#breen big

[zalktis]

maybe i should make a seperate repost blog and leave this only for art and og posts hmmm

[ink-the-artist]

Dude some of those popular so-bad-its-good movies are unironically outsider art and I don’t think they get enough appreciation for that

[internetskiff]

sorry i'm not certain any of them can handle weed

[spaceistheplaceart]

HALF LIFE X PREY

(please reblog!)

[transthadymacdermot]

Finally... 18th century paramilitary yaoi

[funguslesbian]

Another DnD reference!!! Here's the character I'm playing in a Strixhaven campaign >:)

[tea-earl-grey]

LAST DISCO EPISODE!!!!

maybe i'll write out some more coherent thoughts later but i really really loved it. if i rewatched, i could probably find some nitpicks in the episode itself but as a last episode of Discovery, it was really perfect. i was a bit worried that it wouldn't really feel final because it wasn't designed to be the finale and i was worried the reshot ending would have been oddly stitched on but everything about it was just right. it was so sappy and sentimental in the best way possible. truly with all of the Star Trek finales (with the exception of TATV because that is not the Enterprise finale), the last scene/shot is always a perfect representation of the show from tng's poker scene to ds9's shot on Kira and Jake as the camera leaves the station to Voyager's shot of Janeway looking out as Voyager finally reaches Earth and now Michael walking onto Discovery's bridge one last time in the future and seeing all of her family before it's just her because as much as i love the other Disco characters, it truly is Michael's show and she's earned it.

i also love that our concrete ending is in the far future and we get a little hint of the rest of Discovery's adventures (TEMPORAL COLD WAR???? YES PLEASE) without boxing them in too much, especially as i think it's likely we'll see at least some of the characters in Starfleet Academy/other projects.

other things – the Burnham/Book chemistry, especially them as an old couple was outrageously good. i'm glad they got their happy ending. Saru and T'Rina's wedding was adorable. and i did quite like the resolution to the season plot!! the idea of an ouroboros loop of creation is really compelling to me along with a pointed refusal of answers but encouraging more questions (very Star Trek V coded). i love that all of the main cast seemed to get at least one scene or two to really shine which is a rarity in Discovery so i'm happy to see it!

also the season overall was really great. there were two episodes that kind of lost me a bit (not bad, they were just a bit boring for me) but all the rest were excellent and it's my favorite Disco season by far and probably my favorite last season of a Trek show.

[bsptourist]

gm_crackton

created by FutamiYoshikawa

[this-should-do]

god i think the best part of hl3 vr for me, something that still sticks woth me is rising up in the citadel and just seeing c17 sprawled out below you, even tho its just a google maps image of new york,

seeing it like that when just before you were out figbting in the trenches with everyone it felt so,,, small and fragile and i felt even smaller rising up above it every problem just seemed to disappear i could almost forget a war was being eaged down below and that what i was foghting was so large so as to be beyond my xomprehension, it made everything so hopeful and small like i was going somewhere that everyone was going somewhere,

and it reminded me of how astronauts when they see earth from space and the moon and how every imaginary line and every problem in the world seemed so small and so easy to solve, and how small and mortal and fragile the earth itself was never mind them thrmselves (its called the overview effect btw, i was reading a lil bit about it on wikipedia and it had a section about how vr can mimic this effect, granted it was focussed on mimicing it by simulating seei g the earth, and its like yeah it really fucking can, doesnt even have to be seeing the earth)

so ever since i sae c17 from so high up ive been thinking about making a comic woth a quote from an astronaut about how they felt seeing space so ive compuled sum of my favs becuz i cnat decide which ones i want to use, so enjoy them

[foone]

So in Star Trek: Picard & Star Trek: Discovery, we learn that the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco still stands*, but since no one uses ground cars anymore, the road part has been replaced by solar panels.

Which makes some amount of sense. It's a historical landmark. You're not gonna tear it down just because no one drives anymore.

But... Solar panels? Really? This is the Star Trek future! They've got antimatter reactors and fusion. They've also got easy access to space: they could just put solar panels in orbit, and beam the power down. Like, I get the idea that it's a green utopian future, but solar panels are not really needed in the Trek future. Not on the ground, anyway. They can do far better with less impact, to the point that this is simply not worth doing.

Unless... They're historical solar panels! Sometime between Now and The Trek Future, the Golden Gate Bridge got closed to car traffic, and turned into a solar farm. And in the Trek future, they've chosen to celebrate that specific era of history by making it look like that. They don't need the solar power, it's just for the look.

* it still standing makes zero sense, IMO. There's one, maybe two major wars between now and Trek Times, one of them explicitly being nuclear. And the Golden Gate Bridge is a big suspension bridge connected to a major US port city. Even if the enemy only has like 10 ICBMs, that bridge is going down, sorry. But they've rebuilt that bridge at least once in Trek already (it got blasted by the Neil Breen in DS9: The Changing Face of Evil) so maybe this is just like The Golden Gate Bridge, version 5, because they keep rebuilding it?

[renthony]

hey!! i am genuinely curious about how the catholic church helped implement the hays code, would you be able to tell me more/do you have any good reading material about it? thanks so much!!

This has been sitting in my inbox for aaaaaages, because I want to do it justice! It's actually a big facet of my research project that I'm going to go into much, much, much more depth on, but here's the short(er) summary:

The foundational text of the Hays Code was written by two Catholics: a Jesuit priest named Father Daniel Lord, and a man named Martin Quigley, who was the editor of the Motion Picture Herald. They grounded their guidelines in Catholic morality and values, based on the idea that art could be a vehicle for evil by negatively influencing the actions of those who view it.

The original list of guidelines written by Lord and Quigley was adapted into the Production Code, popularly known as the "Hays Code" after William Hays, the president of the Production Code Administration that enforced it. As president of the PCA, William Hays appointed a staunch Catholic man called Joseph Breen to enforce the code. Breen enforced it aggressively, confiscating the original reels of films he deemed inappropriate and against the Code. Many lost films from this era are only "lost" because Joseph Breen personally had them destroyed. Some were rediscovered later, but many were completely purged from existence.

When Breen died in 1965, Variety magazine wrote, "More than any single individual, he shaped the moral stature of the American moral picture." He was a very, very big deal, and was directly responsible for censoring more films than I could even begin to list here.

In 1937, Olga J. Martin, Joseph Breen’s secretary, said, “To an impoverished country which had become religious and serious-minded, the sex attitudes of the post-war period became grotesquely unreal and antedated. The public at large wanted to forget its own derelictions of the ‘gay twenties.' The stage was set for the moral crusade.”

In 1936, once the Code was being fully enforced on filmmakers by Joseph Breen, a letter was issued by the office of Pope Pius XI that praised Breen's work, and encouraged all good Catholics to support film censorship.

The letter read in part, "From time to time, the Bishops will do well to recall to the motion picture industry that, amid the cares of their pastoral ministry, they are under obligation to interest themselves in every form of decent and healthy recreation because they are responsible before God for the moral welfare of their people even during their time of leisure. Their sacred calling constrains them to proclaim clearly and openly that unhealthy and impure entertainment destroys the moral fibre of a nation. They will likewise remind the motion picture industry that the demands which they make regard not only the Catholics but all who patronize the cinema."

Basically, this letter was a reminder from the Papal authority that bishops and priests are supposed to stop people from engaging with "lewd" or "obscene" art. That meant supporting things like the Hays Code.

So, to summarize: the original text of the Hays Code was written by two Catholics, including a priest. The biggest and most aggressive censor under the Code was a Catholic man, who had the full support and approval of the Pope at the time. Good Catholics were called en-masse to support the Hays Code, because it was intentionally written to line up with Catholic teachings.

There's a lot more to say on the subject, and if you're interested in reading more on your own, I recommend the book "Pre-Code Hollywood: Sex, Immorality, and Insurrection in American Cinema, 1930-1934," by Thomas Doherty. There are plenty other sources I can recommend on request, but that's a solid place to start.

(And if I can toot my own horn, I'm intending to do a video lecture series all about American film censorship and the Hays Code. Pledging to my Patreon helps keep me fed and housed while I do all this damn research.)

[uzurimisery]

chapter 2: the players. / coriolanus snow / nsfw

you can't tell me he wouldn't feel so pathetic for wanting you, for needing you. he'd always try and act like he didn't but when he jacked off it was always to thoughts of you.

wc: 6209

warnings: rough sex, male masturbation, hes a perv, not beta read

AO3 version | Series Master

Power and control were paramount to Coriolanus. The feeling of dominance, the ability to command respect, obedience, and even better fear, was a drug to him. It was need that drove him, an insatiable hunger for snow to always land on top.

In his eyes, the world was a game, and he was the key player. Moving and manoeuvring his pieces with calculated actions. The thrill of orchestrating every situation to his benefit pushing him further and further.

That need for control, for dominance, layered over fear and paranoia. He needed to be on top or every carefully crafted interaction he had ever had would be worthless. He’d be worthless. And he was not worthless.

It was so stupid how he lost composure from your naked form. They shaped you like sin, meant for bearing child after child. The swell of your breast suited for a babe attached to it rather than covered in fabrics. He could rut into you like an animal, just like those District filth did, and you could take it. Gnashing teeth, tearing skin, digging into your hips with every thrust. You were so fragile the night of the Gala, so soft, so breakable and by god did he want to break you. Make you pay for this vile feeling he had towards you now.

Maybe he’d even leave you with a child so you’d have a constant reminder of what he could do to you. He needed something to solve the thoughts that have been plaguing him.

For now, he had to keep dealing with this awful lunch with his former classmates and how all they wanted to do was talk about the current ongoing of high society. Idiots. Their conversations rang in his ears like nails on a chalkboard.

“Coriolanus, you never told us how you and the young Miss Gaul came to be together. I could have sworn you told us once that you hated her.”

What he wouldn’t give to take the glass in his hand and break it over Gaius Breen’s thick head. Maybe he’d finally shut up after that with half the glass lodged into his skull and the rest raining down around him. Blood pooling in his eyes as he stammered in confusion.

A shame he couldn’t. Still forced to contend with idiots.

Coriolanus responded with a disarming smile and soft chuckle, voice painting him as love struck. “You’re right Gaius,” he wanted to gag. “I said that once. Y/N and I, as you all know, constantly batted heads. She’s head-strong, never wanting to back down from a challenge. I don’t know when things changed between us, maybe when we were working on the 15th games, all those late nights in the lab.”

He trailed off.

“I started seeing her in a different light with all that forced proximity. Her mind is amazing, as is her wit. Ever since then, I’ve found myself drawn to her in a way I never thought possible.”

Lying was easy for him, but the shocking fact is that the last thing he said was true.

His words silenced the table for a second. The group was accustomed to his disdain of you, always one to be the first to find fault in your person. You were so far from his regular type.

“She’s rather big for you, isn’t she?” Didi Ring pointed out, malice hardly hidden. Clearly still bitter about being rejected by him in the past.

His smile faltered for a second, a flicked of anger flashing in his eyes. Nothing lingering around that anyone would notice.

“She is unlike anyone I’ve ever been with.” Despite his calm tone, his words were edged with venom. “Much appreciated difference to the delicate waifs I’m used to.”

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, bringing up an unrelated topic to move the conversation along.

Coriolanus relished her discomfort, enjoying the way he made her squirm. The master puppeteer pulling the strings. Each time the group came back around to talking about him, there’d be more questions about you, and he continued to tell the intricate tale of your relationship with him. Each part building you both us as the most in love couple in the Capitol.

Each word tasted like ash on his tongue. The whole luncheon only furthering the turmoil inside him.

He needed to sort his head quickly.

___________

Part of him wondered if what he said could change what the future looked like for the two of you. If he admitted that despite his dislike of your personality, he found the idea of taking you highly appealing. Consuming you, ruining you, making you high on lust. Would you let him? Or would you slap him in the face, scream and kick at him, call him names?

Both options appealed to him. You willingly lowered yourself to be on your knees in front of him, staring doe eyed while he fucked your mouth. But your fighting back excited him more. Pinning you down as you spat at him. A slap to your face when he tired of watching you struggle. To pull your mouth wide and force himself in. Maybe a mix of the two would be the best outcome.

This was clearly not sorting his head out. It was your fault.

The Capitol was unbearably hot today, almost oppressively so, now being three months from when your “relationship” started. He had nearly sweated through his undershirt at the luncheon. He was looking forward to getting into his private lab and getting his mind off everything. To realign with the cruel nature of himself.

As he stepped into the sterile, super cooled environment, the machines whirred, comforting him. It was his sanctuary. A place he controlled.

But you had to be there. Strolling out of your mother’s office in a high neck sleeveless dress that went down to your mid thigh. There were two slits on each side, showing off the expanse of your upper thighs. The cut was below being near any territory that ruined your modesty but was still provocative. When you turned to speak to an assistant, Snow realised the dress was backless as well. Only an intricate chain drew a line down the centre of your back, following your spine, securing the halter neck to the back of the dress. All a challenge to his self control.

He wanted to reach out, grab you by the neck, and press his front into your backside. Feel the warmth of your skin. He wanted to strip away your stature, and better yet, strip your clothes off. But he held himself back, his hands clenched into fists at his side. He still had to pay the part of a gentle lover.

Coriolanus walked up behind you, his footsteps echoing softly on the polished marble. He approached your side, movement purposeful, like a predator stalking its prey.

“Darling,” his hand slipped to the bare skin of your back. “I didn’t know you were going to be in today.” He kissed the top of your head, a display of his ownership of you. Even if you weren’t paper thin like his usual type, you still were small compared to his frame.

“Well, hello there! I was only stopping to drop something off for my mother. Tretonius asked me a question about something.”

“Oh, what about?”

Tretonious began explaining the situation to Coriolanus. Your eyes light up the whole time, animatedly talking through solutions and ideas with the assistant. Your voice was airy and carefree. You even shifted and leaned further into his touch.

Coriolanus, however, was barely listening. Lost in the sensation of your skin under his fingertips. Touching you made his mind go blank. All his plans put on pause and thought of you taking centre stage.

Goosebumps rose where his hand left.

God, you were so different from his usual type. You had sustenance, meat to you. Even strength, as much as a Capitol woman could have. But the draw he felt toward you guided him like the stars did to a lost man. He needed to touch you. To know that he influences you.

He had done leaps of faith for love before and never would he do it again. But he didn’t love you. Love was nothing but a weakness meant for fools. A mistake like that would never be made again.

As he watched you, heart pounding, the dangerous tightrope he was walking kept getting smaller. Teetering on the edge of the precipice, tempted to find salvation for his misdoings between your legs. The balance needed to be found, but god knows if he could do it.

“Thank you for your input, Miss Gaul. I’ll run the simulation with those parameters and inform you of the result.”

Ah yes, work. He was at work.

“Of course. I’m glad I could be of help to you.” You smiled widely, showing your perfect little teeth. Your lips coated in a peachy gloss with some glitter in it. The fluorescent lights of the lab making each particle sparkle.

He should sew your mouth shut and never let another person see your smile. He knew Tretonius was gay and had been married for the past five years, but he didn’t care.

“Walk me out Corio?”

“Of course, darling.”

The walk of you leaving the building was a blur in his mind. You had latched onto his arm as you walked, your chest pushed firmly against it. He didn’t know if it was the heat or your usual habit, but you were clearly braless. He could feel the pebbling of your nipples from the inhospitable environment of the lab. Wondering what they looked like, as he hadn’t seen them before. The sensation of them rubbing against his arm as you walked, sending jolts to his groin. You were intoxicating to him.

He hoped that the feeling would go away and his head would clear once you left the building.

But your presence lingered, a ghost in the laboratory, a reminder of the raw, untamed emotions he had so long suppressed. He couldn’t escape you, your presence would continue to haunt him, even in the privacy of his private lab.

His trousers were tight. You lecherous wench had reduced him to this.

He paced the room, his mind a storm of conflicting desires. One part of him craved the release of physical pleasure, the momentary escape from his emotions. Another part of him resisted, his pride too great to admit just the effect you had on him.

The tension was unbearable, the seam of his trousers rubbing against the head of his penis. The physical ache demanded his attention. With a hiss, he undid the clasp and pulled himself free. He was so hard he felt his head pounding. Even pulling his dick out made him groan.

Debased and depraved, he spat into his hand and tugged himself from base to tip. He thumbed at the slit on the tip, making him even more sensitive. A shudder ran down his spine.

He could picture you barging into his lab, like you had done so many times before, only this time, his cock would be out and on full display. You’d be so shocked, so embarrassed. Stuttering on your apologies and moving to close the door. He’d tell you to wait, he can get himself in order. Looking away while he half-heartedly tucked himself back in, unaware that he was already in front of you, pulling you into the room and locking the door behind you.

You’d get mad at him. Question his intentions. He would back you up against his desk, the ornately carved mahogany stopping just below your ass, forcing you to sit on it. You’d be so worked up, mouth running miles a minute as he grabbed your face and forced you to shut up. He wouldn’t be gentle while kissing you. It was about dominance and control.

One hand would squeeze your neck, cutting off just enough blood flow to make you lightheaded, while the other parted your legs and put his hips between yours, pushing your core against his erection.

You looked so cute when you were mad at him. He wondered how mad at him you’d be when he flipped you onto your back and pinned your hands behind you. Slipping off his belt, he’d secure them, leaving you unable to move. Then he’d flip up your little white dress and strike your ass. You never listened to him, but maybe you would respond to corporal punishment. He’d be hard with each strike, aiming to leave the outline of his hand with each hit.

He’d only stop when your cheeks were cherry red and tears ran down your face. He would be so glad they soundproofed all the private labs as you cried and cried about how mean he was being, how you didn’t understand what was going on. But you’d listen to him, do what he said.

After that, he’d slide your panties down, no doubt covered in sticky, heady wetness. You always struck him as the type to enjoy a heavy hand. He’d slip a finger inside you, testing the waters, before forcing a second one in. Scissoring your pussy, loosening it up for him, he’d tell you just how much he hated that you made him feel this way, pulling out to pinch at your clit. He’d bet the Plinth family fortune you’d squeal, and he’d watch your hole flutter around nothing.

Fuck, he had to know how you tasted.

He’d get down on his knees and push his tongue into you, familiarising himself with your taste, your scent. Then he’d slide down and circle his tongue on your clit. Sucking and pulling on it all while he slipped more fingers into your pussy.

He groaned, feeling himself come close.

He’d make you cum, at least three times analysing the best way to make it happen, before he finally stuffed you with his cock. His male friends had always said they enjoyed when their girls said it hurt, but he didn’t want it to hurt you. He wanted it to feel so good, drive you to the edge of insanity, and ruin you for anyone else. He’d make sure to take you to the edge and over it so many times.

By the time he’d finally cum inside you, you’d be a babbling mess. You’d even thank him for cumming inside you once he told you to. Then he’d pull out, tap his dick on your overly sensitive clit. You’d jump. All your muscles contracting as you tried to catch your breath and steady your mind.

Before anything could leak out of you, he’d take your panties and stuff them in you, making a neat little plug to keep his seed inside you. You’d still be so out of it, you’d moan when he did it too. He’d grab your jaw and spit into your mouth and you would smile while he did it.

His fantasies betrayed what he truly thought about you as he jerked himself off to completion in his lab after just a few minutes of harmlessly touching you. He came hot and heavy on his stomach, glad that at one point he had pulled his shirt up and was holding it by his teeth.

He had a mess to clean up, and this was not helping clear his head.

_________

You and Coriolanus had been asked to figure out a new pod for the upcoming games. Normally the process was a rough one, the two of you always clashing. But since the two of you had spent so much time together in the past six months playing your parts as lovers, and also working, you were more amicable with him.

Sometimes you even sought him out, valuing his mind and approach to design and solving problems. He was good at making the games. You really understood why your mother favoured him as her successor. You would be a great second hand for him one day in the future.

He had even become nicer to you recently. You could laugh and joke around with him if the mood was right. You found genuine camaraderie with him.

The transformation in your dynamic was a welcome change. You both spent so much time together. It was nice to have a solid relationship with him. The lines of where the act started and you began to feel harder to define. Perhaps the act just laid the foundation for a genuine friendship with him.

It was also complicated.

Coriolanus has always been attractive to you. His high cheekbones, pretty blue eyes, and soft blonde hair. He had only gotten more attractive as you both aged. Now at 26 he had filled out, some of his sharp-angles becoming defined muscle. He was tall too, with long slender legs. He was undeniably appealing.

The physical attraction, coupled with the new emotional bond, made a sticky mess of your feelings. It didn’t help that nearly everyday he would kiss and dote on you. The parts of yourself you never liked to admit relished the feeling of his hands on you, the brush of his lips against your own.

On the one hand, something real with him wouldn’t be the worst thing. You had similar views and came from similar backgrounds. HIs intelligence would keep you from ever getting bored in your relationship. It was clear that over time he’d even grown to value and respect your insight, as you did his.

On the other hand, the bubbling attraction you felt towards him complicated everything. You couldn’t help but fantasise about him in your private moments. You had caught him shirtless one day, trousers hung loose and unbuttoned as he got dressed. It was that day you had learned under his button ups and blazers his frame was well built. And that he had a very sizable member. Not super surprising since he was 6’4”.

Sometimes you caught him staring at you, eyes trailing up and down your form. He always thought he was so sly with it. Likely, the surrounding people didn’t notice, but you always did.

The initial stares were subtle, quick flicks to your chest and ass. Always when you wore anything form fitting or that showed more skin. You expected it to be honest. Men always are looking at your assets rather than your person. But things changed.

Now you could catch him staring at you from across the room, be it public or private. His eyes were always tracing the contours of your face, watching your every expression. You first had caught it at an event where someone told you a joke that made you throw your head back in laughter. It was like he was trying to memorise every detail or you and what each emotion looked like.

His body language also changed. It was more intimate. The distance between you is closer when you speak. His shoulders relaxed. He’d brush his fingers against you when motioning to things, not afraid to touch you anymore, even casually.

His smile, usually plastered on like a mask, became genuine when you were alone, laughter more frequent and uncontrolled when together. His voice would drop, raspy and slow, that went straight to your core when he spoke into your ear.

You couldn’t tell if it was part of the act or things had changed within him. He didn’t hate you now; you knew that much.

“What do you think about making a hallucinogenic that coats the Rovers’ teeth?” He tapped a pencil against his notebook. “If we got specific, we could make them picture their loved ones when they saw other tributes.”

An interesting idea, but synthesising something so specific would be impossible to happen before the next games. “It’s a good idea, but I think we need to be more general with it.”

“So just make them hallucinate?”

“Yeah.”

He made the face he made when he was creating different outcomes in his head. Eyes scanning the room as if there was a display in front of him. He could always create a list of variables that could come up.

Humming, he spoke. “I like it.” and then he went back to writing.

His hands were delicate. Long and slender fingers. You wondered if he played the piano. Surely he did. It was refined and gentlemanly, just like he likes to project. Though as more time led you to better understand him, he very much wasn’t. He watched you with hunger anytime you were out.

You often caught yourself questioning if that hunger was real. It certainly looked real. It felt real.

There was a time when one of your heels had broken during a night out and he had carried you from place to place until it was time to leave. During that night, his hands suspiciously were always on your ass. Once you even felt him squeeze the meat, saying that he was “adjusting his grip.”

He felt like fire. You knew the danger of playing with it, but you didn’t fear getting burned. So you kept him at an arm’s length. Always wondering if there was something more or if he had just fully committed to his role. Perhaps you’d never know.

But in the night, when you lay in bed, whispering your secrets to the stars, they’d be ones of him. How you wanted him, or at least to try him. To know him truly. And when you lay there desperate and needy, it was him you thought of between your legs.

“Coriolanus?” there was a question you had to ask him now. “Are we friends?”

It hung in the air. You felt like it was a mistake now to ask him that. He paused his writing, eyes locking with yours. They raged like a tempest, an unreadable depth you were afraid to swim in.

“Friends?” The word tasted strange on his lips. 

He had only ever had one friend, Sejanus. If they were really friends was something he didn’t know. He had simply not belittled Sejanus growing up and then, by the time they were mentoring for the 10th games, continued contact would imply that they were close friends. That’s why Dr. Gaul had made him go into the arena after him.

But he had killed Sejanus. It didn’t make him sad either. His “grief” was about being caught, that ‘d be the next to die. But since the guns were gone and everyone else involved was dead, he truly didn’t care about what had happened to Sejanus.

“Yeah friends. I think it’d be nice if we were friends. All things considered.”

You watched the surprise wash across his features briefly. He seemed caught off guard by your question. Like he had never considered the idea.

Coriolanus Snow did not have friends, only enemies. 

“I think so too.”

In that moment, a fragile connection became more solid, better defined the boundaries of your actions. It was uncharted territory. A venture into the unknown with a man who you hated months prior.

___________

A week had passed since you had last seen Coriolanus and somehow in that time he had gotten sour with you. Scowling at you the moment you were in private. You had no idea what caused the change. The two of you had officially been friends for four months now.

And despite his glaring, here you both were at some random high society member’s house for a “private dinner” of 80 people, and Coriolanus’ hand had not stopped rubbing up and down your thigh since you sat down to eat. He got dangerously close to your core, fingers brushing the crease of your thigh. You could almost think it was his own desire and not for show. And of course your dress just had to have a slit up to your hip on that side too, giving him plenty of access to your bare skin.

Despite the odd behaviour from him, you remained outwardly composed and playing your part. The dinner was in full swing; the drinks flowing. Both of you had had your share of them too, perhaps Coriolanus had too much.

By now, everyone around you was too intoxicated to notice if you told him off.

“Coriolanus Snow, remove your hand this instant.”

He paused, hand settling on the apex of your thigh. Then with a smirk he brought his mouth near your ear, he breathed on your neck making you shiver. “Or what?” His voice was laced with mockery.

“I will make a scene,” you hissed, eyes narrowed. “And I will tell everyone here how their golden boy can’t get it up.”

He laughed loudly, drawing a few eyes towards you both.

“Thinking about something you shouldn’t be? You know you wouldn’t have to worry about that.” he rose from his seat kissing you roughly as he left. He had drank too much, and felt too loose.

Sobriety was his norm. He hated the sensation of being intoxicated. But this was an event he had to drink at. That made it even harder to keep his thoughts straight around you. Every drink was so bitter and burned the back of his throat. Somehow, he wandered out to a balcony and found company in some semi-notable members of society. The cool night air helped him sober up some.

The entire purpose of him being here was to maintain the illusion of normalcy. For you both to blend in with the polished appearances and mannerisms of the crowd. To push the narrative that the Plinth and the Gaul families supported him wholly. He kept the idle conversation he had made with the group outside until they scampered inside, cold from the chill of the night..

Staring out over the city that one day he would rule, he felt only partially satisfied. Like accomplishing what he has sought to do since he was a child was lacking. Having the country would fulfil one of his goals, but he had more than he wanted. He was so close to that goal too. But even with the thrill of knowing it would all soon be his, a gnawing emptiness chewed through his stomach. The twinkling lights below are no longer enough.

He thought of you. Not even in a debauched way this time. He thought about your laugh, how you snorted when something amused you slightly. You always just wormed your way into his every waking moment. It had been nearly six months since you had started pretending to be lovers.

At first, he hated you. He thought you arrogant and entitled. Then he desired you. Your body is constantly dancing on the edges of his mind. Now he likes you, or thinks he does. You don’t annoy him anymore and you were even friends. He even sought out your company while in the labs. Or the idea of you he liked. Your rough edges cutting against him, making him bleed, but he’d bandage himself and touch you again.

This was the fine line drawn finally so blurred. Smudged beyond belief. The intangible made tangible. Ambition and desire. Power and control.

“You alright? You’ve been out here for nearly an hour.” There you were. Always so devoted to your role, to him. You’d come out here during the winter in your thin dress to find him.

God, that dress.

Red silk fabric draped and pooling around your body. The slit on your thigh and the deep plunge down to just above your navel. It was so unfair to him. How could he not want you when you looked so delectable?

He had had too much to drink. His ribs hurt from how hard his heart was drumming in his chest. Anguish stirred within him, regret and despair burning him.

He wanted to scream and cry. Throw his pocket watch off the edge of the building, shatter the illusion of his life. It was so unfair. He tried so hard, did so much. Then you just had to ruin it all. He had given up these feelings, the craving for intimacy. Lucy Gray had killed that part of him. Torn his heart out and showed him how weak he really was, and now it was happening again. Convinced him that he was immune to love’s allure, no longer beholden to such a useless emotion.

Your presence had infiltrated his every waking moment. He breathed and thought of you. The thoughts only stopped when he slept. Your effortless charm, captivating looks, it was just so unfair.

Was it love that he felt for you or just an overinflation of his own desires, an idealised version of you or the flawed person in front of him?

 But you just had to be you.

“Corio, are you okay? What’s wrong?” your hand cradled his cheek as you leaned over, scanning his face, trying to figure out what was wrong. Your touch was so gentle to such a broken man, sending jolts of electricity across his skin.

How could he tell you that there was something so irreparably broken within him? Something that wanted to lock you away and keep you just for himself. To study you and break you down. To wake up next to you in the morning. To know your darkest secrets. To consume your very person. He went from hating you to needing you in his life so desperately.

That he needed you carnally. He could never become the president, but die happy if he had the chance to lie with you.

Your words hung in the air, an invitation to open up and let him in. But he was so lost. He couldn’t tell up from down or left from right. And he was so, so scared. Scared of his feelings, scared of being honest, scared of losing control. But most of all, scared you’d run just like she had.

But he knew no matter how dark his thoughts were, no matter how strong the desire to break you became, he wouldn’t be able to do it.

“I don’t know,” he confessed, barely audible with the wind blowing, but you heard him.

Your eyebrows drew tight in concern. God, you cared for him. Or was it an act? You were so good at playing your part. He just wanted to know if you were honest with him or not. If you could just break his spirit again, he could go back to normal, get over this hump.

“You’re going to freeze out here. We should go inside.”

“I don’t want to.” His throat bobbed. “I just…” finding the right words to say was so hard when the curtain fell and the actor became just a man again.

You sat down next to him, wrapping your shawl around the both of you. “You just what?” you spoke your tone so soft and intimate it made his head spin. “Talk to me. We’re supposed to be a team.”

“I just…” fuck, why can’t he just be honest with himself for once? Stupid Coriolanus, weak and incompetent.

You leaned your head against his shoulder. “It’s okay if you don’t know how to say it.” tender comfort spoken like a true lover. “Sometimes it’s enough to just be here together.”

He tilted his head back, tears threatening to spill. He shut them, letting out a sigh. He has never been a coward before. He had always been a man of plan and action. He didn’t have a plan now, but he could take action.

He turned, facing you, taking all of you in. The wind blew through loose hairs, making them flutter around your face. One got caught in your lipstick, the semi glossy sheen trapping it. He pulled it free, making sure not to mess up the colour, and tucked it behind your ear. He couldn’t take his hand away from the side of your face.

“Your hands are freezing.” You giggled as if he had told you a stupid joke that made him laugh in response.

“I think I’ve gone insane,” he confessed, more to himself than you. “I can’t play this part anymore. I can’t do this anymore.”

You interrupted him, protesting against whatever he was going to say. “Corio, we have to-” but he cut you off.

“I can’t,” his voice broke with desperation. “I can’t keep pretending that I love you and that when we’re alone, the lines are so blurred it’s not even a line anymore.”

Unspoken emotions hung in the air. He searched your eyes, searching for anything that might give away what you were feeling, but just like usual, he couldn’t read you. He only saw himself desperate and bewitched by you.

The weight of what could come next pressed down on him, tightening his chest. He couldn’t bear the act anymore. The constant struggle to only want you in show. But there was something on the undercurrent with you. Maybe he was projecting his own feelings on you, but he was so certain of it he could almost taste it. It was a risk, a jump into the unknown. He was asking for rejection. For humiliation, just like he had faced before.

Fuck it. Fuck it all.

He leaned in, breath mixing with yours, and kissed you. He actually kissed you. Softly and gently, like the whisper of change. He was ready to pull away, for you to tell him there wasn’t a crowd and you didn’t need to act, to say you were friends and nothing more. But as he was pulling away, your hands wrapped themselves into his hair pulling him back in.

It was an invitation, an answer, a reciprocation. A surrender to the moment, a mutual yearning.

He kissed you like he was starving and you were the last meal he would ever have. He kissed you like you were the cure for everything wrong with him. He kissed you like if he stopped, the world itself would never turn again, the sun would never rise, the tides would never change, that life itself would end. He would cut out his heart if you asked him to. He’d find a way to stay alive and watch you consume it.

His hands were groping at your side, kneading the skin. He was so gentle, so different from how he normally treated you. If he died tonight, pushed off the building by you, he would smile as he fell. Everything he felt, he always felt it so intensely and you burned through him like a wildfire.

There was so much passion. It buzzed in the air, drowning out the sounds of the dinner party. He would give you anything, done anything, to stay like this with you. But it wouldn’t last forever. So he kissed you with all care and longing he had in his heart, pouring his honest truth into it. He wanted to imprint himself on you, leave a mark that would never fade. He would stain you in his colours that would never fade.

In this moment, there was no pretence, no act, no script. It was just him and you.

He had crossed the line, finally shattering the illusion that you had both worked so hard to maintain and craft. He was terrified of the consequences, that if at the end of this you too would run from him. Scared of what he really was.

But he would never be the same. This had changed him forever. The never ending itch was scratched, but he needed more. His hunger for you only increased.

As Coriolanus pulled away, his eyes met yours. The guard you had was down and he could read something in them. Confusion clear, but the undercurrent of hope shining through. Your lips swollen and breaths quick gasps. 

You were so painfully beautiful.

You wanted the same thing as him, for the act to be over. The taste of something real changing you both. There was so much that needed to be said, but neither of you moved to.

Instead, you kissed again, and again, and again, each more passionate than the last. Your tongue was soft and wet against his. The chilly night air forgotten as you crawled into his lap. Coriolanus couldn’t stop his hands from running over every bit of you he could reach. When one reached your ass and he squeezed, you moaned into his mouth.

He had thought long and hard about what your moans would sound like, but the reality was so much better than he could ever imagine.

His kisses trailed down your neck, making you gasp and shiver. God, he loved your reactions. You brought out his basest animal instinct. He bit and sucked at your neck, leaving a hickey at the junction before going back to your lips.

You pressed your chest tight against his, hips grinding down against his own. He wanted to leave this party now, to take you by the arm and bring you back to his penthouse. There was no coming back from this, not stopping it. He couldn’t pretend anymore.

The death of an actor.

[rabid-reads]

My August Reads Ranked

1. One Dark Window by Rachel Gillig: This was by far my favorite read this month. I love this book. I love it more than I love The Folk of the Air. More than the Dark Rise series. More than Captive Prince. Because it has EVERYTHING. The plot, the magic system, the characters, the writing, all of it is as equally good as the rest. Even though at the ending there’s a twist that’s sad, I was still EXCITED to see what happens next (more hype than sad). I root for the Nightmare too. “Long live the King.” The writing is show don’t tell and I fucking LOVE IT. I FUCKING LOVE IT. I am so tired of seeing a lot of telling in story books, and all my favs serve show.

2. Bunny by Mona Awad: This wasn’t as dark as I thought it was going to be, but it won me over with the writing. It’s clever, dark and hilarious. Samantha’s dilemma with the bunnies was relatable for me, especially the first smut salon she attends. It was a fun ride, and I enjoyed this book for reasons I wasn’t expecting to. The way Awad describes feelings is spectacular.

3. The Prisoner’s Throne by Holly Black: It was good to be back in Elfhame. I liked Prisoner’s Throne more than Stolen Heir because, of course, Jude and Cardan. I thought Wren and Oak’s story was cute and I had a fun time reading it, but I’m not over Jude and Cardan yet and that’s all I want.

4. The Stolen Heir by Holly Black: At first, I was a bit put off by how Jude-like Wren was, and how Cardan-like Oak was, but I had a good time. If Black wants to go back and write scenes showcasing Jude and Cardan falling in love, I’m all for that. Would love to see the two of them snuggling by a fire.

5. On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft by Stephen King: I knew I’d like this because every time I watch King speak, he’s fun. He’s fun to listen to, he’s fun to read. He’s at his best when he’s shooting the shit. This was a good time.

6. The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde: I love the dialogue in this, it can be interpreted in different ways and it’s exciting to think about. I’ve never read anything as quotable as this book. I lived for every time Dorian threw himself on a couch in a fit of angst.

7. The Corsair’s Captive by Ruby Dixon: Dixon never lets me down. It’s another cozy, fun sci-fi romance with the big blue dudes. I have to read her shifter smut; it’s going to be everything.  

8. The Science of Storytelling by Will Storr: I appreciated how blunt this book was, and the information provided was interesting. If you’re looking for a book about why humans tell stories as well as scientific reasons why you should have an existential crisis. This is the one.

9. Victor by Brianna West: The most egregious offense to me was the smut. Because. How are you screwing an Angel, and it’s vanilla? No mention of where his wings are? Nothing special about his equipment? Only fucks in missionary? They could fuck in the air, but we’re going to sidestep that? Other than that the world-building wasn’t there for me, and the writing was a whole lot of telling. The adverb intense descriptions didn’t land for me, and I didn’t care about any of the characters. The fmc was annoying.

10. Haunting Adeline by H.D. Carlton: Zade is so Neil Breen coded. Like, if I found out Breen wrote this character for Carlton, it would make a lot of sense. I hate this book. I don’t know why I do this to myself.  

The books I'm most stoked to read in September are: Monstrilio by Gerardo Samano Cordova, Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries by Heather Fawcett and Two Twisted Crowns by Rachel Gillig.

[mouthofsillyness]

sometimes i wish people could talk more about the other aspects of half life, the main characters are fun yes, but could we also think more of Black Mesa? the fact that they were experimenting with Xen BEFORE the resonance cascade? how in game you can notice when the HECU are loosing to the alien species, how it wasnt their decision to clean up the mess by killing anyone in it and was the government decision (still this doesnt mean there werent soldiers who dgaf about killing people), basically anything that happened in Black Mesa during the resonance cascade, the nihilanth trying to invade earth not exactly because of them waiting power but to be safe from something way big (as speculated according to the Nihilanth dialogues), that something being the combine (problably), this interdimensional alien empire is the most interesting thing to me, the combine took opportunity to conquer earth because of the resonance cascade, the combine took earth in 7 hours and that says a lot about it, how Breen took his change, but did he really did it because of selfish choices? sure, he had power by negotiating with the combine, and is kinda his fault what happened in Black Mesa, you can think maybe he feels guilty about it but i believe he doesnt actually accept that, he doesnt accept his negligence about the experiment, Breen is a somehow complicated character for me, he is an asshole, dont forget that, but he was never in power, he was a puppet for the combine, i dont even believe the combine sees him as worthy, the combine problably sees him as just the propaganda for humanity, Breen neither had many opportunities, if he ever tried to rebel against the combine he will sure be dead, and is not easy to do that in his position, he doesnt even believe entirely in his speeches, he is an idiot who knows how to choose words and how to manipulate, also, he probably didnt wanted to loose that power the combine gave him (as like, he wanted to save himself, why risk it trying to save humanity?), Breen is not entirely bad but that doesnt mean he is good, he is what you can call... selfish? i dont know if that is the right word, i made this more about Breen again (sorry but i find him quitte interesting, if you give me the chance to talk about breengrub i would go nuts) other interesting factors in the half life story has to be the combine advisors, we dont know too much about them, they are problably another enslaved species of the combine, (which talking about, it is so interesting how combine is this interdimensional empire, enslaving species which combine can use as a tool, using resources from whatever place for its own), but they are intelligent species, talking about aliens lets not ignore the vortigaunts and the species that habited Xen, ohh Xen... another place i like (not the levels though) it was a safe place for the aliens species, but that place couldnt be safe forever, as i said, the Nihilanth wanted to invade earth for their own safety, rather than wanting power, all of this because of the force when wouldnt know until half life 2, of course im talking about the combine, i love a lot how the combine is written, valve writters did a really good job into writting the combine as one of the most oppresive empire forces, i love a lot to speculate the lives of the citizens, the lives of the metrocops, the lives of the rebels and many things.

[indecisive-dizzy]

Alright the Gravity Falls brain rot is kicking in (aka I watched a 4hr video overanalyzing ATOTS <3 iykyk)

So have a loosely thought out concept of a hypothetical Welcome Home x Gravity Falls au with my "Hear me out!"s This is a long one, you've been warned <3

Wally - Dipper

Sally - Mabel

Julie - Stanley

Frank - Stanford

Eddie - Soos

Barnaby - Wendy

Poppy - Abuelita

Howdy - Gideon

Home - Bill???

Ok hear me out! (under the cut) Please ignore typos <3

Very quick clarification! For this au everyone is at least in their teens and I'm gonna add their ages as I elaborate. Ok? Ok!

Gonna Start with Poppy and Eddie. In this hypothetical au Poppy is Not Eddie's grandmother. Originally I thought of assigning Poppy the role of Lazy Susan but I wanted her to have a closer connection to the rest of the cast. And Abuelita fit the role well enough for me! She's just a sweet homebody who wants to knit and bake in peace. Eddie tells her all about work and Wally and Sally visit. <3

So Poppy and Eddie live together as Roommates/Family. Poppy took Eddie in as a teen (16ish) when she was in her early 20s (22-23?) He views her as a big sister. And she views him as a little brother. Anxiety siblings <3 (yes I hc Eddie has anxiety) Eddie started working for the shack soon after being taken under Poppy's wing. He's a tad forgetful and clumsy but is a very reliable handy man and a good friend! He's got a big heart and worries about Julie sometimes.

Currently, as in the time the au takes place, Eddie is 24 and Poppy is 30-31.

Julie and Frank would in fact make a Fantastic Mabel and Dipper. Tbh I think I've seen the comparison before. Which is exactly why I'm not doing it! They're not twins here but they are childhood friends and very close in age, Frank being slightly older. Currently, Julie is 57(?) and Frank is 58(?). (Ages aren't confirmed, all I know is I want them to be A Bit younger than the Stans. Currently this would put them in their late 20s at the time of the portal incident)

I feel like people sometimes forget that Frank is not against resorting to violence lol. Which is great for post portal Ford (and maybe Paranoia era Ford. bbg was not afraid to use that crossbow.) And Julie is a girl bossing business woman! She's scamming people selling breen to the tourists! Whatever that is! Tbh Big inspo for this decision is Relativity Falls, like I said these two make for great mystery twins.

So! Wally (15) as a teenage Dipper! It's just Wally but his curiosity is bumped to 100. Still the same lil guy but he's got a hyperfixation on the supernatural and cryptids. Maybe he hasn't quite figured out his style yet, maybe he's a bit more awkward, I dunno.

He kinda didn't want to spend his summer here but ends up enjoying himself as he makes friends and gets to over indulge his curiosity.

Sally (15) is Wally's adopted sister! By sheer coincidence they have the same birthday but Sally always points out that she's older because she was "born at sunrise!" She's very adventurous and is often the one leading their escapades. I imagine she meets this aus equivalent of Candy and Grenda at the local theater. Very much wants to be her own person, separating herself from the Adopted Twins thing. Not in a bad way! She loves Wally very much but wants people to see her as Sally! Not just "Wally's Sister."

Barnaby (22) is very laid back and so is Wendy. Yeah I don't actually have a lot to say? Um. He does the bare minimum work but is a good friend to Julie. He's real observant and can tell she's not always as bubbly as she seems But she's also his boss so he doesn't pry. Instead just offering a distraction or a rare bit of advice..

Oh! There's a parallel with him and Wally and Wendy and Dipper. Except Wally just wants to be friends with Barnaby but doesn't quite know how to communicate that. Maybe he just kinda follows him around the shack hoping to figure out what to say?

Thinking their relationship is literally the recent quote from Clown's Q&A: "Barnaby meeting Wally felt like business as usual, and Wally meeting Barnaby felt like meeting the whole world." yeah that's it. Sums it up Perfectly <3 Wally thinks Barnaby is really cool and friendly. And he wants a friend who treats him like he's mature. Like he's 15, not 5. And Barnaby does that right out the gate. Calls him kid but obviously doesn't treat him like a small child.

Ahem. Capitalism. Howdy's (21) a filthy capitalist and wants the shack for Profit. I don't think he'd resort to literal breaking and entering to get the deed? Can't make Profit from jail if he gets caught. But he's definitely trying to buy the property off of Julie. Maybe we stray further from Gravity Falls canon and say he gets an early redemption bc I'm a sucker for this goof. It would be sometime after taking the shack (and losing it.) Oh but he does summon the Evil. Can't break the law if the law doesn't account for Interdimensional Demons!

On that note, Yes Howdy could be Stanley. But again. That's the easy way out! Also in my brain that would make,, idk Barnaby? Ford. And I couldn't do that.

Ok final (wh) character. Home. So I'm on the side of Home Isn't Evil/The Antagonist. He's just a guy (house)! A sassy fella! But someone's gotta be the Eldritch Horror and Unfortunately, Home,,, well he's a lil quirky!

But idk How to incorporate Home. They speak in onomatopoeias! They're a house! Is Home now a Vague 2D House Shaped Demon? Do the have Limbs? Wear a top hat? Do they talk now? Home speaking words feels cursed. But I genuinely don't what else to do? Maybe we suspend our disbelief and they still talk through banging shutters. Everyone just understands them bc Cartoon logic pffff maybe they have subtitles projected into your brain that only you can see idk lol.

So obviously there's Way more GF characters than there are WH characters. insert characters [(y/n)] aren't my thing for aus so that's a no go for me personally. I imagine the town is filled with characters we've heard of outside the neighbors (Ma Beagle of course lives in town.) Maybe some of Howdy's family is here who knows. And the rest would be randos or ocs I guess! Tho I don't believe Julie's siblings are in town.

Anywho this is all hypothetical and I made it up and retyped things as I went along. I wanted to ramble some nonsense so I did! If you read it, Awesome! You sure did that!

[oldsavestate]

Deep Space Nine, "strange bedfellows," ep7 s19 the episode starts in the middle of this conversation between Weyoun, a short king vorta, and this butch breen named Thot Gor.

And it's the last season, right? So they don't give a fuck.. Weyoun is like, "i find interspecies mating rituals fascinating to watch :)" obviously flirting with this robot alien guy w this big helmet who speaks in electric tones (clearly weyoun's type).

Damar is a cardassian official in charge of both of them, and he interrupts the scene to be like "ummm.... ok.... Didnt know we were 'meeting with the breen' but go off.."

i know im not the only one who must have appreciated this "subtle" "off the cuff" cute moment where weyoun is just being openly bashful and sluddy.. and gay

bonus for the bolded quote. "Thot.. that's the equivalent of a legate, isn't it?"