free the occupied

Over the last few weeks a growing number of people have started wondering, “Is it possible the United States is heading for a new civil war?” Granted, most of those people are writers for sites like Russia Today or the Huffington Post, and thus slightly less credible than a handful of Bazooka Joe gum wrapper comics. But Donald Trump has made a few tinpot dictator-ish statements recently. And we did just see an anti-government militia get off scot-free for occupying a federal building and pooping just, everywhere

Every time I wanted to dismiss those headlines I thought about my visit to Ukraine last year, to cover their ongoing civil war. The most common sentence I heard was, “It’s like a bad dream.” Up to the minute the shooting started, almost no one thought civil war was a serious possibility.

So instead of waking up one day and screaming, “Holy shit, I can’t believe I didn’t take this possibility seriously,” I decided to take the possibility seriously. I talked to David Kilcullen, former Chief Strategist in the State Department’s Office of the Coordinator of Counterterrorism. He helped plan the successful “surge” in Iraq, and he’s seen a lot of civil wars in his time. He didn’t consider a new U.S. civil war likely … but he was also pretty damn far from ruling it out: “I think what we’re seeing now is, what I would describe as a proto-insurgency situation … the ingredients are out there, if somebody knew what they were doing, [they could] pull together an effective movement.”

So in the unlikely (but possible) event the U.S. broke out in a new civil war, what would it look like? I rounded up every civilian and military expert I could find and asked them that question.

6 Reasons Why A New Civil War Is Possible And Terrifying

Surprise...Part 7

A fair warning: the tone of the story shifts drastically in this chapter…so read with caution!  I hope you all continue to enjoy it.

(Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10  Part 11  Part 12  Part 13)

Between the shocking topics of the book and the excerpts he could find online to read, Tom’s mind was wilder than ever with thoughts of you.  Fantasies of masters and slaves, daddies and princesses, sirs and madames…things he would have never associated with someone as feisty and as independent as yourself.  His mother had always taught him that you could learn more about someone from their library than from any other part of their life…and he found his free-time occupied by thoughts of you.

Specifically, where your interest peaked with these particular subjects.

Were you just curious?

Were you a fan of the lifestyle?

Which was your favorite?

Had you indulged before?

He wanted to ask.  The dominant side in him wanted to stare you down from across a table and keep you under his gaze until you cracked and told him everything.

But he settled for watching your movements from his library, peeking at your panting and sweating figure whenever you became absorbed within your own work.

He was fairly sure you never did notice his lingering eyes whenever you ventured in to ask if he needed anything.

And he would always request something just to hear you say yes.

He never actually saw you reading the book.  Whether you read it at night after you retired to your room, or whether you were even reading it at all, he was not sure.

All he did know was that, at the very least, you had been curious enough to purchase the book.

And that thought raised a bit of a smirk upon his cheeks.

Lock the door, light the candles, fill the tub, grab your book.

That was your routine every night after scrubbing down your body and hair in a shower.

It was a good way to relieve stress, it was ample time to allow your hair…dried out from sweat and cleaning supplies…to soak in its deep conditioning treatment, and it was a perfect time to delve into the many books you wanted to read.

Specifically, a book you had purchased new from the store.

It was rare that you purchased anything new, whether it was clothes, books, or furniture…but this particular book was different.

This particular book was something you wanted to be the first to devour.

Night after night, you would soak until the water was cold in your massive jet tub, and night after night your eyes would delve into the sexual fantasies and journeys of a married couple wanting to try out their more fantastical sexual cravings.  Night after night your body would pucker in anticipation of flipping gently through the pages of the book as your soaped up thighs would rub together, and you would completely forget about being someone’s sweaty maid or rigid housekeeper.

At night, you were someone’s princess.  A queen to be desired.  A madame cracking her whip mid-air.  A woman bound to the bedposts.  The billboard poster-child of a woman in waiting, with your eyes a-glimmer with secrets and your hair wild around your cheekbones, fluttering with every heaving pant your rising bosom takes as your prey stares you down, giving into the illusion that he is the dominant and you are the submissive.

But every time, it is him who cries out into the night.  It’s him who cums at your command.  It’s him who comes beckoning to your door each night, hoping to get a gentle taste of the milky addiction between your thighs.

No one can break you.

No one can take your spirit away from you.

Until you came to the last story.

The last story of a book-led journey three weeks in the making.

And every time your eyes graced a line, and every time the woman in the book said, “Yes, sir.”…the only image you could conjure in your mind…

…was Tom.

“Yes, sir,” you would read as the woman beckoned to his every command.

And every inner part of you rose up and wanted to scream at her to take back her control.

And every time your eyes fluttered across that little phrase…his face would pop into your mind.

Leaning over you.

Staring at you.

Beckoning to you with his long, rigid finger.

“Yes, sir,” she would say as his finger trailed down the curve of her breast.

“Yes, sir,” she would say as he pulled her body close to his.

“Yes, sir,” she would say before wrapping her mouth sweetly around his throbbing cock.

“Yes, sir,” she would mumble before he would fill her throat with him.

And every time you wanted to throw the book and growl at her to rise up and take back what was hers.

But every time she said “yes, sir,” your mind would flutter to Thomas…

…Mister Thomas…

……and you would continue reading to see what the man would do next……

………to see what Mr. Thomas would do next………

And when you shut the finished book and tossed it onto the top of the closed toilet, you sighed and leaned your head back into the water to rinse out your conditioner.

But you couldn’t get the last few words of the book out of your mind as you held your breath underwater and scrubbed at your scalp.

I never knew what real trust was until I entrusted himself with his own self-control, and I never knew true control until I understood exactly the kind of self-control he had.

doctor/nurse fic where rhett is link’s nurse and they have obvious sexual tension that neither of them will admit to and they have a patient who is like “i better not die before y'all kiss” and they’re just. well. um. listen. and it’s just boys being dumb and saving lives i guess until they finally cave and admit 2 their love in an empty hospital room

Jeb! Built the Paris Commune. Jeb! Was at Haymarket. Jeb! Built the Free Territory. Jeb! Occupied the Italian Factories. Jeb! Established the Anarchist Territories in Spain during the Revolution and Civil War. Jeb! Is a Zapatista. Jeb!

How about #fairtrade that everyone can agree with and its transparent instead of a shady trade deal which no one likes.

Take a deep breath and relax

In and out.

In and out.

In and out.

Everything will be okay.

A Separate Peace

His lab is a mess.

Truth be told, his workspace is never the tidiest, but for the first time in a while, it’s an undeniable disaster zone by even his loose standards of organization.

Nearly every inch of his desk is covered: stacks of file folders that he’s given up arranging in chronological order, piles of clipped papers that still need to be read and sorted on a case-by-case basis, his battered copy of Forensic Pathology open to a reference page. If he turns around, the lab bench adjacent to the desk hosts an arrangement of DNA samples that await centrifugation and extraction, in addition to trays of fibers from several crime scenes requiring analysis. Any potential free space is occupied by dirty test tubes and littered with empty Jitters coffee cups. The caffeine is useless, with his exceptional metabolism, but at least it gives him the illusion of stamina.

Keep reading

Welcome to The Trans Guild

The Trans Guild is a blog dedicated to trans woman and non-binary amab  characters in fantasy. The Guilds goal is to share art, stories, and information about trans woman characters in Fantasy settings.

My plan is to share both official and fan art of both canon trans woman characters, as well as characters that people head-canon as trans women. Fan-fiction and original fiction as well. In fact I will be sharing a story about a trans woman princess who is attempting to free her kingdom from an occupying force. 

This blog is designed to be a safe space for trans woman/non-binary amab individuals especially those who have been marginalized identities. This blog is just as much about the trans women fans of fantasy as it is about the trans woman who occupy the settings. The blog will have open submissions for trans women to tell stories, share photos, and more about their experiences with fantasy; be it video games, tabletop, novels, LARP, and more. Fill free to express head canons, theories, character ideas, comics and more. If you have questions, I have asks and anon open. 

I hope you all enjoy your stay

Rose the Fae