightful, I know. But we all do it sometimes)

1. Which of your ocs do you most often imagine sick? In what ways?

2. Which of them do you most imagine injured in other ways?

3. Who do you put through the most emotional turmoil?

4. Which oc has been tortured? Through what means?

5. Which of them has the worst luck?

6. Who goes through the most relationship conflicts? (applies to any relationships)

7. Who do you put most into stressful situations or other drama?

8. Who ends up in survival situations the most? How do they fair in them?

9. Has any of them had to be saved from the brink of death? Were there any consequences after?

10. Has any of them had to be revived / brought back to life? How did this affect them?

11. Who is afraid the most? How does this effect them?

12. What kind of health repercussions has your oc experienced through intense stress? How do they manage them?

13. Who cries the most often? What are the usual causes?

14. How does your oc cope?

15. To cap off what kind of hurt/comfort scenarios do you put your oc in?

This can be about canon story events or simply rotating scenarios for fun!

[wordrefs]

Action is tough - I think most writers feel they struggle with it, so you're definitely not alone. I don't think I'm more than serviceable at it but I think the best ones stand out because they work as a non-verbal conversation; the way the characters move, how they respond to an attack, and the strategy they employ reflects their thoughts and inner conflict in some way.

It might be a good idea to revisit some fight sequences from media that you love and try to pick apart what makes them work. What are the stakes of the fight and how are they communicated? What does the scene, and the actions taken in it, reveal about the characters involved? You can then take those lessons and apply them to your own narrative; watching some videos of the style of combat you're planning to include can also help get you started with the physical choreography and the limits of the human body (assuming those apply).

The pacing and action-description balance can be tough to nail and it usually takes a few sweeps of editing to get it working - focus on getting the bare bones of the action down first and imbuing them with characterisation, and chip away or fill in where needed once the foundation's in place. It's generally not a good idea to include long descriptive passages or tracts of inner monologue during a fight as this will lessen the tension and slow the pace (unless you're trying to show a character is off their game and distracted, in which case it's a great way to demonstrate that). I would keep the physical environment in mind to keep the scene grounded, but always describe it through the combatants interacting with it in some way - trip hazards, low ceilings heads knock against, the light of the setting sun getting in someone's eyes, a high wind they have to roar their battle cries all the louder to be heard above, found objects that can be used as weapons, that sort of thing.

Short sentences are punchy. They feel kinetic in the way you want for a fight scene. Fragments, too. They can convey many things. Surprise. Breathlessness. Impulse. And if you want to describe a more continuous flow of motion as the pace picks up, all participants finding their feet, you can use a run-on sentence to effortlessly transition from one move to the next, maybe throwing in some scenic details, because we're really on a roll now, one punch to the next -

And then a new paragraph. The sudden break is a shock as something goes wrong. See what I did there? Putting thought into sentence structure is one of your strongest tools for action, and lets you exert much more control over the flow and pace of a scene.

[penkraft123]

Can Lefties Do Calligraphy?

CAN LEFTIES DO CALLIGRAPHY?

Calligraphy is an art which requires precision and detail in its very essence. To say that instruments aid doing calligraphy will not be entirely untrue, however, it is the movement of the hand that decides the extent to which calligraphy can be perfected. If you do not have sufficient control over your hand you cannot do good calligraphy. Clearly lefties being a minority, most knowledge and training available for calligraphy is premised upon a righty’s dexterity with the pen. But it is not true that lefties cannot do calligraphy. By taking in cognizance the common mistakes, using the right technique, and with adequate practice a lefty can do calligraphy with as much ease as a righty. Let us see how. Patience: Something which holds true for both righties as well as lefties is to keep patience. The victimization that lefties subject them to by exaggerating most disadvantages they face in the initial stages deters them from moving ahead out of frustration. Smudging, clammy palms, not getting the right writing angle, the ink not cooperating with you is a myth. Everything needs some time for basic familiarisation and consequent practice makes you a pro. Just keep experimenting with the paper placement/rotation, placement of your hand, the different angles you can try until you get it right. But to begin with, give yourself time, more time if you are a lefty. However, the fact that you are a lefty needs to be obliterated out of the mind. Finding the perfect grip: The most important thing to find for a lefty doing calligraphy is a grip that suits him or her, the first thing to do is try to develop a grip that keeps your hand under the calligraphy. If that just doesnt feel right to you, then you can try writing with a hook. In the end, as long as your grip allows you to exert even pressure on both tines of your nib, then you are holding the pen correctly. It is seen that most lefties write in different ways depending upon what the writing instrument being used is. For some writing with a regular pen or pencil makes their hand smudge their lettering as in the process they run over it. Will you stop doing calligraphy in that case? Of course, one has to identify the problem to find a solution. Just try and change the position of your hand so that you place your hand underneath the line that you are writing in to avoid smudging. There are other errors we make, and through practice we also find adequate solutions to them. All this is aimed at perfecting the grip. A pen-7-nib combination: This comes after spending some time doing calligraphy and finding yourself a favourite pen nib combination. If you find what brings out the best calligraphy out of you, then you will enjoy practicing and honing your skills. There is no one favourite style that you are expected to choose, depending upon what kind of calligraphy is in trend, and your preference may change. It is important to initially try out different pens and nibs to find out what works best for you. Commonly used pens and nibs are the straight Tachikawa T40 pen, Hunt Globe 513 EF, or a Hunt 512 Ex-Fine. If you are just beginning to write then you can also try Nikko G or Zebra G. Left-oblique pens: There are different kinds of pens available for calligraphy and from them an oblique pen is such that is very commonly used. Most lefties make the mistake of buying them and face difficulty while writing. Oblique pens are generally made for righties by design. You should always use a straight pen if you are a lefty. In case, it gives you trouble you can then specially use designed pens for lefties, left oblique pens. Practice: A lefty or a righty, given the intricate understanding, the calligraphy demands it is paramount that you put in adequate time in practicing. Initially, it is likely that you will fail at getting the right stroke and feel unmotivated. But the trick is to keep practicing without much cribbing and the process becomes the best teacher eventually.

Penkraft conducts classes, course, online courses, live courses, workshops, teachers’ training & online teachers’ training in Handwriting Improvement, Calligraphy, Abacus Maths, Vedic Maths, Phonics and various Craft & Artforms — Madhubani, Mandala, Warli, Gond, Lippan Art, Kalighat, Kalamkari, Pichwai, Cheriyal, Kerala Mural, Pattachitra, Tanjore Painting, One Stroke Painting, Decoupage, Image Transfer, Resin Art, Fluid Art, Alcohol Ink Art, Pop Art, Knife Painting, Scandinavian Art, Water Colors, Coffee Painting, Pencil Shading, Resin Art Advanced etc. at pan-India locations. With our mission to inspire, educate, empower & uplift people through our endeavours, we have trained & operationally supported (and continue to support) 1500+ home-makers to become Penkraft Certified Teachers? in various disciplines.

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing | m

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 3, 451

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

“You’re so pretty like this,” Jungkook whispers against your cheek but it’s nothing like sweet nothings that would comfort you.

No. It’s dirty, it’s relentless when he hooks his fingers upwards against your spongey walls while his other hand clamps on your mouth to keep your gasps at bay. There’s nothing that you can do when he has your pleasure quite literally in the palm of his hands.

“Mmph.” You groan, hips bucking upwards despite your mind telling you that this was wrong, that you weren’t like this.

But Jungkook had a way of clouding your conscience and leading you to unmapped territories when he looks at you with his doe-eyes that looked nothing like innocence but more like trouble.

Jungkook’s absolutely brutal when he finger fucks your pussy until it's squelching within the bathroom walls, nearly overpowering the music from outside. You’re pathetically whining and moaning under him, back stained with sweat while he presses you against the sink. When he looks at you, it’s almost worth it.

Almost.

“This fucking pussy gets wet only for me, yeah?” He growls, eyes barring anomalistically when he releases his other hand from your mouth to grip your chin to look at him.

You can’t control the moan that you let out when he drags his fingertips across the spongey surface of your cunt, your hole fluttering around his long digits that hypnotised you every single time.

“J-Jungkook—” You gasp when he presses his thumb against your clit, your wetness lubricating the movement until your legs shudder around his hips while his eyes zero onto your pussy.

The way he revs up his spit at the back of his throat should’ve been disgusting and you should’ve run for the hills, but Jungkook had a way of making everything you were taught to avoid look appetising because a dollop of his slaver drops directly onto your clit and you feel your stomach clench.

“Fuck. You’re such a slut, aren’t you?” He hisses, “Acting so prim and proper on the outside but you just wanna get fucked like a dirty little secret, huh?”

You shake your head when he pounds harder into you that your body is hiking up the sink with the force he’s exerting into shoving his fingers into your pussy. Tears of ecstasy or shame—you don’t know—but they’re accumulating at the edge of your eyes and threatening release, just like your orgasm that’s impending.

“You’re a liar.” He spits at you and it’s not as malicious as it should be because he’s smirking, a grin so menacing but addictive that you can’t help your dazed eyes that fall onto his face.

Your hand is gripping his shoulder while the other holds onto the sink because your pussy is spasming around his fingers and your wetness is everywhere. It’s on his jeans, fingers, and the remnants of your juice taint his lips—and you feel your stomach clench harder while your mind grows fuzzier.

“N-Not lying.” You whimper.

Jungkook scoffs like he doesn’t believe you, “You’re a liar. You’re a bad girl, aren’t you? What’s everyone going to think if they see you fucked out with just my fingers?”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he leans down in one sudden motion that you can’t even catch up with and envelopes your throbbing bud into his mouth and sucks. Sucks so hard that you scream and you’re sure the partygoers know exactly what’s going on in the bathroom.

“Jungkook!” You scream, clutching his hair.

He chuckles darkly against your pussy but doesn’t relent his actions. The dark locks between your thighs make everything much harder to focus on, but all you can feel and see in Jungkook.

“N-No—I c-can’t—fuck!—” You’re not pushing him away but your hips are unconsciously grinding against his mouth when he finger fucks your pussy all while giving you the beautiful stimulation from his hot mouth.

“You’re going to cum for me and drench my face, yeah?” He mumbles into your pussy but it’s nothing short of demanding, “Gonna eat your fucking pussy clean.”

You’re so close, so so close and Jungkook feels it. He’s generous today, hooking his fingers deeper, and harder until—

“Fuck!” You scream.

Jungkook smirks against your pussy, knowing he’s found it. And Jungkook is someone who doesn’t stop when he knows he’s doing well, he just goes harder. That’s exactly what he does that pushes you over the edge.

He hooks his fingers until you’re nearly lifted off the sink, but his hand presses against your stomach to keep you still, prolonging the intense feeling of pleasure mixed with pain.

“J-Jungkook—f-fuck, I—can’t—p-please—I’m c-cumming—” You’re a blubbering mess and you’re outwardly crying, and Jungkook loves the tears that stream down your face as a result of his hard work on your pussy.

“Cum for me pretty.” He rubs your clit vigorously as he pulls away just to see you unravel.

And you do, so intensely and captivatingly that Jungkook nearly cums himself on the spot. But you were a sight to behold when your face contorts in pleasure, pussy clenching uncontrollably while you spurt the evidence of your orgasm all over the sink and onto Jungkook’s clothes.

Your orgasm is all too long and too short, but it’s good. It sends you away to a spiral of acute gratification that doesn’t disappoint. You barely make out Jungkook’s darkened but pleased expression when your body shudders from the aftershocks of your orgasm.

When you come down, and you blink your eyes to come back to the world—the first thing you see is Jungkook’s stained shirt like he spilled water on it but it was just the proof of your arousal and his effort.

Jungkook tugs you close to make sure you see the way he sticks his three fingers into his mouth, smirking at your wide eyes.

“Good girls taste the best.” He hums.

You blush despite the fact he’s seen the worst and best parts of you, hiding away from his keen gaze when he leans down to chase your lips.

“The p-party.” You mumble.

Jungkook scoffs with a wicked grin on his face, “Bet everyone heard how loud you get for me.”

You grimace at the thought of walking out there, where your friends and peers are after the session Jungkook put you through with the redness on your cheeks that could only allude to one thing.

And what you did with Jungkook comes crashing down onto you all at once, even if your stomach still flutters at the pleasure he’s given you. You weren’t like this. You didn’t follow men into bathrooms and let them stick their fingers into your pussy just so you could chase your high. You didn’t let men like Jungkook touch you the way he did when he squeezed your cheeks to look at him.

You broke all of the rules you made for yourself, compartmentalised in your brain—and you can only blame—

“Jungkook.” You say softly, eyes looking up to him and you’re sure he sees your dried tears, “This has to stop.”

For the second time of the night, Jungkook looks like he doesn’t believe you. And that’s probably because you don’t even believe yourself.

Jungkook smirks, “You say that every time it’s over but you’re the one looking for me when I’m gone.”

“I don’t look for you.” You frown.

He scoffs.

“You don’t? Then why would the esteemed _____ who sets the fucking curve all the damn time turn up at a house party where she doesn’t belong?”

You purse your lips and look away. You both knew that parties were not your thing and definitely not one where a bunch of drunk college students was involved.

“You know the only reason I’m here tonight is because of Jimin and Tae.” You snap.

He rolls his eyes before caging you into the sink, and you realise that your skirt is still lifted up—wetness sticking your thighs together in an uncomfortable way that makes you wince.

“And where are they now?” He sneers, looking at you in a mocking manner.

You clench your fists by your side and try to look brave in front of Jungkook. There was no reason why he had this effect on you when you were older than him when he used to worship the ground you walked on when you were children. Now that the tables were turned you had no clue how to navigate it.

“They’re—they’re …” You appeal helplessly, “Does it matter?”

Jungkook tongues the inside of his cheek in a way that you noted came from a childhood habit turned attractive, and you hate yourself even more for feeling your heart flutter.

“That’s what I thought.” Jungkook snorts.

He pushes himself off the sink and away from you, and you unconsciously find yourself chasing him. Jungkook notices this but chooses to just smirk at you. You try to glare at him and convince both of you that you didn’t want him, that you wouldn’t come back.

But when Jungkook cups your jaw with his right hand and brings his lips to yours before he leaves, you know that choice was never yours, to begin with.

Sana approaches you out of the blue after one of your lectures and you know something is up when her eyebrows are raised.

“Hey, ____!”

You turn around, nearly slamming into her when she steadies herself, eyes inquisitive with a knowing smile that you don’t like.

Sana was one of those people in college that you were friends with purely for convenience. She was in a few of your lectures and somehow always ended up in your group during projects; so it was strategic for you to maintain an amicable relationship with her.

You thought you could see yourself being good friends with her, but she was far too extroverted and involved in campus affairs. Not that was a bad thing—but it was bad for your social ineptness and lack of engagement in social settings. And the fact that wherever she went, gossip seemed to follow.

“Sana.” You greet with a small smile.

She nudges your shoulders before the two of you fall into similar steps as you make your way out of the lecture hall.

“How have you been?” You know it’s small talk and that she’s easing you in, which only settles the anxiety further at the pit of your stomach.

“I’ve been busy.” You shrug, “Mid-terms are around the corner.”

She snorts, “By corner you mean two months down the road and you’re just being an overachiever?”

You blush at being called out and you know she meant no ill-intent. She laughs at your reaction while you offer her a sheepish smile in return.

“It’s always good to be prepared.”

She nods her head as the two of you approach the outdoor student lounge where a few other college kids were either dozing off or typing away on their laptops for last-minute assignments.

“So I heard …” Sana trails off and you sigh knowingly, already somewhat prepared.

“You heard …?” You parrot.

“You and Jeon are close, right?”

You stop in your tracks when you hear his name, as you feel her stop right behind you while you tuck your laptop to your chest.

“J-Jeon?”

Sana nods when you turn around to face her. You hope she isn’t as observant as you think she is because your face is undoubtedly red right now.

“Yeah. Jungkook.” She reaffirms.

“We’re … we grew up together.” You tell her, “With Jimin and Taehyung.”

You made sure to include your other two friends because you didn’t like where the conversation was going, and you needed to ensure there was some form of distance established between you and Jungkook, not wanting to further entangle yourself with him than you already are.

She raises an eyebrow, “So you’re close?”

You shrug your shoulders.

“I guess you could say that. We went to the same high school so it was natural for our paths to cross.”

Sana nods her head slowly as if processing the information.

“Why—”

“But you’re older than him, right?” She asks with a tilt of her head.

You blink at her, then you nod. Redness on your cheeks already appearing.

“Yeah. B-But … I mean by only two years. It’s not like that’s a lot.” You say defensively.

You weren’t sure why you felt the need to clarify that because there was no reason why Sana needed to know that you were just two years older than Jungkook. It was the type of information that was unnecessary and redundant given that she clearly pointed out the fact you were older.

Sana hums before looking at you with knowing eyes, but you try to pretend like you don’t see it.

“And you’ve never fooled around before?”

Her question makes you choke and causes heat to rapidly rush to your cheeks.

“What?” You cry, “Of course not!”

Sana looks at you dryly before schooling herself with a neutral smile.

“None at all?” She pries, “But he’s so hot?”

You roll your eyes, already wanting to leave the conversation, knowing it wasn’t the wisest decision to have allowed it to prolong this far after Jungkook’s name was brought up.

“He’s like a litter brother to me.” You snap.

You hate that you know you’re lying through your teeth because you would have not let a little brother do the things Jungkook has done to you.

Sana nods, sides of her lips twitching upwards at your answer.

You sigh, “What is this about?”

She waves you off.

“Just wanted to know if he was single.”

You raise an eyebrow, heart nearly stopping at the insinuation.

“Okay …?”

Sana smiles up at you like she wasn’t interrogating you on your apparent relationship with Jungkook, a young boy turned bad with the realism of college-hood and social interactions that you can’t even compare him to the boy you knew from high school; all awkward and limbs.

“My friend’s asking. You know Jennie?”

You almost turn pale. Because of course, you know Jennie because she’s beautiful, popular, outgoing and everything that you weren’t; and everything Jungkook should’ve liked—and you were sure he did.

“Y-Yeah.” You stutter.

“She always thought you two were together so she never made her move. At least I can tell her that isn’t the case.” Sana chirps.

“Y-Yeah … you can.” You mumble, eyes looking away and the only thing plaguing your mind is the visual of Jennie and Jungkook together.

“But I always did try to tell her that she was in her head about the two of you.” Sana laughs.

You turn around, and your heart knows you should keep your mouth shut but you were always too curious for your own good.

“Oh?” You furrow your eyebrows.

“Yeah.” Sana shrugs, “I mean. You’re top of the class, Ms. Student President and always put together. And not to say Jungkook isn’t but … he’s not exactly like you, you know?”

You know that. Because every time you look at old pictures of you and Jungkook you already felt the disparity, the clear-cut chase that he was at the top of the food chain while you were always left with the leftovers. You weren’t the type of girl that hung around Jungkook’s circle and he wasn’t the type of person you would hang out with.

The two of you weren’t young anymore and Jimin and Taehyung weren’t able to be that bridge between the both of you either. You and Jungkook were so drastically different and it scared you because you remember a time where you thought he was the endgame.

“I guess you’re right.” You say softly.

“Anyways. Sorry for bothering you!” Sana smiles before tugging her bag over her shoulder and offering you a small wave before she darts off in the other direction.

You’re left standing in the middle of the lounge with a heavier sense of dread on your shoulders, and the image of Jennie in your mind. She’s pretty. And you bet she’s nice too, but fun enough for Jungkook to want. Nothing like you.

But you shake your head off with the thoughts. You didn’t even deserve to think about this because Jungkook was never yours. Even if he tempts you with his words and his scalding touch, you were just someone familiar to him.

He didn’t want you.

You purse your lips and will yourself not to shed a tear in public, so you quickly turn on your heel to head towards the library; where the world is a lot quieter.

“Did you see this?” Jimin leans closer to shove his phone in front of your face.

You frown and ignore him, but he’s like an annoying brother who won’t budge when he waves the device even more.

“What?” You snap, eyes shut in irritation.

“Damn. Who pissed in your cereal?” Jimin mutters.

You roll your eyes and sigh, looking at him with a softer expression.

“Sorry.” You wince, “I just had a bad day and … I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have unloaded it on you.”

Jimin smiles at you pitifully before turning to face you, placing his phone downwards on the table.

“You wanna talk about it?”

You think about what’s been bothering you and you can only think of Jungkook. How he pretended like he didn’t know you after he fingered you in the bathroom at a party. How Sana didn’t think you and Jungkook were possible. How Jennie was interested and she was gorgeous. How Jungkook would be too.

“Nah.” You wave him off, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

Jimin eyes you sceptically but you rest a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“You sure?”

You nod, before cocking your head to his phone.

“What did you want to show me?”

He blinks at his phone and then picks it up, already in a different mood when he opens his device to his Instagram page.

“Did you know Kook and Jennie were a thing?” Is the first thing you hear after Jimin shows you a video that makes your heart drop into your stomach.

It’s Jungkook—and Jennie.

But that’s not it.

They’re kissing, quite passionately and people are egging them on when Jungkook slips a leg between her thighs while he cradles her face against his own. You see people cheering and hollering when Jungkook slips his tongue into her mouth, and Jennie smiling against the kiss.

It was at the party. The party where he fingered you and kissed you on the lips before he proceeded to pretend like he didn’t know you and disappear.

You wonder how you missed all of that.

“______?” Jimin calls out to you.

You blink up at him before he looks at you with a confused yet concerned expression.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks.

You clear the lump in your throat, and your point is proven. They do look good together.

“I-I …” You mumble, “Yeah. I’m okay.”

Jimin doesn’t believe you and he sets his phone down, but before he can say anything a new figure joins you at the table by slamming their stuff down.

When you look up, you see Jungkook—and it hurts so badly when you recognise his cocksure smirk with his eyes trained on your face.

“What are the two of you whispering about?” He snorts, settling into his seat.

Before Jimin can say anything, you push yourself up abruptly that startles both Jimin and Jungkook.

“I have to go.” You blurt.

Jimin furrows his eyebrows, “Are you really okay—”

“Yes.” You say tightly, packing your belongings as quickly as you can without sparing Jungkook another glance.

“You’re not even going to say hi?” Jungkook asks, and if you were in a better headspace then you’d hear the slight irritation in his tone.

You purse your lips, but still, keep your eyes away from him. You don’t respond to him, and neither do you flatter Jimin’s concerned stare.

But before you can leave, Jimin grabs your wrist and your breath hitches, head-turning slowly to face him while you ignore Jungkook’s heavy gaze on you.

“Text me?” He says softly.

You knew from Jimin’s eyes that he’s worried, and you felt slightly guilty for leaving him behind like this when you promised him to study. But you couldn’t be around Jungkook right now. Not when your mind was everywhere and you were confused about everything.

Not when the video exists.

“I will.” You reply, equally as soft.

You tug your hands away and don’t spare Jungkook another glance before you’re rushing out of the library, the lump in your throat more apparent than ever.

[honeybunpeter]

I saw this post from @starker-secrets and had to write something.

"I need more of Tony spying on Peter thru his suit"

Hope you enjoy :)

~~

“Sir, Mr. Parker’s suit is transmitting audio that the Baby Monitor Protocol has flagged as potentially distressed. Would you like to hear it?”

“Yeah, give it to me FRI.”

Gasps sounded through the suit’s speakers as Tony flew from the partially built upstate facility back to Avengers tower. It sounded at first like Peter was in pain, and Tony’s heart dropped to his stomach as he sped up. But then a soft moan filtered through, and Tony’s heart dropped even further. Faintly, he could hear slick noises, softly squelching in the rhythm a fist would make over an approximately 5.4 inch long object. Peter wasn’t in distress. Quite the opposite in fact.

Tony’s dick got hard so fast it made him dizzy. He faltered slightly in his flight, overcorrecting when he tilted.

Peter was apparently done with his patrol for the day, if this audio was anything to go by.

A student at NYU, Peter had refused Tony’s offer of a fully paid tuition, and was instead paying for his schooling himself. Because of the whole Neighborhood Spider-Man deal, he couldn’t work enough jobs to pay for both an apartment and the tuition, and have enough time to be Spider-Man and a normal student, so he had accepted Tony’s offer of an apartment. He had initially refused that as well, but after Tony cited his endless supply of wealth, as well as Peter’s need for privacy due to his costumed alter-ego, Peter reluctantly accepted.

That privacy was now being used to its full advantage. The moans currently caressing Tony’s ears were increasing in both volume and frequency.

Feeling guilty and more and more like the creepy old man he pretended not to be, Tony was about to open his mouth to tell FRIDAY to cut the sound, when the slick noises suddenly sped up.

Peter, alone in his apartment that Tony bought for him, jerking off while wearing the suit Tony made for him, was about to come, and Tony was going to hear the whole thing. Fumbling, Tony put the suit in FRIDAY’s control, not trusting his unfocused eyes and racing heart to steer him home. Breathing hard, he turned his full attention to the delicious noises echoing in his helmet.

“Unh, fuck. Ah— ah— ah—“

Peter cut off with a gasp, before he stopped breathing entirely. After a silent, expectant moment, his voice broke on a loud moan as he presumably came, all over his multi-million dollar suit.

Tony’s dick was currently trying to poke a hole through the hard metal casing of his own suit. He was aching, literally aching, to get home and peel it off, and finally indulge in the thoughts he hadn’t let himself think for the past year.

Listening to Peter’s heavy breathing as he recovered, Tony thought back to when he first met Peter.

Freshly eighteen and a new freshman in college, Peter was understandably scared when Tony dropped into his dorm room to accuse him of vigilante-ing, and to ask him to help in Germany. Tony knew Peter had an aunt in Queens, and he was considering using her as leverage, when Peter agreed to fly to Leipzig and miss a week of classes. He had done well, had helped Tony try to keep the Avengers together (which actually did nothing but tear them further apart, but that was in no way Peter’s fault), and had gone back to his dorm room with Tony’s promise of a call.

Of course Tony had found Peter attractive. With big eyes framed by thick lashes, a strong and muscular body hidden under large hoodies and sweatpants, with a bright and easy smile, he was charming in his excitement and naïveté. He was almost too pure, his rosy cheeks and soft skin so obviously a metaphor for an angel it could hardly be called a metaphor anymore.

Peter was legally an adult, yes, but Tony was his mentor, and Peter was almost thirty years Tony’s junior. He didn’t have the weight of thousands of lives and a failed marriage and a broken team dragging down his shoulders like Tony had, either. That shit aged you.

So Tony had locked his impure thoughts away in a little box in his brain, only taking it out sometimes to look at it, but never to open it.

But now, the little box had been blown wide open, and all the thoughts Tony had smothered were back in full force. Thoughts like how Peter would look with tears of pleasure beading at the corners of his eyes, how he would look with cum splattered on his cheeks, how he would moan high and pretty when Tony licked him just so, how his lithe back would arch, how his mouth would drop open when Tony first pushed inside him, how he would look up at Tony in rapture, with love in his eyes— No. That was too far. Tony couldn’t afford to think like that.

When Peter’s breathing finally evened out, Tony cleared his throat and said, “Cut the sound, FRI.”

Taking control of his suit back once he reached Manhattan, Tony angled his way down to the landing pad of the tower. Once he landed the suit opened up, letting him stumble his way out on trembling legs. His slacks were uncomfortably tight. Finally making it back to his room and collapsing on his bed, he shoved his hand down his pants, closed his eyes, and let his hind brain take over. Trying to ignore the guilt settling like acid in his stomach.

—

Peter had known for weeks about the Baby Monitor Protocol. He didn’t know if it was just tracking his location, or sending information, or even recording, so he did a little hunting. Finding in the code and his suit only a tracker and an outgoing connection to the microphone in his mask, he figured that Karen was constantly transmitting audio and general location information to FRIDAY.

Swinging between buildings on his way home one afternoon after patrol, he thought about what that meant. It made him a little hot under the collar knowing that Mr. Stark could hear everything he was doing when he was wearing the suit, could be listening at all times. Listening to Peter helping old ladies across the street, saving a man from a mugging, panting with exertion— would he think his heavy breathing was from something else?

The thought made Peter miss his next web shot and he had to scramble to make sure he didn’t smash into a street lamp. Warmth bloomed into his cheeks and down his neck. His suit was starting to feel uncomfortably tight, and he swung faster.

Making it to his living room window, he dropped in on silent feet. He stumbled his way to his couch, slumping down until his head was resting on the back of it. Opening the secret seam at his waist Mr. Stark made when Peter complained about needing to pee when he was patrolling (and God what Mr. Stark would say if he knew what it was being used for now—) he slipped his hand in to palm at his aching cock. Groaning in relief, he closed his eyes and gave in to the pleasure.

What if Mr. Stark were listening? Would he be disgusted? Would he turn off the audio as soon as he knew what Peter was doing? Or would he be intrigued, aroused, at the thought of Peter defiling his multi-million dollar gift?

Peter did just that when the thought popped into his head, sending streaks up his chest almost to his masked chin. Body still jolting in the aftershocks, what he just did finally registered in his head.

Gasping in panic this time, rather than pleasure, he ripped his mask off and flung it across the room, peeling his suit off next. What was he thinking? There was no way Mr. Stark would he anything other than disgusted with what he heard, if he heard it at all. Not to mention, Peter had violated Mr. Stark. Guilt and panic started to clog his throat, and he resolved to never do it again.

—

A few weeks later, Peter relaxed back on his bed and pulled his mask off. He wiped his sweaty hair off of his forehead and grinned. Fuck. That was good.

He wasn’t sure if Mr. Stark was listening, but honestly it didn’t matter, because that was one of the best orgasms he’d ever had. He’d imagined that Mr. Stark was teasing him, was keeping him balanced on the edge, whispering how Peter’s pleasure was his, his to create and control.

After the last time he jerked off in the suit, he had resolved to never do it again. But that was only until Peter saw the way Mr. Stark watched him. Peter wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, imagining something he only wished was there, but he could almost feel the heated gaze Mr. Stark sent him tingling down his spine. When they worked in Mr. Stark’s workshop side by side, Peter modifying his web shooters and Mr. Stark tinkering on his cars, or making an entirely new Iron Man suit, or just generally flitting between projects, Peter felt that Mr. Stark was doing a lot more tripping over his feet and burning his fingers than actually paying attention to what he was doing. Peter liked to imagine that this distraction was because of him, and not because of something else.

So Peter decided to do what Peter does best; solve the shit out of this problem. After class he changed into the tightest shirt he owned, and some gym shorts with a 5-inch inseam, ones he only bought because MJ slipped it into his basket at Target when he wasn’t looking. He felt distinctly uncomfortable on the subway to Stark Tower, but the thought of Mr. Stark’s (hopefully) flustered face was enough to steel his resolve.

He wasn’t disappointed. Mr. Stark practically did a spit-take when Peter walked out of the elevator into the workshop, eyes tracing up and down his body.

“Hey Mr. Stark,” Peter said, dropping his backpack off at his work station and sitting down, projecting a casual air.

“H-hey, Peter.”

Peter grinned down at the desk top. Mr. Stark never stuttered. That was almost a written confirmation of his hypothesis in Peter’s eyes.

The next night before his patrol, Peter settled down onto his bed, wearing his mask but no suit, preparing to have a fantastic next hour.

Which he definitely did.

—

In the weeks that followed the first time, Tony felt unbearably dirty, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. How Peter’s moans sounded. How he might look, wracked with pleasure, his face slack and pink mouth open, eyes rolled back. Peter’s moans and pretty gasps haunted his every waking moment, and most of his sleeping moments too. He’d often wake up with sticky boxers, something that hadn’t happened to him since he was a teenager. A teenager like Peter, oh god.

He’d taken to wearing an earpiece, not visible of course, that connected directly to FRIDAY in case he was out of the tower or away from his suit when Peter next indulged in, ahem. Some personal time.

But it hadn’t happened again since the first time. Unfortunately. Or maybe fortunately. Maybe if Tony didn’t hear it again he would stop thinking about it. Maybe then he could go back to pretending he wasn’t that creepy old man. Who was he kidding, he still was. Peter had walked into the workshop the previous day wearing very short shorts and a tight shirt, his tan legs and leanly muscled chest taunting Tony as they worked. But he could at least try to not creep on Peter electronically.

“Sir, Mr. Parker’s suit is transmi—“

There goes that.

Tony looked around the hallway he was in in the upstate facility, and snuck into an empty conference room. He quickly locked the doors and asked FRIDAY to black out the windows.

“Let me hear it.”

Moans filled his ear again, closer this time, more intimate. It sounded also as if the audio was clearer. Tony could hear more things now. Like how Peter’s breath would hitch on a moan right after the slick noises of his fist slowed down or stopped entirely— was he teasing himself? would he like to be teased for hours if Tony were there? Tony could bring him to the edge over and over, watch the flush move down Peter’s cheeks to his chest, watch his cock twitch every time Tony let go, watch tears of frustration start to fall down his pretty face—

—and how there was also the dry rasping sound of skin on skin, followed by a sharp gasp— was he caressing his chest, running his fingers over his nipples, pinching them? twisting them? did Peter like pain? would he like it if Tony sucked dark bruises all over his body, biting them deeper, leaving his mark—

(—it didn’t occur to Tony to wonder why Peter’s chest was bare but the suit was transmitting audio, meaning Peter was wearing the mask and only the mask—)

—and this time when Peter was about to come Tony heard that the sound of his fist moving over his cock stopped, and instead there was a softer sound, quick and frantic but still gentle and wet— like Peter was rubbing his first two fingers on the spot right under the head of his cock, the most sensitive part, like he was letting the heat build and build rather than letting it take over immediately, letting the warm ache spread out into his pelvis and thighs and lower back, building and building, until the pleasure became too hot and he had to wrap his fist back around the head and squeeze gently, gasping through the waves and waves of pleasure—

Tony gasped through his own orgasm, not realizing that he’d snuck his hand down his slacks while he was listening. He shivered as he came back down.

“Shit. Fuck. Shit fuck. Fuck.” Tony cursed quietly under his breath as he carefully pulled his hand from out of his boxers. “Cut the sound, FRI.”

He looked down at his dirty hand, wondering how he was going to get out of this room and hallway undetected.

“What the hell am I doing?”

—

Peter jerks off in the suit several more times over the next few weeks, each time so full of mind-melting pleasure it leaves him gasping for minutes after. His guard is starting to drop, the idea of Mr. Stark hearing him, and his fantasies of Mr. Stark being there, have made him reckless.

It all comes to a head one Thursday night. Peter had just received an A on one of his midterms, and wanted to reward himself (not that there was any chance he wouldn’t do well on the midterm, but it’s the thought that counts), so he settled in for a long, luxurious jerk-off session.

“Uh— uh— yeah—“

Fuck it felt good. If only Mr. Stark were here. He’d trace his fingers up and down Peter’s flanks, nip possessively at his neck, cover Peter’s fingers on his cock with his own. He’d wring the pleasure out of Peter so skillfully and thoroughly that Peter would be able to do nothing more than shiver and cry under his calloused hands.

Forgetting himself, and who could be listening, Peter gasped out “Mr. Stark—“

“Calling Mr. Stark now,” came Karen’s cool voice.

Eyes popping open Peter yelped, frantically shouting “No! Wait—“

With a gentle bing, the phone call connected. Fast and heavy breathing followed by Mr. Stark’s unusually rough and breathless voice filled Peter’s ears.

“…Peter?”

[andypantsx3]

defiant | bakugou/reader

pairing: Bakugou Katsuki / Reader

status: complete

length: 4,485 words

summary: There are a lot of benefits to managing your pro hero boyfriend, but dealing with the PR nightmares he generates is not one of them. After Katsuki gets way too mouthy with a hapless reporter, you take it upon yourself to put him in his place.

Katsuki, however, has other ideas.

tags/warnings: smut, arguing, possessive sex, light bondage, aged up characters, reader attempts to dom bakugou (keyword: attempts)

notes: This is based several years after the events of my fic savvy though you do not need to have read it to enjoy this one!! This is also unedited because I am too lazy, my apologies for the various mistakes within. I will come back and fix them at some point. Dedicated to @bobawithpomegranate​ for reminding me I was supposed to be working on this.

It was a Friday afternoon at approximately three p.m. when Bakugou Katsuki lost his fucking mind.

You knew this information because you had been watching the press coverage of your boyfriend’s latest fight, an operation in which he and Kirishima Eijirou had paired up to defeat a villain with an earthquake quirk.

Katsuki and Kirishima had taken the man down in record time, mere minutes after the reporters showed up. You’d watched them pound the villain into the very street he’d ripped up in the first place, and now Kirishima was puttering around in the background of the news coverage, smiling as he chatted up civilians against the wreckage of the city street behind him. Which left Katsuki to saunter over to the gaggle of field reporters and give the customary interview.

His blonde hair was disheveled, and his mouth was quirked up into a sharp smile, the way it always was after he’d just come out of a good fight. But he looked otherwise unharmed, just as intense and savagely handsome as always. He even looked like he might be in a good mood, pleased with the results of his fight, and you thought he might actually keep the swearing to a minimum this time.

He ducked under the police tape, flaxen hair glinting gold under the afternoon sun, and stalked over to the nearest reporter, already opening his mouth to crow over his latest victory.

Which is when something off screen caught his attention.

There was a muffled question from one of the reporters--not from the network you were watching or the mic would have caught it--and Katsuki’s scarlet gaze cut to the side. You watched in horror as his expression slowly morphed into one of apoplectic rage.

“You fucking piece of shit,” Katsuki snarled, eyes narrowing, an explosion already crackling between his fingers.

The camera jerked to the side, catching the startled expression of another reporter. He looked vaguely familiar to you--tall, handsome in a bland kind of way, teeth bleached for his job as a television personality. You thought you might have met him briefly at the last Hero’s Gala, but you didn’t have time to linger on the memory--Katsuki was already on the move, fighting his way through the pack of reporters, looking ready to commit a murder.

“--think you can just fucking talk to me, asshole?” you heard him shout.

“What did he say?” a voice murmured off screen.

“--he just asked Dynamight how he feels about his success today,” another voice uttered, closer to the camera, sounding bewildered and more than a little alarmed.

“You’re gonna wish you had never fucking been born, asswipe!” Katsuki shouted over them.

He’d nearly reached the reporter when there was a blur of red and Kirishima was there, one bulky arm seizing Katsuki around the middle. He hauled Katsuki out of the sea of journalists, even as Katsuki struggled, spitting and snarling like a wet cat.

“You fucking try that shit again and I’ll fucking blow your teeth straight into your brain!” Katsuki hollered, drowning out whatever Kirishima was muttering to him.

Your phone screen lit up next to you, several notifications pinging simultaneously. You let out a gusty sigh, glancing down at the contact names. News outlets, looking to scoop their competitors by getting the first statement from the Dynamight Agency on Katsuki’s behavior.

You swiped over a screen and dialed the number for the PR department, watching Katsuki continue to rage on screen, struggling against Kirishima’s hold. The crags in Kirishima’s skin told you he was close to going Unbreakable, and the sight sent a hot bolt of irritation through you.

You had no idea what the hell Katsuki thought he was doing, launching himself at a reporter like that. A reporter who had apparently done nothing but ask him how he felt about the success of his fight, a question Katsuki--the smug fuck--typically reveled in answering.

It had been a long time since Katsuki’s last PR disaster (tackling pro hero Deku over the side of a buffet table after an innocuous comment at one of their first Hero’s Galas), and you’d gotten him to promise you to be more careful after that. You’d honestly thought he’d pretty much moved past that sort of thing now. He’d grown somewhat calmer with age--though not less foul mouthed--and as his girlfriend, you were able to exert some level of influence over his actions, as each year, your understanding of how to play him grew deeper and deeper.

So what the fuck he thought he was doing right now was absolutely beyond you. And also absolutely not appreciated, as you had much better things to be doing than cleaning up after him for a shit fit that he definitely could have controlled.

If there was something bothering him, you were going to make him tell you. And if he was up to his old tricks, maybe he needed a refresher on exactly why it was inappropriate to go off like a bomb at every little thing.

As Katsuki’s primary PR rep picked up on the other end of the line, already speaking to you in a brisk tone, you resolved yourself to the task. You were going to get to the bottom of whatever had sent Katsuki into a fit--and you were going to remind him how and why to behave himself.

Whether he wanted to or not.

The trickiest part of your plan was catching Katsuki off guard.

That kind of a feat was nearly impossible, as Katsuki had reflexes honed by years of experience, an alarmingly keen intellect, and a single-minded determination that was frankly terrifying to contemplate. It had been years since he’d been outmaneuvered by anyone in the field, and the odds were against anyone who thought they could get the jump on him.

Luckily for you, you knew that his single-mindedness was the one thing that could also be used against him.

You left the agency slightly earlier than normal, shooting off a message to Katsuki to let him know you’d meet him at home. And then you yanked open your proverbial bag of tricks.

You helped yourself to a long shower, lathering on some of Katsuki’s body wash instead of your own, a trick that--you’d learned after once running out of your own--sent him into something like a possessive frenzy, knowing you smelled like him, that anyone you encountered would know you’d helped yourself to a man’s personal effects and understand that you were already spoken for.

Then you rustled around in your drawers for a nicer pair of lingerie--not anything super fancy that would suggest you were up to anything special, but nice enough that Katsuki’s interest would be piqued.

And then you dug around in the closet for the most essential element of your plan--handcuffs. Your face warmed with the memory of the last time these had been used--a blur of rough palms and sharp teeth all over you, while you all but sobbed for more--but you frantically quashed the thought. Tonight, if all went according to plan, you wouldn’t be the one strapped helpless to the headboard.

You weren’t the one with a lesson to be learned, after all.

The scrape of keys in the door sent you dashing to hide the handcuffs underneath your pillow, and then the stomp of boots in the hall told you your boyfriend had made it inside. You hastily yanked a sweater and jeans over your lingerie, then went out to meet Katsuki in the kitchen.

He clearly hadn’t had time to change after his fight, still slightly disheveled, blonde hair mussed and scarlet eyes sharp as they narrowed in on you. His handsome features were twisted into a suspicious expression.

“The fuck’re you up to, ditching early? Thought I was gonna get fucking screamed at when I made it back to your office,” Katsuki growled, watching you intently as he stripped off his gloves and boots. They hit the ground with a dull thud.

Your heart shot into your throat, but you pasted on your best placid expression. “I ditched because I didn’t feel like dealing with every outlet in the entire country blowing up my office line. Thought I could get more done here where it’s quieter.”

You didn’t mention exactly what you planned to get done here, hoping Katsuki would assume it was all PR and damage control.

In a way, it was damage control. Just...not via traditional methods, exactly.

Katsuki’s eyes tracked you closely. He still looked skeptical. “You gonna let me have it then, princess?”

Oh you were gonna let him have it, alright. He just had no idea.

You watched him for a while, pretending to contemplate unloading on him the way you wanted to. “Just...not now. I’m too tired, I don’t even want to deal with it.”

He scoffed. “Bullshit. You live for giving me shit. Fucking out with it.”

You glared at him. “I don’t think you’re in any position to be giving me orders. And if I was gonna say anything before I’m certainly not now. Now go clean yourself up. I have work to finish, thanks to someone.”

You retreated back into the bedroom, smothering a grin.

Nothing got Katsuki jumped up like defiance. Years into your relationship, he knew on some level that he wasn’t actually in charge of you, but he still got just as worked up when you got mouthy with him as he had on day one. It wouldn’t be long until he came back in, trying to pick the same fight, altogether too interested in the attitude you’d give back to him.

He was such a boy.

You lounged around on the bed, pulling out your work laptop and firing off a couple emails while you waited, just for something to do. Katsuki’s PR rep seemed to have things well in hand, but you helped where you could.

Soon enough, Katsuki was stalking back into your room, hair dark from a shower, looking like he hadn’t even bothered to dry off before stomping back in. He wore only a dark pair of sweatpants, the hard planes of his chest on full display--you suspected he’d foregone a shirt on purpose, knowing how the sight of him usually distracted you.

Which it still did, somewhat, but you were too heady with your own plan to truly be diverted.

You smothered a laugh at the way Katsuki’s eyes immediately honed in on the lace of your bra strap, strategically peeking out of your sweater as you had arranged it.

Two could play at that game.

“Think you’re real fucking smooth, don’t you, princess?” he demanded, stalking over to loom over you in a vaguely threatening manner. You caught the clean scent of his body wash, just a hint of his syrupy sweet quirk under that.

Your thoughts fogged a little with his proximity so you pretended to ignore him, typing out some nonsense notes into your calendar for something to keep your attention off of him. The less you looked at him, the easier this would be. You were weak to his appearance, it was true, and nothing riled him up like not having your full attention.

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” you said vaguely, doing your best to sound distracted.

A rough palm shoved your laptop closed. “Oh I think you fucking do, princess. Think you’re gonna get all dressed up for me and then ignore me?”

You looked up into his face, just as his arms came down around you to cage you against the mattress. A thick spike of arousal jolted through you, but you pushed it down. Much as you were into this, he was not going to be in charge for much longer.

“And if I did?” you asked, victory surging through your veins at the dark look that entered his eye.

He leaned down, putting his face near to yours. “Gonna be real hard to ignore me when I’m fucking you so hard you’ll feel me for weeks.”

“You’re awfully confident for someone on such thin ice,” you breathed. You didn’t even have to pretend at being affected by his choice of words, your stomach fluttering with anticipation.

Katsuki wasted no time covering your mouth with his. The weight of him pressed you back into the mattress, your laptop tumbling to the floor with a loud clatter. Rough hands trailed up your sides, gathering up the fabric of your sweater and pulling it over your head.

Carefully, you eased him over, kissing him as hard as you could, so that you were the one on top, your knees braced on either side of his slim hips.

Katsuki swore, pressing you down on him with a rough palm on your back, evidence of his interest hard between your thighs.

And that’s when you struck. Using his momentary distraction, you pulled the handcuffs from beneath your pillow, weaving them through the headboard. You grabbed his hands as firmly as you dared, pressing them up over his head.

Katsuki noticed what you were doing the second before the handcuffs snapped shut over his wrists.

“The fuck you think you’re doing, nerd?” he demanded, flexing against the tight hold. You watched with interest as his bicep pulled with the effort. “Unlock these or you’re in for it.”

You sat back on his hips, smirking down at him the way he usually did at you. Triumph swelled in your gut like a symphony.

“No, you’re in for it, Katsuki. What the absolute fuck did you think you were doing today?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “You think I was just gonna let you get away with throwing a tantrum on national television for no discernable reason?”

“That’s none of your business,” he ground out. A bright spark lit up the skin of his palm, a sharp crackle slicing into the silence of your room. “Now unlock these while I’m still asking nicely.”

You trailed absent fingers down the warm skin of his abdomen, watching appreciatively as the muscle tightened under your touch. Katsuki hissed out a sharp breath.

He might be threatening, but he ran the risk of blowing off his own hands if he resorted to using his quirk right now. You didn’t think he’d chance his own skin just to get out of this situation.

“I’m your manager and your girlfriend--it’s one hundred percent my business. You’re not getting out of those until you tell me what the hell you thought you were doing,” you promised darkly. You let your nails scrape over the skin of his hip, just under the band of his sweatpants.

You felt his hips shift in interest.

“You’re really asking for it, huh, princess?” he said, his voice rough. “I’m not gonna be gentle with you when I get out of this.”

“Keep avoiding the question and you’ll never get out of this,” you said. You let yourself lean over him, reveling in his minute intake of breath as you pressed a kiss over his neck. “You want something, I’ll give it to you. But only if you tell me why you did it.”

“It’s between me and that fucking slimeball and that’s all you need to know,” Katsuki snarled.

You let your teeth scrape over his skin, the way he usually did with you. “Not good enough,” you said.

Katsuki’s hips shifted again as you pressed back harder onto him. You felt your own abdomen coil tight with hot excitement at the unconscious little circles he was making. But you couldn’t be distracted--you had a mission to accomplish.

“Mind your damn business you fucking nerd,” he growled, defiant to the last.

Well, you hadn’t thought this was going to be easy.

“You are my business,” you informed him tritely. “And if you ever want me to take care of your business again, you’re going to tell me exactly what is going on.”

“Fuck,” he said instead. “You’re so hot when you get mouthy.”

“Not the answer I was looking for,” you told him. You shoved down the hot flush that tried to rise through you at his admission. Even years later, you were weak to his praise and he knew it.

He bucked a little under you, like he was unable to help himself. “Let me touch you, princess.”

“Still not an answer,” you intoned. You held very still, careful not to squirm like he was making you want to, even as his thrusts grew more deliberate.

If he would just hurry the fuck up and give you an answer, you both could be getting what you wanted. But everything had to be a production with him, as usual.

He was lucky he was so hot, and so charming on the rare occasion when he wanted to be, because he really was a piece of fucking work. You deserved some kind of sainthood for your service to him.

You slid forward on his chest a little when he gave a particularly strong thrust, bracing your hands over his sternum, and the abrupt show of strength had you clenching your thighs unthinkingly around him.

Katsuki’s mouth twisted in a savage grin, like he knew exactly how he was affecting you. “This is your last warning, princess. Let me out or you’re fucking in for it.”

You frantically schooled your features back into some form of haughty disregard, reaching down into your nightstand for the keys. You twirled them absently around your fingers.

“I don’t think you understand what kind of position you’re in,” you said firmly. “The only way you’re getting what you want is if you tell me what kind of stick that reporter stuck up your ass. Or maybe he didn’t, and you’re just being a fucking brat. Either way, you’re not in charge here--I am, and you are the one who’s in for it.”

No sooner had the words left your mouth, however, than the tang of hot metal met your nose. Katsuki’s savage smile was bordering on feral now. You looked up in alarm to see that above his head, he’d worked his palms over to press to each opposite wrist, but he wasn’t blowing through the cuffs like you’d known he couldn’t. Instead, he was melting them.

You swore, scrambling off of him. You threw yourself off the edge of the bed, racing for the door like the devil himself was behind you.

You weren’t fast enough.

The world upended, the white of your ceiling paint swirling up over your vision. The next thing you knew, you were thrown flat on your back in your bedding, bouncing a little from the impact against your mattress.

Katsuki braced himself over you, hands firm around your wrists, eyes alight with the challenge.

“You were saying, princess?” he asked smugly.

You wiggled underneath him, trying to work a leg underneath his hip to kick him off you the way you’d learned in self-defense. Katsuki just shifted into the cradle of your hips, huffing out a rough laugh.

“I fucking taught you that move, nerd. Think you’re gonna get me with it?”

His hips pressed forward, his body a hot line all along yours, and you suppressed a groan at the feel of him hard against your core.

“That’s right, princess,” Katsuki breathed, pressing his face into your shoulder to bite at your throat. “Now I’m going to remind you who’s in charge here, and you are going to be good for me and take every single thing that I give you.”

He gathered your wrists in one hand, reaching down with long fingers to work off your jeans.

You shivered in delight at the thought of his dark promises, but some other, more stubborn part of you resisted. You had a fucking job to do, and no way was he going to reroute you so he could get out of talking about things.

“You’re not giving me shit until you tell me exactly why you tried to blast some innocent reporter into the sun,” you said hotly.

Katsuki paid you no mind, too focused on pulling your jeans off over your ankle, so you leaned in and bit his shoulder.

“The fuck--?” he demanded, reeling back.

“I’m serious, Katsuki,” you said, irritation rising. “You tell me what is going on this second or it’s just you and your hand for the next month. I’m not fucking around.”

“He’s not some innocent reporter, he’s a piece of shit,” Katsuki said. His fingers worked at the clasp to your bra, like he thought that was enough of an answer.

“And you know this how?” you asked, trying to shift to crush his fingers underneath your shoulder.

He glared at you for a long moment, red eyes hot on your face, looking like he was strongly considering just abandoning the conversation altogether and stalking off to blow something up instead.

“I know,” he finally ground out, looking like every word cost him, “because I overheard him in the men’s room at the last Hero’s Gala.”

So you did know the reporter from the Hero’s Gala. A dim memory came to you of shaking his hand, leaning over to get Katsuki’s attention to get him an answer to some question he’d asked. You were fuzzy on the details, as you’d had other things to worry about that night--the Hero’s Gala had ended with Katsuki in some kind of mood with Kirishima, the arm of Kiri’s suit burnt off, and Katsuki had refused to say more on things. They’d patched things up almost immediately after so you hadn’t pried, but now you wondered if there wasn’t more to the story--more including this reporter.

“Overheard him what?” you asked.

Katsuki’s fingers resumed their questing, releasing the back of your bra with the ease of constant practice. You let him, considering he was still giving you answers.

“Overheard him fucking talking about you,” Katsuki growled, his fingers digging into your waist, his touch turning more possessive.

You froze. “What?”

“Saying the nastiest shit about how you looked in your dress, what he’d like to do with you if you didn’t already belong to me,” Katsuki said, sounding disgusted. “Wanted to incinerate him but fucking Kiri got in the way. Told me I’d lose my license if I attacked a civilian and he took me to court.”

“Which you would,” you pointed out, your tone going breathier than you wanted when Katsuki slid his fingers up to pluck at your nipple. “That--um--that was still the case today, too. What did you think you were doing?”

“Didn’t think,” he grunted, palming your breast. He didn’t look like he was thinking a lot now either, eyes turning on your chest with that single-minded focus he was famous for. “I just saw him and saw red.”

You were starting to see colors too--white, mainly, as Katsuki released your wrist to trail his other hand over your panties with obvious intention.

“Oh, um. Well I’m glad you didn’t kill him and have to lose your license,” you said, your breath hitching when Katsuki found his way into your underwear. “I’m gonna--have to--ah--thank Eijirou.”

“You belong to me,” Katsuki announced imperiously, leaning back in to bite at your throat again.

You couldn’t bring yourself to be annoyed with him, now. Instead, his words relit some fuse within you, your arousal sparking back to life behind your navel.

Katsuki’s fingers curled within you and you couldn’t hold back a pleased little noise, shifting your hips to allow him better access.

That was all the affirmation he needed. In mere minutes, he was working you up to the edge of your pleasure, fingers hot and skilled and exactly right inside you. He trailed soft bites and hot kisses all over your neck and shoulders, looking supremely satisfied with himself every time you caught sight of his face. His thumb worked tiny, maddening circles over your clit, just like he knew drove you fucking insane, and he had you writhing and squirming underneath him embarrassingly fast.

Soon, he was hitching your leg over a broad shoulder, sinking into you right where you wanted him.

“That’s right, princess. You’re mine. Gonna fuck you so good you’ll never forget it,” he promised, already working up to a brutal pace that left you short of breath.

Your vision swam as he ground into you. He leaned down to catch a nipple in his mouth, sucking softly, in sharp contrast to the wicked thrust of his hips.

“Look at you,” Katsuki said around your breast, scarlet gaze burning into yours. “Spread out and trembling. Look so fucking good for me, only for me.”

“Katsuki--ah!” you barely managed the syllables of his name.

“So fucking hot when you think you’re in control. So fucking mouthy--” his fingers brushed over your mouth “--I’m gonna fuck you so stupid you can’t even string together a sentence anymore.”

You rather thought he’d already achieved that, considering you could barely manage anything other than single syllable words now--nothing but there and more and please and oh!

Katsuki gave a particularly hard thrust, snarling your name--and your climax hit you like a truck.

You cried out, writhing, and his hands came up to hold you down against the mattress, still fucking into you hard like he meant to fuck the sense right out of you. He fucked you straight through your orgasm, and only when you were gasping from the aftershocks, shivering and near tears, did he follow you, flooding your insides with warm heat.

“That shut you right up, didn’t it, princess?” he said smugly as he rolled off of you, leaving another love bite over your shoulder on his way.

You groaned. It had been fucked up but kind of romantic that he’d attempted to murder a guy for you, but he was really killing the mood now.

“Is there anything that would shut you right up?” you replied, still catching your breath.

Unexpectedly, a smirk twisted your boyfriend’s mouth, and his hand trailed carefully down your thigh.

“There is, princess. Too bad it sounds like you can still string together a sentence,” he said, watching you intently.

You stared at him, wondering where he was going with this.

Until he moved, shifting backwards until his chin met your thigh, still watching you intently with those scarlet eyes.

“I can think of something that would fix both of those problems,” he said, his voice rough even as his hands came up to gently pry your thighs apart. “Now you have thirty seconds to call out of work tomorrow before I finish punishing you for that little show earlier.”

Your breath caught in your lungs again. You didn’t waste precious time defying him.

This time, you obeyed.

Deleted scene: What did Deku say to Bakugou that got him tackled over a buffet table at the Hero’s Gala?

[lovecinnatwist]

roommates jaydick with sex toys leading to discovering someone has a size kink *wink wink*

Mannnnnnnnnn- Here we go

Tags: Dildos, Ovipositors, Breeding kink, Size Kink, Daddy Kink- Jason get's awakened:tm:

‘Egging’ me on

Dick looks good- too good.

Jason can feel his palms start to sweat. The sight of his roommate face down on his bed is hotter than it has any right to be. They were way crossed the line at this point. So far he doesn’t even know if they’ll ever be able to get back.

The breathy whine Dick lets out goes straight to his cock. His hands are covered with lube and sticky gelatin. A mess from prepping Dick’s hole and the neon blue, near alien tentacle dildo.

“ Fuck- Jay give me another. “

There are only two eggs left. He didn’t think that they would make it this far. Two or three sounded generous. But here Dick was begging for more. Even though his ass was already stretched with four melting eggs.

He dips his fingers back into the bowl and pulls out one of the cool eggs. In his hand, it quickly goes to room temperature. He almost wants to ask him if he’s sure he can take it but after coming this far he knows the answer already. He wonders if this egg will make Dick cum like the second one did.

It takes him a few tries to get the lubed up egg into the base of the toy. All while Dick shivers and tries to keep still. He finally catches the right angle and he pushes. It draws a greedy moan from his room mate.

The egg isn’t inside, not yet but he wants to hear Dick beg for it before he squeezes the end of the toy and shoots it against his prostate.

“ God Dickie, how are you not full already?”

He can’t help the hint of a growl to his voice. Without asking he reaches for the final egg. The amount of sticky gelatin on Dick’s thighs makes him think one is almost already completely melted.

“ Come on Jay- squeeze it in. I want it- want your eggs- Fertilize me. Breed me!“

Oh-

If that wasn’t the most pleasing thing his cock has ever heard. Jason wraps a slick hand around himself to try to regain some semblance of control. His grip on the second egg slips and it falls back into the bowl. He can’t be bothered with it though. Not when Dick is begging so prettily to be stuffed. Quickly, he wipes his hand off on Dick’s plush ass to get off most of the lube. Then grips the slippery base best he can to work the thick, rigid dildo back and forth.

The noise that Dick lets out is loud enough to echo in his ears. He picks up pace, dragging out the silicon the little he can before pushing it back against the eggs with care. He was going to make Dick cum just like this. Cum without a hand on his dick. Then while he’s spurting all over the sheets he’ll shoot the last egg in his greedy ass.

“ Yes- yes fuck Jay fuck me. Fuck me harder make me your incubator. “

Jason is so hard it’s almost funny.

This shouldn’t be turning him on but God it is. He licks his lips imagining really knocking Dick up with his kids. They weren’t anything, the two of them, not yet and maybe not ever but still he was caught in the fantasy.

His fingers slip on the lube and the base the dildo presses up and hard. It’s all Dick needs and soon he’s letting out the filthiest, most debauched moan and cumming with a full-body spasm. It’s beautiful, it’s mesmerizing. It almost makes Jason cum.

Dick’s hole flutters around the tentacle, twitching and tensing as he rides out orgasm. Jason doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything so hot before. The extreme contour his roommate can put himself in shames even porn stars. His mouth goes dry and desire lights him from the inside out.

A shaky hand presses over his, with a trembling touch Jason finally inches out the dildo out of Dick’s wrecked hole. God he hopes Dick will at least give him a handy or something, he doesn’t think he can last much longer. The gape of that sensual little rim winks at him and Jason just wants to get his tongue inside.

He puts the dildo aside to clean up. At least that was the goal before Dick’s foot pressed against his obvious bulge. His eyes snap up at playful blue so quickly that he finds himself lost.

“ C’mon Jay fertilize them. “

Fuuuuuuckkkkkkk- Jason snaps.

“ yea- just yea let me just- “

His hands are a mess. He knocks over the bowl and it's gonna be a bitch to clean up later. It doesn’t matter though. Not when he’s hard enough to cut glass, his cock suffocating in his joggers. He tugs the draw string, eager and hungry for that wet sticky hole.

They had some condoms earlier but now that Dick is on his back legs spread, stomach and chest a mess of cum, ass dribbling melting gelatin? Well Jason feels like Dick’ll have no right to bitch about the creampie when he’s already going to have to clean out the eggs anyway.

“ Shit Dickie, You're gonna be my pretty little incubator? Gonna let me fertilize your eggs and make you fat with my cum? “

He can’t believe this is how they’re finally going to fuck. The sex toy thing had been casual nothing more. Now that he’s getting his chance though he wastes no time in pushing the front of his pants down.

Wide blue eyes blink pretty, pink lips slightly agape. Dick’s eyes fall to his cock.

Jason flushes embarrassed. He’s hung. He knows that. But he isn’t too much bigger than the dildo. He thought that Dick would be able to handle it since he’s already stretched but maybe he should not have assumed. He uses his thumb to slide that sexy rim open. It’s so flush from the stretch. Nice and wet too. God if Dick doesn’t want him to fuck him hopefully he can at least get his tongue in there. He’s never eaten ass before but he’s sure Dick tastes good inside.

“ ut… in “

Jason misses what Dick says. Too lost in the heat of Dick’s ass. He looks up and Dick looks absolutely wrecked. Jason blinks sitting up. Which doesn’t seem to be the right thing. One long leg slides over his hips fast enough to stop him from moving. It makes Jason’s breath hitch, cock bobbing from the show of strength.

“ Put it in. Put it in- fuck need it. Need that monster cock Jay. Fucking huge put it in c’mon c’mon c’mon- “

Slamming into Dick is like sliding into a hot bath after a good workout. It makes him loose and relaxed in all the right ways. The head of his cock slides right against an egg. Sticky gelatin melting from the heat of his cock. Dick fucking screams from the feeling.

“ Fuck- Fuck Jason can’t breathe so big- “

He’s pretty sure his roommate is exaggerating but it's hard to tell with how red in the face he is. Jason struggles to right himself. Balls painfully tight against his body as desire and arousal rip through him.

“ So tight- how are you still so tight- “

Dick is sucking him in. His ass is loose enough to move but still tight enough to be pleasurable. He drags those thick hips toward him, bringing Dick up onto his lap. There’s a slight bulge in his stomach where the eggs rest inside. When his hand comes down on it Dick moans like a whore.

“ Fucking- slut- “

He doesn’t mean it but the words just come out. Gone is the sweet and friendly boy that makes himself available to listen to his problem. That tutors younger kids in math- that likes cooking while they sing show tunes.

All that’s left is a whore crazy and desperate for dick and Jason’s gonna give it to him.

He doesn't recognize the blissed-out expression. Dick’s mouth stuck in a silent scream. The crunch of those thick black eyebrows is adorable as he gets fucked out. Almost as if all he wants is to stay a good little cock sleeve for Jason to use.

It’s fucking with his head, turning him into a deviant. He shudders as hot gelatin melts around his cock. It’s so sticky and sloppy Jason is glad he put down a towel.

“ Fu...ck me. “

Dick’s voice is blown out. Jason isn’t surprised at all. Not with how loud he was screaming earlier. He presses his hip forward, cock twitching in that warm wet heat. Dick whines clearly over-stimulated. It’s so sexy that he can’t help groaning, low and deep.

He fucks Dick hard and fast. Every single inch of his thick cock spreads out the man’s ass. It’s so lewd and filthy. Every bump of Jason’s cock against the eggs sends Dick higher and higher to another orgasm. He’s never seen someone cum three times in a row before. Though the last time there had been barely a dribble.

The clench of Dick’s ass is going to make him cum. Which the man must notice because he starts begging and pleading with these little fucked out noises that make Jason stupid.

“ Fucking monster cock- Gonna get bred. “

Jason tries to kiss Dick but his mouth is too slack for anything more than them to rub their tongues together. Jason wipes his mouth, legs, thighs and back burning from exertion. The legs around his waist tighten, keeping him trapped in that warm wet clutch.

“ You like that baby? Like getting fucked out by this monster cock? Want me to fertilize your eggs. “

Dick straight up keens like a girl. So loud and wanting Jason’s see’s white. He fucks harder. The entire bed shakes with the action. The twin's frame bangs against the wall. The headboard is only half as loud as Jason’s hips smacking against Dick’s ass. Fuck his roommate is going to be sore tomorrow. Well, guess they won’t be making their English oral.

“ Fuck- Yes want it daddy want you to fertilize me- “

No shit fuck no god damn it-

Jason comes like a bottle rocket. His thrust lose pace. His body shudders as he breeds his roommate's ass like a stallion. Like a stud paid to fill up bitches like his own little cum dump. It feels like Dick comes too. His ass clenches as gelatin and cum squirts out around his dick.

There’s barely a drop from his cock. The gorgeous boy on his dick cumming dry.

Jason collapses. His vision is spotting, going from white, black and full-colour as he creams Dick. He’s pretty sure he sees God at some point. Dick holds him deep inside to make a mess of his ass.

The two of them gasp and gulp down air. Their bodies shut down from the intense session.

“rr..y me -”

Jason groans as Dick murmurs against his sweaty hair. The body underneath him was boneless. Shit, all kinds of shit are awakened in him now. How the hell is he going to ever have a relationship?

Dick tries talking again but breaks off into a dry chuckle.

Jason curses reaching for a water bottle off to the side. He’s too heavy to move but luckily he doesn’t have to go far. He brings the water to Dick’s lips and helps him drink slowly. Once Dick has gotten his share. Jason drains the rest of it.

Shit, he must have burned all of today's calories. Coach was going to kill him.

His eyes slid back to his roommate. He can’t believe the utter disaster the guy is in. He did that. He’s the one who made Dick such a mess.

“ What were you saying before Dickie? “

The boy groans, still against the sheets as he collects himself. Jason doesn’t even know how he’s still conscious after four orgasms.

“ -aid marry me. “

Jason's heart skips a beat like he’s five years old and not in college. He blinks down at the prettiest man he’s ever seen and suddenly feels restless, his cock twitches in interest but after that round, he’s sure he won’t be back up anytime soon.

He bites his lips, suddenly timid.

“ Yea? “

Dick smiles, eyes still closed. He was such an enigma. So beautiful, smart and lovely but somehow friends with Jason. If someone told him on his first day at Gotham university he’d be balls deep in the hottest guy in the school he would have punched them right in the face.

Now he’s just in awe.

“ Yea. “

Shit, he’s- fuck he doesn’t know what to say now. His face is in flames. Every part of him fidgets with nervous energy as his roommate rests. The quiet is more comfortable than awkward and Jason is thankful because otherwise, he’d say something stupid like- I love you.

Dick groans as he struggles to sit up. Ass wet and lush on Jason’s softening cock. He slides out of that delicious heat and finds himself missing it immediately. Dick looks like he’s been mauled. He was absolutely covered in cum, gelatin, lube and drool and Jason doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything more beautiful in his life.

Mischievous blue eyes glitter at him.

“ C’mon help me up so I can lay these eggs on you. “

Jason’s heart lurches out of his chest.

Fuckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk.

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

Was Napoleon a tyrant? I don't necessarily think he was: at least, I believe he was a better alternative to the absolute monarchs he was fighting. But there are those who disagree. What are your thoughts on the subject?

This is a can of worms to be sure.

I mean....how are we defining the word tyrant? All monarchs are tyrants to someone. Monarchy, by its very nature, is tyrannical in one way, shape, or form, no matter who is at its head. Even in the more neutered forms we see now days with the British. The Queen still exerts a ridiculous amount of power, all things considered.

Napoleon was no better or worse than any other monarch in Europe at that time. Indeed, better than some, worse than others. Because you know, he was human!

-

This got VERY long. SO LONG. Choice excerpts from below the cut:

"'Power was encroaching with large strides behind the words order and stability,' as Thibaudeau put it."

"(And I suspect he was concerned about seeming too eager for power/setting up a monarchical system. Fouche: You're about as subtle as a canon going off right next door. Napoleon: Hush.)"

"Theeeeeen the little bastard (affectionate) became Emperor."

"Napoleon Vs. Jeff Bezos: fight! fight! fight! (I'm putting my money on Napoleon.)"

--

tl;dr: a more or less benevolent emperor who had his faults and who was intimately aware, for better or worse, more than most monarchs, that the head is only tenuously attached to the body. (Skim to the bottom for my thoughts on the personal things i.e. how I interpret Napoleon's actions and brain)

But, more seriously, as with most absolute statements, I am opposed to calling him a tyrant because it is reductive and serves no purpose except to make broad sweeping political statements that I believe are far more about the person making the statement exemplifying their modern political, republican position (as in, actual republican-I-support-the-existence-of-republics not the gop) rather than expressing any sort of truth about the past. (wHaT iS tRuTh.)

For historical purposes, it can over-simplify the situation and lead to skewed interpretations of events because you're coming in with this word that has a lot of modern, 20th and 21st century baggage to it.

And, because these people are coming in with this big, bad word of tyrant as a label for Napoleon, it doesn't allow them to engage with the nuance and complexities of his reign.

Anyway.

Napoleon, as emperor, supported centralized power held in his own hands, with support from other governing bodies (senate, council of state etc.). However, Napoleon had a lot of influence in the structuring of these governing bodies and the subsequent appointments as a means to exert control over entities that would otherwise be able to act somewhat independent from him and impinge his power.

We see this consolidation of power beginning, obviously, under the consulate. 'Power was encroaching with large strides behind the words order and stability,' as Thibaudeau put it.

There was the whole theatre around the Tribunate offering to extend Napoleon's tenure as First Consul for another ten years as a means of thanks/showing gratitude for all he did for France (Fouche was like: fuck that, let's just make a statue of the guy). Napoleon played the part of Humble Servant of the Public and refused both statue and the ten year extension. (Very Julius Caesar: You all did see that on the Lupercal, I thrice presented him a kingly crown, which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition?)

In actuality, though, he was pissed because he wanted it extended for life.

This resulted in the Council of State deciding "independently" (i.e. Napoleon wasn't present but he sure as hell influenced that Council session) to hold a plebiscite in order to ask The People two key questions: 'Should Napoleon Bonaparte be consul for life?' and 'Should he have the right to designate his successor?'

Napoleon nixed the second question saying to Cambaceres, 'The testament of Louis XIV was not respected, so why should mine be? A dead man has nothing to say.' Which is to say, he knew people would vote for him to be Consul for life, but the prospect of him choosing a successor, a la the Roman Empire, and having that choice be without input from the people and respected upon his death? Less clear.

(And, I suspect he was concerned about seeming too eager for power/setting up a monarchical system.

Fouche: You're about as subtle as a canon going off right next door.

Napoleon: Hush.)

For the Plebiscite, there were around 3.56 million votes for Yes to the question of Napoleon as consul for life and only around 8,300 for No.

The turnout rate was 60% which is uhh...impressive! (To be fair, there was no real evidence of tampering with the vote. Unlike in subsequent Plebiscites, such as the results for Do We Make Him Emperor, which were absolutely doctored. But, considering the highest turnout ever seen in the French Revolution was around 30/35%, double that is certainly something.)

Lafayette was pissed with this. He kicked up a fuss in the Senate and wrote to Napoleon saying that his 'restorative dictatorship' had been well and fine for now but has Napoleon thought about restoring liberty? and that he was certain Napoleon, of all people, wouldn't want an 'arbitrary regime' to be installed!

Napoleon: Bold of you to assume that, Lafayette.

There were, at this time, some mumblings and grumblings about tyranny from the liberals and those still wanting to continue the experiment of the French Republic, to be sure. They increased as time went on and Napoleon's power continued to consolidate.

Theeeeeen the little bastard (affectionate) became Emperor.

Lafayette: WhAt Is tHiS??

Napoleon: Look into my face and tell me honestly that you are shocked.

--

His government, as Consul and as Emperor, was centralized and very top-down in how it operated. Little was done without Napoleon's input.

The seemingly democratic institutions that had propped him up into power were retained and Napoleon used them as a means to facilitate his rule. As noted earlier, Napoleon had a heavy hand in appointments and the processes in place to fill various offices. Nothing was really...independent of him and his influence.

Though, in terms of Image Building of Empire, Napoleon worked hard to try and maintain the façade of impartiality as emperor. That he was head of state, sure, but all state apparatuses operated independent of him.

(Why is Napoleon's hat so big? because it is full of lies supporting the imperial image making machine.)

That said, when it came to filling those offices, Napoleon focused on merit more than anything as he wanted his governing officials to be capable, hardworking and, above all else, loyal.

(A good quote from Napoleon in one of his more Eat the Rich moments of the consulate: 'One cannot treat wealth as a title of nobility. A rich man is often a layabout without merit. A rich merchant is often only so by virtue of the art of selling expensively or stealing.'

Napoleon Vs. Jeff Bezos: fight! fight! fight!

(I'm putting my money on Napoleon.) )

--

This is getting really long and I feel that I've not addressed anything in a useful manner, but am I going to stop? No.

--

Napoleon, himself, at least in 1803, did express some conflicted views about assuming an imperial title. To Roederer he said, 'So many great things have been achieved over the past three years under the title of consul. It should be kept.'

Cambaceres said to Napoleon that upon assuming an imperial title 'your position changes and places you at odds with yourself.' No longer are you merely a public servant, an upholder of the Republic's ideals. Now you are a man wearing a crown, trying to be the upholder of the Republic's ideals.

(nb: I feel that duality is something Napoleon never fully got a handle on. He would veer strongly into authoritarian monarch then have moments of Rousseau-ian Idealism.)

Napoleon was insistent that his rule be a parliamentary monarchy (keeping the governance framework implemented in the Constitution of Year VIII, if I am not mistaken. But don't quote me on that.) and that the French were not his subjects but his people.

So, the imperial government worked thus with the Legislative process divided between four bodies:

Council of State which would draw up legislative proposals,

Tribunate which could debate on legislation but not vote on it,

a legislative body which could vote on legislation but not discuss it, and

Senate which would consider whether the proposed legislation conformed to the Constitution.

The Senate and the Legislative body could, theoretically, curtail Napoleon’s freedom/power. However, considering the fact that he was involved in the appointment process of these offices, and the general rhythm of daily governance, how much power they were able to exert over him was limited.

(This is at his height! Of course, towards the end we see a shift in that. But that's largely tied up in his military defeats and the British banging the door knocker demanding to be let in. Also they brought with them some friends. You might have heard of them? Bourbons?)

The initial terms the Senate brought to Napoleon with their offer of accepting him as a hereditary monarch included, but weren't limited to:

liberty cannot be infringed

equality cannot be jeopardized

sovereignty of the people must be maintained

the laws of the nation are inviolable

all institutions were to be free from undue imperial influence (e.g. the press)

the nation should never be put into a position where it needs to behead the head of state. Again.

Napoleon was uh. Not best pleased with this and had a new version drafted up that included acknowledgement of the sovereignty of the people, but a lot of the other things (e.g. freedom of the press) were cut out.

Yet, Napoleon maintained certain parts of the French Revolution's values which were reflected more in the 1804 Code Napoleon and other legislative and legal pieces than in the initial terms of Senatorial acceptance of his imperial title.

Some of the things enshrined in the Code that were carry-over from the Revolution include, but aren't limited to, the abolition of feudalism, equality before the law, freedom of conscience (to practice their own religion), gave fixed title to those who had bought church and émigré lands during the 1790s, and the equality of taxation was maintained (tax those aristos and the church). Also, there was affirmation of the idea of careers being "open to talent" rather than an accident of birth (as touched on above).

The Freedom of Conscience clause in the Code was a further formalization of several Articles Napoleon amended onto the Concordat in 1802. The Articles guaranteed the principle of religious toleration and made the Protestant and Jewish churches similarly subject to state authority (alongside the Catholic).

These are just a brief summary of some of the more liberal/revolution-informed aspects of Napoleon's governing.

The non-liberal ones I believe we're all pretty familiar with: suppression of the free press, roll-back of rights for women (women are for babies!), reinstatement of slavery (which he later reversed circa 1810/12-ish), top-down Emperor-has-final-word approach to ruling (Napoleon was all about Authority From Above, Trust From Below) etc. etc.

At the end of this, I would say Napoleon's empire falls into that "benevolent monarch" situation. For a given value of "benevolent." As stated at the start, he was like most other monarchs in Europe at the time. Better than some, not as great about certain things as others.

--

Really, it all ties back to Order and Stability.

Napoleon's assent, and his approach to strong, centralized ruling, was a result of uncertainty and constant government change over ten years of revolution alongside the growing belief, by 1803, that a republic like the Romans or Greeks was not going to happen any time soon. Not without constant warfare and the forever looming threat of a Bourbon restoration.

In addition, Napoleon was doing imperial drag. (If that makes sense.) He was dialing the notch of Emperor up to 11 - being the most emperor of all emperors. So, state control was absolute because he couldn't show any signs of weakness - either in his own body, his familial body, or the body of state. The court protocols were intense and over-the-top at times because he had to prove he was not just a second son of a parvenu lawyer from the sticks. No! he was worthy of this pomp. He was worthy of imperial majesty. He was worthy of the crown and scepter.

Napoleon was not raised to be anything other than a military officer and a middle-class head of a family (would have been a MASTER at doing Sunday Dad Puttering About the House). When he dawned the mantel of power, particularly that of empire, he had to make it up as he went along. For such a self-conscious and proud man, this was difficult. He never wanted to misstep and be embarrassed - on a personal level, political or military.

At the same time, he was reared on Rousseau and Revolution so still had those values and ideals imbedded in him, and those fears and memories. Napoleon knew as well as any Frenchman that a monarch's head is easily removable should it become necessary. Therefore, he sometimes ran roughshod over the liberty to ensure security. For better or worse, that was the choice he made.

--

Napoleon was a flawed leader with a complex approach to governing that was focused on a centralization of power within him while, at the same time, trying to be the Successor of the Revolution, the Roman Republic and the Roman Empire. Layers! Like an onion.

His approach as emperor really was within the realm of normal-for-the-times when compared to most other monarchs on the European stage in 1800. He also granted liberties to his people that were unheard of in other countries.

I feel like all my Napoleonic ramblings end with the same message: Dude was nuanced. Dude was complex. Dude did good things and bad things. Dude helped people and hurt people. Dude contained multitudes. Because he was simply human, at the end of the day.

--

ANNNNNNND we are done.

Gods bless all y'all who made it this far.

Have my favourite picture of Napoleon at Tuileries as a prize.

hmm that beautiful heavy, handed symbolism.

[bloody-bee-tea]

Cranky

Jiang Cheng usually prides himself of being able to ignore his phone while he’s at work, but when it lights up with Nie Mingjue’s name on it, Jiang Cheng makes an exception.

His day is going badly enough already that he really desperately wants to hear Nie Mingjue, if even for a little bit.

“Mingjue,” he greets him as he accepts the call.

“Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue gives back warmly, and just hearing his voice makes some of the tension in Jiang Cheng’s shoulders disappear.

“What’s up?” Jiang Cheng asks. “You don’t usually call me during work.”

“I know,” Nie Mingjue says with a sigh and Jiang Cheng can just imagine the little frown on his face. “But I have to cancel tonight,” he then apologetically says and just like that Jiang Cheng’s good-ish mood plummets again.

“Oh, I see,” he whispers.

They have a weekly thing, where they go for a run first before they watch a movie and if Jiang Cheng is being honest, then he has to admit that it’s the highlight of his week. 

And he was looking forward to it, especially today.

“I’m really sorry,” Nie Mingjue tells him. “Some more deliveries at work came up, and I’ll have to make a special route after work to get it all done.”

“I understand,” Jiang Cheng says, because he does.

Nie Mingjue is one of the most hard-working people he knows and sometimes it just can’t be helped.

Jiang Cheng knows that very well, seeing as he himself is prone to working long past official office hours. Usually it’s Nie Mingjue to tell him to relax then, and so Jiang Cheng can’t help but to fall into the same role.

Even though he’s a lot gruffer about it than Nie Mingjue usually is.

“Just see to it that you don’t overwork yourself,” he grumbles out and is met with a light chuckle.

“I knew you cared,” Nie Mingjue teasingly says and Jiang Cheng scoffs.

“Dream on,” Jiang Cheng says immediately. “It’s just that if you overwork yourself, I don’t have a running buddy anymore, and what am I gonna do then.”

“You also won’t have a movie buddy anymore,” Nie Mingjue says and Jiang Cheng has to admit that he’s right.

Not having a movie buddy might just be worse than not having a running buddy. Jiang Cheng is used to running on his own, and he will be fine if he has to do it again, but going back to watching movies on his own after having Nie Mingjue’s company for so long now, that would be considerably worse.

“So just take care of yourself,” Jiang Cheng snaps, completely on the defence as he realizes that Nie Mingjue knows him maybe a little bit too well and Nie Mingjue chuckles.

“I will give it my best. Same time next week, though?” he asks and Jiang Cheng nods before he can think twice about it.

“Of course,” he grumbles, because when did they ever not meet and he feels insulted that Nie Mingjue even has to ask.

“Thought so,” Nie Mingjue says with a chuckle. “Have a good week.”

“You, too,” Jiang Cheng manages to get out before Nie Mingjue hangs up on him.

They don’t usually text much during the week, apart from their regular confirmation that they are in fact still on for their running and movie meeting and Jiang Cheng is kind of glad about it.

He doesn’t know if he could survive being in constant contact with Nie Mingjue like that; running with him once a week and being overly aware of the fact that Nie Mingjue will be naked in the shower and then having to sit close to him on the couch is already enough of a strain on Jiang Cheng’s already fraying self-control.

When Jiang Cheng puts down the phone he lets out a deep sigh. He can’t say that he’s too sad about cancelling today, if he’s being honest. Work today has been shit so far and while he was looking forward to running and getting his aggressions out that way, he would much rather put on his sleeping clothes and curl up under a blanket to mindlessly watch a show or something instead of watching a whole movie.

And now he can do just that when he comes home.

It’s the only thought that gets him through the rest of the day if Jiang Cheng is being honest and when he finally makes his way home he feels weary and tired to the bone.

He still manages to drag himself under the shower but the tension only starts to seep out of his shoulders when he puts on his sleeping clothes—a frayed t-shirt and baggy sweatpants—and he curls up on the couch.

There’s a tiny part of himself that wishes Nie Mingjue were here right now, if only so Jiang Cheng doesn’t give into his self-pity for today, but if Nie Mingjue were here, he wouldn’t get to curl up like this, and he sure as hell wouldn’t be in his sleeping clothes yet, so Jiang Cheng is rather torn on the issue.

He can at least admit that his day seems off somehow, now that Nie Mingjue is not going to come over, but instead of dwelling too much on that, Jiang Cheng gets up to get some ice cream for himself.

It’s one of those days, and he intends to wallow in it.

Jiang Cheng just stuffed his mouth full of ice cream when someone knocks on his door.

Jiang Cheng freezes, totally caught off guard, and he has half a mind to simply pretend that he’s not home, when it knocks again. And again and again.

Jiang Cheng groans as he peels himself out of his blanket, looking mournfully at his ice cream before he puts it down on the table and then he makes his way over to the door. 

“Cut it out already,” he seethes as he yanks open the door—already angry at whoever it is on the other side—only to freeze when he comes face to face with Nie Mingjue.

Nie Mingjue musters his face, before he very deliberately lets his eyes wander up and down Jiang Cheng’s form and Jiang Cheng would love nothing more than to disappear right that moment.

“I see you started without me,” Nie Mingjue says with a smile and Jiang Cheng fights the stupid urge to hide behind something and instead plasters a frown to his face. “And you’re cranky.”

“You said you couldn’t make it,” he snaps out, completely caught off guard and Nie Mingjue shrugs.

“Zonghui thinks I’m doing too much and I shouldn’t sacrifice one of the few evenings a month I take for myself so he took all the deliveries and told me to go home.”

“How nice of him,” Jiang Cheng hears himself say—because it is really nice of Nie Zonghui to do that—but he cannot deal with the fact that Nie Mingjue sees him in his ratty clothes.

Jiang Cheng is so much less put together than he likes to be; he’s wearing his oldest clothes, his hair is a half dried mess, and with Jiang Cheng’s luck there’s a chocolate smear on his cheek from the ice cream, he just knows it.

“Wait,” Jiang Cheng blurts out when Nie Mingjue’s words finally make it into his brain. “You decide to spend your evenings off with me,” he whispers out, suddenly horrified at himself that he takes up so much of Nie Mingjue’s time.

“Yes?” Nie Mingjue asks, clearly unsure what has Jiang Cheng in such a panic.

“You should do something you want on those evenings!”

“I am,” Nie Mingjue immediately gives back and there’s so little hesitation in his voice that Jiang Cheng has no other choice but to believe him. “I want to spend them with you. Always,” Nie Mingjue tacks on rather awkwardly and Jiang Cheng goes bright red in the face, he can feel it burning.

“What do you want?” Nie Mingjue asks after a long moment in which Jiang Cheng can do nothing but stare at him.

“For this evening?” Jiang Cheng asks, because he can’t think clearly and surely Nie Mingjue isn’t implying what Jiang Cheng thinks he’s implying because that would mean he chooses very deliberately to see Jiang Cheng once a week even though he doesn’t have much time otherwise.

A very hysterical part of Jiang Cheng points out that maybe he should have thought about that earlier, but Jiang Cheng is in too much panic to listen to it.

“In general,” Nie Mingjue says with a shrug and Jiang Cheng blinks at him.

“For you to not judge me for this,” he finally says with a vague hand gesture at all of himself, because Jiang Cheng knows for a fact that even on the weekends Nie Mingjue takes off he is definitely more put together than Jiang Cheng is in that moment.

“I would never,” Nie Mingjue immediately tells him and then smiles at him, which makes Jiang Cheng’s pulse skyrocket. “I actually find it rather adorable,” Nie Mingjue then says mischievously and Jiang Cheng feels like his brain is shutting down.

“Shut up,” he weakly says but Nie Mingjue doesn’t seem particularly fazed by that.

“I don’t think I will, actually,” Nie Mingjue says. “It makes you look very soft.”

Jiang Cheng blinks at him a few times because Nie Mingjue’s words don’t make any sense. There is no way in hell Nie Mingjue has any other feelings for him than some misplaced older brother protectiveness, Jiang Cheng is sure of that.

At least he had been until now.

“What do you want?” he asks again, though his voice comes out weak and breathy and Nie Mingjue’s face goes very soft.

Nie Mingjue reaches out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind Jiang Cheng’s ear and when Nie Mingjue cups Jiang Cheng’s face in his big palm a shudder runs down Jiang Cheng’s back.

“I want to make you understand how loved you are,” Nie Mingjue whispers, matching his tone to Jiang Cheng’s and that does nothing to explain to Jiang Cheng just what he means with that. “If you would let me,” Nie Mingjue tacks on when Jiang Cheng stands frozen like a statue and then he exerts the faintest of pressure on Jiang Cheng’s cheek; just enough to pull him a little bit forwards.

Jiang Cheng is helpless to stop the movement, and he’s very sure he doesn’t actually want to stop anything that is happening right now and so he allows Nie Mingjue to guide him further and further towards Nie Mingjue’s broad chest.

“Will you let me?” Nie Mingjue asks, his breath ghosting over Jiang Cheng’s lips and Jiang Cheng isn’t sure he could find his voice if his life depended on it, so he simply leans forwards and closes the last tiny bit of distance between them.

Jiang Cheng isn’t sure if he ever had a more perfect first kiss, but he guesses the answer to that is no. His eyes drifted shut on their own accord and his hands find a place at the front of Nie Mingjue’s shirt, urging him closer.

Nie Mingjue keeps his one hand on Jiang Cheng’s cheek, but the other one migrates to the small of Jiang Cheng’s back and it’s so hot and so comfortingly heavy that Jiang Cheng has to bite back a groan at that.

“I can’t believe you just made us do that in the doorway,” Jiang Cheng complaints when they finally part, because he’s stupid and his brain doesn’t work right, but Nie Mingjue only chuckles.

Jiang Cheng can feel it in his own chest, they are standing so close, and he thinks he might never want to move ever again.

“You wouldn’t invite me in. I had to make do with what I had,” Nie Mingjue easily gives back and then presses another fleeting kiss to the corner of Jiang Cheng’s mouth. “But I wouldn’t complain if you were to invite me in.”

“Of course you’re going to come in,” Jiang Cheng bites out and uses his hands which are still fisted into the front of Nie Mingjue’s shirt to pull him inside the apartment.

Once the door is closed behind them some nerves creep back in and Jiang Cheng awkwardly disentangles his hands from Nie Mingjue’s shirt.

“What do you want now?” Jiang Cheng asks and curses himself when he realizes that it came out completely wrong. He wanted to ask what Nie Mingjue wanted to do now, but not this.

“Are you saying you’re feeling loved yet?” Nie Mingjue says questioningly as he tilts his head in the single most adorable movement Jiang Cheng has ever seen.

“Not sure, actually,” Jiang Cheng shoots back, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Again, Nie Mingjue’s face goes very soft and he tucks Jiang Cheng closer with a hand on his hip.

“I love you,” Nie Mingjue breathes out, peppering Jiang Cheng’s face with soft, fleeting butterfly kisses. “I love you very much,” he makes his point with a more passionate kiss this time and Jiang Cheng hums into it.

“I see,” he mutters, their lips still brushing against each other. “I feel loved,” Jiang Cheng then decides with a small nod. “And I love you, too,” he then says, because he didn’t yet and Nie Mingjue needs to know that.

“So I can move on to something else then,” Nie Mingjue muses and noses Jiang Cheng’s cheek, which totally doesn’t make Jiang Cheng’s knees go weak.

“Do you want anything else?” Jiang Cheng asks confidently, though he’s keeping upright more by clutching at Nie Mingjue’s shoulders than anything else.

“I want to make you happy,” Nie Mingjue says after a moment of deliberation and Jiang Cheng immediately shakes his head.

“You’ll have to pick something else,” he tells Nie Mingjue who frowns at him, clearly unhappy with Jiang Cheng’s answer.

Jiang Cheng huffs out a little laugh and cups Nie Mingjue’s cheek in his hand.

“You already make me very happy,” he then tells him and watches as Nie Mingjue’s face lights up with his smile.

“I see,” Nie Mingjue mutters. “Then I want to keep you happy,” he immediately decides and Jiang Cheng swears he’s just doing that to kill him.

This is way too adorable.

“Stop that,” Jiang Cheng complaints, though it’s half-hearted at best and Nie Mingjue seems to know it too, because he doesn’t seem inclined to follow Jiang Cheng’s words.

“What do you want?” Nie Mingjue eventually asks him, and Jiang Cheng has to take a moment to find his words again.

“I want to continue this on the couch,” he finally decides and Nie Mingjue lets out a loud and happy laugh.

“Anything to keep you happy,” he decides and simply picks Jiang Cheng up, before he carries him over to the living-room.

Jiang Cheng yelps when his feet leave the ground, but Nie Mingjue’s grip on him is sure and strong and so instead of struggling Jiang Cheng slings his arms around Nie Mingjue’s shoulders and simply holds on.

It’s not long before Nie Mingjue sits down on the couch, Jiang Cheng now firmly in his lap and Jiang Cheng immediately leans up to get back to kissing. Nie Mingjue is quick to indulge him and Jiang Cheng already knows that this will be one of his favourite things to do.

By the time they remember the ice cream on the table it has long turned into soup, and so they refreeze it on their way to the bedroom.

It is still tasty when they have it for breakfast the next morning.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

[blacksunscorpio]

Hi, hope you’re well! I was wondering about the hidden enemies aspect of the twelfth house. Does hidden mean the types of people (people with influence of the sign in your 12h) you are unaware are antagonizing you or is it that those characteristics in someone throw you off but you can’t really put your finger on why? Can these people believe that they are helping you but really they’re holding you back in some way? Can the hidden aspect go both ways? Why does 12h synestry have this effect? I have cancer on the 12h cusp and I’ve never really been able to develop any meaningful relationships with any (cancers) that I’ve met though I’ve been trying to emulate characteristics of this sign (12h as repressed tendencies). Note: I unfortunately have no water placements to help me out what so ever lol. Thanks for your help, your blog is absolute gold ✨✨✨

12th House and Hidden Enemies

Since the 12th house is ruled by Neptune, this is the place in our chart where things can be difficult to ascertain. Things are murky and veiled here. Not only can you be unaware of where people are causing trouble for you but there can also be a weird “vibe” that something is not right with something or someone but one may not be readily able to make it out. In the natal chart, synastry, or composite this can display itself as mentioned above. Things can get triggered here in ways you are not altogether comfortable with. And of course, because like the 8th house, things can be deeply buried or repressed. For more insight lets look further:

Aries/Mars in the 12th

Hidden or unconscious foes can often attack a native’s go sense of self. This is because Aries/Mars rules the 1st house of self. “I AM”. Often a native with this placement may wind up feeling victimized without being able to put their finger on the source if said feeling. An astrologer/native will want to observe one’s Mars placement and the contacts it is making to other planets in the natal horoscope or in synastry/composite [Mid-point or Davison]. Ex: Mars in the 1st can indicate conflict to the self. Mars in the 7th can indicate complexity with enemies being close relationships. One can have issues with authority figures or those in leadership. Hidden enemies can be competitors or they may feel anyone who triggers these planets is a rival they need to “beat”. People who trigger “lust” or “Sexual urges” in a native may be perceived as a nemesis. In addition, rivals/enemies might display aggression, antagonism, self-serving habits, and impulsivity. Watch out for those who display toxicity in the form of domination or those who overall try to silence or step on your drive. These people can be ruthless, cruel, “bullies” or simply those who charge in a shoot first/ask questions later. 

Taurus/Venus in the 12th 

Enemies are involved with 2nd house realm of “possessions”. Things we get territorial over. This includes finances and things we appreciate. Enemies may accuse the native of stealing/taking something precious from them. Things they value. Be on guard for those who encourage over-indulgence, general excess, and materialism. Someone who once wore the mask of a friend may turn foe due to being envious of the things a native owns. The things a native has or their wealth. Venusian placements can indicate the type of relationship a native has with their enemy. Ex: Venus in the 4th may indicate secretly toxic family members. Venus in the 11th= friends or those in their general social network. Venus in the 5th, casual lovers, etc. Fixed tendencies or feelings can exist in the underlying relationship between secret enemies. Be on the lookout for undoing in the physical/material realm. This includes thievery, hoarding, over-spending, or living beyond practical means.  Undoing can come from going after comfort and security in toxic or co-dependent ways. Lovers or those who provide wealth and security may become enemies by withholding it from a native or trying to gain control over it behind the native’s back.

Gemini/Mercury in the 12th 

Secret enemies can come in many forms. Generally, this will be in the realm of communication, ideals, or intellect. The interactions may be formidable and stem from communicative interactions or opposing views. A  secret enemy will often challenge the native’s wits or will simply strive to appear more intelligent than them. Superficiality, fakeness, disingenuousness, and two-faced behavior are common threads. Undoing can display itself as blockages to learning, gaining insights, and general discouragement of focus that can make the native grow. An enemy will, in layman’s terms, try to make you look stupid. Insult your mind. Make you lose focus. Mercury aspects and placements can reveal more. Ex: Mercury in the 11th can indicate surface level bonds with peers and communication that is not honest. Friends may lie. Mercury in the 9th possibly indicating enemies who may try to manipulate beliefs or manipulation in regard to teaching and religion. Secret enemies will reveal themselves in their communication methods with the natives. Through dialogue. Enemies here can use sarcasm, cowardly subs, insults veiled through “back-handed compliments”, passive aggression, insult you subliminally so you don’t realize you were attacked or insulted until after-the-fact. Slander, libel, or general shit talking. Think of Regina George:  “OMG I love your skirt!” only to turn around and say “That is the fugliest effing skirt I’ve ever seen”.  with the 3rd house involved, siblings and extended family could be culprits or part of the problem.  A toxic person may try to attack your intellectual confidence. Unethical approaches involved with words and general attacks of the mind. These people may intentionally cause confusion or gaslighting. Watch out for people you perceive to be liars. Therein lies the foe.

Cancer/Moon in the 12th

Veiled Nemesis’ are often difficult to feel. Things will be subtle. Their tactics or vibes will often display themselves in the form of manipulation, passive aggression, or a general “toying with the feelings”. Since the moon/Cancer often represents the “mother”, toxicity from a parent or child may be an issue or the culprit. A native will often feel their sense of security or safety being “attacked”. Enemies will attach their healing methods and/or emotional confidence. The placement of the Moon can indicate where emotional damage typically goes on. Ex: Moon in the 10th can indicate attacks to the public person or prestige or even the career. Coddling, not being able to let go, clinginess and overprotection are general themes. Perhaps a parent or guardian, lover, or close friend is incessantly over-protective that it causes a stunt to general emotional and mental growth. Again, it may be hard to see since it is the moon that can be a mysterious place as is the 12th house. The channel that one discovers said enemy will typically be through intuition and even dreams. Remember, through said over-protection and general fear of letting go can lead to the native’s undoing. We often see the toxic side of femininity with this placement. Mom, Grandma, sister, great grandmother, etc can be involved in the problem here. Child-abuse, using the child as a pawn during custody battles, emotional manipulation in order to get what the enemy wants can be what causes the nemesis theme. A hidden enemy may cloak themselves as “just wanting the best for you” or “I do it because I love you and care.” The enemy may not be able to let go.

Leo/Sun in the 12th

Foes will strive to exert their and dominance over a native. This will display itself as the spirit of competitiveness, bullying, domination, bossiness, arrogance, etc. Think leonine traits at their worst. Leo in the 12th will do this behind the scenes with power plays. How they can lord things over a native. The father could be a culprit in this or the father could be part of the issue. Daddy issue [regardless of sex]. Internalized misogyny. The Sun’s placement can reveal more. Sun in the 3rd will try to influence the mind or dominate the intellect. Sun in the 6th indicates a coworker or boss or one may feel/be overshadowed at work. The battle will always be involved with the core ego or one’s sense of self. A hidden enemy will try to greatly influence this person in this realm. A hidden nemesis will try to act like the dominant parental figure or act as if they are giving good sage-like guidance or person. They will try to act like the authority figure. This person will drain the native’s energy stores. The definition of an energy vampire. Why? because even as humans, we get our energy from the Sun. We are heliocentric. One can often feel drained energetically after dealing with such an individual. This will reveal to you “who” the enemy is. In addition, we can see more themes of toxic masculinity here just like Mars in the 12th. Moreover, the enemy may not be another person but the own native’s hubris. They need to take care not to allow their ego to run roughshod over them. Pride comes before the fall.

Virgo/Mercury in the 12th 

Secret enemies with this placement will often reveal themselves by criticism. More specifically, criticism about things a native is very insecure about. The critiquing will be neither healthy nor remotely helpful. It will scar instead fo heal. Hidden foes will wear the mask of the “caretaker” or “healer”.  Their behavior will simply be a means to an end. The native will often find themselves internalizing the criticism which is exactly what their enemy wants. The words the foe spouts will be sort of like Simon Cowell’s analytical stance. Harsh but not in a way that builds. One may often find the enemy saying things like “that’s just my opinion.” they will veil it under the mask of “honesty” when in reality it is just shit-talking for shit-talking’s sake. These people don’t really care, they just like to take people down a peg. Be on the lookout for those who display “Munchhausen by proxy syndrome” towards you. The caregiver who secretly injures by tries to gaslight and cover it up under the guise of “love”.

Libra/Venus in the 12th 

Like Taurus in the 12th, similar issues will display themselves through relationships. The ones closest to us. Your hidden foes may hide under the mask of “friend”. They are nearer than you are probably comfortable with. Look for those who are near and dear. Now, will all your teammates, family ties or friends be enemies? No. But you’ll want to be careful who you let into your circle with said placement. Best friends turn to enemies. The ones who hate on you when something good happens. The friends who link with you through trauma bonds but when you successfully break that tie, they are angry at every “win” you have. These people will be the ones who don’t clap when you win. The people who say they are “there for you” but stab you in the back.  They’ll secretly compete with you. Those who thrive and gloat when you are down and out. Enemies in this house will threaten your harmony and balance somehow. They will not respond well to diplomacy or will mask their ill-intent through the mask of “sweetness” and “Friendliness”. You’ll feel a shallow vibe from them. They’ll say one thing but their energy screams something else. Friends who are fair weather. Those who take advantage of a native’s attachment, or infatuation. A lover who ghosts or tries to make you co-dependent on them. An enemy or toxic person may actually lust or secretly desire you but manipulate you into thinking you are the one obsessed with them. There will be subtle mind games. They will enjoy toying with you. Delayed gratification or just manipulation. Think 5 of swords and 3 of cups paired.

Scorpio/Pluto in the 12th 

Paranoia resides here. Hidden foes will be quite underhanded and manipulative. Secrecy is seriously involved. People with this placement live by the mantra “expect anything from anyone, the devil was once an angel”. Betrayal, possessiveness, control and power themes, vengeance, and guilt are involved with enemies. Anyone who triggers these themes recurringly may be individuals to keep your distance from. People who trigger self-destructive tendencies are enemies to look out for. Moreover, a native can feel like they are their own worst enemy. Remember, a Scorpion is prone to stinging themselves. Enemies here are prone to trying to turn the native against themselves. This toxic behavior will be intentional. Toxicity will display itself through trauma bonds, possessiveness, gaslighting, manipulation, envy, or just general attempts at control and domination. Remember, the general theme here is “power and transformation.” Enemies are often those who boast a considerable amount of power [over the native or those who are powerful in general]. The danger in this placement? A native may feel a strong magnetic pull or obsessive fascination towards the enemy. This can appear in the natal, synastry, or composite chart. Watch out for the lover who seems to have a hold on you but you don’t know how or can’t seem to break it. They know what they're doing *sucks teeth*. Secret enemies desire to manipulate you or play the ventriloquist. Their goal is to see you be your own downfall. They’ll wade in the shadows, pouring gasoline on the fire of the flames of your self-destruction. Watch out for those who smirk while you’re going through a hard time. Or those who encourage you to do things you inwardly know aren’t good for you. Be on the look out for power-hungry individuals. Those who NEED to be worshipped. The types to lead “cult-like” followings and draw you in. This can often be displayed through seduction.

Sagittarius/Jupiter in the 12th

Hidden enemies/foes will be very fanatical and zealous. Enemies here lie in the realm of philosophies, teaching, higher learning, or religious beliefs. These enemies will be toxic gamblers. People who enable you or encourage self-indulgence, promiscuity, and general recklessness. They won’t ever warn you or ask you to heed caution. Ever. They’ll mislead you, tell you half-truths, or cherry-pick facts and figures to suit their own needs. They’ll make you think you’re getting the full picture but you won’t be. They’ll teach harmful beliefs, things that destroy faith in what is tangible or real. Make shit up to suit their own propaganda. It’s very similar to Neptune since both Jupiter and Neptune rule the spiritual. What they teach you may make you feel bogged down. They’ll use beliefs and doctrine to control. Their passion and zeal may make you feel as if what they are spouting is the end-all-be-all but it tends to be the opposite. Gloating and one-upmanship are themes as well. These hidden enemies will reveal themselves by questioning your beliefs or forcing you to believe theirs or causing dramatic scenes when you don’t conform or question theirs.  The nemesis might be a professor, guru, preacher, priest/priestess, or political leader. They’ll be exaggerators, quite preachy, and cloak their arrogance under another mask. Often it will be “confidence” but ultimately it’s bravado or self-absorption. They’ll be charismatic, yes, but they’ll attack your aspirations, idealism, talents, and dreams or simply try to tell you they’re not there or tell you you don’t really know yourself- they do. They’ll tell you they “know you better than you know yourself”.  Again the theme is “beliefs”. They will dissuade you from forming any thought process that doesn’t align with their own. They won’t encourage you to learn for yourself, cross reference, cite your own sources, or guide you to thinking for yourself. It will always have to be in the confines of what THEY believe for it to be seen as “appropriate”.

Capricorn/Saturn in the 12th

Hidden enemies or foes will often be a threat to growth. They’ll be restrictive. Threaten a native’s ambitions, reputation, prestige, groundedness/security. They may present themselves or even be authority figures. Power games are seen here. Guilt, repression, feelings of guilt, and/or general suppression of self-expression and drive. These individuals will be calculated. Very chess-like. Wealth or the legacy of a native and their possessions will be threatened or at risk when one has this placement. The enemy will display an austere persona. Could even be the father, grandfather, great grandfather, etc. Masculinity is involved here. Disappointment and criticism are extreme themes they’ll subject you to. This is how you’ll figure out who they are. They’ll be cold, want control, or be controlling. EXTREMELY negative. They’ll also be greedy or attempt to hold a native back from success, prosperity, or independence. Maturity will be inhibited. Opportunities thwarted. But they’ll mask it all under “wanting the best for you.”  The enemy could even be an individual's lack of exploration or their own self-repression. They could cause themselves to be too hard on themselves which could lead them into self-imposed depression. They must learn to be free. LIVE.

Aquarius/Uranus in the 12th

Hidden foes and/or enemies can be erratic. They’ll operate in a very unpredictable manner.  Their behavior will be exciting so it may be hard to recognize it at first. They may appear out of the blue. The nemesis might attack a native’s individuality and freedom. They may cause chaos and disruptions in your life. The enemy may not respect your individuality or differences and/or freedom. They’ll disapprove of the unique way of life your lead. [Look at Saturn as well as Uranus]. Your freedom will always be a threat to theirs and vice versa. Look out for those who seem “out there” and who try to coax you into avant-garde ways of doing things. It may not always be in your best interest. You could wind up with sudden breaks, accidents, unpredictable events because of them. They may cause disruptions to your security or cause so much confusion they can cause severe damage to your psyche [Uranus can also rule intelligence and mental dealings]. They’ll be recognizable as the “rebels”. They may not always be the types to intentionally wish you harm but may lead you to it. They’ll be, eccentrics, or anarchists and can lead you astray. Their agenda is to be agents of chaos. Think of the Joker from the Dark Knight. “Do I really look like a guy with a plan?” It will be hard to see. You may even be enthralled. Again this is the 12th house. Lots of instability here. The enemy could even be the individual's need for rebellion which can cause them to get themselves into trouble because they don’t see the threat or danger involved or they simply don’t care.

Pisces/Neptune in the 12th

Hidden foes may have may connections to karma. The feelings will be extremely felt through intuition and psychic insights. You’ll feel them but not really know where they’re coming from. Often there will be a “Nessus/Dejanira” theme going on. The victim and abuser. Often, the native will be the abused.  Strong Manipulation. The enemy will make you drink the “Kool-aid”. Their abuse often stems from their own hurt and trauma. They’ll claim they want to heal you or help you. Their “aid” will be cloaked under sympathy and love. Often it is an illusion. In reality, they’re wanting something. Being used can often be a theme. Themes of addiction or drug abuse can live here, too. Think of Bobby and Whitney or even Syd and Nancy. Enabling addictions are very prevalent. Now the enemy may not even be a person but addictions themselves can be the undoing or downfall. One with this placement must be careful in indulging in mind-altering substances. Alcoholism can be an issue as well. If it is an actual individual, the foe can play the martyr or cause you to sacrifice something precious to you. They can play off your insecurities or weakness and keep you emotionally dependent. They can toxic to your spirituality or try to influence your spirituality as well.