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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 10 months

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Joe Heller

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LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

July 17, 2023

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

JUL 18, 2023

A story in the New York Times today by Jonathan Swan, Charlie Savage, and Maggie Haberman outlined how former president Donald Trump and his allies are planning to create a dictatorship if voters return him to power in 2024. The article talks about how Trump and his loyalists plan to “centralize more power in the Oval Office” by “increasing the president’s authority over every part of the federal government that now operates, by either law or tradition, with any measure of independence from political interference by the White House.”

They plan to take control over independent government agencies and get rid of the nonpartisan civil service, purging all but Trump loyalists from the U.S. intelligence agencies, the State Department, and the Defense Department. They plan to start “impounding funds,” that is, ignoring programs Congress has funded if those programs aren’t in line with Trump’s policies.

“What we’re trying to do is identify the pockets of independence and seize them,” said Russell T. Vought, who ran Trump’s Office of Management and Budget and who now advises the right-wing House Freedom Caucus. They envision a “president” who cannot be checked by the Congress or the courts.

Trump’s desire to grab the mechanics of our government and become a dictator is not new; both scholars and journalists have called it out since the early years of his administration. What is new here is the willingness of so-called establishment Republicans to support this authoritarian power grab.

Behind this initiative is “Project 2025,” a coalition of more than 65 right-wing organizations putting in place personnel and policies to recommend not just to Trump, but to any Republican who may win in 2024. Project 2025 is led by the Heritage Foundation, once considered a conservative think tank, that helped to lead the Reagan revolution.

A piece by Alexander Bolton in The Hill today said that Republican senators are “worried” by the MAGAs, but they have been notably silent in public at a time when every elected leader should be speaking out against this plot. Their silence suggests they are on board with it, as Trump apparently hoped to establish.

The party appears to have fully embraced the antidemocratic ideology advanced by authoritarian leaders like Russia’s president Vladimir Putin and Hungary’s prime minister Viktor Orbán, who argue that the post–World War II era, in which democracy seemed to triumph, is over. They claim that the tenets of democracy—equality before the law, free speech, academic freedom, a market-based economy, immigration, and so on—weaken a nation by destroying a “traditional” society based in patriarchy and Christianity.

Instead of democracy, they have called for “illiberal” or “Christian” democracy, which uses the government to enforce their beliefs in a Christian, patriarchal order. What that looks like has a clear blueprint in the actions of Florida governor Ron DeSantis, who has gathered extraordinary power into his own hands in the state and used that power to mirror Orbán’s destruction of democracy.

DeSantis has pushed through laws that ban abortion after six weeks, before most people know they’re pregnant; banned classroom instruction on sexual orientation and gender identity (the “Don’t Say Gay” law); prevented recognition of transgender individuals; made it easier to sentence someone to death; allowed people to carry guns without training or permits; banned colleges and businesses from conversations about race; exerted control over state universities; made it harder for his opponents to vote, and tried to punish Disney World for speaking out against the Don’t Say Gay law. After rounding up migrants and sending them to other states, DeSantis recently has called for using “deadly force” on migrants crossing unlawfully.

Because all the institutions of our democracy are designed to support the tenets of democracy, right-wingers claim those institutions are weaponized against them. House Republicans are running hearings designed to prove that the Federal Bureau of Investigation and the Department of Justice are both “weaponized” against Republicans. It doesn’t matter that they don’t seem to have any evidence of bias: the very fact that those institutions support democracy mean they support a system that right-wing Republicans see as hostile.

“Our current executive branch,” Trump loyalist John McEntee, who is in charge of planning to pack the government with Trump loyalists, told the New York Times reporters, “was conceived of by liberals for the purpose of promulgating liberal policies. There is no way to make the existing structure function in a conservative manner. It’s not enough to get the personnel right. What’s necessary is a complete system overhaul.”

It has taken decades for the modern-day Republican Party to get to a place where it rejects democracy. The roots of that rejection lie all the way back in the 1930s, when Democrats under Franklin Delano Roosevelt embraced a government that regulated business, provided a basic social safety net, and promoted infrastructure. That system ushered in a period from 1933 to 1981 that economists call the “Great Compression,” when disparities of income and wealth were significantly reduced, especially after the government also began to protect civil rights.

Members of both parties embraced this modern government in this period, and Americans still like what it accomplished. But businessmen who hated regulation joined with racists who hated federal protection of civil rights and traditionalists who opposed women’s rights and set out to destroy that government.

In West Palm Beach, Florida, last weekend, at the Turning Points Action Conference, Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene (R-GA) compared President Biden’s Build Back Better plan to President Lyndon Baines Johnson’s Great Society programs, which invested in “education, medical care, urban problems, rural poverty, transportation, Medicare, Medicaid, food stamps, and welfare, the Office of Economic Opportunity, and big labor and labor unions.” She noted that under Biden, the U.S. has made “the largest public investment in social infrastructure and environmental programs, that is actually finishing what FDR started, that LBJ expanded on, and Joe Biden is attempting to complete.”

Well, yeah.

Greene incorrectly called this program “socialism,” which in fact means government ownership of production, as opposed to the government’s provision of benefits people cannot provide individually, a concept first put into practice in the United States by Abraham Lincoln and later expanded by leadership in both parties. The administration has stood firmly behind the idea—shared by LBJ and FDR, and also by Republicans Lincoln, Theodore Roosevelt, and Dwight Eisenhower, among others—that investing in programs that enable working people to prosper is the best way to strengthen the economy.

Certainly, Greene’s speech didn’t seem to be the “gotcha” that she apparently hoped. A March 2023 poll by independent health policy pollster KFF, for example, found that 80% of Americans like Social Security, 81% like Medicare, and 76% like Medicaid, a large majority of members of all political parties.

The White House Twitter account retweeted a clip of Greene’s speech, writing: “Caught us. President Biden is working to make life easier for hardworking families.”

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LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

#heather cox richardson #letters from an american #Right Wing Think Tanks #MAGA #The Federalist Society #The Heritage Foundation #Jonathan Swan #Charlie Savage #Maggie Haberman #NYTimes #Election 2024 #fascism #democracy

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arlengrossman · 10 months

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Trump and Allies Forge Plans to Increase Presidential Power in 2025

The former president and his backers aim to strengthen the power of the White House and limit the independence of federal agencies. By Jonathan Swan, Charlie Savage and Maggie Haberman/ New York Times/ July 17, 2023 Donald J. Trump and his allies are planning a sweeping expansion of presidential power over the machinery of government if voters return him to the White House in 2025, reshaping…

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#Charlie Savage #Federal Reserve #Heritage Foundation #John McEntee #Jonathan Swan #Justice Department #Maggie Haberman #New York Daily News #Russell T. Vought

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tiktoksinspo · 2 years

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#omg #perfect #iconic #swan princess #funny #comedy #I love this #idiot #oh no #jesus christ #savage #tiktok #@lil_piece_of_my_world

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spainscrownprinceofchaos · 2 years

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“Yeah… Rothbart’s make up can be pretty spooky sometimes.”

#snk joker #joker #savage reign #kizuna encounter #not the batman joker #neogeo #ballet #joker things #snk #swan princess #rothbart #swan lake

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contemplatingoutlander · 4 months

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That the Editorial Board of the premier U.S. newspaper of record is finally warning about Donald Trump is significant. As such, this is a gift 🎁 link so that those who want to read the entire editorial can do so, even if they don't subscribe to The New York Times. Below are some excerpts:

As president, [Trump] wielded power carelessly and often cruelly and put his ego and his personal needs above the interests of his country. Now, as he campaigns again, his worst impulses remain as strong as ever — encouraging violence and lawlessness, exploiting fear and hate for political gain, undermining the rule of law and the Constitution, applauding dictators — and are escalating as he tries to regain power. He plots retribution, intent on eluding the institutional, legal and bureaucratic restraints that put limits on him in his first term. Our purpose at the start of the new year, therefore, is to sound a warning. Mr. Trump does not offer voters anything resembling a normal option of Republican or Democrat, conservative or liberal, big government or small. He confronts America with a far more fateful choice: between the continuance of the United States as a nation dedicated to “the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity” and a man who has proudly shown open disdain for the law and the protections and ideals of the Constitution. [...] It is instructive in the aftermath of that administration to listen to the judgments of some of these officials on the president they served. John Kelly, a chief of staff to Mr. Trump, called him the “most flawed person I’ve ever met,” someone who could not understand why Americans admired those who sacrificed their lives in combat. Bill Barr, who served as attorney general, and Mark Esper, a former defense secretary, both said Mr. Trump repeatedly put his own interests over those of the country. Even the most loyal and conservative of them all, Vice President Mike Pence, who made the stand that helped provoke Mr. Trump and his followers to insurrection on Jan. 6, 2021, saw through the man: “On that day, President Trump also demanded that I choose between him and the Constitution,” he said.

[See more under the cut.]

There will not be people like these in the White House should Mr. Trump be re-elected. The former president has no interest in being restrained, and he has surrounded himself with people who want to institutionalize the MAGA doctrine. According to reporting by the Times reporters Maggie Haberman, Charlie Savage and Jonathan Swan, Mr. Trump and his ideological allies have been planning for a second Trump term for many months already. Under the name Project 2025, one coalition of right-wing organizations has produced a thick handbook and recruited thousands of potential appointees in preparation for an all-out assault on the structures of American government and the democratic institutions that acted as checks on Mr. Trump’s power. [...] Mr. Trump has made clear his conviction that only “losers” accept legal, institutional or even constitutional constraints. He has promised vengeance against his political opponents, whom he has called “vermin” and threatened with execution. This is particularly disturbing at a time of heightened concern about political violence, with threats increasing against elected officials of both parties. He has repeatedly demonstrated a deep disdain for the First Amendment and the basic principles of democracy, chief among them the right to freely express peaceful dissent from those in power without fear of retaliation, and he has made no secret of his readiness to expand the powers of the presidency, including the deployment of the military and the Justice Department, to have his way. [...] Re-electing Mr. Trump would present serious dangers to our Republic and to the world. This is a time not to sit out but instead to re-engage. We appeal to Americans to set aside their political differences, grievances and party affiliations and to contemplate — as families, as parishes, as councils and clubs and as individuals — the real magnitude of the choice they will make in November.

I encourage people to use the above gift link and read the entire article.

[edited]

#donald trump #warning #2024 election #editorial board #the new york times #gift link

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morgana-ren · 7 months

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On the subject of cheating…. How do you think Astarion would react to a dark urges Tav who doesn’t show any disapproval towards him for infidelity but does try to brutally murder all of his other flings

I can’t reconcile if he would be upset about them having too much agency in this situation and stop it or just into Tav being possessive of him in the way he’s possessive of them

He wakes to the pleasant and unmistakable tang of blood.

It's not uncommon for Astarion to greet the morning steeped in the sweet, saccharine scent of blood. Not at all. In fact, it's most welcome upon first waking, ranking among a deep, rich brandy and defiled silk sheets for his favorites. A metallic bouquet of a lovely, robust breakfast just begging to be supped on, just for him. If you were to ask him, there's truly nothing finer in the world.

An indulgent inhale has him sitting up, slipping a lazy hand through his hair and tongue running over his fangs as his mouth waters. The pit of hunger gnawing at his gut isn't quite so terrible as it used to be when he was but a filthy spawn, but he wouldn't ever deny himself the decadence of breakfast served up to him in bed.

The source of the delectable scent lies flopped over on the opposite side of the mattress, and he glances over with sleepy, hazy eyes to admire the sight. Her long, silky hair splays raggedly over her face, one of her arms limply hanging off the edge in what cannot be a comfortable position. The sheet haphazardly wrapped around her only scantly covers her rear, and by proxy, the sloppy mess he'd made between her thighs a few hours prior.

Clearly, he'd worn her clean out.

He chuckles; he can't help it. He's almost proud of himself-- if it wasn't so commonplace, that is. It's so terribly difficult for these weak and paltry little things to keep up with his kingly stamina, and he cannot begrudge the delicate humans that end up beneath him for losing consciousness.

Still! It's time to wake up, as he's remarkably hungry and he will not go another second without sinking his fangs into her swan-like neck.

"Darling, you sucked me dry and left me ravenous," He reaches for her, tracing a teasing claw up the dotted curve of her spine. "It would be positively unacceptable to leave me in such a state before you go."

She doesn't respond to his sentiment, and so after several seconds of testing his patience, he prods at her upper arm, eventually resorting to jostling her lightly with his hand, pinching her flesh between his clawed fingers--

--and it's only then that he realizes that her skin is ice to the touch, and he cannot feel her chest move with her breath in his palm. While that is entirely normal for him, it's not normal for small human women.

The sharp aroma of blood is far too palpable, even for his palace.

His red eyes truly focus on the girl contorted in his sheets for the first time: Her skin far too pallid, her stench far more enticing than it had been hours ago. His hand goes to brush the hair from her face, and there's a slick, wet feeling between his fingers as he does.

He is hit with the subtle yet bitter scent of freshly dying blood. Something that is usually sequestered only to beings beginning a state of decay. Something that should not be in his bed.

Unsettling, he thinks, but mostly irritating. Dead, hmm? He's almost certain he didn't kill this one on accident. Fairly certain. He callously rolls the woman's dead weight onto her back, frowning as he's met with a scene that he's quite certain he couldn't have done accidentally.

What was her throat is now a gaping maw of blood and bone-shine, scraps of gore clearly ripped out from inside. Her mouth-- or what is barely left of it-- is twisted in an eternal wordless scream, her face eternally contorted in some unseen horror. Her lovely eyes are wide and frozen in terror, unblinking and milky. Upon further inspection of her body, there is a hole where he assumes her still-beating heart had once been, clawed savagely free from her ribs by some brutal, unrelenting force.

He scowls, needling his lower lip with his teeth. It's a shame, he thinks with an exasperated sigh. He's sure was a beauty before all of this.

Another vicious, deadly beauty clearly demands his attention now, and he pushes the dead whore off the bed with an annoyed huff, snatching his long silk robe from the bedpost before affixing it around his body.

"Such a pity," He fastens the tie around his narrow waist, stepping carefully around the bedframe to stand in front of the newly made corpse with a grimace. "You were so vivacious last night, dear girl. But you're making the wrong kind of mess of my sheets, and I cannot abide that."

With a careless tug, he rips the remains of the young woman off his mattress, her mutilated body landing on the floor with an uncomfortable, wet thud. He steps over her, striding towards the door, feeling decidedly irritated. He was planning to spend a lazy afternoon in bed, but it appears something more urgent demands his immediate attention.

"Good morning, my lord--" A servant greets him just outside of his door with a sweeping bow and an expertly balanced tray. Astarion doesn't bother to look at him, instead grabbing a morning glass of wine, taking several deep swigs before finally sneering unpleasantly down at the man.

"Where is my wife?"

Another scraping bow, but Astarion doesn't stay to witness it. Rather, he takes off down the hall in search of someone more important. Someone that, he imagines, was rather busy last night after he fucked-- Hells, what was her name? He doesn't remember. Did he ever know?

"In her garden, sire."

"Right," Astarion carelessly tosses the glass back onto the floor, where it shatters to pieces. "There's a rather putrid corpse on the floor in there. Have it taken care of. I want it spotless before I return."

"Yes, my lord."

He tries to recall as he makes his way through his palace and towards the garden, and ultimately decides he doesn't care.

He finds his lovely wife right where he expects to, taking a leisurely stroll in her strangely fruitful garden. The scent of damp, rich soil permeates the air, mingling with odd, exotic flowers he has brought her and lush, fertile plants that she has coaxed into life with her hands. Blossoming organic life from nothing is not something that he imagined was in the wheelhouse of a favored child of Bhaal-- quite the opposite, really-- and yet, she seems to have nurtured a niche talent for it of late.

It irks him that she's grown somehow cold to his affections. She no longer stares at him with owlish eyes and flushing cheeks and a rapidly beating heart; rather she seems to shrug off even his most endeavored attempts at seduction with an ease that, if he didn't know for a fact that he was the most powerful and attractive man in a country mile, might hurt his pride.

She seems entirely at peace and unbothered, gently cradling a small rose between her fingertips, admiring it as it slowly blooms into a lovely, blood-red bud. The placid expression of someone either entirely unacquainted with the art of murder, or a masterful artist with it, and he knows all too well which one. As he approaches, she doesn't acknowledge him with anything other than a brief turn of her head and flick of her eyes.

"Your garden is looking lovely as always," He saddles up behind her despite her aloof silence, gingerly sliding his arms around her waist and leaning to scent along the side of her neck. "As are you, my sweet girl."

She only hums her acknowledgement, her ever-present sly semi-smile unfaltering as he speaks, still clearly far more taken with her flowers rather than his company and flatteries.

A deadly mistake for everyone other than her.

"Been busy this morning, little love?"

"Oh, only as much as usual," She gives him nothing--no guilt, no anxiety, just the hints of a mischievous, murderous smile-- as she releases the flower from between her fingers, turning instead to continue sauntering through the row. "I try to keep busy."

A quick sniff reveals all he needs to know. He doesn't need to get any closer to the freshly filled hole to smell the rancid stench rising from it. Underneath the sopping wet dirt, mingling with fertilizer and fallen leaves is the unmistakable stench of dead flesh; A muscle steeped in still blood, to be specific. Buried beneath soil alongside the foreign seeds lies what is left of the mangled heart of the woman he'd taken to bed last night, now planted in his wife's garden in some macabre ritual to sustain yet another carnivorous horror she's gotten her hands on and is now coddling into growth.

"I can see that," He croons, eying a fresh mound in the dirt, clearly freshly dug. "Is this one new?"

"Just this morning, dear," She lulls softly, a barely discernible playful edge to her voice. "Newly planted."

Dozens more peculiar vines twist up from the ground in various states of growth in nice, even spaces carefully organized into rows. Under the lively essence of plants and sticky-sweet flowers is the painfully apparent stench of decay and rot; Months and months of the still-lingering scent of blood of all the lovers he'd taken, turning spoiled and foul in putrefaction in her grisly little garden. All of their lives ended preemptively by his wife with the same feral glee that a rabid mongrel must feel upon sinking its fangs into a terrified, defenseless creature.

All for daring to indulge in him.

What a senseless thing. Died so futilely and no doubt miserably at the hands of his wife, alone and panicked only feet from their powerful king, and for what? Finding their way into his bed? How absurd. Who could resist him? Who would dare? He almost pities the funeral procession of poor creatures whose hearts have become fodder for the dirt, no honoring of their lives save his consort's nursery, fed and weaned on their innards. Their final moments belong to his insatiable wife's ruthless bloodlust through no fault of their own, and yet--

--Something about her vicious possessiveness over him smolders in his core, igniting a twisted arousal that coils the length of his spine and constricts like a serpent until he simply cannot stop himself. Deadly, precise, perfect little wife of his, so vicious and yet so precious to him. He swears her bloodlust only serves to stoke the flame, and how he longs to devour her.

(How long has she denied him? How long has she teased and tested him, tantalizing him with memories of burying himself inside of her sweet, tight heat with merciless drive, supping from the delectable blood of her soft body, her voice crying his name like a chant to some dark God until she rips what is left of his soul clean from him to take it into herself. She would yield for no one, a primal and ferocious creature beneath the veneer of illustrious, undead beauty, and yet she would heel to only him, letting him lose himself in her warmth, her fire until he burned--)

He reaches around and whirls her to face him so that she cannot feign indifference under his scrutinizing gaze. She knows better than to fight his manhandling and allows him to spin her towards him, though she refuses to wilt under his sultry glower. Her expression remains entirely passive as his hand reaches up to take her chin between two fingers, squeezing hard enough to have her wincing.

"Another one, darling?"

"You dislike the roses?" She blinks big eyes at him, the perfect picture of innocence. She hasn't been innocent a day in her life, and today certainly isn't a start.

A part of him wishes he could remain angry-- or at least a little indignant-- about the fact that she believes she has some overarching and indisputable claim on him, but deep down, he knows that she's right; she does have a staked claim in his heart in a way no one else ever possibly could. Even as his eyes and body might stray from her, he is forced to admit time and time again that nothing compares to his wrathful little lover. The strays he shepherds into his bed don't fill the gaping hole she leaves within him in her absence, her wretched denial of him. It is only silently that he acknowledges his wayward lust is just his spiteful response to her cruel neglect.

"Don't play the fool for me, my dearest girl, you're a terrible actress. Another concubine. Another corpse in your grim little graveyard. Is calling it a well-tended monument to your jealousy perhaps too romantic?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, my love," She smiles gently, lifting a hand between their chests and up to her face, slipping a finger between her plush lips. He smells the lingering blood on it and yet he cannot take his eyes off her tongue as it curls sensually around the length of her knuckles and how immaculate it might feel on him. He cannot help himself but think just how graciously daddy Bhaal has blessed him with his beautiful daughter; How fiercely alluring it is to watch his undomesticated little monster clean up her homicidal mess.

It started as all things do: With a seed. A bladed joke bloomed into irritation and resentment. His endless libido and her cresting bloodlust come to blows over priorities. The only woman who dared to gainsay him, her lovely little hands covered in blood and the power of Bhaal coursing through her veins keeping her too wild to be truly tamed by his vampiric blessing. His appetite for domination was insatiable, as was hers.

A child of Bhaal would not be tamed-- even by him.

He craved obedience and reticence-- he craved raw reverence and worship. To be viewed with wide eyes and admiration and blind devotion from some poor, pitiful creature too weak and foolish to resist him; To be seen as a God before a miserable little mortal; For his subject to offer willingly for a chance to taste of his splendor.

It is the only thing his beloved would never give him: acknowledgement of his superiority; submitting before him, allowing him to enforce his will upon her willingly. She is a fanged and clawed creature, wild by nature, and she would not purr her praises chained at his feet. She commands respect-- even from him.

She could never play the fool for him, encouraging him to believe that she was helpless against him, or weak, or pitiful, or foolish. It would insult her pride and her lineage. She is a force of nature in her own right, and he could never truly own her without her consent-- consent she has withheld.

And so, he would tell you that he simply retaliated.

She never spared him a sour word when he teased the waters about bringing other people into their marital bed. She only smiled that damn smile of hers and told him that he can do as he wishes as the king. Hells, she hardly seemed to notice when he first took some pathetic creature into their sheets for some harmless fun. The reaction he yearned for from her, some measly sign of her devotion to him, she wickedly denied him, seemingly knowing full well the impact it had upon him.

It drove him to madness, a spiraling misery fueled by his pride. He refused to beg for her, and she would refuse to kneel before him. He came to believe that truly she did not crave him with the same veracity that he longed for her. He no longer sought her out, and she did not come seeking. Surely, if she loved him, she would show some sign, some indication of caring that his fingers caressed a pale pastiche of her rather than where they desperately longed to be: Tracing her lovely mouth, coaxing her clever tongue, circled around her neck, between her warm thighs--

--And then corpses began popping up like flowers, and his beloved suddenly took up gardening.

She grinds his patience to a fine powder, and something about that gets his fires burning hotter than it ought to. Her insouciant dismissal of him, the absurdly casual slaughter of insignificant sex partners and then having the audacity to seem almost bored of his presence. She clearly cares enough to rip the bleeding hearts out of his inconsequential conquests, and yet, here she stands, utterly unfazed by him, having the audacity to feign indifference.

"If you're jealous, my love, you only need say so," He hushes to her, batting her cheek softly as he forces her to look up at him. "You needn't kill everyone who finds their way into my bed. I would cease if you simply said the words."

"Jealous?" Her brow furrows, head cocking, her lips jutting into a little pout. "I don't know what you mean."

What he asks is simple, so dreadfully simple. So easy, so, so easy--

Acquiesce to me.

And yet, she dares to deny him even as there is blood on her hands from strangling and wringing his full attention from his lover's corpses.

The wall of the greenhouse he built for her isn't particularly comfortable, but he couldn't care less as he shoves her against it, bullying his body against hers with brutal force, slamming her head against the glass with a lightning-fast palm encircling her throat.

"Why do you insist on being such an obstinate little brat?"

She opens her mouth to reply, and he squeezes tighter in response, choking the air from her little neck and stoppering the words on her tongue. There is a flash of something in her eyes once they open again, but he isn't entirely certain which sin it's indicative of: wrath or lust, or some degenerate mix of both.

It had to be her.

"I don't know what you mean, my lord," She croaks as he allows it, her hand clasped on his wrist as he clenches the rounds of her neck. He swears he sees her lip twitch in the ghost of a smirk even as he suffocates her. He holds all the power over life and death over her, and yet she is insufferably calm.

"I warned you not to play stupid, darling. You know very well what I mean." He growls against her ear, frustration and arousal building to impossible levels. Of all the women in Toril, it had to be her-- it had to be--

"Admit it," He hisses, sharp fang nipping at her ear. "Just admit it, and ask-- beg me, and I'll stop."

He feels the chuckle bubble in her throat even as he cannot hear it through the pressure he applies to her windpipe. "Beg what, my lord?" Her eyes narrow, her amusement apparent even as she has a practiced expression of apathy, whispering back to him with a strained voice still somehow full of unmitigated audacity. "Do you think I suffer?"

His lip curls downwards, and he realizes that he has no leverage here other than her violent jealousy, which she will happily unleash upon his unfortunate bedfellows rather than swallow her pride and cling to him as she should. She has no qualms with murder, and he might as well hand-deliver her victims. It has become an inevitable truth that whoever finds themselves romping beneath the sheets with their king won't be leaving alive because the queen would rather die than admit she cares that he spends his affections elsewhere.

"You can't hold out forever," He knees her legs apart and wedges himself between them, grinding his lust into the clothed heat of her core. "You will beg for me. You will acquiesce. You know your place is at my side."

He pushes forward again, lips brushing against her cheek, his warm breath on her neck sending shivers spiraling down her spine. The way she rhythmically gyrates her hips deliberately against where he wants her most has his hands flexing, kneading deeper into her flesh. His nails dig into her deceptively soft skin, sliding one hand up her body to grope gratuitously at her curves before crawling up to thread his pale fingers through her hair. With the silky strands weaved between his knuckles, he yanks, exposing her throat to the mercy of his razor-sharp fangs like a wolf perched over carrion. He'd die before admitting the overwhelming, frantic need she inspires within him, but he swears if he doesn't have her now, he will perish.

She exhales ragged and husky, squirming against him in apparent need, but still manages to stand her ground. "I am at your side, my lord. Your front, to be more specific."

"On your knees, on your back, whatever I demand. Give in to me. Heed my command, my love," He releases his fingers from her neck, both his arms snaking behind her to scoop her ass in his palms and hike her up against his waist, bidding her wordlessly to lock her legs around him. She does it instinctively, throwing her arms around his neck, tugging playfully at his silver hair as she does. He keeps her up with easy purchase against the wall, keeping her prisoner between a wiry cage of eager limbs and foggy glass panes. "Submit to me of your own free will. Kneel to me, your husband and king, and submit to me fully."

His voice is low and husky as he exhales against the shell of her ear, doing his best to swallow down the desire to rip her pretty dress to shreds with his bare hands and ravage her on the filthy ground of her greenhouse.

"All you need do is say the words," He mutters, barely audible even to her, the scent of her driving him to the precipice of insanity. "Say you belong to me, body and soul. Submit to me, girl, and I'll never have need of another."

He feels the derisive chuckle in her throat reverberate against his own mouth and pulls away to observe. Her eyes are glassy and low as they meet his, moist lips parted in a little 'o', trying so hard not to do that hateful little smile of hers. His hand tightens in her hair, jerking his hips ruthlessly against her once again. So close now, he can feel it, he's going to destroy her, ruin her, tear her to pieces only to put her back together and do it again--

She dares to deny him, dares to have the raw audacity to mock him-- he's going to hurt her so badly, sink his fangs into her neck and drain her fucking dry, force himself inside of her until she has to beg him through hiccupping sobs to stop, unable to fend him off in his full power. He will show her who is the master--

"No."

She cranes her head forward just a little and gives him a mockingly gentle peck on the mouth. It's deceptively gentle and cruel in its intention, entirely meant to taunt him. In his shock at her gall, he is stalled, almost paralyzed and entirely unresponsive and numb to the tidal wave of rage and lust that collides in a nuclear cocktail deep in his gut. It's but a brief moment before he regains control over his senses, and when he does--

"Maybe," She flicks her tongue out, licking a small, red stripe up his cupid's bow. "But not yours-- and you can try, my love."

He releases his grip on her hair only to grab her cheeks, digging his fingers into her jaw so hard that he can feel her gums scrape against the ivory ridges of her fangs. Her wince of pain doesn't escape him, fueling the inferno inside of him as he snarls, baring teeth down on her as a predator might.

"You dare to play games with me? You are a miserable, stubborn little whore and I'd see you put back in your proper place!"

It's more animalistic growl than spoken sentence, and even as he squeezes her face, he can see the twitches of a smile on her crumpled mouth. He can smell the blood on her tongue, the utter defiance in her expression, and despite his frenzy of anger, he throbs between her thighs.

--and yet it's him on the cusp of inescapable frenzy, the taste of her now blasting away the dull, gray months and the now; this one fiery moment where she is wholly his, reminding him of the untamable bonfire of desire she stokes within. His beloved consort, his wife, until death take them both or not at all--

It should drive him into a blind, red rage, but it just makes him harder, pulsing against her insistently, his body demanding entrance to what is rightfully his--

"You will always belong to me."

He crushes his mouth to hers so hard it pains the both of them, more devouring gnashes and fierce, hungry greed for her than passionate kiss. His fangs break the skin of her lip, his tongue thrusting between her teeth, determined to taste every inch she offers up to him. She mewls weakly into his mouth, trying to break the kiss to breathe, but he won't allow it; she only breathes by his will and he'd see her reminded of that--

A battle he will win.

"Mine-- only mine--"

He pants it sloppily into her open mouth, still desperately trying to swallow her essence into himself. She manages to tug away from his unhinged fervor, though only briefly, just to heave and whoop air into her lungs, desperate to catch her breath before she speaks:

"Not if you're not only mine."

It's a fool's facade, this game they play. Around and around and around once more, each demanding prostration of the other only to burn themselves on their own encompassing greed for the other. A toxic whirlwind of emerald-green jealousy and blood-red rage, enveloped entirely by hazy, punch-drunk lust. Two titans locked in a battle for dominance, chasing the vulnerability of the other one.

He hard-swallows, using every ounce of strained willpower he has in his willowy body to retreat away from her, casting his savage need into an abyssal pit inside of him and sealing it before it swallows him. instead. Slowly, he manages to peel away, slowly setting her feet back on the ground, doing his best to compose himself despite the very blatantly obvious signs of arousal and his apparent state of both mental and physical dishevelment.

"I won't humor you forever, darling," He purrs, giving her one last squeeze before stepping back away from her, distancing himself from her control over his body that he loathes. "I always get what I want. You should know that."

She blinks up at him again, her lips puffy and skin smeared with swatches of blood that he has to bite his tongue to keep from tasting. "Not this time."

His lips quirk in a condescending grin at her adorable little show of defiance, resituating himself within his linen pants without shame. "We'll see, my dear."

With that, he abandons the 'conversation,' turning to walk out of the greenhouse, only sparing one last glance at her garden of flesh-- and then once back at her. It breaks his willpower in a way he is miserable to admit, but his need for her overwhelms his pride.

One last snarl in her direction, and he turns to stalk out, itching to backhand the smugness from her pretty face. If he does, he knows well enough that he will not be able to walk away from her. He will take her here and now in a maelstrom of blood, violence, and ruthless sex, and he will lose this little game of control, and he cannot have that.

Still, that doesn't mean she is allowed to believe she has any choice in the matter.

"It's been long enough. I am expecting you in my bed tonight. Do not make me come searching for you. You won't like what happens if I must seek you out."

She seems surprised and almost pleased with his minor acquiescence. It comes in the form of a demand, but she knows full well that it's the best she's going to get. She offers him a sweet smile, smoothing her skirts back down her legs from where he'd hiked them up around her still-quaking legs. He can still smell her, the wet between her thighs, the rich, royal blood flowing through her veins, her body that sings to him a siren song luring him to his fall. If he doesn't break something in soon, he is going to combust--

"We'll see."

He traipses back into the palace, body shuddering and shivering in its effort to control the raging hormones. He is ravenous, needing to drain someone dry and be drained dry-- and soon. Another well-trained servant greets in the halls, cautiously approaching upon seeing his dour expression, bowing from some distance away in case his master decides to lash out.

"My lord--"

"A concubine. Now. Sent directly to my chambers. We are not to be disturbed, no matter what you hear. Do not keep me waiting."

#morgana and friends #ascended astarion x tav #ascended astarion x reader #astarion x dark urge #nasty boy stuff and there's a body count in this #don't read if sensitive #lots of tension and a ping pong game of idiots trying to get the one-up on each other #just as toxic as you'd imagine #sorry this is not edited or proofread I was far too lazy #im proud of myself for just getting it out #It ain't great but hey it's what I got in me right now

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gabessquishytum · 6 months

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Hob works in a rich bitch cafe; it's not called that of course, but most of the restaurant clientele are women who don't have "jobs" and who can eat (and drink) lunch for 3 hours a day. Hob's not complaining - the tips are good and his ass only get pinched a few times a month.

The most interesting group of ladies who come in seem to be some kind of exs club; they all dated or were married(?) to this guy Morpheus. They have a litany of complaints as their monthly lunches get more lubricated -- he's so intense and smothering, except when he's busy and disinterested; the sex is good, when he wants it, but who can tell went that is; he's so moody; he looks better in couture that (we) ever did. The best they can agree on is he's pretty and the moneys good.

Hob kind of feels bad for this guy - these ladies don't seem to ever had respected this Morpheus guy. It's too bad, but it is a bitch club so maybe they are just venting. If Hob wasn't dating this absolutely fantastic guy, Dream (the sex is great, he's intense in a way Hob loves, and Hob enjoys just cuddling him when they both need some quiet time), he might have tried to look this Morpheus guy up -- just to see if he swung Hob way; Hob would have offered to blow the guys back out, at the very least.

Oh well.

It's the monthly Mimosas & Morpheus club 😭😭 and I fucking love it.

Hob watches on in amusement. He's got to the point where he recognises the ladies and even knows some of their Morpheus-related backstory: Nada, the college girlfriend who he proposed to after just one month and then refused to even look at her again after she declined. Titania, who is at least enthusiastic about the guy's skills in bed. Calliope, the ex wife who is perhaps the kindest but also the most savage. There are others who come and go. Hob almost looks forward to hearing their stories.

One day one of the women (Bast? Hob thinks her name is?) is like "I hear he's trying men now. For goodness sake, was it not enough to traumatise the entire female population?" And the girls all laugh, and some speculate that maybe Morpheus was gay all along (Hob takes mild offense at the blatant bi erasure but it's not his place to say anything).

And then he's distracted anyway, because Dream just swanned through the cafe doors! Hob is thrilled to see his boyfriend and greets him, giving him a big ole smooch when the manager's back is turned. Dream looks pleased, but then he looks over Hob’s shoulder and all the colour (not there was much) drains from his face.

Hob follows his gaze and sees that all the ladies from the mimosas & morpheus club are staring back, jaws on the floor. Calliope stands up and quietly calls out - "Morpheus? Is that you? What are you doing here?"

But the moment she speaks, Dream - Morpheus? Slips out of Hob’s arms and flees through the door. There are angry tears in his eyes, and Hob is halfway through following him before someone tugs him back.

"Let him have a moment." One of the women - Jo, Hob remembers. She doesn't come often, counts herself as a hookup rather than an ex, and never pays for her own booze - "He looks good. Better than he used to. Obviously he just needed to find the right bloke."

Hob smiles slightly. He'll go after Dream, anyway. There's no way he'd leave his beautiful boyfriend to deal with this alone. Hob tries to imagine what it would be like to walk into a room full of his own exes and nearly gags.

When he comes back with a reluctant Dream in tow, Hob finds that he still has his job, thanks to the mimosas and morpheus club. They've also bought an entire basket of pastries to apologise and made themselves scarce.

Dream buries his head in his hands. "No doubt you have heard every sin I have ever committed, in vivid detail."

"And I still love you. Even though you do leave your knickers on the bedroom floor for days." Hob grins. "You were just looking for the right bloke, love. I think you found him."

#the sandman #dreamling

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shipwreckedwithcaptainmarrow · 5 months

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On the 22nd of November, 1718, Blackbeard would be killed off the coast of 'Ocacock' Island, along the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Robert Maynard and his men had arrived the evening before, the fifty-seven men hidden aboard two chartered merchant sloops, and would wait for sun up before approaching the anchored sloop, Adventure, at Springer’s Point.

Blackbeard and his men were unaware of what was coming that morning, as reports state that in the aftermath of the battle that it was obvious that they had spent the night carousing, with the shoreline littered with campfires, sailcloth tents and awnings, and remnants of their last haul (consisting mostly of sugar and cocoa). Its been estimated by some that this was a temporary stop, another night on dry land before plans of heading to St. Thomas to pick up a letter of marque, enabling Blackbeard to once again perform legal privateering in the Caribbean; but this assumption is often disputed by historians as an addendum to make the reader want to sympathize with the villain.

The Ranger and the Jane, the outfitted merchant sloops, would make a hard turn larboard and make their way to Blackbeard’s anchorage. As for Blackbeard noting it, it would still be hard to tell what the intent was as the ships approached in the early light, as the island was a common stopping point for many travelers in need of fresh water. It would become apparent though once his crew would spot the glint of muskets and cutlasses and a number of men swarming the upper decks.

The Adventure sloop had nine mounted guns, but Blackbeard’s crew of sixteen men was severely outnumbered, three to one. According to accounts, Blackbeard reportedly would call out “If you shall leave us alone, we shall not meddle with you.” to which Maynard would reply “It is you we want and we will have you dead or alive.” The approaching ships would fly the British White Naval Ensign, but its authenticity would be questionable, as in theory anyone could fly any flag they had managed to have gotten a hold of.

Blackbeard was cornered in shallow water with no wind to escape. As a result, the order was given and the Adventure let loose a broadsides of “swan shot, spick nails, and pieces of old iron,” killing 11 and wounding 9 of Maynard’s men aboard the Ranger, lowering Maynard’s forces to forty-six. The ensuing battle would take an hour, a series of sailing maneuvers and gunfire, concluded by a final six minute battle of hand to hand combat, once the crew of the Adventure approached close and boarded the Jane.

More men rushed up from below to meet the boarders, and shortly afterwards, Blackbeard and nine of his crew laid dead on the decks, while Maynard and 11 of his men would only suffer injuries. The remaining six pirates would surrender, now that Blackbeard had fallen. These crewmembers would later be taken to Hampton, Virginia, by early 1719.

The fall of Blackbeard is a tale that many historians have taken artistic liberties with, many embellishing the story of the battle with many colorful tidbits, such as Blackbeard being a savage opponent, that he had been shot multiple times and cut repeatedly before finally going down in battle. The tale of the battle could also be fabricated with other claims, stating that he was a vicious foe, making their success all that more impressive. Or, its more likely those additions to the story were added in by Charles Johnson in his General History of the Pirates in 1724 as yet another colorful addition to help it sell. A number of times, Blackbeard had been shot before falling in melee combat.

The facts are that Maynard and his men had killed Blackbeard on November 22nd, with Blackbeard outnumbered, 16 to 57, and his broadside was able to reduce their numbers by 11 before boarding, where he and 9 others went down. The amount of re-tellings of this event are staggering, all with new ideas proposed, what was going through Blackbeard’s mind, what his intentions were, and many more minute details to the battle that could be fabricated. Chances are though, that someone is right about something.

Blackbeard’s head would be severed from his body while lifeless upon the deck, and displayed on the bowsprit as a trophy for the return trip back to Hampton, Virginia. His body would be tossed overboard. Folklore would even go on to state that the pirate captain’s headless body swam around the Ranger three times in search of its head before finally sinking to the depths, and rumors would persist of Blackbeard’s skull being used as a drinking chalice later on before dissappearing into someone’s private collection.

In any case, the waters around Ocracoke became the permanent resting ground for arguably history’s most famous pirate, the waters of which are now home to a multitude of legends regarding Blackbeard’s unresting soul seeking both his lost head, and his fabled “buried treasure.” Some folklore claims that his headless body later washed ashore Ocracoke and became buried on land.

Some would state that Blackbeard’s demise on this date brought about the end of the Golden Age of Piracy, or the beginning of the end - the loss of such a character striking the morale of other pirates out to sea, knowing that they were not in fact invincible. Accounts of piracy however would carry on well into 1730, with some more famous pirates who had yet to even begin their careers.

(Pictured is Blackbeard as portrayed in Black Sails by Ray Stevenson, a depiction of his final battle [from Netflix’s The Lost Pirate Kingdom, although they have depicted Maynard’s vessel too large], and an illustration of the Jane and Ranger’s angle of approach by Kevin Duffus in his 2008 book “The Last Days of Black Beard the Pirate”)

#pirate history #pirates #blackbeard #ocracoke #nchistory #outer banks #ray stevenson #black sails

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piglet26 · 3 months

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Reylo. Sorry, but it's not abusive

Star Wars is not selling abusive relationships to young girls nor conditioning them into aspiring to them. Reylo is not propaganda from disgruntled single middle aged woman. It wasn't promoting abusive relationships when Luke still found love for his father despite Darth Vader cutting off his hand. Luke fans, young and old, were not attacked as being dumb or needy for liking Luke or how he viewed his father. It damn sure wasn't considered abusive when Anakin choked Padme and she still held hope for him in her heart. Or, that Obi-Wan still held a love for Anakin despite everything Darth Vader had done. Then there was Reylo.

Being a Reylo is not something I feel I need to defend. Let me love what I love in peace. That's what I believe. I did not actually see any of the sequel trilogy until after it was concluded. I was not on any fandoms during the rollout and marketing for the films. Thank God. However, I have gathered enough to understand it was horrible how Reylos were being regarded. It was beyond patronizing. I'm not new to fandom, hell I've been on soap opera fandoms for quite some time and believe me that's a savage space, but wow.

I want to clarify some of the feedback against Reylo and reaffirm why it's such a compelling pairing. Further more, I regard it as an compelling attribute to the Star Wars universe that only added to the franchise.

Now I've seen the domination of woman twisted up and called romance (see Twilight and 50 Shades of Gray), but I don't think people understand WHY those relationship were as such. Rey, on her own, is one of the strongest and most badass female leads to ever appear on the big screen. Despite people thinking she doesn't have a personality she is a resourceful, tough, innocent, loyal, hopeful and strong. She has agency unlike Bella Swan. She is not sexualized by Kylo Ren unlike the 50 shades girl. Her gender is neither a hindrance nor an advantage. She has the agency to save herself, but she is also saved.

Which is really one of the main issues. There is the patronization of Rey as a character, the people who like her and the people who like the pairing. While those 50 shades of gray books didn't buy themselves rather than listening to why Reylos liked the pairing they were told why they did and then dismissed. Or, there's the men that wanted Rey to be with Finn because Finn was the "nice guy" who they identified with.

Rey doesn't need a love interest - not all heroines need love interests, but why does it imply she's weak if she does have a love interest? Heroes infamously have a female counterpart which helps make them viable. It doesn't make them any less interesting as an individual.

Kylo Ren and Rey are NOT a couple but instead representatives of opposing sides in a war. This is the most important part. From the get-go they have an intense dynamic. Both have had visions and dreams of the other and they recognize something in one another. Kylo Ren did kidnap Rey, however, if you consider fighting your enemies “abusive” or interrogating war prisoners as “domestic violence”.............well, that is odd.

As quotes about them

What if your soulmate in the Force was your enemy? Circumstance, pits them against each other, but the Force bonds them together. They understand each other almost from a point of view of fate. And yet, fate has made them enemies.

While Kylo Ren is fascinated by In the moments of the interrogation, gender and sexuality have nothing to do with Kylo’s actions. J.J. made the conscious choice to show us the same scene twice (Kylo Ren interrogating his enemies) so the audience can spot the differences between the two. Sorry J.J, you trusted people too much.

We're able to see very clear aggression and abuse come from Kylo Ren for Poe. He has zero interest in him personally. He needs information and he will get it. The force and his ability to read someone's mind is a tool within his disposal. Now why isn't Poe's interrogation considered sexual assault?

"You know I can take anything I want" HE CAN READ HER MIND! He's not talking about raping her for God's Sake! He asked her to freely provide information and she didn't want to. However, he has a tool to use against a girl adding his enemies - a tool he'll use if she doesn't want to snitch. She knows this he already read her mind - so why not give the information freely?!

Rey also invaded his mind, so did she mind-rape him too?

The line that fans almost never seem to talk about in The Force Awakens is when Kylo says to Rey “Don’t be afraid, I feel it too.” What did he feel? The best I'm able to understand is what they felt was their force dyad igniting or fulfilling.

Ren becomes personally invested in Rey. Not with her cause, or her affiliation with the Resistance, but with her and what he wants from her.

“Kylo chased Finn and Rey outside Starkiller Base to fight them! He threw Rey against a tree!” Well she was going to shoot him..... I would've thrown her against a tree to save myself. His issue in that moment was Finn. Finn was the "traitor" in questioned and his unfinished business. They fought, but really it was a dueling exercise. Kylo Ren wanted to test her skills and her powers. If he wanted her dead there was a convenient edge to push her over, hell he offered to teach her. Rey was the one to go ape and almost kill him.

Again, I'm not implying that they aren't messy - they are. For literary nerds this is why they are a compelling heroine/villain. Ultimately one will greatly affect the other. The tension in between them is why it's great.

Ben Solo, least we forget, is himself an abuse victim. This is canon. While Kylo Ren has learned abusive techniques, they are at war. Applying abusive characteristics to a fictional character in a war setting without any attempt to incorporate the story is bizarre. Why was he able for the first time to stand against his abuser? Rey. He couldn't stand up for himself but he stood up for her. Ultimately, Kylo Ren wanted to 'break the wheel" that's what he claimed. If he was honest, he'd admit he had no clue of how to do that.

Most abusers are charming and irresistible when you first meet them. Ben has NEVER dishonest with Rey about who he is. Rey is very aware of the horrible side of him and even refers to him as a monster. He affirms her accusation that he is a monster.

During their force bonds because of the nature of the bond Rey is in a position to hear him out and try to understand how he became the monster he is today. When she learns that he didn't become this on his own, that Luke, his parents and Snoke contributed to his downfall she had hope in him. It's also important to make the distinctions that when she has a vision of him, it's as Ben. It's like a bipolar personality. When Kylo Ren goes all Darcy marriage proposal - she reject him. She rightfully spurned him when he resorted to cruelty to sway her to his side. Rey turned down Kylo as long as he was the ’bad guy’, and only kissed him as Ben ’the good guy’.

“He only wants to use her for her power.” Oversimplification that Rey is actually guilty of. Kylo Ren is lonely and within Rey he finds not only an equal but the most intense emotional connection he's ever had. The most intense connection she's ever had. Let's not forget they are probably both virgins. Then they are in each other's head. That's intense. When Kylo makes his plea to Rey it's out of not only loneliness but truly wanting her for her.

Also, Kylo doesn’t say he wants them to rule together as “master and apprentice”. He wants Rey to be his empress, his queen which is what Rey means. He’s literally proposing by offering her the entire galaxy. Ultimately Reylos see them as two equally powerful archenemies dedicating themselves to defeating the other but also find themselves strangely drawn to each other in ways they might not want to admit. Then two soul mates on the other side of a conflict.

This is built on the idea that hate itself is a sort of twisted form of love. It is, or, rather hatred is born from things like fear, pain, betrayal and love. Their connection is complicated. One minutes they last out at one another and the next they lean into each other. People can regard this as toxic. Others, like myself, regard this as the gray side of love. Reylo represent the yin yang of the force. The light and the dark craving each other and finding themselves frustrated.

Notice how many hero/villains find themselves telling others that only they are allowed to kill/harm their nemesis, in a subconscious effort to protect their nemesis from others. And they may also get strangely jealous when their nemesis fights other people.

Other people give this argument because they believe the popularity of antiheroes in media is a sign of society’s moral decay. The First Order for all we know is not a fascist society. We have no idea the ideology of the First Order. We know their clothing was inspired by the Nazis.

Red String of Fate: the two connected by the red thread are destined lovers, regardless of place, time, or circumstances. This magical cord may stretch or tangle, but never break

Kylo Ren and Rey BOTH want to be together, believe in the other, but are held back by their individual idea of what means. How is that abusive?! Maybe it's back to thinking little girls won't be able to understand the complexity of Reylo. Huh, well little boys can understand the complexity of Batman and Joker. If little boys are smart enough to realize the difference between fiction and reality and are able to watch a love/hate relationship between a good guy and a bad guy, I’m pretty sure the girls can handle it too. Rey has hope and belief that Kylo Ren can be good, she won't stay by his side while he's doing bad.

What is Reylo? In a way. Iconic

#reylo #star wars #rey star wars #ben solo #rey skywalker #kylo x rey #finnrey #kylo ren #ben solo deserved better #ben solo x rey #rey palpatine #rey #reylo au #star wars fanart #disney star wars

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