#Daily Assassin Life

[kattartsblog]

Rated: T

Warnings: Swearing, Partial Nudity, and Alcohol

Ilona was given a camcorder as a Christmas gift.

Author’s note: This is the only fic written as a script.

SETTING: RISOTTO’S APARTMENT

*There’s a slight beeping noise as the camcorder turns on, it starts off blurry at first but then it clears up to show Ilona in their room with Melone*

Ilona: Is this thing on?

Melone: I believe so. The directions said that the light should be on if you’re recording.

Ilona: Yay! Thanks again for helping me.

Melone: Anytime Ilona. Be sure to erase the footage later.

*Melone walks off screen, he closes the door*

Ilona: (into camera) Ok… well how do I start this, I mean it’s going to get thrown out so I guess I’ll say things I’ll never say to anyone. *they take a deep breath* Melone is really hot and I want to tell him but I’m too chicken. I think Illuso is a stupid mother fucker. Formaggio is like a big brother to me and I think of Risotto as like the cool dad I never got to meet. Prosciutto is a prude but it’s understandable because he’s not very attractive. I got nothing to say about Pesci, he’s pretty chill. I’m jealous that Gelato and Sorbet are in a loving relationship, they’re basically a top item. Ghiaccio is way too scary and I can never really talk to him. And finally I wish I didn’t have a stand, that way I could get rid of these stupid fucking cat paws! *a moment of silence, they catch their breath* Ok, now we can fool around.

*Ilona takes the camera off of the stand and opens the door, there is Risotto’s living room. Gelato is having a screaming match with Ghiaccio*

Gelato: It’s not my fault you didn’t get new wine.

Ghiaccio: You were supposed to get it, puttana!

Ilona: (to camera) And we’re going to a different room.

*Ilona takes the camera downstairs to the meeting area, there Formaggio is sprawled out shirtless on the couch.*

Ilona: (to camera) Ah, and here we see the exotic drunken cheese man. See how he’s… OH HECK! *they cover up the lense with their paw* (to Formaggio) FORMAGGIO PUT YOUR PANTS ON! I can see your junk through your boxers.

*Formaggio is snapped to attention and puts his pants back on. The camera lens is then uncovered.*

Formaggio: Sorry about that Illy~. Wait, are you filming?

Ilona: Si Signore, you’re on air.

Formaggio: *He adjusts himself to sit upright and look “charming”* Ok, interview me. Ask me anything.

Ilona: Ok… would you rather get punched in the nards by Ghiaccio’s White Album, or become a wrinkly old man for a week by Prosciutto’s Grateful Dead?

Formaggio: Ugh, amico… you are making this too easy. Grateful Dead, duh! I wanna keep my balls!

Ilona: Wow, that’s a ballsy choice.

Formaggio: Shut your mouth kid.

*The camera cuts to a few minutes later, Pesci is on screen doing some sort of karaoke. He’s haphazardly messing up words every once in a while.*

Illuso: Ilona, are you filming this?

Ilona: *they turned the camera to Illuso* Yeah.

Illuso: After Pesci, film me singing!

Ilona: You know I’m getting rid of this after tonight right?

Illuso: I know, but that's why it’s better to have this burned in your memories than on a camcorder.

*Once Pesci was finished, Illuso gets up and changes the song on the boombox*

Ilona: (to camera) What a drama king.

*suddenly the sound of Prosciutto screaming could be heard, Ilona points the camera at Prosciutto rushing into the meeting room. There’s black smoke everywhere.*

Prosciutto: Open the fucking balcony!

*Pesci goes to open up the balcony door while everyone starts to cough up the black smoke*

Pesci: Fratello, what happened?

Prosciutto: I was able to put out the fire, but the Pesce al Forno burned.

Ghiaccio: I told you that I should have done the cooking! But does anyone listen to me, no!

Prosciutto: Well now we won’t have any.

Ilona: Uh… If I may-

*The camera cuts to Ilona, Formaggio, Melone, and Illuso walking in the streets.*

Illuso: Why was I dragged along?

Formaggio: Because I like to tourture you. *he give a cocky smile*

Illuso: Fuck you.

Melone: (to Ilona) I can hold the camera if you want.

Ilona: Oh, ok then. *Ilona hands the camera off to Melone*

Melone: Care to fill the audience on what’s happening?

Ilona: Ok, so. To make a long story short, the 7 fish feast was abruptly ruined by Prosciutto messing up. And now on christmas eve, we 4 are trekking into town to find more ingredients! To be honest, I wanted to go alone.

Melone: Really?

Ilona: I wanted to prove to Risotto that I’m not that helpless little stray he found a year ago. But I guess this makes sense, he doesn’t trust me enough to handle it.

Melone: Hmm, now that you mention it-

Formaggio: (from a distance) FUCK!

*Illuso is seen laughing at Formaggio who is now on the ground*

Melone: (Shouting to Formaggio) Are you ok?

Formaggio: (From a distance) Nothing’s broken, just tripped!

*The camera cuts again to the entire squad eating dinner*

Ilona: (to camera) Luckily we found a shop that was still open, and we even bought a christmas cake! It’s got ice cream inside.

*Ilona shows a piece of the cake on a plate before the camera cuts once more to everyone leaving the apartment. Though Prosciutto is standing in the doorway talking to Risotto. Ilona’s taking the camera up to their room, but a feint conversation can be heard*

Risotto: You’re staying over for the night?

Prosciutto: Yes, at least I won’t have to- *Prosciutto sees the camera’s red light* Liquirizia, you better erase that footage or I’ll get rid of that toy for good.

Ilona: Oh, whoops! Sorry, don’t worry this’ll all gone by morning.

Prosciutto: It better!

*Ilona quickly covers the camera lens and puts it on the desk, they look quite sad.*

Ilona: (into camera) …I know I promised to get rid of the tape but… I’ll hide it. That way I can always have this happy memory of everyone together. I’m so happy that I have such good friends. Well Buon Natale! December 24th 19-

*The camcorder is shut off*

[daily-assassins-creed-facts]

Once, Edward kenway took down an entire man o’ war just to get a new cook. Events described in the first chapter of the AC Blackflag book explain how Edward accidentally killed the cook of his ship, and instead of letting his crew fend for themselves (no one knew how to boil water) he decided to forcibly get a new cook. During the fight on the man o’ war, he cut a man’s nose off. Later on in the chapter it is revealed that that person..was the cook. So now the Jackdaw has a nose-less cook

[curry-and-gunpowder]

Feeling completely normal about Oda Sakunosuke this morning.

[chxrry-blxssxm-tea]

Requests are Open

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

If you have any requests for one shots or headcanons I should do please leave them in my Inbox.I WILL NOT WRITE ANYTHING THAT IS SMUT AND PEDOPHILIA OR ANYTHING THAT CONTAINS SEXUAL ACTIVITY WITH MINORS.

-The fandoms I write for are-

✿Toilet Bound Hanako Kun

✿Classroom of the Elite

✿Hunter X Hunter

✿Danganronpa

✿Daily Life of the Immortal King

✿Wonder Egg Priority

✿Jujutsu Kaisen

✿Demon Slayer

✿Banana Fish

✿Assassination Classroom

✿A Silent Voice

✿Toradora

✿Twisted Wonderland

✿Project Sekai/Hatsune Miku Colorful Stage

✿Dangerous Fellows

✿Obey me

✿Any Manhwa's as long as I have read them

[toestalucia]

btw was looking thro some stuff up to ~ch156 somewhere due to that post, but i like these parts soooooooo much

Repti: Duat, island of tribunals. Not only did you rescue your friend from an illegal death, but you even toppled the True King. An absolute brilliant display of skill. Choice: What are you scheming now?

meets repti again and immediately is on guard. me too

Then Ruby Pop Irotis points to the stone coffer nearby. A dull light glows from the coffer, which is topped with a pane of smooth glass. She seems to want Captain to look inside. Upon inspecting the contents, Captain's mind refuses to accept what the eyes see. Irotis: I'm sorry, Captain… Lyria, she… Confused beyond belief, hearing the woman speak Lyria's name pushes Captain over the edge. The captain lunges at her.

ITS THE LUNGEINNNNGGGGG ruby pop irotis u are my favorite my everything. no other va has had to cry as much as u have had to. they need to add u to more things immediadetly

HOLD ON THERES ALSO THIS PART

Captain studies the neatly folded scarf. Showing no signs of becoming a mask again, it looks like a common piece of neckwear. But from the moment Captain's fingers brush against the threads, the captain knows it came from the shrine priestess. Captain embarked on a journey first started by their parents, and it falls to the captain to rescue the shrine priestess. Feeling that it's another step toward the ultimate destination, Captain stows the scarf away. Right next to the letter that reads: "I'll be waiting for you in Estalucia, the Island of the Astrals."

im gonna be honest i forgot they kept the scarf. i did not forget the mask thing but this was crucial info i need to lean into more. btw the 'their' in there is ingame. i need to collect all those instances cuz it DOES happen, its one of my earliest gbf memories LOOOOL i do assume its to make localization easier so they dont have to put a he/she tag cuz they DO use he/she too, but whatever, its highly why i use they/he for gran either way.

also wording stuff but saying 'it falls to the captain' makes me ill. thinks about how dad made sure zinkenstill's villagers wouldnt tell captain about what happened long ago despite it involving the death of their grandparents & that they have an aunt out there. so they wouldnt set out with revenge. proceeds to tell them to go to estalucia insteAAADDDDDDDDDDD GGGGGG also they always reference the 'ill be waiting there' part. i get it. i know why. but when u put that next to an item u received from a friend who was told by ur aunt to give it to u ?!?!?!? ur aunt who was kidnapped by the kingdom ure currently in ?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!? the fact true king 1) has the luminary table = the luminary knights. baragona & walfrid r friends with dad (i need to get back to it but theres some dialogue about it belonging to erste?tau'luk when i get u) 2) essentially forces captain into a political engagement with his daughter. like. gran is NOT having a good time in oarlyegrande. they do not want to return even when this is all over. sorry oarlyegrande is so much i cant stop talking unfortunately for everyone i am obsesseed with main quest

[devotedlystrangewizard]

i dont really care about assassins creed anymore you know Ubisoft sucks ass and while the games were fun they were also pretty mediocre and *several pictures of haytham kenway fall out of my pockets* those arent mine what

[scripture-pictures]

[drenched-in-sunlight]

daily life at Leyndell ✨ giving mom flowers… busting an assassination attempt or two …

I just want to draw Messmer in casual clothes I guess… (and Godwyn probably never put on a shirt outside armor 🤔)

[etfrin]

⤷❝ The Quiet Gift | Coriolanus Snow❞ˎˊ-

⇢☾Warning: NSFW | squirting, Snow is his own warning, mentions of killing, possessiveness, fingering (f. receiving), bathroom sex, mirror sex, semi-public sex (there was a gala), pinv sex, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), dumbfication if you squint, dom sub undertones, degradation, ownership kink, breath play with a twist | lmk if I forgot anything!

⇢☾Pairing: young president Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

⇢☾Summary: continuation of the arranged marriage au, this is your one year anniversary with him with a gala held in place to celebrate, you get insecure because of some bitches and Coryo fucks you in the bathroom with sprinkles of your daily life with him.

⇢☾Request: this is a request (idk if i’m writing it in the write place im new to tumblr i usually use wattpad) young coriolanus snow bathroom mirror sex like him making u watch ur self come undone in the mirror

⇢☾A/N: enjoy everyone! And to one who requested, hope you like this! :) this might be my last post of this theme btw, i am getting sick of the blue :/

arranged marriage au: the study, mine to love

< masterlist > < bc: @cafekitsune > < tag list >

A year had passed of your marriage, a bond between two souls which wasn't much of a lie as before. Things with Coryo were better than you could ever expect. You thought he would isolate himself from you after your confession but so much had changed. He had gotten softer but more possessive. His edges are sharp yet he makes sure it's a shield for you, not something that would make you bleed.

Among his actions include changing your entire wardrobe (not without your opinion first), a library that connects to his office (his office is something you have access to at all times now), his room was now yours both (your favorite change), and last but not least a poison taster was included so that no attempts of assassination at the First Lady could be taken.

At first, you thought it to be extra, but knowing that it would put his paranoid mind at peace you allow it without much to say. He picked out your outfit every day, and sometimes you did the same for Coriolanus. He would frown as you decide what to wear or not for him for the day, knowing that some of the pieces don't match his style but when he sees your smile as you pick out the clothes. He smooths his frown and takes whatever horrible fashion statement you created for him and wears it with pride.

If anyone dared to speak up about it, he proudly said that his wife picked it out and everyone knew better than to speak a single ill word of the unspoken Queen of Panem.

Today was one of those days when you decided to pick his outfit. Today was something special after all. One year had passed since you had become Mrs. Snow, and a gala was to be held tonight to celebrate the union.

So yes, you were going to pick his outfit. You had even woken up early because of it. You giggled as you opened your eyes, your arm around Coryo whose hair looked impossibly messy, sticking out everywhere. It made him look years younger than he was. You chuckled at the sight, your heart clenching with the love you have for this man. You lean forward to press a kiss to his forehead and then his cheek. You whispered, not expecting him to wake up until his alarm rang, “Good morning, Coryo”

You quietly slipped away from the bed and tiptoeed to the closet. The closet you both shared now. One side carrying every single piece of your clothing and the other side his. You wanted to pick out something different for your husband once, sick of seeing him in his white shirts and black vest. That's how you picked out a black suit with a white vest and a red silk shirt. You could imagine unbuttoning this off of him tonight and the thought made your body heat up and a giggle escaped your lips.

“What are you laughing about, doll?” A voice, his deep sleepy voice startling you. “Nothing!” You quickly said, turning to look at Snow, your breath hitching as his eyes were half closed and his hair turned into a mess of curls. Sometimes you wonder if this was all a fever dream and if you truly have the privilege of seeing him like this. You placed the clothes into a corner and went to him.

You pulled him down, your hand on his nape and another on his cheek as you guided him to your lips. Morning breath be damned. His actions were reflexive with how his arms pulled you in closer as his lips pressed into yours. He smiles against your lips and soon both of your tongues tangle in an uncoordinated sleepy manner and you whimper into his mouth.

This was real. This was your reality and you would do everything to keep it as it is. You pulled back and he whispered, “What was that for, doll?”

“Just needed to make sure this was real,” you answered him. Your words make him crack a real smile, something even you saw rarely and it would only be possible in moments like this. Moments when you have shocked the man with your actions and words and made him fall harder for you.

“Well it is,” he grins. Before his expression clears up he focuses on the clothes you have set aside. “Outfit for today?” He asked. You nod and smile at him, gesturing at the clothes. “You would look handsome in them,” you said. “Don't I always look handsome?” He smirks, you laugh, “I am not falling for that trap, dear husband. I'll be in the shower, choose something for me.” You press a kiss on his cheek before leaving the closet.

After showering and wearing the red dress he had decided, both of you go on for your respective duties. The gala would start early in the day and there were a few hours left before it formally started as guests were already coming in.

The mansion was set up beautifully, no words could have possibly explained the amount of work and dedication to make this the event of the year, valued higher than the Hunger Games itself. In another universe, it may not have been possible, in this one however you somehow managed to crack into his heart and made yourself a higher priority.

You were doing finishing touches of your makeup when Corio came in, his hair slicked back but his body tense, his eyes unable to hide the shakiness in them. You don't say anything, letting the man have his moment of vulnerability. You knew you would mess him up even more if you pointed it out, so you continued your task.

You didn't pay him any attention despite the itch to turn to him. You force yourself to stare straight into the mirror, applying your lipstick for the night. That was until he came behind you, his arms around your waist and pulled you against his chest, his head propped on your shoulder as you felt him take deep breaths.

You don't ask if anything is wrong, accepting the rare form of intimacy he initiated. Usually, you're the ones for the hugs, the genuine ones anyway. You knew despite everything you were like a math equation to Snow. His mind figured out the formulas to keep you to him forever, you doubted if he saw anyone as his equal but you were perhaps the closest thing to it.

You had accepted it long before, but moments like this when Coriolanus allowed himself to be a human meant everything to you. You fell for every version of him, the one that is an untouchable deity who could kill you without guilt, and the human he was, obsession filling in veins making you the sole objective of his mind as he already achieved Panem.

You close your eyes, taking deep breaths with him. In the end, you were human too and you broke. “What's wrong?” You asked, as softly as possible yet breaking the bubble that had formed.

He smirks through the mirror, his eyes meeting yours, a sense of superiority in the blue hues. “Nothing’s wrong, my doll,” he whispered to you, pressing a ghost-like kiss to your bare shoulder. His arms cage you tighter, making a small gasp on your lips. “Okay,” you smile at him.

“Ready to start the gala then?” You asked, “Snows are born ready,” he replied, his tone smug.

One of his arms was kept wrapped around his waist while the other opened a drawer to take out a small box. “For you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your neck. You opened the box, and in it was a gold necklace with the initial ‘S’. You blush, and leave it to Corio to give you a necklace with his initials for an anniversary gift. “It’s beautiful,” you whispered, your head turning back and you gave him the brightest smile. “Help me wear it?” You mumbled as you handed him the box.

And so he did, and now a necklace was on your neck, the letter ‘S’ sitting perfectly on your skin. It scratched an innate itch for Snow to see you wear this. A part of him had expected you to fight, and be disgusted by this action, his mind thinking of several ways to make (force) you to wear the necklace. But as always you surprised him with your acceptance, as if you knew that wearing this would help him with his possessiveness. You were truly the right woman for him.

With his arm around your waist, you walk into the celebration. Countless people, the top elites of the Capitol were attending the gala. Everything had to be perfect.

Alas, fate is nothing but fickle.

The rumors didn't catch your ears at first before slowly the whispers caught up to you. Too busy with your life in the mansion and with Coriolanus, you rarely were social. You never had many friends from the capitols' elites. And those who knew were merely allies for the future. So the gossip never reached your ears.

Gossip you knew better to believe. Words change when they travel mouth to mouth. It can be easily manipulated too, your husband was a living proof of that. The snake tongue of all of Panem. But when the words seemed to get louder and louder, you couldn't help but feel maybe it's tinged with truth.

Snow was busy talking to diplomats while you were politely having a conversation with the ladies. That's when the questions began about some things they had heard about Snow. Each worse than the other but nothing you didn't already know. You make sure to change their perspective whenever something new comes up. Coriolanus was still new at this position, anything could snatch the power away if either of you weren't careful.

Feeling like you have finished the job, you begin to move away, only to stop when you hear, “...even wearing a pendant with his initial, she's nothing more than a whore who was pushed up to play the role of the First Lady. A woman of her standing would never deserve such a title.”

It was true, when Snow asked you to marry you, it was sudden and he gained nothing from it. Nothing, no money, power, and just a few connections you had but he had already impressed them all beforehand so there was no need for you. Your history in the academy wasn't all that great either, you were never the best but wholly average. A man like Snow deserved the best.

Insecurity claws at your heart and even so with recent events you knew their words were wrong. Tears burned your eyes. Your hand goes to the necklace you had on, your fingers twirling the pendant. Meanwhile, despite Coriolanus' focus being mainly on talking sweet to the guests and gathering sponsors, his eyes were on you, your every moment, and each person you spoke to. He notices you walking away from the gala and into the hallways. He followed you.

You were in one of the many bathrooms the manor had to offer. You stared at the mirror, the necklace you were wearing, and your hands traveled to the back ready to take it off. That's when Coriolanus enters the bathroom, his footsteps stopping midtrack as you freeze too.

“Coryo,” you begin to speak, your hand at your side now. “I was just-” “Why were you going to take it off?” He interrupted you, his face twisted in a glare you never thought would be directed at you. You shrugged, trying to play casual, “It doesn't feel appropriate.” “Why?” He questioned his tone icy calm, spreading chills down your spine. “Because-” because you didn't feel worthy of it. “Because you're ashamed of me,” he scoffs, walking closer to you. His eyes now fully glaring at you.

You frown, “What? Coryo, no-” He tilts your chin up, as he leans in, his expression twisted in fury, “Then what? There's no other appropriate reason for you to take it off then.” In truth, something was getting lost in translation, the women you were talking to earlier were going to be accused of treason in a few days. The cause? The rumors (some truth mixed in as well) they had spread about Snow. They were invited out of courtesy and after this, they had signed their death certificate.

“It's nothing like-” “Then what?” He hissed, “Did you finally come to your senses? Did they tell you how much of a horrible monster I am? And a horrible president?” You knew some sort of major miscommunication had happened but you had no idea how to deal with it. Not when Snow pressed a harsh, hard kiss to your lips, teeth clashing and his tongue seemingly fighting with yours for dominance that you easily gave over.

“You can't escape me, doll. No matter how horrible you realize I am. Think about running away and it's your dead body that will be leaving this mansion.” he whispered against your lips, his hands on your waist, your body flushed against his as your back hit the counter.

You chuckled at his words, knowing that would never be your end. His eyebrows furrow in confusion and it makes you giggle even further. “Dove, I am not joking,” he said, looking straight in your eyes. “I know,” you smile at him, “You…” you shake your head, smiling, you were surely crazier than him. You leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “Those women said something… mean and it made me realize I may not be worthy of this necklace…” you begin to explain, hoping the explanation would calm him down.

You thought wrong. “You don't think I can decide who deserves to be my property, pet. Whom I let to be my queen,” he said, his tone deeper than before. He whispered, “I decided it's you. It's been a year since that decision and I haven't regretted it once.”

He manovaroued you so you were facing the mirror. He was right behind you, his eyes hard. “The woman you're looking at right now is mine. My pet. My wife. How dare you try to take off a mark of my ownership, doll?” You opened your mouth to apologize, but a moan escaped instead as he bit into your shoulder. He begins to press you against the counter, your body bending over as he continues to press wet kisses on your nape.

“You need a reminder about whom you belong to,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your skin making you shiver, heat spreading to your body as his hands unzipped your dress from behind, letting the fabric fall on the floor. ��I am yours,” you moan to him as his palms knead your breasts through the bra. “Then you should have known better, my stupid bird.”

“You look away from the mirror even once…,” he said, his hands squeezing your breasts roughly, his head propped up to your shoulder, his face set in a smirk, “and that group of women dies.” They were going to die either way but you didn't know that.

You gasp, “Snow- '' His hands squeeze your breasts harder, bordering on pain. “It’s Coryo for you, dove,” he said, slowly yet firmly as if talking to a child. His hands move downwards, one moves to your hip, and for the other, his fingers slip inside your panties. You whimper when his fingertip touches your clit. At any other time, he would have been slow, and gentle when he was rubbing the bud but now? His touch was fast and unconcerned, his sole goal was to inflict punishment with pleasure.

He rubbed at your clit relentlessly, making you soak your panties with your juices. His other hand squeezes your hips. You whine, your eyes closing and he pinches your clit making you moan louder than you should, your eyes opening immediately to meet his gaze.

“Only warning, pet,” he whispered, his finger now playing with the clit even more relentlessly. Back and forth, up and down with no mercy, making the bud swollen and your pussy clench around nothing. “Yes, Coryo,” you gasp.

“My dumb pet can learn after all,” he whispered to your ear and then his lips kissed the clasp of your necklace. His fingers abandon your clit to swipe at your folds to gather your wetness. He chuckles as he continues to tease you like this, his hard cock pressing against your ass.

“Coryo,” you whispered and your eyes connected with his and you knew his fingers could feel the flex of your cunt around nothing. “That's it. Look at me, doll.”

He slipped his fingers one by one into your slit, the stretch making you gasp. “It's too much,” you managed to get out, your voice shaky. “You can take it,” he tuts. His fingers begin to message your wall, hitting every crook and canny you never knew existed. He twisted his fingers thrusting right at your g-spot making you moan loudly, your body was now completely bent over in front of the mirror and your hands gripped the counter for life. Snow continues to playfully stretch you out, scissoring your pussy with his long fingers.

When he finally deemed you loose enough, he pulled his fingers out without a warning making you whimper. He pulls down your panties around your knees, and then his hand unzipped his pant to take his cock out. Something in you liked how he was composed and fully clothed while having you like this, primal and debauched. It showcased Coriolanus perfectly, no matter how prim and proper the man was outside in the end he was as much of a mess.

His impatient was clear with his clenched jaw, one of his hands traveling upwards your body to grip your breast like a handle as his free hand guides his leaking, hard cock into your entrance. “I was going to fuck you good tonight, on a bed properly like a wife deserves,” he begins to say as he pushed in with a single stroke. Your mouth lets out a small scream as your pussy adjusts to his dick. “Instead I have to treat you like a whore, bending your ass over a counter and fuck you while there are people all over the mansion.” He shakes his head disappointed, he meets your gaze, “I expected better, doll.”

“Then why keep a disappointment around,” you snapped at him, making him raise his eyebrows at your tone, his cock twitching inside your walls. “I wonder that myself too,” he grunts, his face buried in your shoulder, his tongue licking your salty skin. “You’re my everything,” he whispered, “Don't you forget that, dove.”

It was a confession that made you turn your back and made you catch his lips. He groans into your mouth as both of your tongues play with each other, expressing words the others cannot say. His free hand went to grip your necklace chain, making you gasp as he fisted the chain and pulled at it, knocking at your breath in one go.

His hips had begun to pound into you, short, hard thrusts that made his cockhead press against your g-spot while his remaining length messaged your walls perfectly. “You don't have to think, doll. I am here to think for you. You don't have to think about deserving me, or Panem. You don't have to think at all, just be my bird. My bird only,” he grunts.

Your eyes had begun to see spots from the lack of air, he hadn't seemed to care as your pussy keeps squeezing around him because of it. He lets go of the chain, making you gasp and you take the air you desperately need as his thrusts begin to get sloppier. Coryo was too impatient, too worked up, too mad at you to care about your pleasure. You were a pet getting used and you loved every second of it.

“I love you,” you whispered to him, and he groaned in response, as his thrusts got slower. He was edging himself to last longer, for this not to end. He bites your nape, not hard as he does usually to make sure the mark fades in a few seconds. His hips continue to rock into you, both of his hands now kneading at your clothed breast. He makes your round flesh spill from the bra and cups them with a groan escaping his lips.

“You’re mine,” he said as he pressed wet kisses all over your neck and shoulders, “Mine.” Your pussy clenched around him, making his pace get even slower, frustration begins to claw your mind as your body tethers to the edge. “Yours,” you agreed. “Fuck me faster,” you plead.

He lets out a laugh, “No. You'll take what I'll give.” “Coryo, my love please!” You begged. His hips stutter, making you feel confused, before realizing why he had stopped. You hadn't called him that since that night and you realized you had leverage on the man.

“My love, please! Fuck me harder,” you spill, “Baby, please!” He clenched his jaw trying so hard not to give in to the instinct of rutting into you like an animal. Knowing that he was near the edge, you continue, “Cum in me and make me walk around the gala with your cum inside, please. Please, mark me!”

That did the trick rather perfectly. His hand wraps around your throat, not choking you but staying there as a comforting presence that shouldn't have been comforting at all. “My dumb pet has ways with words. Gotta fuck that out of you, my dove,” he smirked.

His hips begin to roll into you again, making you gasp and squeeze his dick with your slick walls. The start of it was slow and cautious before Coriolanus decided to throw it all in the wind. He takes half of his length out before slamming it back to you. The sound of hips snapping echoed into the air along with his grunts and your moans. He kept fucking into you, with no care about anything.

Both of your sights were obscene in the mirror and it turned you not to end. Your body had begun to heat, your pussy aching to cum after being played with for so long. The tension in your body was close to snapping, and he knew it too. Knew it the way your cunt kept sucking his cock in so well. His head was on your shoulder, his mouth breathing out hot air onto your skin.

“Look at me,” you whispered, and his eyes snap at you and not even a second later he spills into your cunt, fucking his cum into you as he lets out a whine for the first time. You gasp, feeling your build-up fading without snapping but Snow was never to disappoint. He pulled his cock out, just to stuff you with his fingers. You whimper, your sensitive walls twitching around his fingers, so close to breaking.

Coriolanus doesn't waste a second to thrust into your sopping cunt, your folds covered in his cum, and fucking that into you with his fingers. He crooks his fingers perfectly, hitting your g-spot and making you black out for a second as his fingers keep assaulting your insides without a care.

You gasp, your body starting to give up. Snow has to wrap an arm around you to help you stay balanced. “That's it, doll. Cum on my fingers. I will make you cum on my cock later,” he promised to you. You cry out as his fingers continue their fast pace of thrusting. And finally, finally, your orgasm builds up again. A single graze from his fingertip onto your spongy spot has you not only cumming but squirting too.

Even Coriolanus eyes widen in surprise as you spill your juices onto the floor, ruining your dress and everything. You begin to feel ashamed of losing control in such a manner, but Coryo curses, “Fuck, doll. Fuck, that was…” He couldn't even finish the sentence.

You close your eyes, feeling yourself close to losing balance, only for Snow to swipe your legs from the floor and carry you to the bathtub.

“I’ll take care of you, doll,” he said, “I’ll bring in a new set of clothes, wait.” “What about the gala?” You asked. He kissed your temple before he replied, “I told everyone to leave the moment you walked away. Told everyone you were sick and as your husband, I shall be taking care of you.”

You let out a raspy chuckle, it was rather amazing how Coriolanus Snow always turned everything in his favor. Even this would help his image of being a president who took such good care of his wife and would surely take the country to great lengths.

“Snow lands on top,” you whispered to him with a smile.

Current tag list: @stelleduarte @nowitsmissing @lifeonawhim @le-lena @dollfacedalls @motley-baby @champomiel @slytherinholland @randomstuff2040 @justacaliforniandreamer @emmalinemalfoy @hyuk4s @theamuz @watercolorskyy

[yarrowleef-babbles]

mistborn's magic is cool but im starting to wonder if i can no longer enjoy stories about political revolutionary groups that are very very clearly written by em....people who are probably not very revolutionary irl. to make a long grouchy ramble short.

ive liked plenty of books by non radical authors, but the fact this one is *about* a needed revolution makes those moments particularly distracting. sometimes it makes the characters feel disingenuous.

anyway i absolutely loathe elend venture as a person and a character and a concept just. so so much. every time he talks i want to strangle him

abolish your house and relinquish your wealth or shut the fuck up forever challenge

[kattartsblog]

Rated: M

Warnings: Angst, Implied Depression, Swearing, and Death

The year is 2009, Ilona travels to Sardinia to get some closure on Risotto’s death.

Soaring through the sky above the Tyrrhenian sea, Ilona looked out of the window to see the island of Sardinia down below. Giorno sat across from them and had a worried expression on his face. “Are you going to be ok?” Giorno asked. “I’m not entirely sure.'' Ilona said hesitantly. Radicchio held Ilona’s paw, “You sure you don’t want us to come with you?”

“Yeah, it’s more of a me thing. But, I appreciate you guys worrying so much about me.” Ilona replied. Radicchio and Mostaccioli felt a sense of unease from Ilona, as the small plane touched down in the Olbia airport. “We’ll send you a text and meet you at the hotel.” Mostaccioli shouted. Ilona waved goodbye to their companions and followed Mista and Giorno as they went to steal a cab.

Mista found a black Alfa Romero 159 and began to hijack it. As soon as Giorno came closer to the car’s driver seat, he stopped him in his tracks. “Oh no you don’t, boss with all due respect, I’ll be driving you.”

“Guido, it’s fine. Allow me-“ Mista shook his head, “You may have your license, but I’m not going to let you drive me into a body of water like you did on our way to Venezia. What if you traumatize poor Ilona even more!?” Giorno smiled and gave a sweet warm chuckle, “You’re still hung up about that, ok ok. I won’t drive.” Ilona had no clue what they were referring to but they supposed it was an inside joke. However it sounded familiar. As soon as Mista was done tampering with the wires, he opened the front door of the car and unlocked the other doors. Giorno sat next to Ilona in the back seat.

“Can’t believe it’s been 8 years.” Mista said as he started the car. Giorno hummed in agreement and then turned to Ilona. They felt an uncomfortable tightness in their chest. “Ilona. Do you perchance know where in Sardinia Risotto was heading?” Giorno questioned. Ilona looked out the window, then answered with unsureness. “Sort of, I think it was Costa something?” Mista almost pressed the gas pedal in shock, he realized what place Ilona was referring to. “Costa Smeralda, just up north of here.” Giorno said firmly, chills ran up Mista’s spine as he put the car in drive. The ride there was tense, Mista and Giorno knew that it was the same place Diavolo was born. But it was also the same place where their close traveling companion, Leone Abbacchio, had been brutally murdered.

They finally made it all the way up north of the island. Parking the car near the side of the road near the bottom of a cliff. They see a small patch of dandelions and an old stone pillar. Both Mista and Giorno were visibly uncomfortable at the site of this place. All of the memories of that day flooded back to them. Ilona began slowly walking around the beach, like a cat stalking their prey, lightly stepping around the patch of flowers. They turned back to see Mista and Giorno still standing in the same spots as when they arrived. “Hey, um… is there something you guys aren’t telling me?” Giorno hesitated to say anything but Mista finally broke the silence. “Do you remember meeting a guy named Leone Abbacchio?”

Ilona thought about it for a moment before remembering seeing the white haired, tall goth man once accompining Bruno. “Vaguely, I never spoke with him much.” Ilona answered. Mista pointed at the flower patch, “Well, this was where he was killed. We came to find him a few minutes too late.” Mista tried to hold back his emotions, Giorno placed a hand on his shoulder to try and calm him down. Ilona was shocked, no wonder they had felt so disturbed by this place. But now, a new question arose. “Why were you guys here?” Ilona asked. “What?” Giorno replied, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t mean to pry but, I’d like to know why you guys here.” Mista looked at Giorno and then answered, “After we betrayed la familigia, we heard that the boss grew up here. So we went to search for him.”

Ilona’s eyes widened, they remembered that Risotto told them what he had been planning, avenge La Squadra by confronting Diavolo. This means that if Abbacchio had died here, then so did Risotto. Ilona’s heart began to beat fast, thinking of the possibilities. As if a light switch flipped on in their mind, they realized a horrible detail. “What day was it when he died?!” Ilona asked in a frantic tone, “It couldn’t be a coincidence if he-“

“Ilona, take a breath. Relax for a second.” Giorno said, Ilona took a deep breath and sat on the ground. Mista sat next to them, “Chill out. What is going through your mind?” Ilona looked down at their paws, “Risotto left for Sardinia 3 days after Ghiaccio died. If he came here… then maybe-”

“Are you implying that both Risotto and Abbacchio died on the same day in the same place?” Mista interrupted, Ilona nodded. “You’re kidding!?”

“I think they might be right, it wouldn’t be out of the question.” Giorno replied, “Maybe there’s something up higher on that cliff?”

The three of them trekked up to search for anything significant, they only found strange rock formations on the side of a road. There was no way they could find any clues from 8 years ago. Just then, Ilona saw something in the corner of the eye. A dusty golden, circular ornament with the letter R engraved on it. This was from Risotto’s hat, Ilona could recognise this thing anywhere! But where’s the rest of the hat? Ilona brought the hat charm to show Giorno and Mista, “Look, he was here! I can’t believe it! Risotto wore this hat everywhere and it had these charms on it. If we could find the rest of the hat, maybe we could find his body!”

The two mafiosi looked at Ilona with concern, they must have been desperate to find any trace of their old friends. “May I see that for a moment?” Giorno asked, Ilona nodded and gave the charm to Giorno. Using the powers of his stand, Giorno turned the charm into a sparrow and made it fly away. Ilona grew red in the face, “What the hell was that for?! Turn it back!” Mista knew what was happening and tried to calm Ilona down, “Ilona, chill man! Giorno will turn it back after we find the hat. For now, follow that bird!” They followed the bird a little down the way, there they saw a torn up hat. It had dried up blood stains, multiple bullet holes in it, and was practically a shred of dusty cloth with more of the rusted ornaments tied to the bottom of the hat.

Ilona knelt down and gingerly picked up the shreds of the hat. He was here, this was his final resting ground alright. Gulping air, Ilona tried to hold back the tears that started slowly falling from their face. Giorno and Mista were reminded how Narancia reacted to Abbachio’s death and his raw emotions bubbling over. Ilona stood up and slowly walked past Giorno and Mista, gripping onto the hat tightly. They followed them to the dandelion patch where Ilona placed a rock with the hat underneath it. Ilona placed the broken off charm in their pocket and petted the rock. Ilona sat there for a little bit, it felt like time was standing still until Ilona had spoken.

“Risotto, I just want to tell you that I’m ok and I kept my promise. You and the team believed in me, in your own way. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this sooner but… grazie, for everything.” The ocean’s breeze made a sound that sounded like a whisper, it was as if Ilona’s prayer had been answered. The salty sent of the wind reminded Ilona of those happy memories they had shared with La Squadra. The sea’s breeze flew past Giorno and Mista, they too had heard a whisper that sounded familiar to only them. They turned to face the ocean, there on the horizon was the sun setting a golden hue where the sky met the sea. Ilona stood up from their spot and wiped their tears, “You guys ready to go?” They sniffled, Giorno looked at Ilona who still looked like they were going to cry.

“Yes I think we-“ suddenly Mista interrupted Giorno in a burst of tears. For the first time since they’ve known each other, Mista had never cried in front of Giorno. “Mista, calm down!”

“Sorry, it was a very touching sentiment. It reminded me of that one scene from “The Bridges of Madison County”. I cried a bit during that scene, where the mother Fransessca couldn’t find her husband and found out that he died 3 years prior.” Mista ran to hug Ilona, squishing their face to his chest. “It’s ok Ilona, you’ll find someone who can be the Clint Eastwood to your Meryl Streep!”

“Mista, my ribs.” Mista realized what he was doing and loosened his grip, “ Sorry about that.”

“I think we’re ready to leave too, right Mista?” Giorno asked, Mista nodded in agreement and the 3 of them walked back to the car.

[carbondioxidewater]

More ex-bodyguard!Toji...☁️ (-> Pt. 1) (-> Pt. 3) (-> masterlist)

ex-bodyguard!Toji who has never felt this lonely in his life. His house feels empty, and it's way too silent for his liking. He misses your voice, your laughter, the way you brought everything to life.

ex-bodyguard!Toji who can't get you off his mind, constantly seeing you everywhere he goes - or maybe he just wants to see you everywhere so that he feels less alone with his pain.

ex-bodyguard!Toji who still has that ring somewhere in a drawer, refusing to return it. Even if he was hesitating about proposing before - fearing it would scare you off, that it was too early - he would keep it because it felt wrong, final, to give it back. He knows he has to move on and forget about you. It just isn't that easy.

ex-bodyguard!Toji who sees a cute keychain that reminds him of you and just walks past it in a desperate attempt to ignore the memories from spreading into his head.

ex-bodyguard!Toji who rushes back to the store not even ten minutes later to buy that damn keychain and actually adds it to his key ring. This way, he somehow has a part of you with him at all times of the day.

ex-bodyguard!Toji who goes though your socials multiple times a day even though he didn't have any accounts or interest in them before you.

ex-bodyguard!Toji who sometimes takes your daily work route again to make sure you're safe and well. He's good at hiding of course, so you never notice him.

ex-bodyguard!Toji who can't get over you but doesn't reach out to you out of respect. He knows he can't offer nor give you a lot, but he loved what you two had. You deserved a better life though.

ex-bodyguard!Toji who doesn't know how frustrated you are because unlike you, he doesn't have any social media accounts (that you know of) to stalk. He doesn't know how badly you crave seeing him.

ex-bodyguard!Toji who spends a lot of time thinking about all the other possible outcomes that could have happened. If it would've changed anything if he talked to you sooner, or how he wouldn't have to deal with this heartbreak if he didn't accept the job in the first place.

ex-bodyguard!Toji who comes to the conclusion that, even though he is suffering now, he wouldn't have it any other way. Meeting you has changed him as a person, made him better, healed him.

Because, ex-bodyguard!Toji had a shitty past. You were the only good thing in his life, the one that gave it any worth. You were beautiful, not just in your appearance, but in the way you affected him. You were what gave him strength but at the same time, you were his greatest weakness.

ex-bodyguard!Toji who haunted you in your dreams. You remember a time when they were your everyday reality, when you were living them instead, but now you only really have that privilege when you're sleeping. That applied to either of you, both excited to fall into the deep slumber that allowed you to meet each other once again.

ex-bodyguard!Toji who knows he messed up big time when he saw that guy approaching you. He looked like he fitted your father's requirements - he seemed wealthy and decent. He didn't stay any longer, he understood that it was time to let go of you. He just happened to miss you rejecting that guy.

ex-bodyguard!Toji who you realized was the one. It went wrong, it didn't last, and it was too late now - but you were sure he had been what you'd call the perfect match. You felt it in your bones, and that made it all the more tragic.

ex-bodyguard!Toji who slowly vanished from your life and went back to his old assassin life, his and your ways separating little by little, leaving him to fall into the deepest despair...

[sttoru]

toji taking care of reader who’s pregnant with gumi

just some pure fluff 😭😭

ෆ tags. (soon-to-be)dad!toji x female reader. fluff. a little sprinkle of angst added, oopsies.

“my wife’s lookin’ real sexy, ey?” toji lets out a low whistle as he leans against the doorframe of the kitchen. it was early in the morning and you were cooking breakfast for your husband since he had gotten home late the night before.

“good morning to you too.” you teasingly roll your eyes at toji’s words. you thought those flirty comments would get less when you got pregnant, but instead, they increased in frequency. toji absolutely adores how you look with a swollen belly full of a new life and he shows it through his actions every day.

toji chuckles and walks up to you, big hands instantly finding their place on your stomach as per usual, “and good mornin’ to megumi.”

megumi, the name meaning ‘blessing’, is what your husband insisted on naming your child ever since he found out you were pregnant. toji’s mind was set on that choice and he was not giving up until you caved in. regardless of the gender of the child, the name was a beautiful one. with a beautiful meaning.

“babe,” toji whispers into your ear after placing a peck on the exposed skin of your shoulder, “come sit down. i’ll take care of breakfast, alright?”

toji detached your hands from the pans and utensils, bringing them to his lips to place soft kisses all over your fingertips. he had gotten more gentle with you over time and you loved it. toji pampered you to the fullest degree: doing almost all chores, cooking dinner and breakfast, making your bed, helping you bathe and getting you whatever you wanted without a single ounce of hesitation.

your husband once drove two whole hours because the stores in the neighbourhood didn’t have that one specific item you craved. and that one time where he called off an important appointment with his agent because you had showed the slightest bit of fatigue.

it’s a blessing bestowed upon him that he gets a chance to have a family of his own. he has never thought about it, not even once. he thought life wouldn’t have mercy on him since he never had any mercy on mankind due to his job as an assassin.

even if work has been hard on him lately; as long as his wife and child are content, he is as well.

“but-” “nu-uh. sit down.” toji insists and carefully guides you to sit on a chair near the kitchen table. he kneels before you, one hand on your belly and the other intertwined with yours. he lowers his head to your round tummy and kisses it like he always does in the mornings, “just relax and let y’r hubby do it for ya, alright? i’ll finish breakfast.”

it isn’t like you don’t want toji to do it, it’s just that.. it always looks like there’s been an invasion in your kitchen every time he cooks. plus, the food ends up burnt at the sides sometimes. you still give in and nod. toji was trying his best to be the caring and loving husband after all, “okay, okay. thank you.”

toji grins from ear to ear and pinches your cheek gently. before he gets up from his position in front of you, toji puts his ear on your stomach, softly rubbing the sides over your shirt with his hands; “megumi, be nice to your mama today, alright? no causing her problems or you’ll get in trouble, kid.”

toji’s playful words never fail to gain a laugh from you. your husband never misses the chance to have a ‘conversation’ with his child. it’s turned into part of his daily routine at this point. sometimes he’ll scold megumi, sometimes he tries to whistle a fun tune to his unborn child.

toji’s already got such a special bond with your baby. it’s his first born and he’s determined to not mess things up.

even if parenthood can be difficult to new parents: you have each other to count on.

[curtins]

taking a shower with the jujutsu kaisen men

gojo — despite what his no.1 hater says (gege) i'm telling you and promising you that he showers daily. trust me when i say his white hair is fluffy fresh. spends way too long in the shower and you get a bit bored because he's hyping himself in the mirror beforehand (who's the strongest? you are!). uses a fancy, overpriced shampoo that smells like tropical fruits but leaves the cap off each time. has broken 2-3 waterproof speakers before. once bought a waterproof phone case to scroll his phone in the shower, but ended up getting distracted on tiktok until the water went cold. his bathroom looks like a high end salon, more products than an influencer. leaves little hearts in the condensation on the mirror

nanami — you have your regular showers with nanami, but he's really more of a bath guy i think. like i'm saying a glass of wine and a candle. if he doesn't like you or your name is gojo satoru, then interrupting him here will result in the worst lecture you've ever heard in your life, but if he likes enough, he'll let you sit on the edge of the bath with him and talk about your day. the most pristine bathroom of all time, it's literally a spa. you once asked if his shower head was imbued with cursed energy, because it's just that precise and perfect. very possessive about his towels.

geto — definitely the type to stand under the shower and waste the hot water. this is mainly because he can't help but monologue about his philosophy for too long, and by then, you've hopped out and left him there. the most perfect cherry-blossom floral scented shampoo is the only thing that can touch his thick, glossy hair. his hair is probably stuck to the shower wall a lot, but he tries to blame it on you. weirdly eclectic shower playlists that range from ominous, chanting ballads to 2000s boybands because he claims he's a man with layers.

toji — for a man with a kinda gross job (like assassination isn't all that great right...) he smells good. but that depends on who you ask, because sometimes the scent of cologne is so strong, you feel a little nauseous. prob uses a 3-1 body wash, shampoo and conditioner because its 'all the same anyway.' this makes you cry! spends about three minutes in the shower each time, and then leaves without even drying himself, soaking wet and rawdogging the world. once got a bathrobe as a gift and tried it on for fun, but now uses it all the time when he's lounging around to eat takeout.

sukuna — once asked you to join him for a bath, and you agreed. let's just say you took a big step back when you realises why the bathwater was a thick, gloopy red. you once gave him rubber duckies as a present and he pretended to hate them and gagged. you caught him lining them up in military formation along the edges of the bathtub for 'reasons that aren't your concern.' ended up almost coughing a lung out after accidentally ingesting one too many bubbles. hates most modern inventions but enjoys a good loofah.

[wandasaura]

EVEN STATUES CRUMBLE

summary — when exhaustion creeps up on you after a long week, you find yourself coming undone quickly. luckily, maria’s there to hold you close and put all of your broken pieces back together

warning(s) — hurt/comfort, elements of fluff, domestic maria hill, platonic blackhill, brief mentions of battle, civilian casualties, and death, sleepy natasha being a softie, maria fixing all of your problems because that’s just what she does

The keycard attached to the waistband of your pants got you into pretty much anywhere aboard the helicarrier; one of the very few perks that came with being a Level Ten agent alongside Nicholas J. Fury. You adored your livelihood, that wasn’t even a question you graveled over on your busiest days – you wouldn’t sacrifice so many nights if you didn’t – however, with being so high on the ladder of ranks came the inevitable burnout when paperwork and mission reports piled up; which they inevitably always did despite your meticulous schedule and borderline obsessive work ethic. You delegated the workload of ten other agents on the daily, usually without so much as breaking a sweat, but a particular mission report from a Level Six had gotten to you in a moment of exhaustion. 

Your boots were the same Shield issued footwear that everyone else wore around the helicarrier, clunky and steel toed with near indestructible black laces, but your footsteps were light as you padded down the dimly lit hallway toward an office you’d practically adopted as your own since the director had found himself another right-hand woman. There was no point in knocking when you reached it after what felt like hours of slowly trudging down void hallways, you were the only one with clearance to enter without being physically let in, other than Fury himself, but he’d never turn up to her office, especially not so late into the night. The soft glow of a desk lamp creeping beneath the crack in the door alerted you of life inside the spacious room, and a faint smile pulled at your lips despite your exhaustion and wary emotions. 

A small light on the side of the metal door flashed green for only a millisecond before it faded and the latch clicked tellingly. You bristled at the assault of frigid air that swept past you when you pushed inside tiredly, but steeled your expressions quickly when your eyes trailed over the room and noted not one, but two bodies. A displeased huff fell off of your lips when you noticed Maria behind her desk, a mountain of paperwork practically hiding her from view entirely, and Natasha sprawled out on her couch with a solemn glaze over her green eyes. 

“She’s in my spot.” You sighed, no real malice behind your words, but exhaustion put a damper on your typically lightspoken banter with the redhead. It seems both you and Natasha, a woman that had somehow wormed her way into the heart of the Deputy Director despite her bloodied past, had sought refuge in Maria’s quiet presence tonight, and you weren’t quite sure how to feel about it. You held nothing against the reformed assassin, she’d seen you at some of your worst moments, but you’d been holding out hope that a few stolen minutes with Maria alone would heal the ache you carried deep. 

Natasha, who was always quick with her wit, didn’t seem to have it in her either, and softly she allowed her voice to break the silence that had been light over the office prior to your entrance. “I can leave.” You shook your head dismissively, kicking the door closed behind you in favor of stalking over to Maria’s desk. 

Out of habit, the Commander tilted her screen away from your gaze, her dark yet meticulously kept eyebrows furrowing as you came behind her desk without hesitation. “I’m higher clearance than you, and Natasha’s been able to see everything you're doing from the couch, Ria.” You rolled your eyes fondly, hands bracing themselves on the back of her chair that you pulled away from the desk without taking her responsibilities into account. She had the same deadlines as you, only hers weren’t so structured and rigorous. You knew that anything she was doing could wait until morning, even if she liked to be overly prepared and considered anything but early a direct hit to her reputation. “Just hold me.” 

You fell into her lap without another word, curling up against her battered and stiff uniform that had definitely seen better days. Your head tucked itself into the pocket of darkness and warmth between her chin and shoulder, your fingers already working at the hair tie around her thin chestnut strands, wanting them free from the confines of her tightly secured bun. With the black elastic around your wrist, you sighed contently, absentmindedly pulling your fingers through the loose knots that had formed from your ungraceful removal of her hair tie. It was an apologetic gesture, the tips of your fingers soothing the skin of her scalp that had definitely been snagged with your quick movements, but Maria had become accustomed to your endearing quirks that almost always followed a vicious panic attack. 

“Romanoff, if you move from that couch, I will have you on Clint clean-up duty for the rest of the month.” Even if you couldn’t see the Russian from behind your eyelids, even if you were pressed so tightly against Maria’s neck that even with open eyes all you’d see was darkness, your body could practically feel her silent movements. It was a valid response, however you held her to a higher standard than you did other agents. Your girlfriend trusted her with her life, you’d made something of a friend out of her since her first year at Shield, it was slightly insulting that she thought she had to flee at the first sight of vulnerability from you. “I just… I just need a minute.” 

Even as you tried to pull rank, tried to command her obedience, Natasha could tell that your heart wasn’t in it. Whether to humor you, or simply because she didn’t really want to retreat to her own quarters, she sank into the couch once more, throwing her arm over her eyes as she succumbed to the same darkness that you sought out. A shaky breath fell off your lips when Maria’s thumbs dug into your shoulder blades, applying pressure to all of the knots and tension that had accumulated over the grueling week. You’d been unintentionally ghosting her, although neither of you really counted missed lunch dates and empty beds to mean anything significant, but the premise was all the same, even if she held no resentment toward your work ethic that was too similar to her own. 

“Diaz?” Maria’s voice was soft, understanding even, as she asked. Even the name of the agent had you going rigid in her clutches, a choked whimper falling off of your lips as you tightened your grip on her hair and worked feverishly to weave little braids into the silky chestnut strands that could do for a wash and deep condition. You’d have to remember to remind her next time she had a slow morning, but that wasn’t coming anytime soon for either of you. 

You nodded wordlessly against her neck, pinching your eyes shut even tighter if that was at all possible. You loved your job, adored the livelihood that you’d found a family in, but no amount of experience made reading civilian death counts easier. No amount of experience made loss any lighter. “Seventeen, Ria. Seventeen people died. It just– I haven’t seen a civilian death count that high since Sokovia.” 

In retrospect, seventeen people wasn’t a lot, not when you put it up against the battle of Sokovia that had earned Shield another foreign agent and an inconsolable migraine for months to follow, but when you analyzed the mission objective, when you stripped back everything that it was up against, it was still seventeen innocent people that had been caught in the crossfire. “We can’t save them all, mi alma.” It was a weak condolence, Maria knew that, but it was what you needed to hear, even if you detested it. Shield had saved twenty from a Hydra base in Madripoor, all of them no older than nineteen years old, but still seventeen people that were in the wrong place at the wrong time had died. Shield had saved twenty children, but still parents, and siblings, and people had lost their lives to do so. Was any good really done if the children who got to go home didn’t have a mother to help them through the trauma? Had any good really been done if a daughter didn’t have a father to come home to? 

“Eleven.” To Natasha, the number that fell off your lips was entirely random, but for Maria, who knew everything about you, down to the way you liked to tie your shoes, always starting with the left one first, it meant something more. Eleven people had died in an ambush the night that Nicholas J. Fury had swept you away from the rubble and into the empire that hadn’t been so publicly known at the time. Eleven people that you’d known, some loosely and some deeply intimately. Your single mother that had worked four jobs just to keep the electric on in the biting cold of winter had died, and you’d held her hand as she took her final breath, entirely helpless and terrified. Seventeen people had died in Madripoor, and depressingly, you could only picture yourself in the aftermath of such a tragedy. 

How many kids were going to come home from school without a parent? How many parents were going to come home from work without a child? The guilt of surviving weighed heavily on your heart, but it was exhaustion that pushed you past the point of thinking rationally. Madripoor had sung its praises to Shield after the initial battle just under a month ago. You’d seen the headlines, manned the press conferences, talked with the families that had wanted to reach out, but seeing that number in pristine black ink had rattled you fiercely. 

“When’s the last time you slept, bebé?” The softly spoken pet name was usually enough to bring a smile to your face no matter the conditions you faced, but it only had you sinking deeper into Maria now. Your heart felt so heavy in your chest, your bones felt so dense in your body, everything that you’d been managing had finally crushed you; just like the rubble had crushed your mother’s unsuspecting body on a side street in Manhattan when all she’d wanted to do was show you her new favorite coffee shop. 

“Don’t know… the last time I came home?” Your voice was meek, distant as you trailed through your memory trying to locate the date in your mind. You’d been home that Wednesday night, sank into bed beside Maria and held her close until she’d gotten up for her own shift, and had continued to sleep for another two hours before sunlight brought on more assignments and deadlines, but that was so fuzzy now, so long ago. You barely knew the date, but Maria did, and she sighed softly in confirmation. 

“It’s Friday, sweetheart.” She informed, her thumbs still digging into the spots of tension in your back, working out the knots and kinks that had you stiff beneath her touch. “You’re exhausted.” 

“And you’re not? I check the entry logs, Ria.” Your defiance was softly muttered, and Maria sighed her resignation. She hadn’t been home either, not since Thursday morning when she’d slipped out of your arms and left you to rest a while longer in a stiff bed dressed in scratchy sheets, but she’d taken the breaks she knew her body needed, even if it had been begrudgingly. The couch that Natasha was draped across had seen a similar form from her multiple times since then, even if the longest consecutive rest she’d gotten was merely half an hour. That was the difference between you both. Maria knew when she had to come first, even if she often waited until the very last second to actually step away from her tasks. You, on the other hand, saw everything else as a priority. That was what got you so high on the ranking ladder. That characteristic was one of many reasons why you alone shared the same ranking level as Fury. When shit needed to be done, he knew that you’d do it, no questions asked. But that blindsided work-ethic was going to kill you eventually. 

“You’ve slept once in the last week, mi amor.” Maria sighed, knowing that she was arguing with a wall at this point, but willing to put the effort in anyways. She was always willing to put the effort in for you, even if you couldn’t do it for yourself. Her hands caressed your back affectionately, slipping away from your shoulder blades only to put pressure on your spine, cracking the bones and notches in your back soothingly without spoken word. You sighed, deflating in her lap once again, craning your neck only to release some of the ache and tension in your jaw before you burrowed into her neck once more, still keeping fistfulls of her soft hair between your fingers that had been stained black from smudged ink. 

At some point, you must’ve fallen asleep against her, never slackening your grip on her chestnut tresses but grabbing onto the neckline of her uniform at an undisclosed moment. She hadn’t tried to move you, hadn’t tried to wake you, hadn’t tried to move at all. She’d simply sat in the silence of her office with Natasha’s easy company, shuffling through paperwork and mission reports, but getting no real work done, distracted by your warmth against her chest and the weight of you draped across her lap for the first time in days. When you woke a handful of hours later, the warmth of the sun and the light of a new day rousing you from an uneventful sleep – the level of exhaustion you faced preventing dreams from even playing out – you didn’t stiffen in alarmed surprise when you realized that strong arms were looped around your waist and keeping you steadily upright. Maria was a distinguishable presence even when you were half delirious, and a warm smile pulled at the corners of your lips as you laid a gentle kiss to the neglected patch of skin behind her earring-less earlobe. She really needed to start wearing her cartilage cuffs again, but the last one you’d gotten for her had been lost to a bloodied battle in Argentina. You made the mental note to get her another one sometime soon, but for now, you simply basked in the presence of her company that was so painfully warm and inviting. 

“You had Romanoff on edge last night.” Maria mused, her fingers tightening around your waist in a sweet wordless greeting, prematurely ending the reign of silence that you’d been enjoying, but you didn’t complain. The sound of her voice was just as inviting, if not more intoxicating than silence ever could be. 

“Even statues crumble every now and again.” You huffed against her neck, tightening your grip on her uniform if that was at all possible, allowing your gentle fingers to tickle the skin hidden from view that still carried the lingering scent of your body wash. “She’ll get over it.” 

“You really have to stop referring to yourself as a statue. The rookies are going to start thinking an alien attack sucked the emotions out of your body..” She chortled, breathy laughter twinged with traces of mental exhaustion jostling both of your bodies, and you couldn’t help the smile that twisted your dehydrated lips upward involuntarily in response. How you could spend so many days away from her never made sense when you were wrapped up in her presence, but it was reassuring to know that no matter the length of time that separated your passionate love, she would always be there to crawl home to. 

“As soon as you stop feeding into being called Hard-Ass Hill, I’ll stop fucking with the rookies.” Another chaste kiss was laid onto her skin, the second in too many days to count, but you’d make up for your absence before you inevitably returned to your own office to continue drowning in paperwork that never ended. “Te amo tanto.” You signed your unarguable admiration, but she wouldn’t be Maria Hill if she didn’t have a sharp comeback to silence your efforts. 

“Te amo mucho mas, mi alma.”

[fairuzfan]

"We have come together as Palestinian academics and staff of Gaza universities to affirm our existence, the existence of our colleagues and our students, and the insistence on our future, in the face of all current attempts to erase us.

The Israeli occupation forces have demolished our buildings but our universities live on. We reaffirm our collective determination to remain on our land and to resume teaching, study, and research in Gaza, at our own Palestinian universities, at the earliest opportunity.

We call upon our friends and colleagues around the world to resist the ongoing campaign of scholasticide in occupied Palestine, to work alongside us in rebuilding our demolished universities, and to refuse all plans seeking to bypass, erase, or weaken the integrity of our academic institutions. The future of our young people in Gaza depends upon us, and our ability to remain on our land in order to continue to serve the coming generations of our people.

We issue this call from beneath the bombs of the occupation forces across occupied Gaza, in the refugee camps of Rafah, and from the sites of temporary new exile in Egypt and other host countries. We are disseminating it as the Israeli occupation continues to wage its genocidal campaign against our people daily, in its attempt to eliminate every aspect of our collective and individual life.

Our families, colleagues, and students are being assassinated, while we have once again been rendered homeless, reliving the experiences of our parents and grandparents during the massacres and mass expulsions by Zionist armed forces in 1947 and 1948.

Our civic infrastructure – universities, schools, hospitals, libraries, museums and cultural centres – built by generations of our people, lies in ruins from this deliberate continuous Nakba. The deliberate targeting of our educational infrastructure is a blatant attempt to render Gaza uninhabitable and erode the intellectual and cultural fabric of our society. However, we refuse to allow such acts to extinguish the flame of knowledge and resilience that burns within us.

Allies of the Israeli occupation in the United States and United Kingdom are opening yet another scholasticide front through promoting alleged reconstruction schemes that seek to eliminate the possibility of independent Palestinian educational life in Gaza. We reject all such schemes and urge our colleagues to refuse any complicity in them. We also urge all universities and colleagues worldwide to coordinate any academic aid efforts directly with our universities.

We extend our heartfelt appreciation to the national and international institutions that have stood in solidarity with us, providing support and assistance during these challenging times. However, we stress the importance of coordinating these efforts to effectively reopen Palestinian universities in Gaza.

We emphasise the urgent need to reoperate Gaza’s education institutions, not merely to support current students, but to ensure the long-term resilience and sustainability of our higher education system. Education is not just a means of imparting knowledge; it is a vital pillar of our existence and a beacon of hope for the Palestinian people.

Accordingly, it is essential to formulate a long-term strategy for rehabilitating the infrastructure and rebuilding the entire facilities of the universities. However, such endeavours require considerable time and substantial funding, posing a risk to the ability of academic institutions to sustain operations, potentially leading to the loss of staff, students, and the capacity to reoperate.

Given the current circumstances, it is imperative to swiftly transition to online teaching to mitigate the disruption caused by the destruction of physical infrastructure. This transition necessitates comprehensive support to cover operational costs, including the salaries of academic staff.

Student fees, the main source of income for universities, have collapsed since the start of the genocide. The lack of income has left staff without salaries, pushing many of them to search for external opportunities.

Beyond striking at the livelihoods of university faculty and staff, this financial strain caused by the deliberate campaign of scholasticide poses an existential threat to the future of the universities themselves.

Thus, urgent measures must be taken to address the financial crisis now faced by academic institutions, to ensure their very survival. We call upon all concerned parties to immediately coordinate their efforts in support of this critical objective.

The rebuilding of Gaza’s academic institutions is not just a matter of education; it is a testament to our resilience, determination, and unwavering commitment to securing a future for generations to come.

The fate of higher education in Gaza belongs to the universities in Gaza, their faculty, staff, and students and to the Palestinian people as a whole. We appreciate the efforts of peoples and citizens around the world to bring an end to this ongoing genocide.

We call upon our colleagues in the homeland and internationally to support our steadfast attempts to defend and preserve our universities for the sake of the future of our people, and our ability to remain on our Palestinian land in Gaza. We built these universities from tents. And from tents, with the support of our friends, we will rebuild them once again."