#this has been a year. i know its august but its almost over and. its certainly been a year

[ra-vio]

Summer is ending

[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...

[seresinhangmanjake]

Stolen Angel - Part 4

Demon!Jake Seresin x reader

Summary: You thought you were having a one-night stand with some random, normal guy. Turns out he’s a winged, demon-like stalker who has been obsessed with you for years.

Warnings/Notes: Jake is a little dark. Kidnapping. Manipulation. Obsessive behavior. I’m sure there are typos. This used to be a different fic for August Walker, so if you see it, it’s fine. I wrote that one too.

Words: 1793

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

“You didn't eat.”  

You don’t flinch at the intrusion of his voice, not this time. While it was peaceful without his deep tone in your ear, you knew him finding you was inevitable, and honestly, you’re surprised it took him this long. Although, it’s possible that he didn’t need to find you at all; he could have been watching you from afar. Just because you haven’t seen his face in almost twenty-four hours doesn’t mean he hasn��t seen yours, and you’ve certainly provided him with an unobstructed view. But then you wonder why he hasn’t dragged you back to your room. 

You weren’t going to run. You just needed to see it, feel it, for yourself. Maybe that’s why he’s let you be; why he’s not scolding you until your brain melts. Maybe he knows that you won’t have logic overpowering your emotions when it comes to this, because even if you had some semblance of which direction to go in, you wouldn’t know what to do once you got there. To be anywhere other than here, like it or not you need him. You need his guidance and support, and worst of all, his permission.

“I ate some of it,” you confess. 

“Not enough,” he says. 

When he steps in front of you, his body eclipses the sun. The field around you untouched by his shadow still radiates its vibrant shades while you sit in the darkness he is creating. You look up, and his blond hair is glowing almost blindly from the backlight of the sun.

“Why are you out here, Angel?”

You turn your attention to your hand that’s nestled in the grass. “I had to see if it was real,” you say softly as you twirl your finger around a green blade.

He hums. “And are you satisfied with what you've found?”

Satisfied? You could scoff. What a foolish question; a disrespectful question. You can’t be satisfied with what you don’t understand. Feeling the dirt between your fingers and toes doesn’t provide you with the wealth of clarity he has been denying you. Clarity that you’re owed. 

“Come on,” he says at your lack of reply, reaching out a hand. “Out of the grass.”

“Tell me what this place is,” you say.

“I can explain it to you later. You’re not completely healed and we need to—”

“No,” you snap, meeting his eyes. “Now. Explain it to me now.”

Jake sighs, his hand dropping back to his side. “Angel—”

“I could become a lot more difficult, you know.”

He lets out a huff of a chuckle. Little crinkles form in the corners of his eyes. “Yes, I do know.”

“Then tell me.”

His smile settles. He mutters something under his breath before he glances over your head to the structure behind you. When you turn to get a look at what has stolen his attention, you find only an empty doorway. 

“You want me to like you, don’t you?” you ask, knowing that will draw him back to you. 

A blond brow raises in curiosity and suspicion. “This will make you like me?”

“It would help,” you lie. “The truth is important to me, and I don’t understand how you can expect me to want to be here if I have no clue what ‘here’ is.”

As he bites the inside of his cheek, you begin to worry that the promise of your affection is not a strong enough offer—that he might want more than just your words, he’ll want proof that you intend to follow through with what you say by your actions—but then he turns where he stands and lowers himself into the grass beside you. He’s close, and when his wing brushes over yours as he makes himself comfortable, he’s quick to pull it away, as if your feathers could set his aflame. 

Clearing his throat, he runs a hand through his hair before he rests his elbows on his bent knees. “It’s called The Tower,” he eventually says. “It was a prison, technically, until about two months ago.”

“A prison,” you repeat. “How fitting.”

He shoots you a look. You’ve offended him and you need to reign yourself in. “If you bothered to behave, it wouldn’t have to feel like one,” he informs you.

You hold back from rolling your eyes. You’re the textbook definition of a prisoner and you both know it. He can deny it to your face all he wants, but you have a right to feel like this place is a prison, even if it doesn’t exactly have the look of a prison. At least, not where you’re from. You don’t know of many ‘cells’ that include wardrobes, open windows, double beds with thick coverings, and fireplaces. Before you left your room you were imagining many possibilities for the cage you’ve been kept in, but among those were large estate or small castle, not a home for the naughty winged people.

“It’s awfully fancy for a prison,” you say.

“Our offenses weren’t so horrible.”

Our? 

Your brows almost shoot off your forehead until you take a half-second to soak it in and then accept the shame of being shocked. “Of course, you’re a criminal,” you say, nodding to yourself. “Did you kidnap a few other innocents and turn them into monsters, too?”

Jake doesn’t look you in the eye as he swallows hard, so you turn your head back to the horizon. “You’re not a monster, Angel. You’re perfect,” he tells you, then shakes his head. “But no. There were no others. I broke a rule—the same rule—a few times, which got me three separate six-month sentences in five years. Four months into my last one, the prison was dissolved here and set up elsewhere. Everyone was released; I stayed.”

Your brow pinches. “Why would you stay in the place you were captive?”

“I liked my room—well, your room right now. I liked the view. I thought it would be a good place for us once you joined me,” he says. “Secluded. Intimate.” 

Stomach flipping, your heartbeat gives a sharp thud. Instinctually, you think to move away, make an early retreat back to your room, but for once he’s actually answering your questions and you can’t sacrifice that in case you’re never given the same chance.

“What was the rule that you broke?” you ask. 

“Out past curfew, so to speak.”

“Out where?”

Jake goes silent, contemplating, then he says, “That's enough for now.”

But it’s not enough for you. “Out where?” you press to no response, so with a huff, you push off the ground to stand. 

He grabs your wrist as you’re about to take a step. “Sit,” he says. “I'll tell you if you stay.” 

Subtly smirking at the win, you return to the grass. 

Jake blows out a breath. “The Below,” he tells you.

“The Below…” You roll the words around on your tongue. They mean nothing to you until Jake makes a face like he might come to regret what he’s just done, and then they mean everything. “My world?”

Jake groans. “How many times do I have to tell you that that is not your—”

“You were there more than just that one time?” you interrupt, stunned that you momentarily forgot that your home is where he met you. It must have been the anger or fear or lasting daze from the week of pain, but somehow it didn’t register that you could potentially return as well. “How?”

“No more questions,” he scolds.  

“But I thought you wanted me to like you,” you counter. 

Shifting to sit on your hip with your legs bent at your side, you set your hand on top of his. He stares at the new touch, then his thumb begins to rub along the line of your index finger in soft, slow motions. 

He doesn’t stop his staring. He doesn’t stop his thumb’s gentle caressing. “Yes, I was there more than just that one time.”

Despite your carefully restrained excitement at the plethora of new information, you forget the game you’re playing and jerk your hand away from his just as he’s about to intertwine your fingers. “So you can go whenever you want?” you ask. “Then take me.”

At the demand, his teeth clench, jawline sharpening. “No, I cannot go whenever I want, and no, I am not taking you.”

“Why not!”

“Because you are right where you should be,” he says decisively. 

You feel his heightening irritation, so you quickly place your palm on his shoulder and slide it down to his toned bicep where it stays. 

“I just want to see it,” you tell him before you scoot yourself closer to his side, your hip a couple inches shy of pressing against his. He looks down to where your bodies are nearly touching, then back up at you. You try a light smile. “Please, Jake.”

His eyes lock on to your smile, your lips. He darts his tongue out to wet his own, and you prepare yourself for the kiss you’re sure he’s about to give you—a kiss you won’t say no to if it helps get you home—but it’s a kiss that never comes. He just thinks; drinks in your smile and thinks. 

The green of his irises in the sunlight is overwhelming when directed at you for such a long pause, and you don’t initially notice when he opens his mouth. 

“If you show me that you can listen to me and do as I tell you, I’ll consider it,” he finally says. 

Your head flinches back, mind immediately going to the worst of what he could want from you. “What will you be telling me to do?” 

“To start, you’re going back inside. You haven’t finished healing and because you took yourself on a little adventure, you stressed your wing and now part of it is inflamed. You need rest.”

You must have been so mentally preoccupied that you blocked out all physical transmission to your brain because it’s only when he says it that you feel the return of the ache.  

“And you’re going to eat,” he continues. “Everything, this time.”

“Fine,” you relent. 

“You’re going to wear something made of more comfortable fabric than that,” he gestures to your smock, “And you’re going to stop arguing with me over every damn thing. You can’t change what’s been done, so being pissed at me doesn’t do you any good.”

It takes extra effort to muster up an agreement to that last one. Your swallow you can only compare to trying to get down a sponge soaked in wet cement. “Fine,” you grit out.

“Fine,” he says, standing. He extends his hand out toward you again. “Let’s see if you’re capable of behaving, Angel.”

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @penguin876 @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @horseshoegirl @roosteraloha @b-bradshaw @fandom-life-12 @hookslove1592 @buckysteveloki-me @eloquentdreamer

[amateurvoltaire]

The Deputy of Humanity

In August 1790, Robespierre, then deputy in the National Assembly, received a letter from a young man in Aisne. The subject of the letter was of little consequence in the grand scheme of things: the author was expressing his concern that the free monthly markets for grain and sheep in his village of Blérancourt might be moved to the rival village of Coucy.

The subject of the letter may have been trivial, but its author was not. Louis Antoine Saint-Just, not yet twenty-three, was quickly outgrowing local politics and had his eyes on debuting on the national stage. In around two years’ time, he would become one of Robespierre’s closest allies. But back in 1790, the young man only knew him “like God, through miracles” ("comme Dieu, par des merveilles"). This would be the first contact between the two men.

The letter has been widely translated, quoted, and speculated on. It is very well-written, with the effusive admiration and almost hero worship of the young man practically jumping off the page. Whether Saint-Just was entirely genuine or not is hardly consequential. Robespierre clearly found his admiration touching because he kept the letter until the end of his life.

The fact that Robespierre kept the letter is a sweet gesture that can be interpreted in a myriad of different ways. Perhaps he enjoyed the flattery, or maybe he wanted to keep a memento of the beginning of their friendship with Saint-Just. Maybe he simply forgot to throw it away. In my opinion, it's not very important.

What I find more interesting and revealing about Robespierre's character is that a young lieutenant colonel of the National Guard of the department of Aisne felt empowered to raise his provincial concerns to a deputy who wasn't even representing his constituency. Why would he do that? Setting aside Saint-Just's audacity and desire for recognition, the simple reason is that he knew he would be heard.

Since the days of the Estates General, Robespierre had not only been gaining popularity but was also notorious for standing up for the interests of the common man beyond his own province (later on department). For all the flattery, Saint-Just was right: Robespierre wasn’t only the deputy from Arras; he was “[the deputy] of humanity and the Republic (1)”. He frequently weighed in, as a dissenting voice, on matters of national importance, maintaining a consistent stance that always favoured the underdog. This was nothing new. His entire career in Arras had been built on helping the common man. On a national stage, he vocally continued that work.

He opposed the king's veto power over constitutional laws and emphasized the sovereignty of the nation over monarchical traditions. He also opposed the exclusion of "passive" citizens (2) from the National Guard and advocated for extending voting rights. All this, along with his defense of civic equality for various groups, including actors, Protestants, and Jews, solidified his position as a defender of the people.

Despite facing mockery from royalist publications and some of his peers, he remained steadfast in his dedication to the universal principles of the Revolution, with the most crucial principle being the sovereignty of the people. If the people are sovereign, then their grievances are significant. It's understandable that Saint-Just would reach out to him regarding the issue with the village market. He wasn't the only one.

For what it's worth, Robespierre probably didn’t intervene in the matter, but Blérancourt ultimately did retain its markets.

Translation (3)

Blérancourt, near Noyon, August 19, 1790

You who support the faltering homeland against the torrent of despotism and intrigue, you whom I know only, like God, through miracles; I address you, sir, to ask you to join me in saving my sad country.

The town of Coucy has transferred (so the rumour goes here) the free markets from the village of Blérancourt. Why should the cities swallow up the privileges of the countryside? Then, nothing will remain for the latter but the taille (direct tax) and taxes! Please, support with all your talent a petition that I am sending by the same mail, in which I ask for my inheritance to be joined to the national domains of the district so that my country may retain a privilege without which it must starve.

I do not know you, but you are a great man. You are not just the representative of a province; you are that of humanity and the Republic. Please ensure that my request is not scorned.

I have the honour of being, sir, your humble and obedient servant,

Saint-Just,

elector (4) in the department of Aisne.

Notes

(1) Here Saint-Just doesn't refer to Republic as a form of government, but uses the word as a substitute for nation/country. In 1790 France was a constitutional monarchy.

(2)Passive citizens were those who, for a variety of reasons (mostly tax related), were not allowed to vote. (3) The parts that are in bold, are underlined in the original . As usual, this is my own translation and you can surely find much better ones out there!

(4) Touchy subject...

(BONUS) The letter is Recto-Verso. The small red arrows in the image indicate where the back page starts. I edited the two sides in one image for ease of reading.

Source

I really like Saint-Just but his handwriting is just as bad as mine (yes. I can barely read mine either). The french text of the letter comes from:

Saint-Just, Louis Antoine Léon. Œuvres. Paris: Gallimard, 2014

[liver-f4ilure]

Academy Maniacs Article Translated

NOTE: I may have missed a part but this is the whole article.

———

ISSUES: KONKURENTl calendar dated January 28, 2013

"Good-natured boy."

The defendant in the case of "hammer throwers" asked for freedom

Author: ANGELINA SALOMATOVA

The Irkutsk Regional Court received the criminal case against Artyom Anufriev and Nikita Lytkin, who, according to the investigators' version, were operating in Irkutsk Akademgorodok from the fall of 2010 to the spring of 2011, killing six people and attempting to kill eight others, on August 13 last year. According to the Code of Criminal Procedure, the term of detention of the defendants, who have been in Irkutsk SIZO-1 since their arrest on April 5 last year, expires six months after the case is filed with the court, on February 13.

However, according to the court, by that time the case cannot be considered on its merits: it took the prosecution six months just to announce the evidence collected in 49 volumes. At the hearing on Wednesday, January 23, the lawyers started presenting evidence, having summoned the first witnesses and experts to the court. Also ahead is the debate of the parties and the final decision. In this regard, the judge put the issue of extending the period of detention on the table. The defendants, who have already been behind bars for almost two years, as it turned out, are not averse to being free. After a short break in the session, which took Artyom Anufriev to communicate with his lawyers, he asked the court to change the measure of restraint to a custodial release.

"All the fears of the investigation about my being on the outside are groundless. I will not be able to influence the course of the investigation in any way, I will not be able to put pressure on witnesses, I will not be able to destroy evidence either. I have places of study, work, residence, at least I had them. I ask to appoint a measure of restraint not involving imprisonment," said Anufriev. The lawyer supported the position of the defendant: "He is socially adapted, as he has a mother, with whom he lived and can continue to live, he does not intend to hide. In addition, he really can not influence the course of the investigation, as all the evidence is already in court, the judicial investigation is coming to an end".

The mother of Nikita Lytkin did not insist on changing the measure of restraint, leaving the decision "at the discretion of the court", but said that her son had long and deeply repented of the crimes committed and, in her opinion, "is not dangerous to society". Despite the defense's arguments, the court decided to extend the detention for three months, until May 13.

"The defendants are accused of particularly serious crimes against the person, committed over a long period of time. Each of the incriminated acts is punishable by imprisonment for a long period of time, including up to life imprisonment. In selecting a measure of restraint, the court took into account that, being at liberty, they could continue criminal activity and escape from the investigation. These circumstances have not fallen away and have not changed," the judge read out the ruling.

A new stage of the judicial investigation, during which evidence will be presented by the defense side, began at the hearing on Wednesday. Among the first lawyers invited an expert on information systems to the court, with the help of whom they found out the subtleties of data exchange in social networks, in particular "VKontakte", in which, according to the investigation, the defendant Anufriev kept extremist correspondence with acquaintances. According to the expert, the correspondence history stored on the server of the social network could theoretically be changed, which Artem Anufriev himself did not know anything about, and therefore, the information seized from the storage can not be evidence in the case.

—

Artyom Anufriev also denies that he was involved in a vicious correspondence, claiming that he gave the password to his social network page to one of his acquaintances, who left compromising messages on his behalf. The court has yet to sort out the evidence; the unique network IP address from which the defendant accessed the Internet may be used to identify the user of the social network. In addition, Anufriev, who chose the policy of denial of guilt, in his defense stated that in the protocol of on-site testimony, held on April 11, 2011, there is a signature made on his behalf by another person. At the request of the state prosecutor, a handwriting examination was appointed, which was entrusted to the Irkutsk Laboratory of Forensic Expertise.

Recall that at the first stages of the investigation, Artyom Anufriev and Nikita Lytkin fully admitted guilt in committing a series of crimes. However, during the judicial investigation, the first refused to testify and said that he had incriminated himself under torture and threats of investigators "with trouble in the detention center". Since then, the defense lines of Anufriev and Lytkin have been divided. The side of the senior defendant, Anufriev, who is charged with, among other things, involving the minor Lytkin in particularly serious crimes, insists that the defendant could not have been the organizer and ideological inspirer of the extremist community, as the prosecution believes.

In order to prove this, the lawyers called to court a woman who knows Artyom Anufriev "from diapers". The witness, who spoke first on the defense side, said that Artyom Anufriev's mother was a close friend of her own mother and the long family friendship allows her to characterize the defendant. "Artyom is a good-natured boy, polite, I have never heard a bad word from him," the witness said. - He is enthusiastic and capable. In character, soft, kind, driven. They had a boy who was always organizing something - basketball, tennis. Unless you called Artyom and invited him, he wouldn't go. They had a music group; when the organizer left town, the group broke up. Artyom's mother offered to create a new group, but he couldn't because he doesn't have organizational skills.

The witness testimony, according to the defense, should refute the prosecution's thesis that Artyom was the brains and inspiration, while Nikita was the executor. The woman also said that Anufriev's mother did not approve of his friendship with Lytykin. "She believed that this young man does not do anything, badly influences Artyom, interferes with his studies. Always tried to stop their friendship," the witness stated. The court has yet to assess the arguments of the defense. The hearing will continue next week. After reviewing the evidence of both sides, the court will consider possible motions to supplement the judicial investigation, after which the debate of the parties will begin and the judge will make a final decision.

[omaano]

SW Hades AU August Update

Links and previous updates: May - June - July, everything else in this AU

In contrast to the July update, I didn't make as much progress in August as I'd intended, but all the same I'm quite happy with what I get to share with you here:

In the previous poll I only promised to get Echo and Fives to lines and flat colours by this (more than a bit belated) update, but thanks to @lesquatrechevrons keeping me company while I was working on them I managed to get the Domino Twins character art to a state of "almost finished". (I had posted them as "finished" but that was before I realized that I'd forgotten to add the little specks of neon colour to them, but oh well, I hate that stage anyway XD)

I also did some brainstorming with the amazing @elwinged about all the characters, as well as the various weapons and their aspects for this AU. They had some great theories and ideas, and also made me actively think about these things, which was real fun!

Before I go into some ramblings about what went into Echo and Fives' art and design (gotta pad this update with something, and some of you seemed to enjoy it with Omega last time), let's have another poll for next month! I've looked over my table of characters and plans, and I came to the delightful realization that I've made far better progress than how it feels on a day-to-day basis. So maybe it's time to work a bit on the boon-giver characters for a change:

Also would anyone be interested in a taglist for these updates, or are you all fine with me just putting these out whenever and let tumblr do its thing in getting them to you? (send me an ask or reply here if yes, I know my tumblr is a mess XD)

Now on to some thoughts on Echo and Fives:

Depicted but not illustrated in its fullest is that Rex has been a constant presence next to Echo and Fives (and to Cody, too, previous to that). It bears repeating that I really wanted to make sure that the clones are the same in size, and share as many colours as possible (so Cody also stood around as moral support when it came to Fives' hair). So you can also see how the shading on their faces are very similar in their shapes, except for the shadows in that part where nose, cheek and mouth meet, because I wanted to make the Dominoes look a bit younger.

Same with how Rex still has that wrinkle in his forehead that I oddly fixate on so much (don't ask), but Echo and Fives very clerly don't. I'll claim that it had been a completely conscious decision, and not just time passing between the two designs - well over half a year - during which I got it into my head that I should depict the clones during wartime as close to their barely-20-ish age as possible.

One thing I didn't commit to enough though (because I chickened out) was to make Fives look a bit more "dead" and ghostly before I put the blue-green soft light adjustment layer on him was the deeper and darker circles under his eyes, and I fully intended to leave out the light reflection from his eyes... but in the end I went back and added a duller shine to them because I'm weak, it's barely visible and he looked too grumpy and mean already T^T I also didn't want to make his cheeks more hollow or anything, because then I would just feel bad and weird about taking away the roundness from their shapes that I've worked so hard to put on them.

As I was working on this piece I've also thought a lot on the style that I've been trying to mimic through this project.

The thing that gave me pause is that I see more and more of my own style slipping into these pieces, I allow my lines to round out more... and I can claim that it is mostly because that's the compromise I can make with the clones, but I open up and look at Hades references less and less, and I just go freely with what's stuck in my brain while I'd tried to wrap my mind around the style when I first went at it.

I've also always had trouble with grouping my shadows and shapes, and this is exactly what I should be pushing more from now on forward. I keep letting myself get distracted by all the tiny details that I so enjoy to put into my work (case in point all that scarring on Echo, and even Fives' hair - as well as Cody's previously, but I didn't know how else to convey the texture of their hair in less and larger shapes). Hades character designs always feel so rich with detail, but at the same time they are a lot more streamlined than what I'd do if i let my own instincts and desires run wild. I'll try to work with that in the future!

Last but not least a few words on Echo's armor:

I'm slowly but surely stretching my artistic muscles a little and going a bit off-model for the characters, so I wanted Echo to wear armor that is a mix of his ARC and Bad Batch commando armor. So he's got the old plates on his arms (where he still has one LOL), all the straps and pouches (and both blasters!) and old kama hanging from his belt, as well as the hand print paint (because that is personally very very important to me that he has it). Then, beause I desperately needed some other colour in my characters that's not blue or black or grey, he's got elements of the red and orange paint he wears later in TBB (I really wanted him to have that orange stripe down the middle of his chest piece too, but I couldn't make it work with the handprint :() I'm real happy with this balance, and particularly with the shades of blue in his worn paint ^^

I also really wanted to give him a hand (I'll never not be frustrated at how Echo was kept literally handicapped with only his left hand to shoot and grab things (and people) with. It's good that he'd been an ARC and trained in dual wielding, but in a world where people keep losing their appendages (and sometimes half of their bodies) as if it was np big deal at all, it couldn't have been too difficult to get him a hand!! ANYWAYS. I'd first learned how to draw mechanical prosthetic hands/arms during my time in the Overwatch fandom, and I don't think I could draw them any other way (especially the fingers and the lights showing through in their joints) than how I'd done for Cole Cassidy way back when he still had a different name XD

I know there is a relatively limited way in how and what parts you can use to build up a hand/forearm, but I just cannot unsee it, and I thought I'd share this tidbit fun fact as well XD

I hope you enjoyed these ramblings, and I promise to try and keep to the normal mid-month-ish schedule for September!

[sakkiichi]

AUGUST.

Glimpses of the departed month go by as you reminisce by the sea.

ft. Kaedehara Kazuha x gn! reader.

cw/genre: fluff, romance.

I honestly don’t know how to feel about this piece… definitely not my best work, but I wrote it, so I’m posting it. I hope someone still likes it.

if you enjoy this, reblogs and comments help more than likes !

Blue.

Said alone, the word might have had a tendency for melancholy, cold, turbulence.

However, if anyone were to ask you right now, you’d deny every negative connotation the color might have ever been related to.

Because to you, blue was dusks by the sea; moments right after the last coppery rays had hidden behind the expanse of an ocean you could only wish to unveil all secrets of.

And perhaps, you liked this moment of day because the infinity of blue before you mirrored the feelings in your heart at ease.

Feelings of unbridled affection, boundless love.

For him.

Fair hair falls over his shoulders, like silk weaved out of stars, its tips illusory rose with the fading daylight. His eyes are closed against the marine breeze, flecks of moondust clinging to his lids, casting enchanting shadows over his cheeks. His shirt has been discarded, droplets sliding down his bare torso, as if he had bathed in a pool of starlight. A black leather cord rests against his tempting collarbones, a vibrant scarlet maple leaf charm dangling tantalizingly over his chest.

A dreamy sigh escapes your lips, mingling with the sounds of foamy waves lapping at the white sand.

Kazuha.

He was always nothing short of ethereal, but something about him in the dimming light of a late summer’s nightfall, felt inherently magical.

“I’m going to miss this, Kazuha.” You finally say, resting your chin on your boyfriend’s shoulder.

He gently leaves a kiss to your forehead, his hand finding yours over the towel you’re sitting on. Scars jut like jagged rocks against which waves break, in the same way lightning snuffed out a life dear to him all that time ago.

And yet, the smile on his lips is almost palpable when he says:

“We’ll be able to come back, my dove.” His thumb runs soothing circles over the back of your hand. “Before we realize, summer will greet us again.”

You chuckle. Kazuha had such a poetic way of approaching things; even when the sun went pitch black, he would forever remain a beacon of hope to you.

“I know, I know…” You clarify. “It’s just… I wish I had more free time to spend with you like this during the year…”

As much as autumn brought found memories and your beloved’s birthday, September always had a tendency to leave you yearning for the long days of summer.

Echoes of August replayed behind your eyelids every time you closed them, reminiscent of stolen instances held in the brief minutes in which the sky was dyed in shades of neither day or night.

Those eyes that held the suns of a million dawns focus on you. Starlight from constellations that will sleep soon seem to frame them, those long lashes fluttering in tune with your heart.

“I know, my angel…” Your lover utters, as he delicately tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’d like to stay with you like this, for all eternity…” His stare of gentle embers takes you in.

His muse, his perfect love, his forever.

The samurai’s free hand reaches to cup your cheek, his touch, a dove’s first flight in its tenderness.

Beneath the darkening skies, you were the brightest star. Every lash, every pore and freckle, the everglow that fueled his verses.

“But we’ll always have the weekends,” He reassures, those fingers that penned the most romantic eulogies tracing your jawline, the column of your neck, your exposed collarbones.

Dilated pupils stare at his lips, images of kisses coated in ice cream and cocktails flashing through your dazed mind.

“And every summer after that.” The poet adds, noses mere millimeters away now, separated only by salt air and dying sunlight’s rust.

“Every summer.” You repeat.

Then, the magnetic force of both your desire-ridden lips reigns over, his kiss, an intoxicating collision.

Your hands lock behind Kazuha’s neck, pulling him closer. The droplets of sea water on him feel cool, flecks of stardust tattooing your skin in every place your bodies touch.

The wandering samurai’s lips are an expanding sunrise, and you, the tsunami that desperately reaches for his light-tinted heavens.

One of his hands sets on the soft sand, keeping him upright, while his scarred one tenderly cups your cheek. Your lean against him is soothing, healing, clear August skies, birdsong written in between retreating clouds.

Behind the undulating horizon, gold dyes silver.

Constellations begin to waltz far above, the lovers by the sea, their directing lyrics.

It’s a symphony about a season that will never die, its score inscribed in indelible blue ink in the heat of yours and Kazuha’s fervent kisses.

[animauxing]

The Roof Leaks Over Me

In a short amount of time, I have lost pieces of significance.

My beloved Stank, has passed away on August 30, 2023.

As you may know, my friendship and love for my dog is something that inspired many of my comics. I am in pieces over Stank's passing, and there has not been an hour where I have not grieved.

Stank has been around me for so long, I forget there was a time we were not together. In the darkest times, I held onto Stank for life. Now, I am lost at sea without the one who could save me.

September 6th is Stank's birthday, and I hope you are able to think of Stank on that day. If the presence of my art, writing, and stories have reached you in any way, please know that you have Stank to thank for it. I owe a lot to my dog, and I could only hope that I gave it all I could in the times we were together.

In our last moments, we tried almost everything to save Stank, from vet visits, medication, lab tests, to ER visits, but ultimately, it was less cruel to let Stank sleep.

Stank passed away on a sunny day in the arms of people who loved it most. After that day, the sky has been cloudy, and I spend my day trying to preserve what little we have left of Stank's presence.

We are left with a heavy burden of our grief along with the financial responsibilities in the wake of Stank's passing. If you are able, we appreciate all the help you can spare our way. If not, I hope you can keep Stank in your memory.

The second bad news more related to this blog is that my original ACNL cartridge that holds CODEC's Limbo has gone missing along with the original ACWW that introduced me to this series.

It is a small loss compared to what I've been through, but it is still a loss knowing how much this game, its content, and the friends I've made through it meant to me. Maybe one day, I will get another cartridge and reconstruct the town, but for now, there is not much I can do in the midst of chaos.

I've had several losses of family and friends in 2023. All I hope is that the love I've been given will help me through this insurmountable grief.

Thank you for your support all these past years, it's been instrumental to me giving Stank a wonderful life. I only hope that was enough.

[starryyskies]

Lil update in case y’all care ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) 

I’m moving from my shit apartment starting the beginning of august, and my current semester ends near august 13th. My next semester starts almost 2 weeks after (classes start on the 22nd but it’s good to get it started earlier since most classes open early).

Hopefully by then I’ll be moved out, feel more organized and less stressed, and manage my time a bit better.

Classes are going well despite being super fucking stressful, I’m at the very least passing for now lol

But as for drawing, besides that one doodle I finished and coloured, I haven’t been able to do anything at all. It really disappoints me because I see all this amazing art and my fomo (fear of missing out) gets so bad lol. But I am being responsible and doing my best (╥ᆺ╥；)

Thank you guys for your support and kindness and understanding ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)

So in case you’re curious my struggles currently read below lol

So, the place I work at, my store is a corporation and we’ve been basically getting babysat by managers from other stores who are also watching their own store, getting paid a shit amount for creating and maintaining not just the scheduling for both stores, but also managing any issues that arise. So we’re on our 4th manager now, and while he’s the sweetest and fucking raddest manager of all times, he is doing the bare minimum for our store. And trust me, I do NOT blame him. To be honest, he is getting paid salary for being a manager of his own store, and it’s like 56k a year or something which isn’t bad at all. But watching a completely different store?

75. Dollars. A WEEK?! That is LITERALLY a slap in the face. That is the CEO saying a big ass fuck you to its employees. So of course he’s doing the bare minimum. Coping and pasting parts of the schedule, he never comes into our store, and while he’s attentive when it comes to issues, he’s our only source of upper management support we have.

We have workers who have worked with the company for 3+ years, 8+ years, and 20 years. They know what they’re doing, but when I am running the shift by myself, I can’t rely on my coworkers to get back to me, because they are not obligated to.

So the schedule is pretty awful sometimes. Sometimes we’re over staffed when we could’ve used the help other times, sometimes we’re severely understaffed. Like for example, today was a shit show. We had 3 people during our busiest time. (I work at a coffee shop) and so we have one person on register who also takes care of the food and packs the deliveries, and then one person on the coffee bar is not enough to handle the amount of drinks they get, so I was basically running back and forth to support both positions while also making sure my coworkers got their breaks. Icing on the cake was when we realized it was way too hot inside the cafe and learned our AC is broken AGAIN! It was 84 degrees before I left work. That is miserable running around taking care of hot drinks and food.

This is something I deal with at least 2 times a week

While also doing school work full time, having a strict deadline to follow to submit assignments (thankfully it’s all online so I can be somewhat flexible)

And on top of all of that, I’m moving in 2 weeks, school finals will be going on by then, and life has been kicking my family in the ass.

My step dad, who I’ve know since I was 6-7, he’s been that second dad to me, I think of him as a hero. He unfortunately has been diagnosed with single cell lung cancer. It had spread to his ribs and femur. While he’s still fighting and going through aggressive treatment, I’m not sure what the outcome will be. He’s putting on a strong face, so I can’t tell how serious it is.

My grandfather is also in the hospital. He’s had a heart condition that requires him to wear an AED pacemaker in his chest, and recently it was used because he had a seizure. He’s not doing too well, and who knows what will happen.

Oh! And my older sister’s wedding is IN TWO MONTHS! I’m the damn maid of honor, and I do nottttt like the attention. She’s the kinda person who likes big fancy weddings but she’s doing her best financially to make it happen, though she also was promoted to manager for her store (we work for the same company) and going through that crazy long training is surly not fun lol.

But anyway, thanks for reading my rambles. Sometimes I feel like nobody really cares but I get reminded that there are people out there who are wondering how I am. So this is for you people

(⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)₊˚⊹ ᰔ

[dean-winchesters-clit]

Okay y’all, we need to talk about the OFMD season 2 trailer

Or, lack thereof.

Listen, I’m also frustrated. I want some sort of update too, something concrete that we can sink our teeth into. However, I think the memeing may be going a little too far. Let me offer some words of comfort.

I understand that the first season of Our Flag Means Death was only in post-production for about six months before releasing. I understand that it’s been almost seven months and we’ve gotten no news, I get it. But, we have been promised a bigger, bolder, more extravagant second season. Samba has also mentioned that the VFX artists are working very hard to finish the effects for season 2.

And - to tangent off of that - the VFX houses working on the show are absolutely SPECTACULAR. We’re talking about the people behind the effects in the recent Dune movies, Black Mirror, and THE FUCKING BOYS. If we have to wait for THOSE GUYS to finish season 2 before we get any update, I will gladly wait for as long as it takes because the effects will be out of this fucking world.

However, I think that the biggest reason for this lack of news is actually due to the desired release date. I am in no way 100% an expert, but I did go to college for filmmaking for five years, so I know what I’m talking about to an extent. I know with absolute certainty that the date a film/tv series is released is incredibly important to its success.

Yes, it is true that they would have needed to release the second season before May 9th in order for it to have been eligible for consideration at this year’s Emmy’s. HOWEVER, it is possible that they knew the show would not be ready before the cutoff for the 2023 Emmys, so they are aiming for next year’s Emmys. My theory is that we will get some sort of teaser by the end of August or beginning of September and that the show will premiere in late 2023 or early 2024.

The biggest times to release any sort of film or series come during the summer or around the winter holidays. This is why we have summer blockbusters and why Disney released some of their most widely popular animated movies during the month of November. These are times when people have a lot of time off work or when kids are out of school/college and are more likely to go to the movies or watch tv.

However, things have changed in recent years with streaming services. I think it’s likely that the second season may air in the “dead” month of January when lots of streaming services will post original series or movies since nothing big tends to be playing in movie theaters at that time.

Just be patient, my loves. I do not foresee us getting the second season before the summer is over. There could be a million reasons why we have yet to hear anything concrete about season 2. I think it’s very likely that everyone has signed NDAs that are keeping them from spilling any news until HBO gives them the go ahead. And don’t forget that there’s a MASSIVE strike going on that could be halting the progress of the production of season 2. Be patient, stop hounding the actors and creators for information that they can’t give us, and go write/read some goddamn fanfiction to pass the time.

TL;DR: There are 3 main reasons why the second season could be taking so long. 1: It’s just not fucking ready yet 2: They have a late 2023/early 2024 release date in mind 3: The Writers Strike has ground everything to a halt. Just be patient and enjoy some fanworks while you wait.

[mysticmellowlove]

wowowow the ceo drabble was so good! i kinda love asshole pathetic men ok. and if you’re up to it, do you think you could write a continuation? or like anything really, love your writing <3

note; continuation of August coming up~ also please don't let your higher-ups take advantage of you! just a helpful reminder :)

warnings; dom reader, gn reader, male sub, switchy reader, asshole reader, bad practice, talk of non-con (past), a very consensual present, ruined orgasm, they're both mean your honour

based off; this

Despite totally wrecking him the other day August was still an asshole, and they were still working a nine-to-five at a company they barely cared about. The incessant tap of fingers on keyboards was driving them just about insane. Linda was sitting next to them chatting about some new company policy. Mark was over by the water cooler trying to flirt up the new intern. It was so inane that they could feel their eyes roll.

That was when they hatched the plan, to try and weasel their way into the big CEO's life. Why work in an office when you can suck dick a few times and get money for it? August was a horrible man with too much money under his belt, someone who had accosted them a few times before. So why couldn't they be horrible as well? It wouldn't be hard to blackmail someone like him, all they had to do was get him in such a pleasure-drunk state that he said some dubious secrets or something.

A message popped up on their computer screen through the work portal, of course it was him... who else would bother bugging them this close to closing time? With a huff they got off their chair and gathered up the file of papers they had been assigned to check over. While they walked over to his office, with its own private floor of course (and frosted windows), ideas began to bubble up in their head. They couldn't do it tonight, they had no tape recorder on them and their phone was in office jail currently (staring at social media during work hours was apparently not acceptable).

But he was such a prick that the thought was tempting.

"Wonderful, I've been waiting on these for over half an hour." August's office door swung open as he stood there, his hand clasped around a phone that was pressed to his ear. He regarded them briefly before ushering them inside, the strict tone he used against them melting away into something much more charismatic as he continued to talk to what they assumed was a shareholder.

Calmly they set the papers down on his desk, making sure to put them in the appropriate place as he'd probably blow a gasket if his precious desk was messed up. Just as they turned to leave though they were stopped by a hand on their arm. With a curt smile he hung up the phone and put it into his suit pocket.

If only he wasn't so disgustingly hot they thought.

"Now, I'm sure you're wondering why I brought you up here. Those documents were half an hour late." He said cooly as he went to sit at his chair, his figure almost looming over his desk.

"You're my least efficient worker and pay cuts are coming soon..." he trailed off as if he was being mysterious. This was how it happened, back when they had first come here they had been so eager to please. Money moved the world, and they needed it more than anyone else. To admit they were a pushover wasn't easy but it was the truth.

"You know what I've had it up to here with you. Years of being this little toy has done a number on me. Have you ever thought that maybe I don't perform as high as you want because your cock is usually shoved into me?" A crude snarl rose to their face as they stepped forward, rounding the table so they could be at his side instead of in front of him.

"And yet here you are, threatening me. We all know you won't survive here without me, who'd make you cream your pants better than I?" A laugh left them as his eyes widened and his face reddened.

"Who are you to say things like that to me?!" He seemed to flare up defensively, just a scared little boy hiding behind his title... that was all he was. Their hand darted out and wrapped around his throat, slamming his head back against his leather chair. A strangled gasp left him as they straddled his lap, of course his dick was already hard against them.

"Come on now, don't fool yourself. I can tell you're cock's weeping at the sight of me. I have it conditioned after all. You've had years of fun and now it's my turn. I know what you are." They leaned into his chest, their free hand palming at his clothed dick. He shuddered beneath them, finally a drowsy look crossed his eyes.

"You're nothing but a cheap whore in a suit. I'm sure if you weren't in the rat race you'd be sitting at home tied to a chair." They laughed as he tried to fight back against them. Despite his arms being free he barely seemed to push them away. Acting as if he didn't want this.

"It's my turn now." They mused as they shucked their shirt off, letting their nipples rise in the cold air of his office. Immediately his eyes trailed to them, his tongue wetting his lips indiscreetly. A snide laugh left them again.

"See, you're like a dog, aren't you. So hungry for me and yet still so high and mighty. You know you never did beg last time." He seemed to be unaffected by their words as he tried to lean into their grip to get closer to their body. With an angry grunt they shoved him back again, their fingers digging into his skin as a warning. A short groan left him.

"It's your turn to sit back and take it yeah? Come on be a good whore for me." His mouth dropped open as they slowly shifted so they could take his pants off, letting his cock spring free of its cotton bounds. They rolled their eyes as they saw the angry red tip drooling precum.

"Insatiable." They whispered under their breath as they ground their pants into him. The rough fabric seemed to please him though as he tried to wheeze a moan out. They loosened their fingers before letting his neck go entirely, instead using his shoulders as leverage to bounce on him.

"Even now I'm only thinking about your orgasm, how annoying. You'll owe me one for later tonight, how about that." They hummed as the fabric of their own pants rolled over his sensitive dick. He looked up at them with glassy eyes, his words slightly slurred.

"W-what?" Was all he managed, seemingly too far gone but still coherent enough to have his snark.

"I quit, I'm done." They said as they looked down at him, a menacing grin on their face. His eyes seemed to widen but before he could say anything they wrapped their hand around him, tugging his cock roughly. A strangled moan left him as his nails dug into the armrests, his words muffled by his enjoyment.

"But this, this isn't over yet. You owe me for all of those years. You would've gone under if I wasn't acting as stress relief huh?" They cooed mockingly as tears budded at the corners of his eyes.

"You didn't let me cum last time." He managed to say as he looked at them, a small spark of defiance in his eyes.

"Better come up with something worth my time or else I'll leave you dry again." It was like a match was lit between the two of them, both feeding off each other's flame. Yet only one could win out in the end and they knew August would falter.

"Fuck." He groaned as his hands clasped around their waist, not controlling the movement but simply resting there. A small admittance of defeat.

"There are other positions open." He finally yielded, his eyes hateful as he looked up at them. They pretended to think as they stopped their movement, teasing a whine from his throat.

"Not interested." Was all they said.

"I'll pay." Their eyebrow quirked up. They didn't know too much about business but in this state neither did August. All he was doing was chasing his orgasm, the one they had denied him before.

"For what?" So close, they were so close.

"For being my..." A deliberate roll of their hips stopped him in his tracks.

"Fucking fine, for fucking me! I'll pay you to fuck me, just finish me off." A curt laugh left their mouth as they slid off his lap and positioned themselves next to him, their hand gripping him at the base.

"Come on now, that's barely what I want." He groaned as his head fell back to his chair, his teeth grit.

"Please make me cum, please please please." He begged, over and over like the broken record he was. They grinned and began to move their hand up and down his shaft, making sure to miss his head on purpose.

Before he could refute their actions they planted their hand over his mouth, intent on giving him his orgasm but not in the way he wanted it. His hips stuttered as his cock jerked in their hands, pitiful spurts of cum dribbled down his cock and coated their hand as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Their hands left him as the cold air seemed to chill him, his eyes trailed over to them as a silent question formed on his tongue.

"My house, tonight. Maybe this time I'll give you a real climax." They grinned as they turned on their feet and walked to his door.

"Consider this my two weeks." With a wink and a snide smile they were off.

[sagessge]

The chill air of September reminds me of us,when it's wasn't us,it reminds me of acceptance afterward. It reminds me that after the rains of August,the rust has set in. Like a jewel on the outside door. When the dusky sky shimmers with all the elements ever,you see an orange light emitted by the sun and the rising moon. You see possibilities and comfort coming along. The winter reaches smoothly and slowly as you put your morning alarm off. The new term,the new starting,yet the same old things,the same old story,when I see your face and a wound sort of breaks. It's been almost 3 years. For God's sake, get over it! I say,but my dear September comes and goes,and I can tell by each of it,some of my love fades, but then comes the spring and summer. And I'm reminded of you and the wilting leaves,the scent of flowers,the vanishing winter, and your warm hands. My hands are warmer now. I guess I know better,how to love myself more,how to give it to myself, what I seek from others,the comfort. All I ever got was hurt and more to forget. But all those parts I can spend hours regretting have made me,me. They have helped me live up to this September. September is the month of change,yet the too familiar,for it caries the both summer and winter at its brink.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Stolen Angel - Part 6

Demon!Jake Seresin x reader

Summary: You thought you were having a one-night stand with some random, normal guy. Turns out he’s a winged, demon-like stalker who has been obsessed with you for years.

Warnings/Notes: Jake is a little dark. Kidnapping. Manipulation. Obsessive behavior. Eventual smut and happy stuff. I’m sure there are typos. This used to be a different fic for August Walker, so if you see it, it’s fine. I wrote that one too. In this part specifically: smutty-ish stuff (18+), cursing, angst

Words: 2305

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

You’re drunk, you think. Head is too foggy to be explained by anything else. Your brain struggles to pin down a well-developed thought. Good. You’re not here for well-developed thoughts. You don’t want a well-developed thought. What you want is to feel. And right now, you feel blissfully intoxicated. 

When you spun around and kissed him, he wasn’t expecting it. Despite it being his bright idea, it took him a few seconds to catch up. Your arms were already wrapped around his neck, your lips and teeth trying to pry some playfulness out of him with little nibbles by the time it registered in his head that you had caved for him. Then he snapped fully alert, like he’d been locked in a cage and you turned the key to set him free. 

He’d instantly removed your arms from his neck and placed your hands at his waist, then he cupped your cheeks in rough palms and gave you what you wanted; what you know he’s been wanting to give you for weeks.

And you continue to let him give it to you. You give him complete control and allow him to take advantage because somehow he knows what you like. He did then, and he does now. 

You like a paced rhythm of lips; needy, eager, but lacking the fumbling of an inexperienced or equally mind-numb partner. 

You like hands that tangle in your hair before they carve a path down to your hips. 

You like fingers skimming your midriff and the tingles that come from soft touching morphing into possessive grabbing. 

You like fingerprints bruised into your skin from being held still as a jeans-constrained cock grinds against your core.

You like the melody of his moans and how he doesn’t try to hide them from you. Like he needs you to know exactly how you affect him so you can understand the power you possess. 

You like the taste of his tongue, and the way he smells. He smells like the forest in the moonlight, and the rays of the sun in springtime, but also like the sea when its waves are enraged by wild winds. He smells like the earth. He smells human. He tastes human. He sounds human. 

His human fingers go to your neck, applying light pressure until you whimper against his lips. He grins into the kiss. Different fingers on a different hand fiddle with the button of your jeans, popping it open and dragging down the zipper. 

You’re already warm, but it’s hotter when his hand slips behind the thin band of your underwear. That heat becomes almost unbearable as fingers near your clit and brush over the bundle of nerves. And when two digits finally nestle themselves within your folds, you burst into a ball of flame.

A ball of flame that forces your eyes to shoot open and the loose screws in your brain to retighten before they have a chance to fall out completely. Your eyes snap shut again because it feels so fucking good when his middle finger teases your entrance. Your walls are hungry for something to clamp down around. No, not something—him. You’re hungry for him, and your body is not going to forgive you for the betrayal, but this is…wrong. All wrong. You have to stop. What you’re doing changes nothing. He is not who you want him to be. You are not who you were. And this place is not what you once knew, no matter the memories you attempt to revive from its history. 

Tears begin to gather and squeeze through your sealed eyelids. He doesn’t notice them as his lips break from yours to press a kiss to your cheek and then your jaw before they latch onto your neck. With your gasp, your hands fist the fabric of his t-shirt. A fingertip is easing inside of you and your body lurches toward him. Deeper. More. You want it. So bad.

Wait, no! Your brow furrows. 

No, you don’t want it! 

Think of what he has done to you. Think of what he has stolen. Think of how he shows no shame.

“No!” you snap as you jerk your head from his and shove him off of you. Lips, fingers, taste, scent—gone, dousing you in a piercing chill. 

Jade-toned eyes are full of fear and confusion as he takes a step near you. “Angel–”

“No!” you repeat, your finger pointed at him. You shake your head, trying to breathe as you back out of the kitchen and into the living room. 

“What did I do?”

“No!” you say once more. Harsher, louder, your tears falling harder. “You ruin things!”

His breath is heavy. Chest heaving. “What?”

“You killed my plant!” you sob, “And the cat is gone!”

“You didn't have a cat,” he says.

“You take!” you tell him. “That’s all you do—you take! I did everything you wanted so I could come home and feel like me for just one goddamn second, but it’s not home anymore because you took it from me! You ruined it! You tainted it!” you shout. “You tainted me!”

The tears are in such abundance they merge together on their descent to your jaw. Your fingers tremble as you lower to the ground, pull your knees to your chest, and wrap your arms around them. 

Jake carefully closes the distance you’d been keeping and crouches in front of you. With his hands on your cheeks, he tilts your face up to his. Eyes flick back and forth between yours. “You are not tainted,” he says. 

Smacking his hands away, you rest your chin on your knees. “There’s nothing left,” you mutter. “I have nothing.”

“You have me,” he pleads. 

“I don’t want you!

Jake freezes in the aftermath of your scream. Then he glances down like he’s looking for the knife you just plunged into his heart. It’s not there, of course. If anyone is guilty of harming anything in this apartment, it’s him. 

He swallows and leans back into a seated position across from you. His hand runs through his hair and down his face, and then he waits. He sits there quietly, watches you as you refuse to look at him, and waits. 

He waits for minutes? Hours? You don’t know; you can’t remember how much time you had left before you kissed him. He waits until he softly says, “Time’s up, Angel.”

He waits some more as if he expects you to respond. When you don’t, he stands. 

“We have to go,” he says. 

“Then go,” you mumble.

Jake sighs and holds his hand out to you. “Don’t do this.”

“I’m not doing anything,” you say, continuing to stare ahead at the wall. “I didn’t do anything. I never did anything.”

“Angel, you promised you’d follow the rules.”

Black streaks float by your head, carried on the wind coming through the open window. In your peripheral vision, you see the feathers find home on Jake’s back until he’s once again the monster who stole you in all of his grandness.

“You need to call your wings,” he tells you. “Do what I taught you earlier, just imagine the opposite.”

You shake your head. 

Jake blows a breath out through his nose. “Angel, please do what I’m telling you. You know I can’t leave you here.”

“You wouldn’t even if you could.”

Jake bends at the waist. He puts his index finger under your chin and lifts so your eyes are stuck on his. “You’re right, I wouldn’t. So let's not play this game. Call your wings.”

“No,” you return through clenched teeth.  

Those red tendrils slither into his irises, but you’re not deterred this time. He doesn’t scare you anymore. Not even when he grabs your wrist, pulls you to your feet, and throws you over his shoulder like you’re a sack of grain. His feathers brush across your face as your head lands between the open spaces in his t-shirt that accommodate his wings. 

Your fist slams into one of the appendages and he grunts, but it doesn’t stop him from heading straight for your bedroom. When he kicks the door open, you pinch your eyelids tight. You don’t want to see the bedsheets with your and his dried sweat or the bra that when removed from your body sprouted gooseflesh up and down your arms. You don’t want to be reminded of how he drank in your breasts with his eyes and rubbed his thumbs over your nipples and sucked one into his mouth. 

Jake leans down and lifts the window that overlooks the street. You curse its size, big enough for two bodies to slip through. 

“Put me down,” you shriek, hitting his other wing this time. 

You can feel when he ducks under the sill, you can hear the rustle of feathers when wings stretch wide, then with one strong flap, you’re back in the wind tunnel that stole your breath. 

—

The moment he touches down, you begin to wiggle in his arms, freeing yourself only to fall directly on your ass in the grass and dirt.

“Get up,” Jake commands. You grumble and rise to your feet, but solely for the sake of removing yourself from his presence. You’ve had enough. Enough of him and of this night. As you head toward The Tower, he says, “Bring your wings back.”

He gives you a few seconds, but when you don’t stop on your path, a whooshing sound arises from behind you before he suddenly drops out of the sky, landing right in front of you and making you jump. 

“Listen to me,” he growls. 

Moving in close, you put your face just a few inches from his. “No.”

That fear returns in his eyes—a briefer flash than you saw earlier. It’s squashed under his innate desire to demand things from you. “You don’t tell me no. Not with this,” he says. “If you don’t bring them back, your feathers will abandon you where you left them.”

“Perfect,” you say, stepping around him. 

Twenty feet from the door. Nineteen. Eighteen. You’re almost there.

“And you’ll have to grow new ones,” he calls after you. 

You pause in your tracks, heartbeat catching in your chest.

“Being without wings can only be temporary. You abandon the old ones, new ones will take their place. No one can stop it.” With his hands on your upper arms, he spins you around. “Do you want to go through that again?”

Immobile; skin shredding; blood running down your spine and soaking the bed; lava coursing through your veins, limbs, organs. Last time you bit your tongue so hard you were surprised your teeth didn’t pierce a hole.

His palms move, grazing up and over your shoulders, dipping into the curves of your neck to frame your face. Thumbs stroke your cheeks. His forehead rests against yours. 

“Don’t make me watch you suffer twice, Angel,” he whispers, begs. “Please.”

You could laugh. He wouldn’t have had to watch you suffer at all if he had left you where you belonged. But even so, you relent, closing your eyes to imagine your wings reforming with the addition of each individual feather until you sense a strange internal response to your call. You don’t do it for him. You do it for you, refusing to relive that trauma. You wonder if Jake understands the difference.

“Did you do it?” he asks, lifting his head. You nod, then he nods, exhaling shakily. “It’ll take longer since we left the feathers there, so make sure to keep that image somewhere in your mind to guide them to you. You might as well rest in the meantime. When your wings are back you can sleep.”

Not waiting to see if he is finished telling you what to do, you step out of his hold, turn on your heel, and walk to the door. Your hand is pressed against the large panel, ready to push it open so you can be free of him when you hear his voice…again.

“Angel.”

You groan, digging your fingernails into the wood before twisting around. You’re going to get fucking whiplash. What, you think as you glare at him. What else could there possibly be?

Jake swallows, then the tip of his tongue darts out to wet his lips. 

“I don't regret bringing you here,” he starts. “Not for a second. And I never will. You have no idea how long I wished to have you with me.

“And regardless of what you believe, I’m not ignorant of the sacrifices. I once gave up the life I had as well,” he says, and your brows knit. “However, this can be home, if you accept it. I want to give you everything, but you have to let me.”

You despise the itty bitty part of you that looks at his offer the way a child looks at a forbidden lollipop, their eyes blown wide, licking their lips before they even have their grubby paws on the damn stick. You cannot listen to that part. To listen would be to lose more of you, and how much more do you have available to lose? You’ve never dissected yourself to figure out how many fragments there are. But something was sucked out of your soul tonight. It left a void that he’s foolish to think he can fill. 

“I don’t have to let you do anything to me, Jake,” you tell him.

Jake shakes his head. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Of course it is.”

Leaving him behind, you turn and enter The Tower—a place you would’ve bet your life you’d never be happy to see—and you don’t look back. Not even when a softly muttered “fuck” just barely reaches your ear before the door completely separates you and Jake from one another.

[monkberrymoonsdelight]

A Monkberry Moon Delight lyrical analysis because it is the greatest song of the 20th century

Monkberry Moon Delight is a song from Paul McCartney's 1971 album Ram. The song is generally considered to be surrealist 'nonsense' lyrics a la Lennon's late Beatles work like 'I am the Walrus' and 'Glass Onion'. But if we know anything about Paul (and Lennon-McCartney in general), he tends to put deeper emotions into his songs, often with out meaning to and without his direct knowledge:

"I don't write anything consciously, Sometime when I'm pissed off with John over Apple business a line might creep in." - Interview with Disc And Music Echo (Nov. 20, 1971)

"Songwriting is like psychiatry; you sit down and dredge up something that's inside, bring it out front." - Interview with Robert Palmer for the New York Times (April 25, 1982)

" But in a song, that's where you can [share your innermost thoughts]. That's the place to put them. You can start to reveal truths and feelings." - Interview with John Wilson fork BBC 4's (May 24, 2016)

And my favorite because it's y'know...in a song: "And when I'm gone, I leave my message in my song" - Beware My Love (Wings at the Speed of Sound, 1976)

All that being said, in my opinion, Monkberry Moon Delight is a projection of Paul's feelings of anxiety about his post-Beatles public/critical reception and his reaction to John Lennon's antagonism post-divorce. Specifically, he details his writing of Too Many People as a response to John's antagonism and the making of Ram as an attempt to recapture public attention/praise.

For context: Monkberry Moon Delight was first written/demoed at some point from May-August 1970 on his farm in Scotland. Paul's late 1969-1970 Scotland era is complicated. He often describes it as being one of the most difficult periods of his life because of the break-up of the Bealtes, the Apple financial troubles, his frayed relationship with John, and starting a whole new life which all compounded into a deep depression and alcohol abuse.

Let's start with the title and chorus. In Paul's own words, Monkberry Moon Delight comes from his kids mispronunciation of the word 'milk' and establishes MMD as a fantastical drink like 'Love Potion No. 9'. I think Paul obviously hides behind the surrealism of the lyric but its association with family and domesticity makes an interesting contrast. Though he is happy to be in his escapist domestic fantasy in Scotland, he juxtaposes this with the underlying pressure to be acclaimed (especially after being considered the greatest artist in the world for ten years). Though the song has a peppy, jaunty beat there is an air of anxiety developed through the songs key of C minor and the staccato of the piano and bass parts. His vocals also have a similar strained desperation like 'Oh! Darling'.

The lyrics:

So I sat in the attic, a piano up my nose

And the wind played a dreadful cantata

Paul starts with himself, writing. 'The attic' may be a reference to John Lennon's recording studio that he had built in his attic in Weybridge where he and Paul would often go to write.

"We nearly always went up to his little music room that he'd built at the top of the house, Daddy's Room, where we would get away from it all. I like to get away from people to songwrite, I don't like to do it in front of people. It's like sex for me" - Many Years from Now. Whether or not this is a direct reference to 'Daddy's Room', Paul is known to prefer small, confined spaces for songwriting.

'Piano up my nose' to me shows a rapt attention, leaning so close to his piano its almost up his nose. He is intently and passionately composing his 'dreadful cantata', this cantata I believe refers to "To Many People". Based on this record of the order of demos on the Ram cassette, it seems that Too Many People may have been written (or at least recorded) before Monkberry, which furthers my belief that Paul is making a meta narration of the writing of his song which he recognizes was very pointed or dreadful.

Sore was I from a crack of an enemy's hose

And the horrible sound of tomato

Here he describes what spurred him to writing this song, and this album as a whole. The 'crack from an enemy's hose' could refer to Allen Klein's treatment of Paul during the final months of the Beatles and his attempted mishandling of the release of McCartney (1970). (Note: The crack could also be from Phil Spector, the press, Ringo, George, Yoko or John; Paul is kind of getting shit from all sides right now). The 'sound of tomato' implies the idea of throwing tomatoes at an artist to express dislike or dissatisfaction, referencing the poor critical reception of McCartney (1970).

Ketchup, soup and puree

Don't get left behind

Ketchup, soup, and puree; liquidy tomatoes because splat, splat, splat go the critics. And ketchup because catch up pun.

Don't get left behind is the central theme of this song. He is worried that the public is going to forget about him while he's depressed, away in Scotland, and making critical flops. This is him desperately clinging onto the hearts of the public. Because we all know how much Paul needs to be liked.

When a rattle of rats had awoken

The sinews, the nerves, and the veins

The 'rattle of rats' could be any of the number of people who were getting on his nerves, sinews, and veins (pissing him tf off) in 1970. This could again be referencing the great "Let's all gang up on Paul McCartney" game of 1970 but because of the subsequent lyrics, I think this may be more specifically about John (and Yoko). Either way, it was these rats who annoyed him into getting to work.

My piano was boldly outspoken

And attempts to repeat his refrain

'Boldly outspoken' again connects this song to TMP. The line is similar to the TMP lyric 'This is crazy and baby, it's not like me' in the sense that both show how audacious he sees this songs as. In 'attempting to repeat his refrain' I think Paul is using the 'well he started it' justification for TMP because he's sees it as a repeat, of him rising to John's level of insults.

So I stood with a knot in my stomach and I gazed at that terrible sight

Of two youngsters concealed in a barrel, sucking Monkberry Moon Delight

Ah yes my favorite moment in all of music ever. This is the verse that really convinced me that this song may be referencing JohnandYoko. The 'youngsters in a barrel' alludes to John and Yoko's bag piece, where they would get into a black bag for...peace? As seen in Get Back, this particularly irked/disturbed Paul. "Go get in your bag. The Merseybeat award for couple of the year, goes to John and Yoko" (Get Back Episode 2). He also refers to them as 'the young lovers' in Get Back during the infamous January 13th 'and then there were two' conversation. Even though it makes him nervous and sick, part of Paul releasing TMP and Ram is to face up to the JohnandYoko powerhouse which was a non-insignificant portion of his early 1970 criticism.

Well I know my banana is older than the rest

and my hair is a tangled baretta

Here I think he is reasoning to the listener, the public, over why he thinks they've abandoned him. Paul recognizes that he has been in this music game a long time (so people may have grown bored of him) and has been depressed (and thus out of the game), his tangled 'baretta' of hair like the wily depression beard he grew out while in Scotland.

Also banana = dick, just so everyone is clear (can anyone find that banana poem from his poetry book? Also this just perpetuates my tinhat theory that all the banana milkshakes Paul got in Paris were just **** **** but I digress). Also something about Paul likening songwriting with sex so him not being 'musically desirable' is because...his music dick is old? Ok Paul.

I leave my pajamas to Billy Budapest

And I don't get the gist of your letter

This is the one lyric I am pretty unsure about. Not that every line has to fit perfectly into my interpretation but I genuinely could not make heads or tails of it. My initial interpretation was that this was referring to Billy Shears, and how during this period the Paul is dead theory regained popularity. This reference adds to the feeling of dissolution he builds in this verse.

But mike on the Beatles Bible seems to remember Billy Budapest as being a children's pajama designer though I have found not evidence of this. However going with this shot in the dark, leaving his pajamas to Billy Budapest could draw back to the theme of his current domesticity and occupation with his children.

The letter in question I believe refers to the infamous letter John and George wrote to Paul changing his McCartney release date that they had Ringo deliver which really set Paul off and kind of began the messiness of the divorce.

Catch Up, cats and kittens

Don't get left behind

Finally we get the pay off to the ketchup-catch up pun and see the resurgence of the theme; Paul feeling like he's falling behind his contemporaries and desperation to catch up.

In typical McCartney fashion, Monkberry Moon Delight is a seemingly shallow and superfluous song but actually reveals a lot about his inner turmoil at the time. Him dealing with the rejection by the critics and John by turning to his piano and creating the absolute banger that is Monkberry. This is why MMD is one of Paul's best, because of how quintessentially Paul it is. Veiling tough emotions behind ambiguous and surreal lyrics masked by a fun and light melody. Oh, the juxtaposition! Oh, the Lennon-McCartney of it all.

Anyways this is a barely organized rambling of thoughts but Monkberry Moon Delight deserves a mega analysis because it is genuinely one of the best songs Paul McCartney has ever made.

[little-diable]

Reunion – dbf!Negan / Joel Miller series (Part 1/?)

Y'all voted for this series, so here we go. I promise there will be lots of smut, but please show some love to this chapter which has almost no smut in it just yet. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader is Joel's older daughter, she got separated from her family the first night of the outbreak. Joel's best friend, Negan, had always been close with (y/n), but what happens when she meets Negan again after all these years? Will the crush she had on him as a teenager manage to push her closer to him? Will she cross paths with her dad again, even though he had left her behind?

Warnings: 18+, smut, masturbation (f), eventual TWD violence, heavy age gap, reader is legal ofc, dbf x fem!reader

Pairing: Negan x fem!reader (2.8k words)

this amazing header is by @deathofpeaceofmind

Run Little Dove Masterlist

“Well, would you look at that. You alright there, sweetheart?” Her eyes fluttered open slowly, blinking a few times to adjust to the brightness before her eyes found Negan's pupils. A soft chuckle left the young woman as she sat up, knees pressed to her chest, lips pulled into a smile. 

“Where’s dad?” Negan’s gaze momentarily left (y/n)’s features, his lower lip pulled between his teeth as he looked back towards the house. (Y/n) gave herself a few seconds to study her dad’s best friend, the man whom she and Sarah have known from both their first days on this very earth, the one who had joined their every vacation, the one who slept on their sofa whenever his wife forced him out of his home, the one who’d always look after them should their dad be busy. The one (y/n) had been crushing on since she had been sixteen – perhaps even a bit younger.

“He should be out in a few. I think he took another call.” With a sigh leaving (y/n), she plopped back down on the sunbed, stretching out her limbs. “Why don’t you join me? Knowing my dad, it’ll take quite a while till he finishes the call, and Sarah’s not back yet.” 

A hum rumbled through Negan, tugging his shirt over his head to sit down next to (y/n) on the empty sunbed. It took all her strength not to look at him, teeth buried in her lip to try and stop her eyes from wandering. No words were spoken between the two, enjoying the heat of the warm August sun, listening to the playlist her dad had put on. Even though she’d never admit it out loud with Negan around, not wanting to feed his big ego, (y/n) enjoyed these calm moments with him, allowing herself to relax without any worries clouding her mind.

“I saw that you’ll join my gym class this year.” Her eyes found Negan’s, slowly nodding her head as her brain began to focus on his words. Even though she had known that she’d eventually have to join his class, she had tried to avoid it for as long as possible, knowing that she’d struggle to concentrate with him around. “I won’t give you any special treatment, even though its your last year, I hope you know that, sweetheart.”

“You say that now, but we both know you have a sweet spot for me, old man.” 

……

She was running, feet carrying her through the forest as she kept on looking back. The sound of the roaring trucks echoed through the air, ringing in her ears as she tried to up her speed. Her heart was pounding, not used to running this fast for longer than a few seconds, palms and forehead sweaty. Heavy breaths spluttered from her lips, begging for a miracle, anything that would help her make it out of the forest before those who were chasing her could get their hands on her.

Panic flushed through her veins, guiding (y/n) as she tried to not stumble over her feet, over the branches littering the forest ground. Her glassy eyes were focused ahead, tears running down her cheeks as she spotted a clearing, hopeful about stumbling upon a field or a high meadow she could hide in. But before (y/n) could move any closer she was cut off by two trucks coming at her from both sides, forcing her to an abrupt halt.

She tumbled to the ground, her body collapsing with her hands stretched out to catch herself. Fear filled her system, forcing some more tears to well up in her eyes as a man with a moustache stepped out of one of the trucks, smirking at her. The man moved closer, forcing (y/n) to stay on the cold ground as the other men directed their guns at her.  

“Aw, why all that running, little dove?” He grasped her arm, forcing (y/n) to her feet, not paying her protests any mind. She stomped her feet onto the ground, trying to stop the man from pulling her towards the truck, but all he did was tighten his grip on her, breath clashing against her ear, “You shouldn’t have stolen from us, maybe then I would have let you go.”

Her body was tossed into one of the trucks, head colliding with the metal flooring, forcing another gasp to leave her. (Y/n)‘s tears kept dripping, rolling down her cheeks like a river cascading along rocks, forcing its trail to stick to her skin. She tried to listen to the sounds echoing through the air, hoping to find anything she could use to figure out where they were taking her, but she couldn’t pick up on anything, too tired to stop herself from giving into the darkness coming upon her.

……

“Good morning, birthday girl. Sweet twenty-one.” Negan’s raspy voice shook through her, making her jump. With her hand pressed to her heart, (y/n) turned towards Negan, watching the smirk widen on his lips. “What? Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Of course I am!” She walked closer, almost throwing herself into his open arms. Just the scent of his cologne left her knees trembling, forcing her teeth into her lower lip before a sinful sound could flush through her. “Just didn’t know that you were already around.” 

“Your dad called last night, he and Tommy worked longer than expected, so he asked me to stay over.” A hum left (y/n), slowly letting go of Negan with a smile glued to her lips. She felt his eyes on her frame, watching her prepare them some coffee, eyes drawn back to him as she heard him moving closer.

Negan leaned against the kitchen cabinet, arms crossed in front of his chest, stretching the fabric of his black shirt over his biceps.  (Y/n) had to force her eyes off his frame, not daring to give into the longings she felt. And yet she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d push her away should she try to touch him, now that she was finally twenty-one. 

“Morning, happy birthday, (y/n)!” Sarah’s voice ripped (y/n) out of her thoughts, slowly shaking her head before her sister wrapped her arms around her waist, cuddling herself closer to (y/n)'s frame. “Is dad already awake?”

“He isn’t, but how about we two make some breakfast, while (y/n) gets ready and then you can wake the old man?” Negan’s piercing eyes met (y/n)’s, shooting her a quick smile before he helped Sarah reach for the package mix, turning from the birthday girl who disappeared back towards her room, needy for a shower that could wash away her sinful longings. 

Within minutes she found herself in the shower, silently groaning at the feeling of the warm water cascading down her back. With her eyes fluttering close she imagined Negan pressed against her body, strong arms wrapped around her waist to keep her close, fingers finding their way to her pulsing bundle. 

“Fuck.” The curse rolled off her tongue as she let her fingers wander, circling her clit with quick movements, needy for her relief. Her body was burning, set ablaze by the thought of Negan touching her where she needed him the most. Fuck, he’d surely know how to touch her, would soothe the ache deep inside her. 

Her teeth left marks on her lower lips, fingers adding more speed to their movements. She’d cum way too soon, riled up by Negan’s presence, hoping that she’d be able to keep her distance for the next hours, not wanting her dad to pick up on the glances she was throwing his best friend’s way. 

Soft moans left (y/n), legs trembling as the intense sensation crawled closer, eyes squeezed shut to imagine the way Negan would take care of her. She could almost hear the soft words he’d speak, how he’d praise her, how he’d worship her body just the way she needed him to. 

And with one last curse leaving her, (y/n) came to the thought of her dad’s best friend. 

……

“And we’ve got another present for you, boss.” She woke with a gasp, eyes shooting open, taking in her surroundings. It took (y/n) a moment to realise that she was still in the back of the truck, forcing a groan out of her as her body focused on the pain she was plagued by. Slowly she tried to sit up, struggling to do so as she watched a shadow approach. 

“Good morning, sweetheart.” The man with the moustache spoke to her as he opened the door, hand grasping her arm once again to pull her out of the truck. Her body clashed to the ground, groaning once again. She kept her eyes closed, not willing to take in her new surroundings just yet, clinging to the darkness that offered a false sense of safety.

“Who is that?” A gruff voice broke the silence, a voice that left her heart skipping a few beats. It couldn’t be - no, it couldn’t be. And yet the voice sounded too familiar, making her body relax before her mind could catch up with it.

“She stole from us on our run, took us a while to catch up with her, she’s a feisty one.” Laughter echoed through the air, but all (y/n) could focus on were her racing thoughts, trying to pierce the pieces together. Slowly she rose her head, eyes focusing on the pair of boots that moved closer. Slowly she shifted her weight, cowering in front of the person that was now towering over her. (Y/n) didn’t want to look up, eyes squeezed shut, scared to cling onto the small thread of hope that would be snapped once she met a pair of unfamiliar eyes instead of his.

“Don’t be scared, doll. Look at me.” She felt something being pushed against her chin, tilting her face up. Her eyes shot open, focusing on the all-too-familiar face. A sob clawed through her, body trembling as she watched him crouch down, wide eyes wandering over her face.

Even though (y/n) was sure that he had recognised her, Negan didn’t give in, staring at her for a few more seconds before he rose back to his feet. With his eyes flickering back to Simon he cleared his throat, lips pulled into a smirk they seemed to buy, though (y/n) could tell that it was a fake smirk, not the one she had fallen in love with as a teenager. 

“Lock her up till I decide what we will do with her. She’s off limits, we can’t trust her so I better not catch any of you fuckers touching her.” Another sob clawed through (y/n), hands trying to reach for Negan, wondering why he was acting like this. The man staring down at her had nothing on the man she had once known, and yet something about him hadn’t changed at all. 

She felt two hands grasping her from behind, forcing her to her feet with an angry huff leaving the man. No further word was spoken as (y/n) was dragged away, unable to wipe off the tears that kept on falling. Her eyes didn’t stray from his, staring at the man whose expression was cold, unrecognisable even. 

“It’s a shame we can’t have you, little dove, but don’t worry, eventually he’ll give you to us, but not before he got his own taste.” 

……

“Get in the truck! Right now!” (Y/n) watched her dad scream the words, panicked eyes set on Sarah’s frame. A scream echoed through the evening as she watched their elderly neighbour slowly rise from the ground, racing towards her dad, Tommy, and Sarah. Only seconds later did (y/n) realise that she had been the one who had screamed. She couldn’t keep on watching, had to turn her head – a mistake she’d come to regret minutes later. 

Before she could even begin to understand what her body was doing, (y/n) ripped the car door open, feet carrying her across the street towards Rosie’s house. The young woman was trying to climb out of her window, begging for help as she got stuck halfway, a moment of distraction that seemed to pull (y/n)’s mind away from her family. Only as the sound of a car swiftly driving off began to echo through the darkness did she dare to snap her head back towards the street. 

She stood frozen, hands pressed to her side as she watched the truck drive off. Had they not noticed her sudden disappearance? Had they not noticed the way she had taken off to save another friend of theirs? 

“(Y/n)!” Rosie’s call ripped her out of her trance, teary eyes snapping towards the woman who still seemed to struggle. Without giving it another thought, she raced up towards Rosie, helping her down onto the ground. Even though she could tell that the woman was speaking to her, she couldn’t concentrate on the words, still shaken up by what had just happened.

It wouldn’t take them long before they’d notice her disappearance, a minute, or two maybe? They’d turn back around for her. They’d turn back around for her. They’d turn back around for her. 

Hopefully. 

……

The sound of steps echoing through the hallway forced her tired eyes open, her body growing tense as (y/n) watched a shadow approach. Her eyes met his, instantly drawn to the man she had once clung to, the man who had once protected her with all his might, the man she had once sworn to trust. 

For a few seconds, they were engulfed by a thick silence, eyes not daring to break contact as Negan stepped into her cell, crouching down in front of her. Slowly he reached his gloved hand out, cupping (y/n)’s cheek before she could move away. Her sob clawed through her all too violently, a sound that forced a frown to tug on Negan’s features, pulling her into his chest. 

“Did they hurt you? Any wounds I need to look at?” No words managed to leave (y/n), caught in her throat by the strength her sobs had on her vocal cords. Negan kept holding onto her, allowing his still somewhat familiar scent to clash against her. 

“Atta girl, deep breaths.” His voice wrapped itself around her, keeping her close like a blanket tossed over her shoulders, protecting her from the cold nibbling on her fingers. Negan kept cupping her cheek, thumb wiping away the tears that kept on falling, hating to see her like this, hurt, confused, and exhausted. “I didn’t think I’d ever get to see you again, doll. Where’s your dad, where’s Sarah?”

(Y/n) could only shake her head, choking on another sob as she thought back to the night her family had left her behind. She had tried to take shelter, not daring to wander off in hopes that her dad would come back to pick her up. But as the minutes had turned into hours, the young woman had slowly but surely been forced to realise that she was on her own. 

“I’m sorry, baby. Fuck, I’m so sorry..” Negan sat down next to her, once again pulling her back into his chest. Their moments together felt like a déjà-vu, so familiar, and yet so different to all these years ago. “What happened? Why are you without them?”

“We,” she inhaled a shaky breath, not daring to speak of the day that haunted her whenever she closed her eyes. Her voice was raspy, ringing in Negan’s ears like a song he hadn’t heard in years. “We got separated right in the beginning. Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

“I didn’t want to risk anything, once enough people know that we have some history together, you become an easy target. I can’t risk losing you a second time.” A hum left (y/n), she was too tired, too confused to argue, only hoping that she’d somehow make it out of this mess. 

“Lucille? Is she here?” It was just a whisper, a whisper breaking Negan out of his racing thoughts. Now it was his turn to shake his head, tightening his grip on her body, trying to pull her even closer as if he was scared that he was stuck in a nightmare as if he was scared that she’d be ripped from his grasp any moment now. 

“It’s just the two of us now, doll. But you’re safe here, I promise.” 

[wannabegwenstacy]

Eden's Favorite Mingi Tumblr Fics

updated: 08/07/2023

Main A/N: check out the full ateez fic recs masterlist for some of the other members. warning i'm a baby atiny so its not super full yet and i currently have only some members posts created currently. will be updating with more fic recs periodically. :)

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⇣Below cut⇣

Use It. by @a-soft-hornytiny

Pairing: Mingi x female!reader

Genre: Smut

Word count: 1.7k+

Warnings: porn without plot, sub!mingi, virgin!mingi, kinda dom!reader, hand job, blow job, riding, teasing, slight begging, unprotected sex, cumming, dirty talk, breeding (let me know if I missed something) be careful while reading. 

Summary: Mingi has a huge dick but is shy about it and has no idea what to do with it. 

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Panini by @smileysuh

Pairing: Mingi & Yunhoe x afab!Reader

Rating: 18+ explicit 

AUs/Tags: covid au, best friends to lovers, frat/uni au, etc.

Word count: 11.8k

Warnings: Covid, depressed/anxious Mingi, size kink, choking, sir kink, bdsm protocols, dumbification, sensory deprivation (hand over eyes), oral, dry humping, nipple kink/boob sucking, switch Mingi, hard/semi soft Dom Yunho, Dirty talk, some degradation in a good way, unprotected sex, Yunho has a sir kink, threesome, etc…

Summary: With covid stretching on for what feels like forever, and Mingi’s mood in rapid decline, you move into the two-bedroom apartment with your two best friends, where seemingly constant tinder notifications on everyone’s phones remind you constantly of how horribly single you all are

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We fell in love in August (m) by @mingigoo

Pairing: best friend’s brother! Mingi x (fem) writer! reader x seonghwa

Genre/au: best friends brother au, summer au, beach house au, smut, fluff

Word count: 14.7k

Warnings/tags: 18+ minors dni, healthy relationship, pining, drinking, mingi is a sweetie, love triangle (barely), picnic, mingi has a cat, height difference, hopelessly romantic, super fluffy, also super smutty but in a romantic way, shower sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving) total summer read lemme tell you

Summary: Believing that you were destined to be with your best friend seonghwa all your life, his little brother Mingi was never a thought in your mind. After reuniting with the brothers after years of being abroad, you had your mind set to get together with seonghwa—until Mingi stole your heart without warning.

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nothing compares to you. by @noramoons

Pairing: song mingi x fem reader (afab)

Rating: mature/18+ (minors DNI).

Genre: smut, fluff, non-idol!au, established relationship

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: explicit smut [fingering, slight somnophilia?, praise, unprotected sex, wet dreams], language

Summary: you’re relieved when you wake up from a nightmare—especially once you realize mingi has been having a much, much different kind of dream than you.

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slowly, i'm going down by @yutasbellybuttonpiercing

Pairing: song mingi x reader (no pronouns mentioned, reader has female anatomy)

AU/Genre: college!au, tutor!reader, mingi does not give a shit about studying, smut

Word count: 4816 words

Warnings: voice kink (AHHHHH), oral and fingering (reader receiving), reader is a little mean, kitchen sex, anime references, cringe, a joke about adhd, dirty talk... um..., oh right Mingi has a big dick (wbk), everyone's a little silly, unprotected sex (boo ‼️👎🏻), premature ejaculation almost, creampie, cum eating... (not reader...), i think that's it. NOT PROOF READ YET!!

Summary: mingi hates studying, but what he hates way more than that is being perceived as stupid. what mingi loves on the other hand, are pretty people getting flustered about his voice

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mingi shows you exactly what he hates and loves.