#August profession

[yuukei-yikes]

think kagepros ending is so perfect despite the totally insane story pace it holds the entire time. i especially love that they take a character like haruka, a side character whose misery came from not having the possibility of growing old, and make him the character that reflects what being an adult is like. as someone who never revisited kagepro because i never left, it felt a lot like the characters grew up with me sniff sniff especially my ultra faves the yuukei quartet who are rly the ones who end up as sorta adults when its over. its fun bc im a fail adult in my 20s you know. and its like.... whoa somehow my favorite characters are also fail adults now. that's crazy

[percephilous]

FINALLY REDID AUGUST'S REFRENCEEEEEE yes i know hes red. its cool i promise. and traumatic. his wings are mostly whtie now because tis cool. and traumatic. sorry long haired august beleivers he just has his ponytail now

and a redesign for his rift form. it's really silly i promies

sorry little man

[dream-thief-forever-amen]

Today is DAY 15/16/18 (one of those) of SUMMER VACATION DEPRESSION SPIRAL.

Like an Olympic athlete I am at PEAK performance.

Perfect scores in Random Crying Jags, Short Term Memory Loss, Disassociating on the Couch, Time Loss is Relative, Shame & Self Loathing, and Social Phobias.

Though the professional organizations of mental health providers attempted to thwart my performance with articles, conference videos, meditations, and medications, I’m pleased to report they have all failed miserably to stop this mental crisis from thriving.

Daily training includes compulsory viewing of television series for 10-16 hour stretches, repeated napping, listless but distracting masturbation sessions, abstaining from showers until your hair hurts, and occasional bouts of random productivity that are instantly forgotten upon completion or abandoned halfway through.

Why are all these tabs open?

What day is it?

How come there are so many competitors in this sport on tumblr?

[lambentplume]

yapping aimlessly tonight

[reasonsforhope]

"Doctors have begun trialling the world’s first mRNA lung cancer vaccine in patients, as experts hailed its “groundbreaking” potential to save thousands of lives.

Lung cancer is the world’s leading cause of cancer death, accounting for about 1.8m deaths every year. Survival rates in those with advanced forms of the disease, where tumours have spread, are particularly poor.

Now experts are testing a new jab that instructs the body to hunt down and kill cancer cells – then prevents them ever coming back. Known as BNT116 and made by BioNTech, the vaccine is designed to treat non-small cell lung cancer (NSCLC), the most common form of the disease.

The phase 1 clinical trial, the first human study of BNT116, has launched across 34 research sites in seven countries: the UK, US, Germany, Hungary, Poland, Spain and Turkey.

The UK has six sites, located in England and Wales, with the first UK patient to receive the vaccine having their initial dose on Tuesday [August 20, 2024].

Overall, about 130 patients – from early-stage before surgery or radiotherapy, to late-stage disease or recurrent cancer – will be enrolled to have the jab alongside immunotherapy. About 20 will be from the UK.

The jab uses messenger RNA (mRNA), similar to Covid-19 vaccines, and works by presenting the immune system with tumour markers from NSCLC to prime the body to fight cancer cells expressing these markers.

The aim is to strengthen a person’s immune response to cancer while leaving healthy cells untouched, unlike chemotherapy.

“We are now entering this very exciting new era of mRNA-based immunotherapy clinical trials to investigate the treatment of lung cancer,” said Prof Siow Ming Lee, a consultant medical oncologist at University College London hospitals NHS foundation trust (UCLH), which is leading the trial in the UK.

“It’s simple to deliver, and you can select specific antigens in the cancer cell, and then you target them. This technology is the next big phase of cancer treatment.”

Janusz Racz, 67, from London, was the first person to have the vaccine in the UK. He was diagnosed in May and soon after started chemotherapy and radiotherapy.

The scientist, who specialises in AI, said his profession inspired him to take part in the trial. “I am a scientist too, and I understand that the progress of science – especially in medicine – lies in people agreeing to be involved in such investigations,” he said...

“And also, I can be a part of the team that can provide proof of concept for this new methodology, and the faster it would be implemented across the world, more people will be saved.”

Racz received six consecutive injections five minutes apart over 30 minutes at the National Institute for Health Research UCLH Clinical Research Facility on Tuesday.

Each jab contained different RNA strands. He will get the vaccine every week for six consecutive weeks, and then every three weeks for 54 weeks.

Lee said: “We hope adding this additional treatment will stop the cancer coming back because a lot of time for lung cancer patients, even after surgery and radiation, it does come back.” ...

“We hope to go on to phase 2, phase 3, and then hope it becomes standard of care worldwide and saves lots of lung cancer patients.”

The Guardian revealed in May that thousands of patients in England were to be fast-tracked into groundbreaking trials of cancer vaccines in a revolutionary world-first NHS “matchmaking” scheme to save lives.

Under the scheme, patients who meet the eligibility criteria will gain access to clinical trials for the vaccines that experts say represent a new dawn in cancer treatment."

-via The Guardian, May 30, 2024

[andwewerehappy]

“nineteen year olds are adults and should be treated accordingly” beloved what a truly insane thing to believe. i just read one of the worst takes i’ve ever heard in my life on here so i went to their page and it said they were 19 and therefore i immediately forgave them. hot take but 18-19 yr olds are actually dumber than 14-15 yr olds. and honestly a lot of it comes from being told at that age that you’re now an adult and what you say and do Matters and is the Real You. like respectfully no it is not i am more mortified by what i said and did when i was 17-20 than by what i was doing at 12-15. and maybe that’s me telling on myself but like. god we really need to start treating young “adults” in the 18-21 range with a whole lot more grace and forgiveness. at least i know i do with myself. my deepest regrets and guilt spirals i put myself through are from when i was that age and said or did things current me would never dream of doing and i’m so guilty and shameful of it now and just like. i know i need to stop but that’s the mental illness and maybe it isn’t like this for other people/everyone and this is mostly for me but even if it is. it needs to stop. we need to learn to forgive ourselves. and a lot of the fear and guilt stems from the fact that it was or could have been online and documented and there are “receipts” and could be found and seen and people will find out and think i still think or do or say that and i know that’s the paranoia to an extent but it also might not be. this is getting off point but whatever. people say and do and believe awful things and i think the important thing is how they react and respond and change once they learn and understand. and on a fundamental level 17-21 yr olds just don’t have a fully developed understanding. of anything. so much of your life which up to that point is your childhood is learned from your immediate surroundings and family and community and once you get out into the world and experience it more you learn how to be more and more and you learn that your younger self did not have all the facts and insight and it’s just. we need to practice more forgiveness. we need to treat one another and ourselves with more grace. i personally probably need to see a therapist but that’s beside the point. and there is no one on the planet who needs to understand this more than the 17-21 yr olds of the world.

[merakiui]

the birds and the bees.

yandere!riddle rosehearts x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, slight dub-con, implied stalking, age gap (riddle is 19 and reader is 29) note - you're hired to teach riddle about the birds and the bees. you need the money. he needs to get laid.

The Rosehearts’s Residence looks about how you expected it to after driving past houses of similar size and grandeur. Unlike you, they’re definitely not strapped for cash. It’s an impressive structure with its elegant wrought iron gates and expertly trimmed hedges. You’re immediately overcome with bitter jealousy when you step through the entrance, passing rose bushes in full bloom. If only your apartment could look and feel as nice as this place. You almost wonder if you should keep Mrs. Rosehearts’s contact in case she ever needs a gardener or a window washer…

But then that risks your cover, and the last thing you want is to get tangled up in trouble with the upper middle class.

Gathering your courage, you smooth invisible wrinkles in your pencil skirt, steady your balance in your Mary Janes—both at socially acceptable lengths and heights—and bring your fist down against the door. Seconds after the third knock, it opens to reveal a woman who looks as prim and proper as the landscape of her home. She takes a long moment, drinking in your formal features, and then smiles approvingly.

“Ah, (Name), you’re early.”

You soften your face into something polite and demure. “Better early than late.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

She steps aside, gesturing for you to come in. You meander into the foyer and are instantly reminded of those exquisite house tours on MagiTube. There’s a fine layer of modest Victorian wealth to the decor. Flowery wallpaper, a lofty ceiling, an aureate chandelier, a vase filled with fresh tulips of all colors… Oh, how you wish you could live here!

“Your home is beautiful,” you comment as you straighten your bow headband.

“Why, thank you.” Her eyes light up once more. “I’ve always admired this neighborhood. Everything is so well-kept. Speaking of which, where did you say you’re from?”

“Oh, I’m actually getting ready to move back to school at the end of the summer,” you explain, narrowly dodging her question. No way I’m telling her I live in a not-so-affluent neighborhood… She’ll totally kick me out. “I’m staying with my parents in the meantime and working a few jobs to support myself.”

“And what was it you’re studying again?”

You paste a hollow smile on, sensing her distrust. I already told you this when we met at the clinic. Do I really seem so suspicious?

“I’m studying to be an ob-gyn.”

“A wonderful profession,” she praises, nodding to herself. “Very wonderful indeed. And how old are you? I merely ask to confirm. There are so many miscreants nowadays. You can never be too sure.”

“I understand completely, Mrs. Rosehearts. I’m—” you almost falter, your real age on the tip of your tongue— “twenty-two. What about your son? You told me he’s also looking to get into the medical field?”

“Not looking. He will pursue medicine,” she corrects sternly. “Just like his mother.”

You swallow your disgust and try not to let it show so openly. Yikes… Talk about controlling.

Mrs. Rosehearts waves you onwards down the hall. “My Riddle will be leaving for his first year of college at the end of August. Though I’m certain he’s more than prepared, it never hurts to review.”

“Absolutely. So you’d like me to give him the talk?”

“Not just that. I’d like you to teach him well enough so that copulation and any other libidinous ideas are the last things on his mind. Stamp them out if you must. He’s to focus on his studies and make good decisions just as I raised him.”

Shouldn’t he already be familiar with this? Besides, he’s not a kid. Of course he’s going to think about sex. Most of us do when we’re horny.

But you can’t say that outright, so you settle for something vastly different.

“It’s important to stay on the right path and be responsible.”

Mrs. Rosehearts nods her agreement. Your stomach twists in discomfort.

On second thought, I don’t want to be upper middle class if these are the people I have to deal with. Is this guy going to have any chance to be social? To live his life? To make and learn from stupid mistakes? I bet he can’t wait to get out of here and go off to school.

“I apologize if this is rude in any way, but I just want to ensure I’ll be paid accordingly.”

“Of course. Good work must always be recognized and rewarded.” She stops at a door. “I cannot thank you enough for lending my Riddle your time. Teach him well.”

“I’ll do just that. You can count on it.”

Pleased with the level of maturity you’ve displayed, she raps her knuckles against the door and calls out, “Riddle, the tutor’s here.”

“Very well, Mother. I’ve just finished today’s readings, so you can send them in,” comes a muffled reply.

Today’s readings? you think, perplexed. Your gaze slides from the door to Mrs. Rosehearts. Does she have this guy doing summer school? That must suck! What a shitty way to spend your summer, cooped up inside filling out workbooks and stuff.

“I’ll be out running errands in the meantime. I trust you’ll be all right by yourself?”

“Perfectly all right,” you assure her, to which she hums and strides past you. You catch her perfume as she departs, and it reminds you of the types of scents worn by saggy, old ladies who have nothing better to do than sit around and complain about the state of the world and the way their children turned out.

In other words, a scent you associate with misery.

You wait until she’s out of sight before opening the door and stepping inside the study. There’s a mahogany desk in the center, and thick textbooks are piled high on either side. Beyond that, beside a big bay window with cream-colored curtains drawn to let in the sun, two large bookcases are packed with an array of tomes. At the front of the room, a blackboard has been built into a wooden frame. Chalk lines the ledge, situated within reach of an eraser. And sitting at the desk, his eyes glued to an open book, is a young man. A pair of round frames sit on the bridge of his nose, slipping ever so slightly down the slope of it when he peers at the page. He pushes them up when he finally lifts his head to greet you.

“Hey.” You wave awkwardly, easing the door shut.

He seems taken aback by your appearance. “Oh, yes. Right. Hello…”

Silence soon fills the space. You wonder if you should just save yourself this nonsensical waste of time and retreat.

“Sooo.” You fold your arms behind your back, rocking on your heels. “Your mother’s probably told you why I’m here.”

“I’m aware.” He shuts his book and stands from his seat. “My name is Riddle Rosehearts. A pleasure to meet you.”

You blink at his outstretched arm. “(Name). Likewise.” You grab his hand and shake firmly. 

So stiff…

“So where’re we starting? The basics? You want the whole ‘when a man and a woman love each other very much’ version or—”

Riddle scoffs and yanks his arm back. “I’m not a fool. I’ll have you know I’m well aware of sexual reproduction and what it entails.”

“You can call it sex. No one’s forcing you to be all biological,” you tease. His body goes rigid, and his face reddens in what you assume is flustered annoyance. “Anyways, since you’re not as brainless as Mother Dearest wants me to assume, I’ll just get into it.”

Riddle stares at you, his arms folding over his chest. He looks like he wants to argue, but instead he huffs and lowers into his chair.

Wordlessly, you undo the buttons on your blazer and shrug out of it. Your blouse goes next, untucked from your skirt and shucked. Riddle’s eyes are so wide they nearly pop out of his skull when he spies the white, lacy false collar that just barely covers your breasts. You’re about to step out of your pencil skirt next when Riddle clears his throat.

“W-What’re you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“No?”

“I’m teaching you the birds and the bees.”

“N-Not in that outfit! S-Surely not…” He averts his eyes, crimson crawling up to his ears. “You’re practically nude!”

“That’s the point of lingerie, silly.” Your skirt pools around your ankles to reveal the rest of your frilly ensemble. A black-and-white cupless bra and crotchless panties set, both with plenty of ruffles, held together with a pair of garters. Still wearing matching stockings and your precious Mary Janes, you bend down to gather your discarded clothes. They’re set aside on a nearby chair. “You can look.”

“A-Absolutely not!” he hisses, squeezing his eyes shut. “Y-You… You’re not decent. It’s rude to stare.”

“Come on. You got past anatomy diagrams just fine.”

Riddle opens and closes his mouth, speechless like a beached fish. Eventually, he manages to gather his coherency. “You’re a tutor, aren’t you? Where’s your dignity?”

“Nonexistent. I lied.” His head snaps over to view you, and he seems so scandalized by your admission that it’s almost comedic. “No way I’m studying to be an ob-gyn. I’m not even in school.”

“What?! But you—”

“It’s fine. I looked the part, didn’t I?” you joke, waving your hand about dismissively. “C’mon, mama’s boy. You’re going off to college. It’s nothing like those stuffy anatomy courses.”

Riddle tries and fails to look at anywhere that isn’t you, his eyes lingering on your chest to the space between your legs to the thigh garter and then to the ceiling. He’s so red you think he might explode.

“You’ve been with a girl before, yeah?”

With lips pursed in a tight line, he shakes his head.

“Sounds about right.”

“And you’re so experienced?”

You flash him a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry about it, mama’s boy.”

“I’m not a mama’s boy!”

“No? So you just let your mother treat you like a little baby at your grown age? You let her pick out sex tutors for you?”

“I—” He stops himself from speaking to mull over your questions. “If it’s what she deems necessary…”

“Because our biggest fear is sexually awkward you knocking up some girl at school, right?”

“I… I would never! Safe sex is—”

“Very important when you’re not trying to conceive. Good boy. See? You know your stuff.”

Riddle’s eyes narrow into vicious slits. You brush his scorching vitriol off and turn towards the board. Procuring a piece of chalk, you scrawl words on it: Birds and Bees 101. Wholly unamused, Riddle folds his arms across his chest.

“Your mother told me you’re gonna study medicine, so you’re probably familiar with everything already. And I’m sure you know all about the baby-making process on a biological level.” You whirl to face him, your tits bouncing with the peppy motion. Riddle swallows thickly. “But just to make sure… Let’s review.”

“R-Review? You don’t mean—”

“What’s this?” Your hands close around your tits. Riddle’s enchanted with the way you squeeze them—the way they depress under your fingers.

“Um… Ahem. Well… T-The breasts. They’re a type of glandular organ located on a woman’s chest, and they’re made up of lots of tissue and fat. There’s the mammary gland—that’s what produces milk. Oh, and then there are the areolas right around the nipples. Those are—”

“You can call them what they are.”

Riddle blinks, shaken from his studious spiel. “W-What?”

“You know the word, mama’s boy.”

He flusters. “Yes, I’m aware. But…”

“No harm in saying it.” You run your fingers over your nipples and giggle sweetly like a schoolgirl. “Go on…”

He inhales a deep breath. “They’re tits,” he mumbles, desultory. “Y-Your tits.”

You clap, beaming brightly. “Well done! Moving swiftly on…” You run your hands down the expanse of your stomach, stopping just beneath your navel. “What’s here?”

“Your womb. O-Otherwise known as the uterus. It’s where a baby grows over the course of nine months.”

“Mhm. Good job.”

He pushes his glasses up his nose, clearing his throat. “There’s more to your reproductive system than the uterus. Lots of parts. Important parts.”

“Right. But I don’t need to quiz you on it. You obviously know your stuff.”

Again, your fingers inch lower until they’re prodding at your folds. Riddle’s breath audibly hitches.

“And this?”

“Your vagina. It’s where—”

“What’s the other word?”

Riddle avoids your stare. “It sounds so vulgar…”

“So what?”

“S-So there ought to be a term that’s more…flattering.”

“Like what?” You approach him and, with the grace of a swan, lift your leg onto the desk to give him a better view of yourself. Shamelessly, you dip your fingers inside to spread yourself. “A guy called it the honeypot once. That pretty enough for you?”

Riddle squeaks and flinches back in his chair, his face now even redder than it was before. “T-That’s fine…”

“Really? I’d have thought the implication in that one is much dirtier than calling it a pussy.”

It takes him a moment to connect the dots, but once he does he gasps. “Ah. Then…”

You press inwards with your fingers, exaggerating a pornographic sigh. “Yeah?”

“Can I… M-May I call it your flower?”

“Sure.” His shoulders slacken with a flicker of relief. Your next words shatter that and his pride in one fell swoop. “That one’s not as special as you think, mama’s boy. I’ve heard it all—every type of flower you can think of.”

“Even a rose?”

“Especially a rose.” His lips twist into a disappointed moue. You chuckle and add, “You can call it a rose if you want. I don’t mind.”

Riddle meets your eyes then, searching them for the joke. When one doesn’t present itself, he relaxes. “All right. It’s a very pretty rose. Soft…”

“Aww. Thanks for saying so. It’s softer inside, y’know. See?” Spreading yourself wider, you angle your hips to bless him with the full view. “My fingers slide right in. Wanna guess why?”

“B-Because the vagina naturally—” He stops himself, his brows knitting together in contemplation. When he speaks next, it’s with a determined sort of conviction. “When you’re aroused, your rose produces a natural lubricant during sexual excitement.”

“Mhm. We call that ‘feeling good and getting wet,’ Dr. Rosehearts.”

“Yes. Y-Yes, I know that.” He eyes your pussy, a ravenous glimmer in his intelligent blue-greys. “And the wetness—it’s supposed to make it feel better. To make insertion easier, I mean.”

“Right again.” You ease your fingers out but not before thrusting them deeper just so he can hear the sinful sounds. They shimmer with your essence, enticing in a forbidden way. “What about the other parts? How about this spot here?” You brush against the hood of your clit, circling it slowly.

Riddle watches, hopelessly spellbound. “The clitoris.”

“I’m impressed. Most guys don’t know about it.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“But it’s your most sensitive erogenous zone! Just how uninformed does one have to be to neglect such a crucial part to your sexual anatomy?”

“Woefully uninformed, I’m afraid,” you mutter with a pout. Your fingertips drag your hood up to reveal that pretty, perky nub. “I think it’s dumb your mother wants me to talk you out of sex. You’re going to college. You’re an adult. You’re free to do whatever you want.”

“I…” Riddle frowns at that last line. “I have no interest in it. Besides, it’ll only hinder my studies. If I really need it, I’ll just masturbate. That’s healthy every now and then, and it doesn’t break any rules.”

“Really? No interest at all?” You shoot him a knowing look and run your tongue along your bottom lip. “Because your dick’s telling a different story.”

Riddle sputters, embarrassed, and squeezes his thighs together. His hands fly to cover his lap. “That’s because you’re—” He gazes at the floor. “Because you’re so pretty…”

Temporarily thrown off course, you gape at him. “What?”

“You’re beautiful.”

Gathering the remnants of your mask, you piece it together and laugh. “Not the first time I’ve heard someone describe it like that.”

“Not just your pussy.” Your gaze snaps to his. He smiles, impish. “I’m sure you know what I mean, Teacher.”

You exhale a short laugh. “Someone’s suddenly confident.”

Riddle rises from his seat. His fingers close around your wrist, gently pulling it away from your clit. He moves around the desk to stand in front of you and then, before you can comprehend his intentions, he’s pushing you down onto the desk. You yelp at the sudden change in position, your eyes blown wide when he presses his clothed hard-on against your bare pussy.

“You’re doing a poor job at dissuading me from wanting sex.”

“I wasn’t trying to.”

“Not in that outfit.” He grabs at the meat of your thighs and parts them. “If Mother knew you lied to her…”

You shake your head at him. “Please don’t tell her. I… I’m being serious. I need this money.”

“Desperately?”

Your lip curls into the beginning of a sneer. You hate feeling powerless more than anything, but the fiery glaze in his eyes is just as troubling. “I’m not going to beg.”

“I haven’t asked for that yet.”

You roll your eyes. “Not funny. I agreed to teach you about sex. We’re not actually doing it.”

“A shame.”

“You’ll find a nice girl at school. Don’t lose hope, mama’s boy. Lots of girls like the smart types who’ll give ’em a lecture on biology and stuff.”

“I think you misunderstand. I don’t want other girls.”

“Okay?”

“My mother’s paying for a tutor and I desire you, so unless you want to leave here as a lying cheat…” He hums, seeming awfully haughty to hold the only thing that tethers you to him above your head. “You need the money, right?”

“Yes. Sure, of course I do. But—” You shift on the desk, silently horrified when he rocks against you. “We can’t. Your mother—”

“Weren’t you the one saying I should live my life? That I have the freedom to do as I please?”

“That doesn’t mean—come on; listen to yourself. You can’t honestly think I’d fuck you.”

“No? And yet you came wearing this outfit, parading around the study with your pussy and tits out.” He glances past you at the window. “And you didn’t even bother to close the curtains… How brazen.”

Your attempt to jerk away from him is made in vain. He pins you down onto the desk, one hand squeezing your breast, while the other works to fish himself from his trousers. Now hard and leaking, his cock rests against your stomach. It’s not a terrible size. If anything, it’s perfect. Just right for your tastes.

“W-Wait! It’s not safe. You can’t—” You inhale sharply, bucking up towards his hand when he presses his thumb against your clit. Biting your lip, you fix him with a glower. “If you pay me… If you promise not to tell your mother—”

Riddle leans in close. “No one needs to know. No one but us.”

Your eyes flit about the room. With a withering sigh, you submit to his touch. “You’d better pull out in time.”

Riddle rolls his hips once and his cock drags along your folds. You hiss through your teeth at this new friction, a sinful delight more dizzying than any type of alcohol consumed in excess. “Do you want to be a mother?”

“What I want has nothing to do with you. I’m just—ooh—t-trying to survive. You wouldn’t know what that’s like, so don’t poke fun.”

Riddle hums, kneading your breast and rubbing you to the edge all at once. It’s so very obviously his first time, his zealous nature trumping any sort of experienced technique. It still does the trick, though, sending little bolts of pleasure up your spine.

“My mother wouldn’t just choose anyone. Her standards are very high.” His eyes flick to your face, drinking in your expression as it shifts with restrained bliss. “Somehow you’ve earned her approval.”

“Lying’ll do that.”

“Maybe.” His fingers replicate the motions you did earlier, though with a singular objective in mind. He’s so focused on succeeding in this endeavor that it makes him look so stiff. Under any other circumstances, you’d find it cute. “Mother always knows what’s best for me. Obviously you’ve met her criteria if she’s hired you.”

“Spoken like a true mama’s boy.” Seeing as this is now your unavoidable fate, you reach up to touch his shoulders. He jolts, his initial glare softening. You tamp down another giggle and massage up and along his arms. “Relax a little. Don’t rush so much.”

Or do. Let’s get this over with before your mother catches us.

Riddle traces two fingers along your labia. He’s quiet as he takes all of you in, and when he sinks three fingers into your gooey heat his breath catches in his throat. “Are you… D-Do you feel good?”

You reach for his unoccupied hand and guide it to your clit. Riddle understands the suggestion well enough, for he massages you slowly. Sucking in another breath, you nod at him.

“Not bad. You’re getting there.”

His neglected cock throbs at the praise, and so you wrap your fingers around it to give it the same amount of attention he’s currently giving you. Riddle grits his teeth at the contact.

“You can move your fingers. Don’t just focus on my clit.”

“Ah. Right. Of course,” he babbles dumbly, so swept up in everything that you are, so very eager to please.

You’re like a work of art pinned to his desk, a delicacy more forbidden than anything from the bakery. Sugary-sweet, adorned in skimpy ruche, you’re a temptation laid bare. Delicately, as if you might shatter, he curls his fingers to press up against your insides. Riddle watches you arch up towards him, your hand working his cock maddeningly slow and steady. It feels good—better than anything he could have ever imagined.

His eyes trail from your lips to your tits to your pussy stretched around his fingers. “Do you have any plans for this summer?”

The sudden question catches you off guard. You were expecting something related to sex, not whatever this new shred of curiosity is. Still, that doesn’t stop you from dragging him closer to the edge of ecstasy with every tug of your fist.

“Why?”

“I… I’d like to get to know you.”

“Me?”

“Of course. You’re more than a body to me.”

“How charming. I just—” You frown, unable to follow where he’s going with this. “Why?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” Even though he says it like it’s a fact, he looks shy. “I want to know you.”

“Uh… Yeah… Okay.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Not that… It’s just hard to imagine you having any girl friends.”

Riddle rolls his eyes and grinds his thumb into your clit. You bite back a whine as his fingers pump in and out of you. “Is that space open or closed?”

“You know which one.”

“You could be the one to close it.”

You meet his eyes then. For a short minute, the two of you hold each other’s stare. And then, breaking free from his hypnotic hold, you squeeze his length gently. He shudders, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks.

“And what about you? You excited for your first year?”

“Mm, yeah,” he murmurs, rutting into your hand. His fingers spread you open, scissoring gently.

“Just make sure to take time for yourself. Have fun. Live.”

“What did you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“When you were at school—how’d you manage?”

“I never went.” He opens his mouth to interject, but you beat him to it. “Couldn’t afford it.”

“Oh…”

“It’s fine! I’ve got plenty of experience in other things. I don’t need school for that.”

Riddle doesn’t believe your feigned optimism for a second. “If you could’ve gone, what would you have studied?”

You release his cock from your hold and reach up to pull his glasses from his face. Gingerly, minding the fragile frames, you set them aside. You lift your index to your lips, effortlessly coy. “It’s a secret.”

Before he can protest, you tap the hand at your cunt next. Riddle’s fingers, wet and shiny, slide out with a slick squelch. “I think you can do it.”

“What?”

“Go to school and study what you want. I believe in you.”

A wooden laugh tumbles from your lips. “Thanks for the encouragement, mama’s boy.”

“I have a name, you know.”

You smile easily. “You want me to call you something else? How does ‘good boy’ sound?”

Even though he tries not to let it show, his cock betrays his reticence with a small twitch. He’s an open book. Not wanting to give you the satisfaction, he lines himself up instead. Your fingers slip down to spread yourself for him.

“S-Slowly…” you whisper, stumbling over your breath as the head of his cock presses inside. Shallow at first before more inches fill you.

Riddle heaves a shaky gasp, his eyes wide with amazement. “I… I’m inside you…”

“How’s it feel?” “Warm. Soft. Snug. R-Really good.” He bows his head and digs his fingers into your hips. You think he has a dozen more adjectives on the tip of his tongue, each one just as fluffy as the last. “D-Do you feel good? It doesn’t hurt?”

“I’m fine.” You wind your legs around his waist to pull him closer. Your hands come to rest upon his shoulders once more. “Move your hips.”

Riddle does just that. His pace is awkward and inexperienced, every motion unsteady and jerky, as he searches for the right rhythm. He falls into it surprisingly fast, and it isn’t long until he’s smoothly rutting into you. You grab at his shirt, your breath coming in reedy huffs.

“Good. You—haa—good. You’re doing good.” Praise pours from your lips like a waterfall, plentiful and refreshing. It invigorates him, fills him with a confidence that wasn’t there before.

The soft slap of skin on skin fills the room. You keep your voice in check, lest you lose yourself and alert Mrs. Rosehearts. Riddle seems to be doing the same, even though it’s obvious he’s struggling much more than you are. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth to suppress his groans.

“You can touch me,” you whisper, petting his cheek. He blinks at you, his face aflame with a bright blush.

Nervously, he reaches for you and then pauses. Contemplation passes over his features. “What feels better? I want you to—no. I will make sure you cum. I’ve studied it, actually. I know how long it takes.”

“Look at you, doing your research like a diligent student. You want extra credit?”

Riddle chuckles and pinches your clit between two fingers. The rest of your teasing tapers off into a lewd squeal. “What was that about extra credit?”

“You’re awfully bold for your first time.”

“I’m not clueless.” His hips press inwards, plastering you to the desk, and his cock brushes that special spot within—the spot that has you seeing stars, your every nerve tingling with pleasure. You choke around a delighted gasp. Riddle, feeling victorious,  places his hand against your stomach, as if searching to feel his cock thrust up inside you. “Will I see you again after this?”

“If your mother wants me to come back and give you another pointless lecture on celibacy and safe sex, sure.”

“No, not that. Outside of this.”

“Don’t you have friends you’d rather hang out with?”

“I…do.”

“So spend time with them.”

Riddle doesn’t dignify that with a retort. With the way his eyes gloss over, you wonder just how many of these friends are within physical distance. The conversation stalls out into silence.

“You’ll make lots of friends at school. So many you’ll probably forget all about me.”

Riddle yanks your hips to meet his, driving himself deeper into your pussy.

“A-And you’ll find a nice girl to love if you’re looking for that kinda thing.”

“I am,” he confesses, breathless. “I want to get married and—mmh—start a family one day… I want to study law—become a lawyer… Mother thinks medicine suits me, but I can’t agree. Law is fascinating. It’s a perfect fit for me. Far better than medicine.”

You drag your thumb over your mouth, wetting it with your lipgloss, and then press it to his lips. The indirect kiss sends a tidal wave of arousal over him, darkening the tips of his ears in striking vermillion. You offer him a gentle smile while he recovers from that devastating flirt.

“I’ll make sure to hire you as my lawyer if I ever get into legal trouble.”

“You’d better not!” He laughs and shakes his head in amused disbelief. “But if you do, I’ll be there for you. Always.”

“Thanks, Riddle.”

Maybe I judged him too harshly. He’s not so bad.

In that stuffy study, just as the late afternoon gives way to red-orange streaked across a purple-pink sky, Riddle fucks you against that desk in all manner of rhythms. It’s when he finally picks up speed that you realize he’s nearing his end. You mirror his enjoyment, strung along by titillating touches and whispered words drenched in sweetness. You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve reached rapture alongside him, your pussy now brimming with cum. There’s so much it leaks out of your slick hole when he draws away, only to burrow his cock deeper to stuff it back inside.

The room reeks of sweat and sex. You think, if not your disheveled appearance, the smell will definitely tell Mrs. Rosehearts all she needs to know.

“I love you,” Riddle murmurs, and you’re about to ask him what he means—maybe he’s caught up in the moment and doesn’t realize what he’s saying—but then he lifts your legs up to fold you into a mating press. Coherent thoughts are knocked out of your head when he spills over, filling you up for the nth time that day. You shiver beneath him, eyes rolled back into your skull and tongue lolling out. You feel so stupid, fucked submissive by some inexperienced, upper middle class mama’s boy. Which isn’t even an insult with real heat to it, but in your hazy mind it’s all you can think of to describe him.

He grinds against you in the aftermath, panting from the exhilaration and adrenaline. 

“We need to…open the window,” you mutter, your heart thumping wildly in your chest.

Riddle admires your fucked-out expression in his sex-drunk daze. He slides out just as he feels himself going flaccid. Cum drips onto the desk below. Briefly, you struggle to recall whether or not you took your birth control today.

Something to consider later. Definitely not right now when you’re still clinging to the vestiges of your orgasm.

— — —

Mrs. Rosehearts knocks on the door, opening it to find Riddle sitting at his desk, jotting notes and occasionally pushing his glasses up. You’re standing at the blackboard, writing a list of the consequences of unplanned pregnancies. The room smells pleasantly of roses.

“Pardon my intrusion.”

You gaze at her and smile, wearing the clothes you arrived in. Nothing’s amiss. It’s perfect—thankfully. “Welcome back, Mrs. Rosehearts. We’re just about finished here.”

“Is that right? I assume all went well?”

“Very well. Your son’s a fast learner. Extremely talented.”

“I would expect nothing less.” She withdraws an envelope and hands it to you. “Thank you again for explaining it in realistic terms. Of course I doubt that my Riddle will act senselessly while he’s away, but as his mother I’m prone to worrying. Boys his age are so easily influenced.”

“O-Of course! That’s a very valid concern.” You force a chuckle.

If only she knew.

“Your pay is in that envelope. Should I ever require your assistance again, I’ll be sure to call.”

“Right… Thank you.” You hold it close to your chest. “I’m happy to help.”

You follow her out the door. She pauses to address Riddle. “Do continue reviewing your notes. We’ll convene for dinner in thirty minutes.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Mrs. Rosehearts walks you to the gate. “I wish you luck in your studies. If I don’t see you again at the clinic, have a pleasant summer.”

“Thank you. You as well.” You smile, fidgeting slightly. A bead of sweat tracks a path down your leg from between cum-spattered thighs.

Finally! With this I can pay my rent and still have enough for a treat from the bakery.

It’s worth it, or so you continue to tell yourself.

— — —

From the window, Riddle watches you make the walk to your car. He lifts his phone to fit you in the camera and snaps a secret photo. He continues to watch you until you’ve driven off and turned the corner, disappearing from his sight.

A tiny smile tugs at his lips.

Within his phone, put under a password lock, a special photo album exists. It’s filled with pictures taken from your social media—all of them. Every. Single. One. He’s resourceful when he wants to be. He can play the parody of a tech genius when he sets his sights on something.

And you’re just perfect.

[fans4wga]

CALL TO ACTION to support WGA/SAG-AFTRA: Submit a comment about the corporate monopoly crisis.

August 18, 2023: You can personalize the template message included in the above link, or simply just add your name & email. Seems like it's US only; please boost if you can't sign yourself.

From the WGA:

"More than 100 days into our strike, as we continue to fight for the sustainability of our profession, events in Washington, D.C. provide an opportunity for writers to shine a light on one of the root causes of the strike: media consolidation. For decades, the WGA has advocated for stronger antitrust oversight, bringing attention to the ways that mergers and vertical integration in our industry – from AT&T-Time Warner to Warner Bros.-Discovery to Amazon-MGM to Disney-Fox – have consolidated the power of our employers and harmed writers as well as the diversity of content. In numerous reports and policy filings – including a new report called The New Gatekeepers: How Disney, Amazon and Netflix Will Take Over Media, released yesterday – the WGA has documented the threat to our industry from past and future consolidation and called for more aggressive antitrust enforcement. Our current strike highlights the urgency of the issue; studios gained power through anti-competitive consolidation and vertical integration and then used that power to push down wages and impose more precarious working conditions for writers while profiting off of their work, and currently – together – refuse to bargain a fair contract for writers to mitigate those harms. Last month, the FTC and DOJ jointly released proposed revisions to their Merger Guidelines, a policy document designed to guide law enforcement around consolidation. These new Draft Guidelines are part of an effort by these agencies to reinvigorate antitrust enforcement. Compared with prior versions of Merger Guidelines, they give significantly more weight to the ways that mergers can be harmful and, for the first time, explicitly direct agencies and courts to consider how mergers can hurt workers. The Draft Guidelines have been released for public comment, and the FTC and DOJ want to hear from people who have been affected by consolidation – people like you.”

The FTC and DOJ are accepting comments on their revisions of the Merger Guidelines until September 18.

[thefangirlfever]

MIGUEL O'HARA x reader (18+, smut) MDNI

firefighter AU🧑‍🚒🔥🚒

Art credit: @kit-and-wolfe on Tumblr

Summary: You and Miguel are dating and he had hidden from you that he took part to a fireman’s calendar.

Notes: Just a silly idea I got from seeing multiple great firefighter Aus and a conversation with I had with @lazyjellyfish300 about Miguel! firefighter getting flustered. This story is a direct continuation of this post.

Tags: smut, F/M, AU, Firefighter AU, cunnilingus, PIV penetration, established relationship, fingering, no plot just smut, horny FMC, dirty talk (may be cringe), mention of masturbation (F/M), aftercare, breast and nipple play, hint at size kink, discussion around contraception

Word count: 3858 words

April was now your favorite month of the year. Most people would think that it was because you were excited about the upcoming Spring, the Sun in the sky and all those things, or maybe it was your birthday’s month. But you were unfortunately more pragmatic.

No, it was simply that the picture on your calendar for this month was to die for. Lying on glazed paper, in A4 format, a hand on his hip and his helmet on the other a tall, stupidly handsome man was looking at the camera with a bedroom look in his eyes. Firefighters have never been your thing, and you even considered it weird that a whole profession could be fetishized in a way or another but...that was different. You had to admit that you kind of see the appeal of it now. Honestly, this man could be anything else than a firefighter and you would probably still get the hots while looking at his picture.

Abs for days, rock hard chest with the right amount of thick, curly black hair that lazily trailed down toward a mouth-watering happy trail (that could only let you presume of a thick, happy bush), the infamous V-line that made his hips dip sensually under oily skin… Well, they really went all out with this picture. It was probably a bit edited but still...They even left his five o’clock shadow and the scar on his left arm. Good. Very good. That’s some professional job, you could tell.

You could have spend hours looking at this picture and still find new details about it. In fact the idea was very tempting, hence why your calendar was still stuck on the month of April despite being already mid-August. The calendar was pinned on your fridge and you could look at it every time you would cook or eat, which was exactly what you were doing right now. Well, at least you were trying because as soon as you would try to bring your fork to your mouth, your eyes would land again on the perfect picture.

The fact that you knew the model didn’t help at all your trouble.

You had met Miguel a few months ago through joined acquaintances and you didn’t even know he was a firefighter at the time. He would rarely speak about his job, not even to complain about it. And certainly not to brag. You quickly realized that he was quite secretive and shy when it came to his private life. It was very rare, almost impossible to hear him brag and he didn’t really take compliments very well. No idea where this insecurity could come from. He was quite a catch honestly, not even speaking physically. Miguel was overall someone nice and caring, as if his job didn’t already convey this trait of his personality enough. Maybe that’s why the two of you got along very well. When he was devoted to the well-being of most people and selfless, you were selfish, pragmatic and even a bit bitter. He was the type of person who would wake up at 4 in the morning to help the others and you were the type of person who after waking up at 10 am would shamelessly ogle the picture of a half-naked man, wondering about the size of his…

Your phone softly buzzed, taking you out your daydream. As soon as Miguel’s name appeared on the screen, you came back to your senses and picked up the phone.

“Hi…”

“Were you still sleeping?”, he asked with an amused voice. While most people would find you lazy, Miguel had simply accepted that your lifestyle was not his and that you were more of a night owl. This doesn’t mean that he wouldn’t tease you from time to time about it.

You rubbed your hand over your tired eyes and groaned into the phone:

“No...I was...eating...is there a problem?”

“You left your sweater in my car yesterday. I thought I could come give it back to you after training.”

Your brain took a few seconds to understand his words but when it did, your eyes opened wide and you jumped to your feet, scurrying toward the front door.

“You’re already here?”

“Well, I was in the neighborhood and I thought I could stop by. I also brought breakfast since I thought you would have just waken up…”

He sounded almost apologetic as if he had dragged you of bed. Your heart stammered into your chest and a stupid grin curled up your lips. Sweet, selfless Miguel. How did he manage to always make your cold demeanor crumble? That was a mystery to you.

You opened the door and there, stood Miguel, a large bag of edibles in his arm, your sweater perfectly folded in a small bag while he was still holding his phone. And as if the sight of him wasn’t sweet enough already, he was still wearing his athleisure clothes, ie a tank top and loose grey shorts. His skin was covered in a thin sheet of sweat and his brown locks were stuck to his temples and the back of his neck. A treat for the eyes.

The moment he saw you in your sleepwear, he turned off his phone and a small blush crept up his face. You were only wearing a short and a tank top but he didn’t mind. That was...quite a nice view.

“Well, you are definitely awake.”, he joked quietly as you made sign for him to enter the apartment. “I was afraid that I would wake you up.”

You could definitely wake me up anytime you want.

“No, don’t worry, it’s fine.” You grabbed the bag he was handing you with your sweater inside. It was neatly folded, even better than what you would usually do to your clothes. You might as well invite him over to share breakfast with you. Miguel gladly accepted and followed you to the kitchen and as much as he tried to be a gentleman his eyes would always end up following the sway of your hips and the very appealing bounce of your butt. He started to feel a bit tight in his shorts and this feeling only increased when he noticed that you weren’t wearing a bra under your top. He cleared his throat, trying to chase those thoughts away; it was too early in the morning for this.

“I found this small french bakery down the block and I thought you would like to try these…”, he said while putting down the bag on the central island of the kitchen. The buzzing sound of the coffee machine filled the air just when you replied to him:

“Oh yeah, I actually wanted to try this one. Thanks.”

And now your nipples were pointing under the shirt.

Great.

This definitely didn’t help the situation down his pants and he wisely chose to advert his gaze...only to fall on the dreaded picture he hoped you would never hear about. A rush of color filled up his cheeks and he was practically sure he wasn’t half-hard or hard at all anymore. What was this thing doing here?

You turned around to put his mug of coffee down the counter and that’s when you noticed where his eyes were. Not on you, unfortunately, but on the calendar.

Shit!

You didn’t even bother to put it on the right month. Hopefully Miguel would take it as it is, a compliment. But the moment you saw his brows furrow and his jaw tighten, you had a serious doubt.

“Hum...Miguel?”

He didn’t respond at first and when he looked back in your direction, he still seemed very ashamed, almost mortified. A pink hue was covering his cheeks and the back of his ears. Seems like you were going to have a lot of fun...

“Yes?”

You let the silence last a bit more before replying: “Is there a problem?”

“No. No...why would there be any problem?”

“Because you’re all red in the face suddenly. I was wondering if something was making you feel uncomfortable…”, you asked innocently. At this point of your relationship, he should know better. He should know what this coy tone meant but he still fell in the trap: “It’s just… Where did you even get this calendar?”

“Does it bother you?”

“No...it’s just...a bit tacky. I didn’t think you would like something like this…”, he replied in a sheepish voice. If you knew any better than this, that man was flustered.

“It’s practical.”, you simply reply with a shrug of your shoulders, dismissing the embarrassment in his voice. Miguel awkwardly chuckled: “Then why is it stuck on April?”

“Touché.”, you replied with a sly grin. You then took a sip of your coffee and his eyes wouldn’t leave the shape of your lips molding against the edge of the cup or the way your eyes still looked at him under your lashes, as if you were a cat playing with a mouse. All this little game was making him feel hot under the collar and he nervously ran his hand through his hair.

“Maybe...I just like the picture.”, his eyes were trying to avoid your gaze but they would eventually flutter back to the alluring shape of your silhouette. “Maybe...this is just making me feel curious.”

He didn’t need to ask about what it made you feel curious. Your tone was already giving him enough hints and he could only sheepishly chuckle, almost giggling while the red in his cheeks intensified. “You can’t be serious…”

“What if I am?”

Your blunt answer took him by surprise and you took this short moment to move a bit closer to him but still keeping your hands to yourself, even if the urge to rest them against his body was becoming stronger by the minute.

You had just been thinking about this these last weeks. Ever since you brought that calendar back home, all you could think about was the moment you would get to lay on top of him, run your hands down his abdomen, unto some more exciting territory, crossing every single line. The image of his body would haunt you during your alone time, making you wish it was his hands bending you, making you scream and turning you into some drained but satisfied mush.

His breath faltered when your fingers hovered above the soft cotton of his sweater. The fabric clung to his body, drawing out the shape and relief of his build silhouette, all in sharp angles and dips like some statue.

“Maybe I want to see a bit more..."

Your fingers trailed down his torso, from his chest to his abdomen and you could feel the way his heartbeat quickened as well as the way his body tensed and arched into your touch, yielding against your fingers. The hard contour of his silhouette was being traced, made more noticeable for your eyes and your eyes only. Your hungry gaze made him feel wanted in a way he didn’t know was possible; a special talent of yours. Standing there, still covered in sweat and fresh out of his training, he couldn’t believe you still wanted him. And yet…

“You want to see more?”, he asked under his breath and with a quick nod from you, he took your hands guided them over his body.

Your fingers soon slipped under the fabric of his tank top and you rose on your tip toes in an attempt to kiss him. Given the height difference between you, he quickly opted for the easiest solution. His arms scooped you up and placed your body on top of the counter, shortening the distance between you. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you didn’t waste a single second to pull him closer to you but you still managed to surprise him. He was not expecting for your lips to aim for his shoulder rather than his mouth and with a low groan, he welcomed the caress of your lips onto his skin as you traced your way up his neck.

The pressure of his fingers grew tighter on your sides as this make-out session turned steamier. Your nipping on his neck made him react almost immediately. His fingers slid down lower on your body and soon gave your ass a firm squeeze. He needed to get you out of these shorts and quickly. Your soft whimper onto his neck told him he was doing everything right and his hands kept kneading your soft rear while your own diligent hands removed his top, leaving your eyes free to feast on the sight of his after-work body. Every word you uttered seemed to get straight to his cock as he felt it practically twitch every time you would breathe a bit harder on his skin or tell him how nice he felt, how gorgeous he was.

“Lay down...just...get on your back…”, his breath was a bit more labored as he helped you lying down the counter. You were pinned under him when his hands finally lifted up your top, exposing your perky breasts. He had spent so much time fantasizing about them, this morning only they had been on his mind almost all-workout. Last night during your date, he couldn’t get his eyes out of them as soon as you would look away and they had been tempting too much since he entered your apartment. The perky mounds stuck out, resting on your chest like a crown, the tanned lines from your bikini making them stand out even more proudly. After a few seconds spent admiring them, he dipped his head onto the soft cleavage presented to him, not doing anything else than resting his face there at first.

Your hands stroked his hair, pulling him closer into your embrace and you began grinding your hips onto his aching cock. The shape of his erection was visible under the grey fabric as it strained against it, begging for release. He would wait. He always waited. There was no need to rush with someone like you. Even when he was alone, he would always take his time fantasizing about the endless possibilities of your body rather than bringing himself to climax quickly. There was no such thing as a quickie with him and today was no exception. He will focus on every single part of your body, take his time to taste it, to enjoy it to the fullest...no matter if it made his dick throb and swell with more and more arousal. No matter if he would end up practically whimpering while getting his face stuck in your pussy later.

Miguel nuzzled his face further onto your breasts. His face was smothered between your breasts, his lips occasionally licking and sucking on their plump flesh. Low growls would escape his lips every time his lips circled around one of your perky nipples, sucking in deeply, swirling his tongue around the rigid nub and the puffy areola. His hands were holding your waist where the hem of your pants slopped down, exposing your waist.

“Eres tan deliciosa...can’t wait to get more of you...”

His nose trails down the line of your abdomen, running over smooth skin while his thumbs rub in circle the skin over your sides. He tugged at the hem of your shorts with his teeth, silently pleading to get more of you.

“May I?” You groaned a small “yes” and he finally pulled down your shorts. When he nuzzled his nose onto your panties, pressing it right where your slit would be, your hips bucked. He giggled at your eager response.

“Sorry about that.”, you quickly apologized but he dismissed the said apology with a caress of his hand on your thigh, soothing your worry.

“There’s no need to worry.” He then pressed a soft kiss under your belly button and hummed, his breath warm on your skin: “You’re such a needy little thing sometimes.”

“I’m not needy.”, you replied with a growing blush.

“Mhh...who’s been keeping a calendar of half-naked men in her kitchen again?” His brow cocked in a teasing manner as he trailed a line of warm kisses all the day down to your entrance. Your breath hitched and you arched your back in response to his teasing:

“Are you going to remind me of this for a long time?”

“Yes.”

His hooked finger pushed your panties aside and he basked in the musky scent of your arousal, watching how your pubes glistened with arousal.

“Someone feeling jealous over there?”, you teased him which only earned you a chuckle.

“I have no reason to be jealous…”, his hands slipped under your butt and he lifted up a bit your body until your legs were wrapped around his neck, “...and I’m going to show you why.”

His lips dived into your parted legs, his mouth molding to the shape of your vulva as he suckled in deeply. Your essence spurted into his mouth, making you writhe slightly. His nose rubbed onto your clit while he swirled his tongue deeper between your slick folds. His cock was aching down his sweatpants, burning to be free and soon replacing his tongue.

As he kept lapping and sucking on your cunt, he slowly edged you until you couldn’t hold it anymore. The sound of you moaning and cooing his name was the sweetest reward he could get for his hard work; until you came undone. He could feel how close he was too to just climax, here and there on the spot. The sight of you, spread on the counter with your clothes ruffled and your puffy clit, throbbing and begging for more.

“Feeling good, mama?”, he softly asked while placing a soft peck on your thigh.

“Bedroom now.” Your enthusiasm made him giggle again and he kept placing soft pecks all over your face and shoulders while carrying you to the bedroom. Your eager hands slipped under the hem of his sweatpants and tried to grab a hold of his butt. As much as you liked this calendar, it was a shame it didn’t pay proper homage to the glorious work of art this man’s buttocks were.

Miguel finally let you go down the bed and slipped out of his sweatpants. He was rummaging through the nightstand, looking for the pack of condoms you always kept there.

You watched in awe as he tore open a condom and swiftly lowered his boxers. His cock sprung free, the tip almost slapping his lower belly as some precum already dripped from the swollen tip. His fingers quickly put on the condom and when he caught your gaze on him, he stopped, a sheepish smile on his lips: “Everything alright?”

“That was just the sexiest thing I’ve ever see you doing.” A sympathetic look took over his features as he crawled on top of you, peppering your face with soft kisses. It was probably the first time you’ve had a boyfriend who didn’t reluctantly put on a condom and who accepted that you just couldn’t put an IUD or take the pill. This was as refreshing as it was sexy and the delicate attention always made you feel grateful, no matter how much Miguel would tell you that it was nothing.

“How do you want to do this?”, he asked with his lips still pressed on your temple.

“I want to see you.” Your response seemed to please him a lot because he quickly obliged and soon you found yourself attached to one another, with his arms pinning you onto the bed while he kept moving back and forth between your warm walls. Every move he made was followed by a deep, throaty grunt on his side.

“Feeling good, sweetheart?”

You could only moan back at his question, wrapping yourself tightly around him as he was thrusting deeper into you. The heat between your two bodies was becoming unbearable as time went on and it only became stronger when he slipped his hand down your stomach and began toying with your clit.

“Gonna cum for me, okay sweetie? I want to make you feel so good…” The slight desperation in his tone didn’t go unnoticed on your side. He wanted nothing more but for you to remember this moment every time you would look at his picture. He wanted you to be as whipped for him as he was for you, completely and utterly transfixed.

“Miguel…” He knew what it meant when you cried out his name like that. It meant you were close and he made his mission to guide you through it with his fingers rubbing circles faster on your already sensitive and swollen clit.

“That’s it baby...just like that…”

Your body tensed and your grip on him tightened as he felt you reaching your climax. His praise didn’t stop soon and he kept placing soft pecks all over your face, especially around your furrowed brows, one thing he found adorable in these moments.

It took the two of your some time to calm down after this moment. Miguel had brought you back a towel from the bathroom to clean yourself and two glasses of water. It was a bit hot since it was the middle of the summer and he knew too well the risks of dehydration. However this didn’t stop him from cuddling with you, his arms tightly wrapped around your body, one hand tracing the curve of your hips, following the slope of it like a traveler climbing up a mountain. His eyes marveled at your body in silence, looking at the way the sweat had coated your skin. When he kissed the sensitive spot of skin behind your ear and playfully nuzzled his face into it, you squirmed a bit. But it was not enough to escape his grip and you just managed to rub yourself even more against him:

“Miguel...it’s already too hot. And I’m gross like that.”

Your words could have as well be heard by a deaf because he didn’t stop his kissing. In fact he even nuzzles his face lower on your body, his nose following the curve of your clavicle while he mumbled:

“You’re not gross. You’re perfect like that…”

You were glad he didn’t catch the blush that was blooming on your cheeks: “It’s still too hot for that…” But your protest wasn’t very convincing and none of you moved a single inch. It would soon be too hot to go out or even do anything at this point and your body succumbed to the promise of a lazy, indolent afternoon, resting in the arms of your lover.

================================================

Notes: Thanks for reading this story! I hope you liked it. it's been a while since I've written smutty one-shot so I needed some time to get back on track. Hope it doesn't feel too awkward.

🌻🌻🌻

My masterlist

[orcusfang]

Whence the Sorrow Flow [Part One]

Pet!AU Aizetsu x pregnant Fem!Reader

'As the owner of a well known demon grooming salon, business has flourished the years following its opening. All kinds of demon pets are brought to you day in, day out. And with a partnership with the local rescue, one would think you’ve secured a comfortable living in this bustling city. However, nothing could be further from the truth, and wherever you go an unwanted shadow that isn’t your own is intent on haunting your every step. You try to go on with your life, but after months of enduring this hell you’re mentally in the gutter. When a longtime friend from the local rescue brings in a timid and anxious demon for a makeover, he once again tries to convince you to adopt a demon of your own. Usually you shrug off the suggestion, never giving it much thought. But now that the question whether or not you still considered yourself safe can’t be answered with certainty anymore, you consider the possibility. And he just happens to know the perfect demon for your situation…'

--------- A/N: So, I started this back in August last year and never really wrote this with the intention to post it? Most of it was inspired by a RP I had with a friend at the time, but I shared two previews on Twitter over the past months and people really seemed to like it and have been asking about it ever since. So… I’m posting it! Warnings: This story contains darker themes, domestication, heavier topics, pregnancy, stalking, master/pet relationship. And for later chapters: mating cycles/heat, dubious consent at times and eventual explicit sexual content. A reminder, this story is written with an adult audience in mind. So even though not all chapters have sensitive matters in them; no minors, please! Read at your own risk! I hope you enjoy! Please let me know if you liked it :] Word Count: 9732

As the owner of a demon grooming salon in the center of a bustling city, you had seen just about any demon you could’ve dared to imagine. After almost four years of being in this profession, you didn’t think you could still lay an eye on a demon and genuinely find yourself surprised and impressed. From the most pampered and arrogant demons that actually considered themselves above you; to the most shy and anxious of demons – you’d seen it all as far as you were concerned.

It was fascinating how a demon's place and status in the world depended on their owners. And yet, it was utterly unfair to those born in unfortunate circumstances.

However, every once in a while the lovely folks over at the local demon rescue were eager to drop by a demon that would forever expand your experience, and it just so happened that today was rescue demon grooming day.

It wasn’t an official day of any sorts, but whenever one of the workers there reached out to you for an appointment for one of their demons, you made certain to not take on any other clients that same day. There had been a time when you did, but… you’d learned the hard way to not book anyone else.

Because the demons that got rescued by them? They were often in very bad and questionable shape, and there was simply no predicting what you would see with a new appointment with the rescue group. No matter how many times they had visited for a makeover on a demon they deemed suitable for adoption, every single time they stepped through the salon’s door with the demon in tow, and you witnessed the state they were in – something deep within your heart withered just a little more.

So when your contact at the rescue, Takagi, called to book an emergency case, you knew you were in for a long and tough day. It wouldn’t be the first time a rescue took hours before they even looked somewhat presentable. Not counting the time it took for the demon to grow comfortable enough to let you work on them, and a strange gut feeling told you that this rescue might just be one of those cases.

That, or it was the other situation in your belly making you feel iffy.

Despite being five months in, you still had a hard time separating the two.

“Makes me wonder for how much longer I’ll be able to properly do this work.” You mused to no one in particular, only to fill the tense silence before the rescue’s arrival as you arranged all the proper tools you could possibly need. You hoped you could continue to work for a while longer, you were a one-person income after all. And rent didn’t discriminate, pregnant or not.

There were plenty of savings that would keep you going for a while, but the less you had to depend on that, the better. Especially now that your life was going to change drastically in about four months from now, and you needed to be prepared for any unexpected events. There was no saying there wouldn’t be complications, either.

Once all the brushes, scissors and shearing devices were put in place and all shampoo and soap bottles were refilled, you made a small pile of thick towels along with a happy hoodie that was certain to lessen the stress for today’s demon. All the while, you couldn’t help but wonder what demon would walk through the front door of the shop today.

Rescues were often a miserable sight, but you’d be lying if they weren’t a great way to learn and improve your methods. In fact, it was thanks to the collaborative events between you and the local rescue that you’d gotten such a reputable name to begin with.

That, and you were helping the demons as well. Aside from the obvious cleaning, you were also giving them an instance where a human didn’t touch or handle them with a violent touch. Considering most rescues came from abusive or neglected houses, hopefully that small experience would aid them in their first step to trust humans once again. Or for the first time.

Humming, you entered the space where you always bathed, rinsed and showered your demons, placing the bottles of soap and shampoo at a higher ledge to keep them from being launched across your shop thanks to trashing demons that hated to be wet and washed. It wouldn’t be the first time your workshop got coated in bubbles and had you and the demon slipping in all directions.

The demons would be fine. A little spooked, but fine. They were tied to the elastic leash on the wall so they wouldn’t go far, but you still had a sore spot on the back of your head when you once slipped and hit the wall. And that had been over a year ago.

You peeked at the wall clock while rinsing your hands by the large sink. The numbers showed 10:45, meaning that the appointment would be in about fifteen minutes. That is, if it were a normal client.

If there was something you’d come to learn the past years, it was that Takagi, your contact over at the local rescue loved being way on time. That meant that any moment now he would–

The faint noise of a car pulling up resounded outside your shop, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Ah, way too early. Just as expected.”

The opening of a car door and closing followed in their wake, and footsteps approached as the obscured window revealed two shadowy silhouettes at the front door.

The doorbell jingled reassuringly and you quickly snatched your apron bearing your shop’s logo – a cute illustration of a generic demon sitting in a bubbly bathtub– threw it on and approached the shop entrance.

You had hardly unlocked the door before an eager “Gooood morning, (Name)!” boomed in your face, accompanied with a flashy grin from the tall man. “We’re not late, are we?”

“Absolutely not.” You chuckled, already unable to resist the contagious eagerness of the older man. “Good morning, Takagi. Are you certain you don’t just want to plan the appointment 15 minutes earlier than usual instead?”

“If that suits you better,” He said casually, knowing that you were just messing with him. “but I fear I’ll just end up arriving early either way. That’s just in my nature, you know?”

Takagi was one of the older employees at the local rescue, and your official contact there. Whenever there was a demon that needed to be brought over to your salon, he was always the one responsible for arranging it. Ironically enough, you had known the man for much longer than you had the shop, for he was an old friend of your mother. As such, he was a trusted family friend, even if your only contact were these visits that happened a couple times a month.

And your mother never admitted to the claim… but it was very likely that she had recommended your shop to the man, thus marking the beginning of your good relationship with the local rescue and boosting your reputation in one fortunate move.

Though, because of an injury that happened on the job where a terrified demon had lashed out and caught him by surprise, Takagi had been unfortunately incapacitated for four whole months, and today was actually the first time you both saw each other again in quite a while.

Takagi quickly studied you. “Ah but what am I saying? First and foremost (Name), I believe congratulations are in order!”

He of course, meant the evident bump you lugged around every day, and you nodded with the biggest grin plastered onto your face. No matter how many people congratulated you, it felt just as wonderful as the first. Even if you were starting to run out of interesting responses other than: “Yes, thank you!”

“How far along are you?” He almost seemed as joyous as you, and you knew from experience that he was genuinely happy.

“Five months now,” Your hands rested instinctively on your small bump protruding slightly from underneath your apron. “The baby is healthy and growing well, and I’m heading in for another ultrasound in two weeks.” You heaved a sigh. “I keep thinking I’m used to it, but I can’t help but feel anxious with each visit.”

His dark bushy brows shot up. “Well, of course! It does concern the health of your little one, and as a parent you want nothing more for them to be safe. It’s fine to feel nervous – in fact, I think I’d judge you more if you weren’t.”

You blinked at him, surprised that you hadn’t thought of it that way yourself. Before you could say anything in return, however, his bright and eager gaze took a sharper edge to it. “That said… I heard what happened with your partner. Are you doing ok?”

As much as your pregnancy delighted and made you eager to be a mother – the overwhelming shadow that your former partner, the father, had left behind unfortunately haunted your every step, and you feared this question was coming.

Especially since you’d lived pretty much in a mental haze ever since it happened. If anything the responsibility of the shop kept you going, gave you a daily purpose rather than rotting in your own misfortune and potential horrors.

“It’s… better this way.” Truth was, you really didn’t want to talk about him. To grant him any more attention than his actions already demanded. If you had to convince yourself to believe you and your child would be better off without him even if it was a downright lie, then you would cling onto that lie with all your might until it turned out to be real.

Suddenly feeling very self aware, you shyly lowered your gaze downward, only for it to land on the silhouette kneeling behind the man – the demon he brought along. With Takagi’s chatter and sudden questions, you’d been distracted from the demon’s presence. The fact that it was frozen in place without making the slightest noise certainly helped to remain unnoticed.

The smallest hint of the brightest blue eyes you’d ever seen peeked at you between large, thick clumps of dark hair, and for a passing second you found yourself strangely entranced – as if you witnessed a beautiful, fleeting moment.

The moment that defined whether a demon tolerated your presence, based on their first instinctual impressions. An instinct that abused and neglected demons took as reality, often influenced by the events of their past, and one where you had to tread carefully.

But the moment was fleeting, because what your gaze focused on next took your breath away, and you could swear your heart dropped straight through your big pregnant gut, and right into your bloated feet.

All you could see was just a gigantic pile of neglected, overgrown, uncared and matted dark hair. In the way the demon was leaning back on their haunches, kneeling down to the ground, the hair literally covered them from head to toe. Only the slightest glimpse of their face occasionally managed to peek through the clumps of thick filthy hair.

You immediately recognized the first signs of the demon’s neglect. Their hair hadn’t been cut for the longest of time, or in the worst case scenario – ever.

Whoever previously owned them clearly never bothered to brush, take care or send them to a groomer. You felt like you were staring straight at a bunch of bird nests somehow mushed together into one chaotic structure. You could hardly see their actual face, and you cringed visibly as you caught a whiff of the downright putrid smell that reeked off of them.

Adding onto your mental list, you began to doubt whether or not they ever got a bath either. And that was just from what you could see with a quick glance. There was no saying what you would encounter once you got to work on them. God, the poor, poor thing.

You had to get to work.

“But please, come in. And I’ll get you two settled.” You stepped back to allow the man and demon to enter. Suddenly very motivated to start and try to lessen this demon’s predicament rather than dwell on what happened to you in the past.

“Don’t mind if we do! I must mention though, I cannot stay for long.” Catching the hint, no further questions regarding your former partner’s dubious actions were thrown in your way, and Takagi entered the shop with the demon cautiously in tow.

Once inside, the demon immediately retreated behind the man’s legs. The hair covered head moved a bit, and you realized the demon was checking out the new room he found himself in. All the different scents must make him anxious. If he could even smell anything properly with that wall of crusty hair obscuring his senses.

Takagi smiled tenderly down at the demon and then back to you. “Dear (Name), this is one of our newly rescued demons. He’s very shy and anxious, but thus far he’s been nothing but a gentle demon.” He gestured at the creature, and upon feeling both your direct gazes on him, he ducked inward a bit more.

“What’s their name?” You ask quietly, not wanting to spook or intimidate the poor thing any more than it already was in this new, daunting environment.

“His name is Aizetsu…. I think.” He chuckled a tad awkwardly. “This one was rescued along with three others, and one of them felt open enough to share their names to us, and… nothing else. Upon asked, they don’t want to say which name belongs to which demon, so we’re kinda still in the process of figuring out who is who.” He shrugged casually. “But this one responded to Aizetsu, so we assume that’s his name. But we don’t know much about him aside from the fact that he’s male.”

You nodded and peeked back at the demon hiding behind him. “So, what do I need to know about Aizetsu’s behavior before I start preparing him?”

“You probably noticed just by looking at him, but we found him and his three brothers in a severely neglected state.” Takagi began, the former pleasantness draining his features into something more sharp. “We don’t know all the details regarding their former owner, because it’s actually the police that found out about their existence. Supposedly they were there to arrest the owner on some pretty severe charges. None of those charges had anything to do with neglecting demons, unfortunately.”

No, of course they weren’t. As much as you and Takagi tried your hardest to improve demon lives, most of society really only saw them as exotic pets with no rights. Meaning that there were no rules set in place that would punish abusive behavior or other forms of mistreatment, and that people usually weren’t punished for it.

“They investigated the rest of the house, and found these four in separate rooms in the basement in just… awful, awful conditions.”

Your stomach churned, and yet some terrible curiosity needed to know to sympathize. “Meaning…?”

He scrunched his nose and shook his head. “Just the worst neglect someone could imagine. You’re really better off not knowing the details, (Name). Me and the others at the rescue having seen it is more than enough.”

Your gaze went back on the trembling demon; your heart aching in sympathy as well as disgust. You wondered what was going through the demon’s head right now, as the two of you discussed details of his former life.

“So, when they found the neglected demons in dire need of help, and cops being cops, they wanted to put a bullet through their heads. Probably to project the blame onto their owner so they could forge an even bigger record on the man.”

Your hands cupped your mouth in horror. “No! But then, how did they…?”

“Fortunately there was a female officer with them that’s worked with us before, and she ended up having to beg them to allow her to call our local rescue.” Takagi heaved a deep sigh. “Even then, for us to be allowed to go there, we had to reassure them that they would never hear about the demons and their own involvement ever again. Not from others, not from the news. For all we know, these demons were simply dropped on our front porch by some random stranger.”

“Did they seriously threaten you?” One could argue the fact he was telling you of this right now rather than keeping it quiet, but he was a man of honesty, and you were certain he provided you the truth because he really wanted people to understand what the demon went through. He was that committed to helping them.

“It’s all in a day of our work, (Name). Once the cops finished flashing their authority, we went in there to capture them.” He glanced down at the demon behind him. “This guy was the first and easiest to catch. Poor thing was so immobilized by fear that my colleague went into his room and just scooped him right out. The other three though?”

He whistled, and the demon behind him startled at the high-pitched noise. To which he flashed him an apologetic smile. “They gave the crew the workout of their lives. It took us truly five hours before we finally managed to catch and drag out the last one, but it was worth every single moment of it…”

“Aizetsu and his siblings have been with us for a few days now, and we allowed them time to realize and understand that their living quarters have changed, and have been feeding and looking after them gradually to try and get them get used to human contact.”

Your brows raised curiously. “And how’s that been going for you?”

Takagi loosed out a troubled breath. “Let’s say we have varying degrees of progress on the four. Aizetsu here has made the most progress because he tolerates being touched.” Takagi sucked in a breath. “Then again, even though he does, he also shows hardly any response to it, so that’s a bit of a concern. We think he might be too scared to have a reaction, unlike two of his brothers.”

Curiosity got the best of you, and that’s where you made a mistake: “Will they be up for adoption, too?”

You only realized your mistake once Takagi’s eyes suddenly flashed with mischief. “Once they pass every test, they eventually will. I have my concerns about the angriest one, but I won’t stop until he shows even the slightest hint of warming up to someone.” His eyes narrowed cheekily at you, and you knew exactly what he was going to say next.

“Why? Have we finally reached the point in time where you’re thinking about adopting one of your own?”

As was evident with your many past encounters, Takagi never allowed the opportunity to ask slip through his fingers. Back in the day, he was so shocked to find out that despite being someone who was very experienced handling demons, and bearing a similar passion and love for their wellbeing as he did – you didn’t have a demon yourself.

There were a handful of reasons for this, which you’d made very clear to the man whenever he returned to the subject. Your excuses usually ranged from: I’m just too busy to properly take care of one. To the more reasonable: My house is rather small, and I don’t think I can offer them a home they would thrive in.

Seeing right through you, his brow always raised as if to say really? Those reasons wouldn’t have stopped anyone else from adopting one, and a lot of them were far from as qualified as owning one than you did. You knew that if a demon somehow ended up in your care, you would do your utmost best to give him the best life and home the demon could wish for.

Still, you’d been set on your decision for the past years since you started this work. You weren’t entirely sure why you kept making excuses, but somewhere along the line you’d started to believe them.

Maybe it was so you wouldn’t have to think any further about the true reason, which had nothing to do with you in the first place. And now that Takagi was asking you about it once again… you were feeling tempted to spill it to him, knowing there was nothing left to pretend.

But you caught yourself before you could give into the sweet temptation of spite, knowing it added absolutely nothing worthwhile. If anything, it would most likely sour part of your day as well as Takagi’s…

And again, you had to remind yourself that you didn’t want to give the source of said reason any more thought and attention than he already demanded on a daily basis.

“You’ll never cease trying to pair me with one of your rescues, won’t you?” A soft laugh passed your lips, knowing that he really only did because he was convinced it would only add more to your life, and he really wanted that happiness for you. “I hate to disappoint you, but my reasons haven’t changed. In fact, in about four months from now I’ll even have less time to spend on a demon than I do now.”

“So you think!” He countered enthusiastically, jabbing a finger up in the air. “But I’d argue that adopting a more gentle and patient demon into the household is very beneficial with a little one around. Especially now that your partner isn’t around anymore, and combined with your grooming salon a demon could potentially help you to relieve the pressure put on you.”

You shot him a look. “Adopting a demon to take over my chores isn’t really a prime reason why I’d reconsider getting one, Takagi.” The last thing you wanted to do was turn a creature like that into a servant of sorts.

He shook his head, intent on getting his message across. “No no, you’re misunderstanding. Of course they could help in the household, but I’m just saying. It’s tough being a single mother with a newborn and a job that demands a lot of you. There are demons specifically bred and trained to be gentle and, uh, perhaps important for your particular situation – protective of their owners and their children.”

The latter part had you looking up with a snap – so taken back by what he was implying – that you actually glared at the man for a passing heartbeat before catching yourself. But not before you saw the realization settle on your friend’s face.

A sudden chill had taken to your skin and blood, causing your very core to tremble.

Looks like Tagaki knew more of the finer details of your recently changed situation than he initially let on.

You blinked nervously. “Mom told you?”

The man slowly nodded, his features stark.

“How much did she tell you?” You tried, urging the frustration heating your blood to simmer back down. You hated it when your mother decided to share private things when you clearly asked her not to do so, everything was already complicated enough, and the last thing you wanted was others to try and butt into what you should do.

“Enough for me to know you need protection.” He provided, his gaze stern yet concerned.

A growing pressure of panic threatened to squeeze your throat as you scrambled for excuses to cut this topic short. “The police have everything under control, so that won’t be necessary.”

“I’m just saying,” Tagaki said carefully, choosing his words. “A demon could keep you safe from someone like him. From what your mother told me, it appears you’re under a great ordeal of stress, and that’s not good for you nor the little one you’re carrying around.”

Clenching your jaw to keep yourself from snapping at the man, you honestly didn’t know why his concern for your well being felt like such a stab to your back. Not to mention your mother for just blabbering about this so openly to random people. What if word of his actions leaked out and somehow reached him? What would happen then?

Your gaze landed on the clock, where the numbers marked 10:59. It was time to get to work; you had to do what you were meant to do today – your escape.

You took a breath to calm your rising anxiety, turning back to Tagaki. “If… it gets out of hand, I’ll let you know.” It was the most basic answer you could give without outright telling him you would consider adopting a demon, but truly, you had no other idea how to get him to stop discussing this topic. “Alright?”

Because he meant well, he really did. Even if your fight and flight instinct was urging the opposite, and that wasn’t any of his fault.

Tagaki must’ve caught the glimpse within your gaze that you were simply not up for discussing this, and nodded. “I told your mother the same thing, if there’s ever anything you need; you can always contact me. I might not always be able to help with everything, but I’m sure we can find a solution together with the three of us.”

“Thank you,” And you meant it. “But the last thing I want to do right now is stress myself even further by thinking about him unless I have to.”

Tagaki’s eyes hardened just ever so slightly, not satisfied with your answer even though he seemed content to drop the matter for now. “Understandable.”

All the while, the demon just sat behind the man. Quietly and observing the shop he currently found himself in; showing no interest whatsoever in the topic or conversation you found yourselves in.

“How about we get Aizetsu here settled first and foremost? I really want to cut some of that heavy hair of his, as it must be very uncomfortable for him.” You suggested instead, eager to work and have something else to focus on.

Having to look at the severely neglected demon hiding away behind Tagaki made you restless to get to work. The less longer the demon was forced to endure the results of his neglect, the better. This demon clearly needed your help, and soon.

“Ah sorry about that, (Name), and here I said I didn’t have a lot of time to stay and I just go on blabbering like that.” He chuckled sincerely and looked down at the demon behind him, taking a step to the side.

Almost instantly, the demon tried to inch back behind him, but Takagi outstretched his arm so the leash, which he held rather short, wouldn’t reach far enough for the demon to do so. The demon’s movements were slow and lazy, but when he hitched on the leash, he tried again, and again. Seemingly getting more restless with each attempt.

“No, Aizetsu.” He corrected firmly, but not harshly. “Today we’re going to do something a little different. Remember what I told you before we left this morning?”

You observed, feeling somewhat tense in having to witness this exchange. As expected however, the demon said nothing in return, but he did cease his attempts to hide behind him. Though you suspected it was more because of his fear for punishment rather than actual obedience.

“Today we’re visiting (Name). She’s a very kind woman who’s going to keep you in her salon for a few hours so she can get you thoroughly cleaned and washed.” The demon cautiously tilted his head at the man once it was mentioned he had to stay here. “It might be a little uncomfortable and scary at first, but I want you to behave and listen to everything she says, ok?”

It might’ve been spoken as a request, but you saw it for what it truly was. An order, a command for the timid demon to follow. An establishment of responsibility and leadership was what most demons needed to be made clear, especially if – in this case – the current caretaker was leaving the demon in someone else’s hands. Aizetsu needed to be made clear that he needed to listen to you and your instructions once Takagi left the salon to deal with other matters.

A simple concept on the surface, but for a demon that had been neglected or abused, having known nothing but dubious relationships with humans – this was like asking him to shift its entire understanding of reality, and to put themselves in a highly vulnerable position. After all, they didn’t know you. How could they possibly know what you were going to do with them?

Most rescues you’d groomed here at the salon had been terrified of you, because they were expecting you to act exactly like people had done in the past. They had no reason to trust you, no matter how much Takagi reassured and explained the process to them.

Expecting no answer from said demon, Takagi turned back to you. “I tested Aizetsu in a couple of social exercises back at the rescue center. So far, he’s not lashed out or snapped at anyone yet. But if you feel like he might be inclined to do so, please don’t hesitate to muzzle him for your safety.”

You hummed a nod, making a mental reminder of the demon having passed some social exercises so far. Which was a good sign, as you remembered past demon clients that desperately needed muzzles to keep yourself safe. You always tried your best to get demons through it without stressing them out too much, but sometimes you were left with no other choice. “Understood. Are there any triggers that I should keep in mind with Aizetsu?”

“He seems easily spooked by sudden loud noises, from what I’ve gathered in the few days we’ve had him around.” He pondered some more. “Same goes for unexpected touches, I like to think it helps if you announce what you’re going to do. That way you won’t take him by surprise.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. Judging from that, Aizetsu wasn’t going to like the water hose and the blow dryers once he’d been bathed. Which could complicate matters, but it would far from be the only time that you handled a demon scared for those very same things.

“I think he likes it when you talk to him too. Calm and quietly.” Takagi remarked. “He shrinks away when someone snaps at him.”

So a lot of calm talking, instructions and gentle touches. Got it. It was enough knowledge for you to start working on him, and you would undoubtedly come to discover new traits and things the rescued demon hadn’t expressed at the rescue center.

“Anything else you think I should know before I get to work?” You asked.

“Aside from the fact that he’s male, quiet, scared and timid – no, I don’t think so. Because frankly that’s all we know at the center. Oh, and if you discover anything else about him, or if something’s up, please don’t hesitate to message me. I’ve got my phone on me 24/7, so I’ll be guaranteed to see your message shortly.” His gaze narrowed at you. “If you feel like you can’t get the job done because of your precious cargo, you also tell me, ok?”

It was obvious that he, and everyone else that doubted your capabilities due to your pregnancy only voiced their concerns because they were worried for you and your infant. But you would be lying if it wasn’t starting to get to you, especially since you were still working and dealing with your client just fine without any incidents.

You reined in the annoyance. It was probably your anxieties and hormones speaking, but sometimes it felt like people were infantilizing you.

“I’m pregnant, not enfeebled.” You teased, laughing. “Don’t worry. I think I’ll manage, but if something’s up, I’ll call you.”

He gave you a knowing look, but allowed the matter to rest. “I’ll leave you to your work, then.” He offered you the leash and you took it without hesitation, wrapping the end tightly around your hand. While you didn’t want to show dominance explicitly, it was the way to get nervous and tense demons to understand the dynamic between you. Small gestures like those were required, whether you liked it or not. You were here to help them, not to suit your own needs and convictions.

The gesture didn’t escape Takagi, and a certain tension lifted from his features. He turned to the demon once again. “Aizetsu, I’ll be leaving you with (Name) now. While you’re getting your salon treatment, I have to get your three brothers to the groomers as well.”

At the mention of his siblings, the demon perked up; a soft noise escaping him as the tension seemed to leave him for a split second. For a moment you thought he was going to speak, to ask anything about his siblings, but he remained in the same silence as before, and Takagi smiled down at him. “Now, you behave and listen to (Name), got it? She’s going to take good care of you. I’ll pick you back up as soon as she’s finished.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the praise, feeling somewhat relieved that he was only dropping one of the four demons in your salon. From the small snippets of information Tagaki shared, Aizetsu’s other siblings seemed much more energetic, and there were only so many rescues you could put up with before needing some normal clients again.

Bathing, washing and taking care of Aizetsu, a clearly anxious demon, would be more than enough for you today.

You allowed your gaze to wander down at the cowering demon, who must’ve felt your eyes on him and timidly turned to you, before peeking back at his current caregiver. As if he wasn’t sure who to listen to, and a clear sign that Takagi needed to get his butt out of here already to avoid further confusion for the already nervous demon.

Understanding the hint, Takagi determinedly strode to the door. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be back to pick you up in a few hours, Aizetsu. So make sure to behave until then.” With one final wave, he exited the salon. Promptly followed with the sound of his departing vehicle.

An anxious whine left Aizetsu’s throat the instant Takagi disappeared from his sight, and he couldn’t stop looking at the door. Confirming exactly what you’d feared for. The man had stayed around for too long in this new and scary environment for the demon, and now the only person he was even a little familiar with had left him here with a complete stranger, you.

“Don’t you worry, he will be back soon enough.” You lowered yourself to his level, making certain you intercepted his line of sight and smiled. “How about we get you settled and prepared, Aizetsu?”

You didn’t wait for a reply, knowing you wouldn’t get one as he was figuring things out. You got back up on your feet and gently tugged on the leash a couple of times to have him follow you to the bathing area.

It took a little bit of prompting, but he eventually gave in and removed his sights from the door and followed you. All the while, you decided to talk to him to keep his thoughts from straying away to other matters and instead focus on you.

“First of all, I want to welcome you to my salon, Aizetsu. I’m (Name), and in my daily life I work as a demon groomer. Meaning that I work on making demons as clean and presentable as possible, and that’s exactly what we’ll be doing today. If you don’t mind me saying, you look like you desperately need a good washing and a nice haircut.”

He definitely needed way more, but the last thing you wanted was to overwhelm the demon with phrases he probably didn’t even know. As neglected as he was, he probably never had any of these things before.

No answer or sound came from the demon except his soft footsteps behind you. It was relieving to hear that he was actually following you. So far he was taking Takagi’s command to heart.

You then stopped, and the demon followed your example almost instantly. “Before we continue, I want to make you feel as comfortable as possible around here. You haven’t shown any signs of wanting to run away, and as such, I want to try and take your leash off.” You raised a brow at the demon, still clueless whether or not he could actually see you through that mountain of tangled and matted hair descending most of his body.

“But in order to do that, I’m gonna need you to listen to everything I say. Do you think you think you can do that? Otherwise we can leave it on, should you feel more at ease like that.”

The latter was definitely a possibility, especially for anxious demons. Sometimes the promise of freedom came with too much responsibility, and spooked them in the process.

At the mention of having his leash taken off, Aizetsu’s head jerked up and he slowly looked around the salon. As if he were deciding whether or not the area and person he found himself with was safe enough to be ok with such a thing. Nobody had ever asked him something like that – or asked him his opinion on anything, for that matter.

He was cowering so lowly, and taking so long that you were about to conclude that he wanted to keep it on. Either option was fine for you, though.

“…. take…. it….”

You were about to approach the bath by the wall when the softest noise caught your attention, and you froze. If you didn’t know any better, you could’ve sworn the sound was anything but his voice. Like the faint creak of a chair, undoubtedly from lack of use. But you did know better, and after Aizetsu had been wrapped in such silence with Takagi around, you’d almost started to believe that the demon refused to talk out of fear.

“What did you say, Aizetsu?” You gently prompted, a soft smile decorating your lips as you were starting to feel more hopeful for him. “You’ll have to speak up a bit louder, I didn’t quite get that.” You tried.

The shudder of a breath left him as he struggled with the idea that he was asked to speak his actual wants. Even if it was just a mere leash to you, to him it was anything but.

After another passing heartbeat, he tried again. His voice muffled mostly by the wall of thick hair around him. “I-I… I’d like it off.” He repeated louder this time, nearly stumbling over his words. Although it was still rather soft to you, you did manage to catch what he was trying to say. And that’s what mattered.

“Then that’s what we’ll do. If you decide later that you want it back on, just let me know, alright?” You reassured him. “I’m here to look after and take care of you, so if there’s anything you want me to know, don’t hesitate to tell me.”

You were aware this was a near impossible request for a demon pet like him to fulfill, but you laid it out there nonetheless. The more he believed he could trust you, the better. It would make this entire process so much smoother and easier on him.

“I’ll be removing your leash, then.” You informed him, remembering what Takagi had recommended: informing Aizetsu of everything you were going to do, and you assumed this regarded literally every little detail. “You have a lot of long hair though, so I will have to get up in there to do so. It might feel a little weird, but I assure you I won’t hurt you. Is that ok with you?”

The demon said nothing, and instead remained frozen on his spot on the floor. You decided to take his lack of reluctance and resistance as an answer, and slowly dropped down onto your knees while suppressing a groan from the weight of your belly, and extended your hands to the most furious black mane of chaotic hair you’d ever witnessed.

Gently, your fingers pushed aside the black locks for as much as the tangled state of them allowed you to. When he felt you touch his hair, Aizetsu took a sharp inhale and tensed like a brick.

It prompted you to halt. “Do you want me to stop?”

“N-no…” He whined out, and you almost believed he was on the verge of bursting out into tears. The poor thing was most likely expecting your touch to hurt him. Still, his answer was clear.

“Alright. I won’t hurt you, Aizetsu. I promise. I’m just going to remove the leash from your collar.” You kept reminding him as your fingers gently paved a path through his matted dark locks. Somewhere in the back of your head you wondered whether or not he genuinely believed what you were telling him, or was taking your claims as a lie wrapped up in gentleness. It was probably safe to assume the latter. But he favored the leash off so badly that he was willing to put himself through this suffering.

The demon was so tense he was actually trembling, and you were relieved when your fingers at last brushed against the familiar touch of steel at the end of the leash, and swiftly unhooked it from his collar and rolled it up in your hands.

That’s when you noticed how greasy and slick your skin had become just by lightly touching his hair. Not to mention the foul odor that now clung to your hands. Yyou had to try your best not to cringe for his sake.

Good heavens, you’d never seen a demon before that needed a bath and haircut as badly as Aizetsu did. And after four years of cleaning and taking care of rescues, that was saying a lot.

“There we go. The leash is off.” You said, ignoring the scent of death. You were going to add ‘Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?’ hadn’t the demon looked like he was moments away from passing out from shock; still as tense as a rock and trembling.

It had been a good first exercise to introduce him to non-harmful touching, but you decided it was better to give him a moment to try and recover from being touched by a literal stranger. So instead you approached the bath. “Now, what I’ll do next is run a bath for you, Aizetsu. The water will make a bit of noise and might be a tad unpleasant at first, but I assure you it will not hurt you in any kind of way.”

His steady but loud shudders of breath were the only indicator that he was listening, for they changed their rhythm every time he tried to register what you were telling him. When you turned on the water you spotted him flinching from the corner of your eye, confirming exactly what Takagi had told you about his fear of loud noises. Still, it was necessary for the process so the demon simply had to learn how to deal with it one way or another.

For now, you left the water running while turning to Aizetsu for the next step, and you were very curious how he was going to react to this. “Before we bathe you, I would like you to take off your clothes.”

The sudden request wasn’t enough to shake his tension, but you were pleased to see that his trembling ceased once his attention got shifted. The demon seemed to glance down at himself – at his long sleeved black shirt and matching loose pants, and then back up at you.

“Hmhm, those.” You affirmed, gesturing at the set of clean clothes the rescue center undoubtedly granted him. “It would be a shame if those got all wet and cold. That, and I cannot properly clean you unless you take them off.”

The demon seemed to struggle with what you were asking of him, and you didn’t blame him. Stripping in front of a stranger, especially when you’ve been neglected and abused by people from the same species must be a terribly daunting prospect, but unfortunately there was nothing else you could do to make this process any less vulnerable for him.

For a moment he hardly moved, but you waited patiently. Clearly he was considering his place here and the moments from his past. As well as the order that Takagi had given him to obey everything you asked of him, even if it went against everything his mind and body were screaming at him for the sake of self protection.

But then, slowly but surely – his long sleeves shifted and the hands he’d been hiding inside finally peeked out at the ends. You blinked, surprised to see the darker skin tone of said demon. With all of the chaotic hair you’d barely gotten a true glimpse at the actual demon yet, so to actually see details of him was a pleasant surprise because you were highly curious of what he would look like once you got through all that hair.

His hands looked like the rest of him – not taken care of in the slightest, and at the end of each finger were long, darkened fingernails that had not been clipped in forever.

Aizetsu had pushed his hands out of his sleeves to grab the hem of his shirt, but before he could nervously pull it over his head, you stopped him. “Just a second, Aizetsu. I’m going to get something real quick.”

He flinched and froze upon hearing your sudden command; instantly convinced that he’d done something wrong and upset you, and observed with tension as you pushed yourself up to walk to the back of the room to grab something, before making your way back over and slowly lowered yourself back on the floor. “You have such long nails, I think it would be good if we trimmed them a little bit before we continue.”

“W… why?” Came the muffled question from the thick mane of hair as he held his hands close to his chest, as if you were going to chop them off any moment now.

“They’re very dirty, and I might be mistaken, but I believe they are ragged and cracked at the edges.” You explained calmly, holding the clipper in front of you so he could observe it. “This is a nail clipper, it’s a simple tool to shorten your nails a little bit.”

Aizetsu cowered a little bit, and his trembling increased as he held his hands closer. “Please… don’t take my nails away…”

You shook your head, reminding yourself that despite his vulnerable display, it was important to stay positive and keep a soft smile on your lips to give him the impression it really wasn’t that serious. “I won’t, I’ll only make them a bit shorter. That way they won’t be as easily damaged, and way easier to clean.”

Aizetsu still didn’t look convinced, and you perked up as an idea struck you. “Here, I’ll show you. Look –” You raised your other hand and splayed it open so that he could clearly see your own trimmed nails. “This is what they’ll look like once I’m done.”

You got your answer regarding your earlier question whether or not the demon could actually see, because he quietly observed your raised hand before he dared to lean closer to get a better look. The demon then leaned back, peeking down at his own hands before dragging his gaze back to yours – and repeated that for a couple of times in a clear internal struggle happening inside his head.

He didn’t trust you, that much was clear. But with situations like these, he was starting to doubt his initial reaction because what you showed him made sense. More so than his instinctive responses currently did.

This was going to be a very slow process, you were beginning to realize. But it didn’t matter. This was why you only took one rescue a day and no other clients. Even if it took you all day, you were going to make sure this demon got a proper bath and haircut. You wouldn’t go home achieving anything less if it were up to you.

“Doesn’t look so bad, does it, Aizetsu?” You said, breaking through his pondering. After a heartbeat, he made the faintest shake of his head, and you smiled at his timidness. Lowering your hand between you with palm faced up, you asked; “Will you allow me to trim your nails? I promise I’ll be gentle with them.”

After all, they were very important to demons. Some of them had straight up claws, while others like Aizetsu didn’t. But there was still that sliver of instinct residing in their blood that made them believe they were very important to them, even if modern day demons didn’t hunt like they used to anymore. Without them, they felt like they had one less way of protecting themselves.

Which… was also why you needed them trimmed before you began bathing him. Takagi had advised to muzzle Aizetsu in case he ended up getting snappy to protect you from his large fangs, but demons had more than one way to harm others. Their claws – or nails in Aizetsu’s case – could still easily cut a human’s skin even with the slightest wipe. So for your own safety you always made certain to trim a demon’s claws or nails.

Another defensive tool was a demon’s horns. Fortunately for you, it appeared Aizetsu didn’t have any of those, which meant one less thing to concern yourself about.

After enough coercion, Aizetsu at last relented and tentatively held out his hand. He said nothing, but you could feel his piercing gaze nearly digging holes in your outstretched hand, ready to retreat at the first sign of you doing something he didn’t approve of, so you had to treat carefully. Lest you wished to repeat this entire cycle all over again.

“That’s good, Aizetsu.” You praised quietly as you slowly inched your hand closer to his. “May I take your hand in mine?”

There was another lack of response, but the demon didn’t retreat his hand, so you carefully reached out and took his larger hand into your own – becoming very aware of Aizetsu’s potential real size. He’d been cowering ever since he and Takagi entered the salon, so his full height and size once he stood upright on two legs was still a mystery to you.

“That’s good…” You repeated your praise in hope that would reassure him.

Gently, your fingers enclosed around his hand as you reached forward to begin the process of trimming his very long and filthy nails. You nearly failed to hide your disgust at the neglect this demon must’ve suffered through as a resounding click echoed through the space of the salon as you clipped his index finger, the top of his nail flicking into some random direction.

Aizetsu jolted lightly at the sudden noise, as expected, and you loosened your hold just enough for him to not feel restricted. His gaze focused on his trimmed nail, and much to his surprise he found that it indeed looked quite similar to your own.

It was enough to have him inch his hand closer on his own, and you went to work on his second digit, then the third, the fourth – until the entire hand was finished. All while keeping a watchful eye on his posture and reactions. Just because he was a timid demon that seemed to trust you for now, did not mean he couldn’t lash out unpredictably.

“And now the other hand.” To your surprise he obeyed without nearly any hesitation; replacing his trimmed hand with the other. A smile crept to your lips as you neatly clipped his other nails. There certainly was hope yet for this timid and anxious demon, even if his hand was literally trembling within your grasp.

“Aaaand all done. You did really well, Aizetsu.” You released his hand and watched how he observed it quietly; rubbing the pad of his thumb along the edges of his trimmed nails in an almost entranced motion. This really must’ve been the first time anyone ever trimmed his nails.

“That looks so much better.” Feeling a surge of satisfaction, you put the nail clipper to the side for now. You doubted the nails on his feet looked anything better, and in a perfect scenario you would trim those right after – but just like with their hands, demons were very protective of their feet as well. Since you were already asking so much from the anxious demon, you decided to wait with that after you bathed him and cut his hair.

Speaking of which… you suddenly found yourself conflicted as you observed the demon. He really was almost entirely covered with his long hair, and the state of it was just downright terrible. To have hair that was as tangled and matted as his must be really painful for the demon’s scalp… so much that you were actually considering already cutting pieces off before you even decided to bathe and wash him.

“Your hair must be so heavy and painful, with all those matted locks tugging against your scalp…”

You hadn’t realized you’d spoken that part out loud until Aizetsu turned his focus back to you. He briefly fidgeted with his fingers. “It does hurt.” His quiet voice broke the silence.

Your heart trembled in sympathy for the poor demon, and you swallowed against the sudden block lodged in your throat. To have him affirm your suspicions only made you feel worse, but most of all angry at the person responsible. “I’m considering cutting off some big chunks of your hair before I decide to bathe you. Would you like that?”

“Yes…” He responded almost instantly, confirming that the matter of his hair was a priority for the demon, and you felt bad for making him endure the nail clipping before even prioritizing the biggest problem in the room. You’d done so to keep yourself safe while working on him, but still.

“I will have to get close to you. Kinda like before when I detached the leash from your collar.” To emphasize the meaning, you tentatively shuffled closer, watching the demon’s posture carefully as he watched you. With his hands balled in the fabric of his pants, his body was as rigid as a rock, but aside from that you still sensed no sign of hostility from the demon.

“Rinsing your head like it is now, the weight of your hair will be immense, and I don’t want to potentially hurt you.” You explained slowly as you reached down your apron and pulled out one of your scissors from one of the small pockets and held the tool in front of him. He stared at it for a passing second before slightly leaning forward, maybe smelling it. “This is what I’ll use to cut your hair.”

The only response was a deep, shuddering sigh.

You had no clue whether your current scissors were sharp enough to cut hair of such bad quality, but you would try. You knelt down next to him and reached over him to grab locks of his dark, thick hair. Cutting off excess and terribly matted and tangled pieces that you could reach easily. All the while, Aizetsu endured the start of the haircut with the stiffness of a plank. The fierce grip he had on his pants causing his knuckles to pale.

He hated this. His previous owner hardly ever approached him and his brothers. Touches equaled pain, that’s simply how it had always been like in that basement, and If it wasn’t him who bore the front of it, it was certainly one of his brothers in the other rooms.

And while Aizetsu initially didn’t sense any hint of hostility from you, he just couldn’t let his guard down. No matter how kind you acted, you were still a total stranger. Every time you mentioned getting close, all he could see before his obscured eyes was a vague shadow looming over him, and he instinctively tensed up; preparing for a sudden blow to the head, to the hands, legs, or any other vulnerable spot.

Hearing the sound of snapping scissors, along with the ghost-like caress of your fingers through his hair made him want to rip himself away and hide somewhere until Takagi returned to pick him up. Only problem being, if he did, Aizetsu would be in big trouble, he just knew it. Everything he did could potentially be punishable. Even answering your questions felt like treading into dangerous territory, and yet refusing to answer wasn’t an option either because he’d be defying you, and that was a certified way to get punished.

Either way, he was going through hell. He was almost starting to long to be back in that dark basement. The lack of attention and the few unexpected touches his previous owner gave him were so much better than being approached and touched this much by you and the other rescue workers all so suddenly.

At least in that dark house he knew his brothers were nearby somewhere. Aizetsu hadn’t even seen them ever since he got taken from the house, and he missed them dearly. Scenarios of what happened to them constantly haunted him. Takagi did mention that he was bringing them to grooming salons as well, but somehow the meaning of that passed him by in his constant panic. He couldn’t do anything but worry for their wellbeing.

With each snip, large locks of thick hair dropped to the floor around him, and Aizetsu decided to start counting how many pieces you cut off. Anything to try to get his heart to stop bursting out of his chest from panic and stress of what his future could possibly bring.

Because so far it was only getting worse and worse since he’d been separated from his brothers...

[givemearmstopraywith]

quick palestine fact sheet:

there are nearly 7 million palestinian refugees globally

1.5 million individuals live in the 58 recognized palestine refugee camps around palestine (i.e. in gaza, syria, east jerusalem, etc) recognized by the unrwa

67% of gaza's population are refugees

there are 905,000 registered palestine refugee children: 635,000 in gaza and 269,000 in the west bank

palestinian refugees frequently cannot access public health insurance and are barred from many professions; some areas bar them from education and formal work

in gaza poverty rates are nearly 82% and the unemployment rate is some of the highest in the world at nearl 47% as of august 2022

one recent study showed that 88% of palestinian children show signs of war-related post traumatic stress disorder

37% of adults in the gaza strip qualify for diagnosis for ptsd; however, this number should be approached cautiously, accounting for preconceptions about mental health, access to diagnosis, and hermeneutic injustice: the number is likely far higher

48,000 people in gaza have some form of a disability: more than one fifth of this number are children

palestinians are not allowed, by israeli law, to have citizenship; they have no freedom of movement, and can be subject to forced evictions, detention, and torture.

the per capita gdp of palestine is US$3,678 as of december 2021; this is in comparison to a gdp per capita of USD$52,000 in israel

palestine does not have a formal military. the us stopped aid to palestine, around $60 million, in 2019. palestinian security services receives around $27 million from the national budget.

hamas, a separate entity from the pss, receives around $300 million per year. in comparison, israel spends in excess of USD$23.6 billion annually on their military.

in the midst of disinformation campaigns by global powers, fight facts with facts- and with protests, rallying, donating, elevating the voices of palestinians. keep showing up. keep educating yourself and others. never give up hope. palestine will be free.

[matthewgrantanson]

Profession, Los Angeles -- August 25th, 2023

Etsy

[beatingheart-bride]

"Honestly, it was kind of refreshing," Emily admitted with a shrug. "My whole life, people were dreadfully careful with what they said around me. It felt like everyone was perpetually walking on eggshells in my presence, as to not taint my delicate ears with any semblance of profanity. So in a strange way, it was refreshing to hear a swear pass Randall's lips, even if it mortified him in the moment.I can't quite explain it, but it made me feel less like I was put on a pedestal."

She'd felt less like a perfect porcelain doll, or like a child who everyone worked diligently to retain her innocence. She'd always detested being treated differently because of who she was, and thus Randall's slip-up was a nice change of pace. In hindsight, Emily couldn't help but wonder if it had helped to break the ice, and showed Randall that he was truly free to be himself around her.

"A swear slipping out every now and then never hurt my feelings, but it isn't a habit I want the children to pick up. Thankfully, no one's had much trouble holding their tongues around them, even some of our sharper-tongued housemates. And thank goodness for that: I don't know what I'd do if they started parroting some of the things I've heard some of our housemates say in the past!"

@beatingheart-bride

"I felt like I had sworn in front of a princess!" Randall admitted with a shy laugh, the rest of his family laughing along as he rubbed the back of his neck: Though he would freely admit he could cuss a blue streak with the best of 'em, he tried to keep his mouth clean in public, and certainly keep it extra-clean in the presence of an upper-class young woman like Emily. Needless to say, his failing to do so absolutely mortified him in the moment, though he could certainly laugh about it now.

"I, uh...I didn't want to sound like I had no manners," he continued sheepishly, adding, "It, uh...it did take a while for her to convince me that she wasn't offended by my cursing-I felt awful, I really did, in the moment, though, I felt like it made it seem like I was born in a barn..."

"Awww, reminds me of when August and I first started getting to know each other," Josephine giggled amusedly, seeing a lot of similarities between her husband and grandson in the moment as she went on to explain just how nervous her future spouse was in the early days, very flustered being around such a confident, forward, and scantily clad woman (which quite flattered her, honestly).

"I used to have him over for coffee after performances, and bless his heart, he was so nervous-the only thing louder than his racing heartbeat was the way his cup used to clatter against his saucer! Well, one day, he got so wound up that he dropped his cup and spilled coffee all over the rug (which didn't bother me much; if anything, the coffee stain made that cheap ol' thing look better), and between his very rapid-fire apologies, I could hear him cursing under his breath, and that only made him apologize even more!"

"I'm not usually one for vulgarity," August admitted bashfully. "But I was just so frustrated and embarrassed by my inability to sit still that it just...slipped out, and I felt awful, just awful, swearing in the presence of a lady!"

Most people wouldn't bat an eye at swearing around someone in her profession, but he was a consummate gentleman to everyone he met, and so he didn't think twice about apologizing to her (even though, as she told him, she'd heard worse).

[gncrezan]

been chatting with @kacetheplace (MWAH thanks for 'yes-anding' me all the time) and as i dug myself into a "hey, how can our @infamous-if mcs interact while being canon compliant somehow?" hole, i realised aki's original profession as a hairstylist could actually slot quite well into infamous. and now i'm here with this 😭😭 and also because i can't help but pair him and august up despite him not even being the lead singer in this au... LOVE FINDS A WAY OR SOMETHING.

more doodles of marlow n aki in the same room . i think they have to be in seperate universes cause otherwise the world would collapse around them . i can only contain them for so long

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

Frev Friendships — Robespierre and Couthon 

…Moreover, don’t forget to remind me of the memory of Lacoste and Couthon. Robespierre in a letter to Maurice Duplay, October 16 1791, while away on a leave in Arras.Couthon, Lacoste and Pétion are the only of his friends that he mentions in the letter. Considering Couthon came to Paris after being elected for the Legislative Assembly on September 9 1791, while Robespierre was away from the capital between October 14 and November 28, the two must have befriended each other quite rapidly. In a letter dated September 29 1791, Couthon reveals that he has moved into the house of one M. Girot on Rue Saint-Honoré (the same street where Robespierre lodged), and according to Robespierre (1935) by J.M Thompson, the Almanach royal for 1792 gives Couthon’s address as 343 Rue Saint-Honoré. So the proximity between their lodgings might have been a contributing factor.

My friend, I anxiously await news of your (votre) health. Here, we are closing in on the greatest events. Yesterday the Assembly absolved La Fayette; the indignant people pursued some deputies at the end of the session. Today is the day indicated by a decree for the discussion of the forfeiture of Louis XVI. It is believed that this matter will be further delayed by some incident. However, the fermentation is at its height, and everything seems to presage for this very night the greatest commotion in Paris. We have arrived at the outcome of the constitutional drama. The Revolution will take a faster course, if it does not sink into military and dictatorial despotism. In the situation we are in, it is impossible for the friends of liberty to foresee and direct events. The destiny of France seems to leave it to intrigue and chance. What can reassure us is the strength of the public spirit in Paris and in many departments, it is the justice of our cause. The sections of Paris show an energy and wisdom worthy of serving as models for the rest of the state. We miss you. May you soon return to your homeland and we await with equal impatience your return and your recovery.  Robespierre in a letter to Couthon, August 9 1792 (incorrectly dated July 20 1792 in the correspondence)

I saw [Couthon] towards the last days of the Legislative Assembly; he appeared to me to be in a mood similar to mine; enemy of the anarchists and of the authors of the massacres of the first days of September, enemy of Marat and Robespierre; he constantly declaimed against them. Supplément aux crimes des anciens comités de gouvernement, avec l'histoire des conspirations du 10 mars, des 31 mai et 2 juin 1793, et de celles qui les ont précédées, et tableau de la conduite politique d'un représentant du peuple mis hors la loi (1794) by Jacques-Antoine Dulaure.

Couthon, whose infirmities give a new value to his patriotism… […] Lettres de Maximilien Robespierre à ses commettans, number 1 (September-October 1792)

During the first three months of the session of the National Convention, the members of the Puy-de-Dome deputation fraternized and dined together once a week. Couthon then never ceased to pour out invectives against Robespierre. Once I told him that I thought Robespierre an intriguer. ”So you call him an intriguer,” he answered me with vivacity, ”You are too nice, I regard him as a great scroundel.” I heard him, in the presence of several of my colleagues, one day when the deputation was summoned to his house, say: ”I no longer want to live in the same house as Robespierre, I am not safe there; every day we see a dozen cutthroats coming up to his house to whom he gives dinner. I do not know how he managed to meet these expenses before being elected to the Convention, while my allowances are barely enough for me to live with my family.” He often applauded the fact that the entire deputation professed the same principles, and that, consequently, we would always be united in heart and mind. This was Couthon's opinion at the time, and he held to it until the constitutional committee was formed. He had the ambition to be a member; he becomes furious at not being inclined to it. This was the time when Couthon changed his opinion, abandoned his conscience to indulge in his passions. Supplément aux crimes des anciens comités de gouvernement, avec l'histoire des conspirations du 10 mars, des 31 mai et 2 juin 1793, et de celles qui les ont précédées, et tableau de la conduite politique d'un représentant du peuple mis hors la loi (1794) by Jacques-Antoine Dulaure. Dulaure’s claim that Couthon for a time lived in the same house as Robespierre is confirmed by l’Almanach national, an II (cited in Paris révolutionnaire: Vieilles maisons, vieux papiers (1906) by Georges Lênotre) as well as by a letter dated October 4 1792 Couthon wrote to Roland from Rue Saint-Honoré n. 366 (Robespierre’s address) asking for rooms in the Tuileries, saying that he must move out of the house within eight days (Roland responded with a negative answer four days later). When exactly he moved in is however harder to pinpoint. According to Robespierre (1935) by J.M Thompson, the Almanach royal for 1792 still gives Couthon’s address as 343, not 366, rue St. Honoré, and in the article The Evolution of a Terrorist: Georges Auguste Couthon (1930) Geoffrey Bruun writes that Couthon moved to Cour de Manège 97 in 1792. It can therefore be concluded that Couthon’s stay on Rue Saint-Honoré n. 366 was most likely rather short. Couthon’s motivation for moving out, aside from Dulaure’s claim that he disliked Robespierre, could also be related to the fact Robespierre’s brother and sister moved in with the Duplays shortly after he wrote the letter to Roland.

The Lamenths and Pétion in the early days, quite rarely Legendre, Merlin de Thionville and Fouché, often Taschereau, Desmoulins and Teault, always Lebas, Saint-Just, David, Couthon and Buonarotti. The elderly Élisabeth Le Bas on visitors to the Duplays during the revolution

Robespierre notes this expression: “for fear that Couthon’s speech will not be heard.” Couthon will be heard, he said, and I maintain that the representative assembly has no right to stifle his voice any more than that of anyone else, because the Convention is not a power above the rights of its constituents who have invested every deputy with the sacred right to express their wish, and one could only obstruct this by an attack against liberty, and by trampling on national sovereignty. Robespierre takes this opportunity to recall the maneuvers of a large party of the Convention, to violate this sacred right that each member has to make his voice heard; and we see, he says, this game of intrigue played out every day with incredible modesty. In the Constituent and Legislative Assemblies, which despite their perversity, at least knew how to respect the freedom of opinions, Couthon's patriotism, which his infirmities make more interesting, never served the most perverse men as a pretext to stifle his voice. Robespierre therefore invites us to come out strongly against this new system of villainy, and to never allow a deputy to ever be deprived of the ability to express his opinion. He ends by supporting the impression of Couthon's speech; it is put to the vote and adopted. Robespierre makes sure the Jacobins print one of Couthon’s speeches regarding the trial of the king, after protests that they ought to wait until it’s been pronounced at the Convention as well, January 6 1793

If you want, and it would be a crime to doubt it, to preserve the liberty, unity and indivisibility of the Republic, you cannot hesitate to adopt Couthon's proposal [to issue a proclamation that the Insurrection of May 31 saved liberty] at once. To begin a discussion on this question would be to allow the conspirators to come to this rostrum to make new declarations against Paris, with their ordinary perfidy. Robespierre at the Convention June 13 1793

The proposal [to have Robespierre enter the Committee of Public Safety] was made to the committee by Couthon and Saint-Just. To ask was to obtain, for a refusal would have been a sort of accusation, and it was necessary to avoid any split during that winter which was inaugurated in such a sinister manner. The committee agreed to his admission, and Robespierre was proposed. Memoirs Of Bertrand Barère (1896) volume 2, page 96-97. Couthon was elected to the Committee of Public Safety on June 10 1793, Robespierre on July 27 1793. In his memoirs, Barère pushes the thermidorian idea that the two plus Saint-Just formed a ”triumvirate” within the committee. On page 146 of the same volume he nevertheless also writes that Robespierre and Saint-Just rarely came to the committee, instead working together in a private office.

Robespierre, Saint-Just and Couthon were inseparable. The first two had a dark and duplicitous character; they pushed away with a kind of disdainful pride any familiarity or affectionate relationship with their colleagues. The third, a legless man with a pale appearance, affected good-nature, but was no less perfidious than the other two. All three of them had a cold heart, without pity, they interacted only with each other, holding mysterious meetings outside, having a large number of protégés and agents, impenetrable in their designs. Révélations sur le Comité de salut public (1830) by Prieur-Duvernois. Later in the revelations, Prieur nevertheless also writes that ”Couthon was never difficult on the Committee; there was no altercation until the day before 9 Thermidor, when the moment to throw away the mask had arrived.”

The National Convention, citizens colleagues, witnessed with pleasure your entry into Lyon. But its joy could not be complete when it saw that you at the first movements yielded to a sensibility way too unpolitical. You seemed to abandon themselves to a people who flatter the victors, and the manner in which you speak of such a large number of traitors, of the punishment of a very few and the departure of almost all, have alarmed the patriots who are indignant at seeing so many scoundrels escaping through a gap and going to Lozère and mainly Toulon. We therefore won’t congratulate you on your successes before you have fulfilled all that you owe to your country. Republics are demanding; there is national recognition only for those who fully deserve it. We send you the decree that the Convention issued this morning on the report of the Committee. It has proportioned the vigor of its measures to your first reports. It will never remain below what the Republic and liberty expect. Beware above all of the perfidious policy of the Muscadins and the hypocritical Federalists, who raise the standard of the Republic when it is ready to punish them, and who continue to conspire against it when the danger has passed. It was that of the Bordelais, of the Marseillais, of all the counter-revolutionaries of the South. This is the most dangerous stumbling block of our freedom. The first duty of the representatives of the people is to discover it and avoid it. We must unmask the traitors and strike them without pity. These principles alone, adopted by the National Convention, can save the country. These principals are also yours; follow them; listen only to your own energy, and carry out with inexorable severity the salutary decrees which we address to you.  Committee of Public Safety decree to the representatives in the newly entered Lyon, among them Couthon, written by Robespierre on October 12 1793. Couthon had left Paris for a mission to the army of the Alpes already on August 21 1793.

Send Bô. Montaut, recall the others, except Couthon and Maignet. Notebook note written by Robespierre sometime before October 19 1793, when a CPS decree tasked Bô with going to the army of Ardennes.

…Farewell, my friend, embrace Robespierre, Hérault and our other good friends for me. Couthon in a letter to Saint-Just, October 20 1793, while on mission in Lyon. Couthon was called back to Paris on November 23.

[Collot] has been strongly denounced for his conduct in Lyon, after the recapture of that city. But I was witness to the fact that he only accepted this mission with the greatest reluctance, and that Robespierre skillfully employed the strongest solicitations to persuade him to do so, alleging that he alone was capable of combining justice with the necessary firmness, that Couthon had become moved on the scene and cried like a woman; finally a host of reasons to highlight the importance of exemplary punishment against the rebels of this unfortunate city. Révélations sur le Comité de salut public (1830) by Prieur-Duvernois. While Prieur’s testimomy is written long after the fact and therefore deserves to get treated with some caution, the claims he makes here are to an extent collaborated by a letter from Collot to Robespierre dated November 23 1793, where he claims it was ”on your (ton) invitation” he went to Lyon.

Couthon proposes that the Society take care of "drafting the indictment of all kings", and that it for this purpose appoints commissioners responsible for collecting the particular crimes of tyrants. This proposal, warmly applauded, is adopted. On Momoro's motion, the Society appoints Robespierre, Billaud-Varennes, Couthon, Collot d'Herbois and Lavicomterie as commissioners. Jacobin club, January 21 1794

…Yesterday, Robespierre held a very eloquent speech on our political situation. As soon as this speech has been printed, I will send it to you, it deserves to get read. Couthon in a letter dated February 6 1794, regarding Robespierre’s speech On Political Morality, held the day before.

Couthon and Robespierre enter the hall; all the members and citizens in the tribunes demonstrate through their applause the satisfaction of seeing these two patriots again.  Journal de la Montagne describing a triumphant entrance to the Jacobin club made by Couthon and Robespierre on March 13 1794, after both had been ill for a few weeks.

“In the absence of my brother,” said Mlle Robespierre to Gaillard, would you like to try to see Couthon? He prides himself on being good for me, I will ask him to receive you, he will not refuse me, I will precede you by a quarter of an hour, he will give the order to let you in and we will exit together.” Gaillard gratefully accepts, takes the address of Couthon who lived at n. 97 of the Cour du Manège, today rue de Rivoli, near rue du 29 Juilliet, and the next morning arrives at the indicated time. Couthon, whose face was truly angelic, wore a white dressing gown. A child of five or six years old, beautiful as Love, was between his father's legs; he had a young white rabbit in his arms which he was feeding alfalfa. Mme Couthon and Mlle Robespierre stood in the embrasure of a window overlooking the Tuileries.

“You are,” said Couthon to Gaillard, a friend of Mlle Robespierre, you therefore have every kind of right to my interest, tell me, citizen, how can I be of use to you?” [Gaillard then goes on to explain his errand to Couthon] “Citizen,” continues Gaillard, with great emotion, you are convinced that the signatures of these addresses have not committed a crime, you are all-powerful in the Committee of Public Safety where your opinion always prevails. Today, seventy unfortunate people are being led to the scaffold, their condemnation based on nothing other than the signing of these addresses…”

Couthon's face changed, he suddenly takes on the tiger's mask, makes a movement to grab the bell pull... Mlle Robespierre rushes at him to stop him (he was paralyzed from the legs down), turns towards Gaillard and says to him: “Save yourself!” In the confusion into which all this throws him, Gaillard takes Couthon's hat, she notices it, warns him, he runs across the apartment and reaches the stairs. He had barely gone down eight or ten steps when he heard Mlle Robespierre shouting to him: “Go and wait for me at the Orangerie.” […] [Gaillard] has barely gone down into the courtyard of the Orangerie when he goes back up onto the terrace, looking anxiously to see if his good angel was arriving. As soon as he sees her, he runs towards her, loudly asking her five or six questions at the same time without paying attention to the crowd around them. Mlle Robespierre, calmer, tells him in a low voice that she will answer him when they have reached the Place de la Révolution.

“Explain to me, please,” said Gaillard to Mlle Robespierre as soon as they were offshore, ”your haste to tell me to take flight flee and why you held back Couthon in his chair?”

“You were fooled, my dear monsieur, by the profound hypocrisy of Couthon, I was completely fooled myself; I believed your judges saved and you forever at peace like all the signatories of these addresses to Louis XVI... Couthon only showed himself to be so good-natured in order to get to know the depths of your thoughts, you fell into his trap, I could not have avoided it more than you. Your bloody and so justly deserved reproach regarding the 63 victims of today struck in the hearth, my presence, even my confidence could not have stopped his vengeance. The members of the Committee of Public Safety each have five or six men at home who are resolute at their command, because they are constantly trembling. Had he reached the bell pull, this very afternoon you would have been placed in the tumbril alongside the 63 unfortunate people you wanted to save... Fortunately, I succeeded in making him ashamed of the crime he was going to commit by immolating a friend that I had brought to his house... Will he keep his word to me? I followed your conversation very attentively, you did not say a word from which Couthon could conclude that you do not live in Paris... Return home quickly, do not follow the ordinary route out of fear that, remembering the name of the city where your judges were to sit, he sends for men to follow you on the road to Melun.”  La Révolution, la Terreur, le Directoire 1791-1799: d’après les mémoires de Gaillard (1908) page 268-273. Anecdote described as taking place in May 1794. Evidence Couthon had contacts with not only Robespierre, but his sister as well. If the dynamics between the three changed after this incident is however something the anecdote leaves unknown…

Is it not known to all citizens since the sessions of 12 and 13 Fructidor, that the decree of 22 Prairial was the secret work of Robespierre and Couthon, that it never, in defiance of all customs and all rights, was discussed or communicated to the Committee of Public Safety? No, such a draft would never have been passed by the committee had it been brought before it. […] At the morning session of 22 floréal [sic, it clearly means prairial], Billaud-Varennes openly accused Robespierre, as soon as he entered the committee, and reproached him and Couthon for alone having brought to the Convention the abominable decree which frightened the patriots. It is contrary, he said, to all the principles and to the constant progress of the committee to present a draft of a decree without first communicating it to the committee. Robespierre replied coldly that, having trusted each other up to this point in the committee, he had thought he could act alone with Couthon. The members of the committee replied that we have never acted in isolation, especially for serious matters, and that this decree was too important to be passed in this way without the will of the committee. The day when a member of the committee, adds Billaud, allows himself to present a decree to the Convention alone, there is no longer any freedom, but the will of a single person to propose legislation.  Réponse des membres des deux anciens comités de salut public et de sûreté générale… (1795) by Bertrand Barère, Billaud-Varennes, Collot d’Herbois and Alexis Vadier. It is unclear if Robespierre and Couthon really were alone in having drafted and/or supported the Law of 22 Prairial. The idea that they were was also lifted by Prieur-Duvernois in his Révélations sur le Comité de salut public (he claims Saint-Just was also in on it), Fouquier-Tinville in his Requisitoires de Fouquier-Tinville (he claims that, in the days the law was being worked out, Billaud-Varenne, Collot d'Herbois, Barère, Carnot and Prieur told him it was Robespierre who had been charged with the project) and Laurent Lecointre in Robespierre peint par lui-même et condamné par ses propres principes (1794) (he claims Robespierre wrote the law and confided only Couthon with it). If all these sources are to be treated with caution given their authors and the time they were written, it can nevertheless be established that Couthon and Robespierre (the first one in particular) are the only ones where any direct involvement in the development of the law can be traced, and that they did fight side by side (and harder than any other committee member) against the Convention to get it passed on both June 10 and June 12.  I’ve written about this more in detail in this post.

Couthon: All patriots are brothers and friends, as for me, I want to share the daggers directed against Robespierre (here the entire hall rises with cries of: Me too!) […] Couthon at the jacobins July 11 1794

Couthon, all the patriots are proscribed, the entire people have risen up; It would be a betrayal not to join us to the Commune, where we are now. Signed: Robespierre the older, Robespierre the younger, Saint-Just. Letter urging Couthon to come to Hôtel de Ville. According to Hervé Leuwers’ Robespierre(2014) this letter is in Augustin Robespierre’s hand. According to 9-thermidor.com Robespierre and Couthon, alongside Augustin, Saint-Just, Le Bas were all declared under arrest by the Convention around 1:30 PM. Around 5 PM they were taken to the Committee of General Security and served dinner, before getting seperated and taken to different prisons between 6:30 and 7 PM. Couthon was the last to reunite with his friends at Hôtel de Ville at around 1 AM, less than an hour before the building was stormed.

The two Robespierres were [in the meeting room], one next to President Lescot-Fleuriot and the other next to Payan, national agent. Couthon was carried into the room a moment later; and what is noteworthy is that he was still followed by his gendarme. On arriving he was embraced by Robespierre, etc. and they passed into the next room, which I entered. The first word I heard from Couthon was: “We must write to the armies immediately”. Robespierre said: “In whose name?” Couthon replied: “But in the name of the Convention; is it not still where we are? The rest are only a handful of factions that the armed force we have will dissipate, and of whom it will bring justice.” Here Robespierre the elder seemed to think a little; he bent down to his brother's ear; then he said: “My opinion is that we write in the name of the French people.” He also, at that moment, took the hand of the gendarme who entered with Couthon and said to him: “Brave gendarme, I have always admired and esteemed your body; always be faithful to us; go to the door and ensure that you continue to embitter the people against the rebels.” Letter from H. G. Dulac to Courtois, July 25 1795, regarding the night at the Hôtel de Ville on 9 thermidor. 

As soon as Couthon entered [Hôtel de Ville], three or four members led him away, and two or three presented him with papers and ink. Robespierre and Couthon said: ”We cannot write to our armies in the name of the Convention or of the Commune, given that this would be stopped, but rather in the name of the French people, that would work much better,” and, instantly, Couthon began to write on his knees saying: ”The traitors will perish, there are still humans in France and virtue will triumph.” Robespierre took the hand of gendarme Muron and said to them both: “Go down to the square immediately and energize the people!” Testimony of gendarmes Muron and Javois, who escorted Couthon to Hôtel de Ville. Cited in Autour de Robespierre… (1925) by Albert Mathiez, page 224-225. The Hôtel de Ville was stormed somewhere before 2 AM. At 5 AM, the injured Couthon was brought to l’hospice d’humanité (Hôtel-Dieu de Paris), before joining Robespierre at the Committee of Public Safety. At 11 AM the two plus Gobeau were escorted to the Conciergerie prison and locked up in individual cells. According to number 675 of Suite de journal de Perlet, released two days after the execution, Robespierre and Couthon sat in different tumbrils when they around 6 PM got driven to the scaffold. Couthon was executed first, Robespierre second to last. 

—

Throughout his first year as a deputy, Couthon appears to have been closer to the ”girondins” than the ”montagnards.” In a letter dated January 3 1792 he calls Brissot and Condorcet ”two distinguished patriots with superior talent” apropos of their recent works calling for war. On January 19 1792 he expresses his own support of France going to war in another letter, and on April 20 1792 he was among the deputies that voted in favor of war with Austria (only seven did however vote no). In a letter dated September 1 1792 Couthon calls the Insurrectionary commune to which Robespierre belonged (and, according to some, dominated) ”[a] municipality led by a few dangerous men [that] seems to ignore decrees, and believes itself above the first power,” expressing his hopes that ”this distressing confusion will soon end and that the Municipality of Paris will cease to consider itself the Municipality of the whole Empire.” A week later, September 8 1792, he reports that ”the functions of the ardent chamber of the people have been broken since the evening before last, due to the care of the brave and virtuous Pétion.” In the letter to Roland dated October 4 1792 previously mentioned, Couthon still calls him “brave and estimable minister.” But just a week after said letter had gotten penned down, October 12, he more or less broke with the girondins, when he at the Jacobins said they were a group composed ”of gentlemen, subtle and intriguing, and above all ambitious” that ”wish a republic because popular opinion has demanded it, but they wish it aristocratic, they wish to maintain their control, and to have at their disposal the offices, the emoluments, and especially the finances of the state,” and ending by calling for all energies to be turned against ”this faction, which desires liberty only for itself.” (Bruun speculates this was due to him not having gained a place on the Committee of Constitution within the girondin dominated Convention the day earlier). This move surprised Madame Roland, who in a letter dated October 14 urged Bancal to ”go and see Couthon and reason with him; it is incredible that such a good mind allowed himself to speak out in a strange way against the best citizens.”

Throughout their time on the Committee of Public Safety, Robespierre and Couthon often rose up together at the Convention and the Jacobin club to speak for or against certain subjects. Besides the law of 22 prairial, the two also joined sides against petitioners talking with their hats on (December 20 1793), against Dufourny (March 18 1794), the establishment of a police bureau (April 16, April 18 1794). They helped contribute to the expulsion of both Rousselin (May 25) and Dubois-Crancé (July 11) from the Jacobins, and joined hands in speaking for arresting ”any individual that dares to insult the Convention” (July 24 1794). It was Couthon who asked for the printing of both Robespierre’s On Political Morality Speech on February 5 1794 as well as for his report on Religious and Moral Ideas on May 7 1794. As for Robespierre’s final speech on July 26 1794, Couthon proposed and got through ”that it be distributed throughout all of the Republic.” At the jacobins later the same day he proposed the immediate exclusion of all those who had voted against the printing of the speech, and once again he had his way.

On July 3 1794 we find a CPS decree signed by Collot, Carnot, Saint-Just, Barère, Billaud and C-A Prieur ordering Couthon to go to the army of the Midi, an order that he never followed through with. This could be interpreted as Couthon understanding Robespierre’s enemies were plotting againt him by trying to send him away, but choosing to stay at his side and share his fate.

Couthon to Robespierre while on the CPS: your little sister ATTACKED me!!

[loliwrites]

✖︎ FOUNTAIN OF SORROW ✖︎

❖ SERIES MASTERLIST ❖

When you see through love's illusions, there lies the danger. And your perfect lover just looks like a perfect fool.

○ SUMMARY: After having been transferred out of Colombia for his safety, Javier Peña's back in his hometown. When an act of chance (thanks to an irresponsible ex) brings him into your life, you find yourself developing something for the one time federal agent playboy of Colombia. But who knew Pablo Escobar would fuck up your life, too?

○ SERIES WARNINGS/TAGS: set between s2 & s3, early/mid ‘90s, single mother [reader has a young daughter][child won’t play a massive role], angst, some domestic fluff, SMUT [specific warnings per part], terrible exes, female reader, no physical description, protective!javi, no use of y/n

○ PLAYLIST

○ PART INDEX:

⇢ AUGUST - Nice Girls Don't Stay for Breakfast With these words I professed, I have just one small request: Pass the jam. ⇢ SEPTEMBER - Beast of Burden All I want is for you to make love to me. ⇢ OCTOBER - I'll Be The Moon I don't wanna be a secret but this is something I can't lose. ⇢ NOVEMBER - Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now And if this world runs out of lovers, we'll still have each other. ⇢ DECEMBER - Let Me Down Easy I'm right on the edge of giving in to you. Baby, it's a long way down. ⇢ JANUARY - Lonesome Town Goin' down to Lonesome Town where the broken hearts stay.