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His Mic was ON 🎤

[bc of the Feyd photo you guys wanted confirmation 💀]

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I. Inaugural Veil

→ pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Lyra Ravenshroud (blackfem oc)

→ summary: President Coriolanus Snow introduces himself to the Capitol Senate, where he meets newly elected Reform Advocate Senator Lyra Ravenshroud.

→ tags: @snowlandsontopp @babyzzlove @hlstead @rosewine-5 @unicornqueen05 @thegabbyh @neeville @fastlikealambo @urfavesim

→ an: depending on how y'all like this, I'll continue it. if not, it can stand as a standalone.

→ reminder: reblogs and comments are much appreiciated!

President Coriolanus Snow, a towering figure of authority, ascended the grand stage with an air of regal confidence. His platinum blond hair, meticulously styled in a sleek comeover, caught the glint of the spotlight, emphasizing the sharp angles of his aristocratic features. Dressed in a crimson red suit that spoke of power and ambition, a single white rose adorned his lapel—a symbol of both purity and calculated charm.

Icy blue eyes, cold as the very name he carried, scanned the crowd with an analytical precision. He caught the green eyes of a young woman as he spoke to the Capitol Senate. She was a cute woman, he noted. Her fair skin was beet-red as she attempted to maintain eye-contact wit the President. The corners of his mouth raised as he attempted to mask his smirk.

His smile, a masterpiece of beauty and charisma, played effortlessly upon his lips. It was a weapon, finely honed through years of navigating the intricate web of Capitol politics. The allure of his charm was unmatched, a force that had won over even the most skeptical hearts in the Capitol.

The Capitol Senate room was carefully crafted by the strong hands of Capitol engineers and architects. Similar to the Academy and the University, the ceilings were as high as skyscrapers with long windows that welcomed the fall sun. The room was held by large Grecian-like columns, sanded to perfection. On the marble floor, which lacked dust or grime, was the symbol of the Capitol in red. An addition made by President Snow.

He stood before them on the podium that was built just for him. At the front of the room, he was the center of attention. All 300 Senators, leaders, and other political figures gawking at him like he was a peacock who just showed his beautiful array of colorful feathers.

On the Senate floor, newly elected Senator Lyra Ravenshroud observed the spectacle with a discerning gaze. Standing at a mid-size stature, she emanated a quiet strength that belied the challenges she was prepared to face. Her dark skin exuded a richness that stood in stark contrast to the opulent surroundings. Sister locs, meticulously arranged, framed her face and cascaded just below her shoulder blades—a testament to both tradition and individuality.

Lyra's eyes were trained on the President as he shifted his footing. There was a seat behind him, white as snow, that he had not sat down in since it arrived. A million questions floated in her mind as she watched him interact with members of the Senate. He came from newfound wealth through his father's military strength, therefore, it was not easy to recover after the rebellions. But, for him to graduate from the Academy at 18 and become the president of the nation, from zero to hero in just five years, was something she struggled to wrap her mind around. It even kept her awake at night.

As the President spoke of unity and progress, his charismatic words weaving through the air, Lyra listened with a gaze that saw beyond the surface. The crimson-suited president and the reform advocate senator—their worlds collided on this stage, setting the tone for a new dawn in Panem's political landscape.

President Coriolanus Snow concluded his inaugural address with a flourish, the applause from the Capitol elite echoing through the hallowed room. As the crowd erupted in admiration, he stepped down from the podium, his crimson suit a beacon of authority amid the sea of admirers in neutral clothing. A stark contrast indeed.

Meanwhile, on the Senate floor, Lyra Ravenshroud rose from her seat, her dark eyes following the President's every move. The air seemed to hum with an unspoken tension as their eyes locked across the expanse of power.

The Presidednt, drawn by an invisible force, made his way through the crowd. His steps were deliberate, every move a calculated display of charisma. He apologized to those who tried o get his attention, promising to circle back shortly. As he approached Lyra, the air crackled with anticipation—a collision of two worlds on the precipice of collaboration.

"Senator Ravenshroud," he spoke, his voice carrying the weight of authority. His icy blue eyes met her warm brown ones, and he found himself captivated by the dance within her gaze. "A pleasure to finally meet the advocate who promises to reshape the Capitol's destiny."

Lyra's sensual smile played upon her lips as she extended her hand. "President Snow, the pleasure is mine." Her voice, a sultry melody, resonated in the air. Coriolanus found himself liking the sound of it, the way her words carried a depth that transcended the usual political pleasantries. "Your words inspire change, and I am eager to be part of that transformation."

Their handshake, a symbolic gesture of political unity, resonated through the crowd. Unbeknownst to them, this moment marked the inception of a collaboration that would shape the course of Panem's future. As the applause continued, a subtle undercurrent of uncertainty lingered—a foreshadowing of the shadows yet to unfold.

Coriolanus, ever the tactician, couldn't help but be intrigued by the woman before him. The way her eyes, brown like rich earth, danced with the gaze of his icy blue ones hinted at a complexity that both fascinated and unnerved him. Her physical presence, a mid-sized woman exuding a quiet strength, contrasted sharply with the opulence of the Capitol.

The title of President seemed to roll off her tongue effortlessly, a dance of words that added an unexpected elegance to the occasion.

"I'm glad to hear that," Coriolanus spoke softly. "I hope you're looking forward to the new Senator orientation tomorrow. I'll explain your new role better tomorrow during our one-on-one. My assistant will pass over those times to you."

Lyra gathered her purse over her shoulder and nodded. "Of course. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Mr. President." She smiled gently.

Coriolanus tilted his chin up and nodded once, slowly. "Likewise, Ms. Ravenshroud." Little did they know, as the stage was set, the delicate dance of power had truly begun.

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Oooop

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The Screaming Man // 2022

          … The pose of this particular sculpture was decided based on the prompt of impact; I wanted the posture and expression to perhaps startle the viewer, to convey the sense of someone screaming for help and reaching out a hand in desperation. I wanted to make it visceral, for audiences to feel uneasy when they see it and get a rush of emotion that will remain with them even after they walk away.            Ideally, this sculpture would be shown in an area that is wooded, where one may not see it at first. It is that jolt of recognition of the human form that would catch the attention of any accidental audience members, that realization that somebody has been silently screaming for help right in the corner of your eye and you hadn’t even noticed. That it could have easily gone unnoticed and unheard, but now your attention is impossible to deny, that it is too late to plead ignorance without remembering what you saw, what cry for help you had no choice but to walk away from.           There is a meaning in that shame. It means something to me, and I know it means something to you as well. Something about guilt and helplessness and learned apathy, but I wish to let audiences decide what specific meaning it has to them. The type of impact is unique on the person, after all - at the end of the day, the screaming man is simply a man made out of sticks. Nothing more, nothing less. Not unless more is given, if one chooses to take the hand reaching out.

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Talking to my family is the most toxic thing ever.

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This broke my fucking heart

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Absolutely true

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Glad You’re Home (TASM! Peter Parker x fem!reader)

Summary: You’ve known Miles Morales for years. You knew high school would be an interesting time for him. What you didn’t know was that would involve him becoming Spider-Man’s protégé. Nor did you know it would involve him bringing an injured Spider-Man to your apartment one night for you to take care of.

Warnings: Fluff, descriptions of injuries, hint of angst, mild sexual innuendos and lots of flirting. Reader also has a nickname. Set after No Way Home. Reader and Peter are in their 20s (post college).

Notes: I haven’t written in literal years, but couldn’t get this idea out of my head. Shoutout to @lipstickbisous​ for inspiring me to write the fluff you want to see in the world. 5.5K words later and here we are. 

Part two is up! As is part three!

You were beginning to prep dinner when you got his text.

MM: Hey, you home?

Yeah. Why?

MM: Need your help. Be outside in 5.

Keep reading

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White folx it’s not about your emotional stamina. It is about using it as a manipulation tAcTic. You know the lengths that your white men will go through and have gone through to make sure that you don’t feel “uncomfortable” or “distressed”. People have lost their lives over this bullshit. What’s disgusting is like you know this is only to get what you want at cost to others and you go on your merry way. When us as WOC are not allowed to voice a single second of discomfort. Grow up, cut the shit ok.

Stop believing white women when they cry

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I don’t know what Daniel Radcliffe is doing these days and this clip doesn’t help but here’s my thoughts on the matter:

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https://www.khalsaaid.org/donate