* 𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐄 ╱ 𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒆

AIDAN: oh hey

AIDAN: yea of course

AIDAN: as long as it doesn't involve signing human souls away or something aha. what do you need?

DOMINIC: nah i think you'd like .. die or something if you tried to help me with that

DOMINIC: it's actually more of a question? a survey of sorts because i don't know that many old old people

DOMINIC: and you're like .. old old right? no offense

DOMINIC: do you like swing music? i know it was popular back in the 20's but i can't imagine people listening to anything but that type of stuff then

DOMINIC: hey uh

DOMINIC: random question but

dottiemoon : you have melted ice-cream right now, which is sad :~(  dottiemoon : but on the bright side, you also now have a FINGER HEARTEU from me !!!!! :~)  dottiemoon : you’re welcome, domi ♡♡♡

             after    a    long    draining    day    of    both    barista    and    angel    duties,    aidan    seeks    the    company    of    his    best    friend,    clara.    after    texting    her    and    receiving    no    reply,    he    assumes    she’s    passed    out    in    a    nap.   typical   of    her.    he    decides    to    get    a    meal    to-go,    packing    one    for    her    as    well.    by    the    time    aidan’s    at    the    door,    he’s    hit    with    exhaustion    –    his    mind    drifting    elsewhere..    as    if    he’s    not    really    here.    the    thought    that   clara    wasn’t    home    but    her    roommate    was    doesn’t    even    occur    to    him    as    he    locates    the    spare    key    they    keep    (    in    case    of    emergencies,     namely    balthazar    ).    aidan    strolls    in    quietly,    so    not    to    wake    clara,    and    makes    it    to    the    kitchen.    it’s    only    when    he    starts    placing    the    food    on    the    counter    that    he    notices    a    figure    on    the    couch,    much    too    tall    for    it    to    be    clara,    that    realization    dawns    on    him.    a    sinking    feeling    immediately   washes    over    him    at    the    sight    of    dominic.    if    aidan    was    sleepwalking    before,    he    definitely    was    awake    now.    “oh……    uh,    sorry,    i    let    myself    in,”   aidan    hears    himself    say.    “i    thought    clara    was    home.”    

                he’s  staring  again.  at  the  blank  tv  screen,  that  is.  lounging  comfortably  on  the  couch,  dominic  had  been  watching  an  asmr  cooking  video  on  youtube  before  deciding  that  he  needs  to  shake  things  up  a  bit.  since  turning  the  display  off,  however,  he  has  forgotten  what  exactly  he  had  in  mind.  whether  it  be  due  to  his  staring  or  his  staring  being  a  result  of  it  slipping  his  mind,  it  is  unclear.  sort  of  like  a  hypnosis,  his  eyelids  begin  to  feel  heavy,  and  he  falls  into  a  light  slumber  without  even  realizing  it.  it’s  roughly  ten  minutes  later  when  he  jolts  awake,  hearing  a  voice  that’s  clearly  not  clara’s.  “shit,  uh...”  he  pushes  himself  upright  in  alarm,  both  from  the  fact  of  a  sudden  visitor  and  his  identity.  “no,  you’re...  you’re  good.  it’s  fine.”  dominic  pauses  for  a  moment  to  plan  his  next  words  but  merely  comes  out  with,  “clara,  she...  i  think  she  went  out  for  a  bit,”  he  rubs  the  back  of  his  neck,  “unless  she  came  back  while  i  was  asleep.”  glancing  at  the  door,  it  seems  as  though  his  eyes  try  to  look  everywhere  besides  at  whom  he  is  speaking  to.  “did  you  need  something?  i  can—  i  can  let  her  know  when  she  returns.”

 TIME : 7PM. / LOCATION : dorothea’s apartment. / PREMISE :  dottie has invited dominic over to her place out of the blue under the pretence of enlisting his help in baking a brown sugar peach crumble pie. it’s clear, however, that something is troubling her. 

          ♡   *   ╰   “ hey , domi ? ” —— dot calls ; the name uttered with a distinct air of fondness —— like a deep spring breeze sighing with tender ease through the peachy glow of cherry blossom trees . “ say … ” the demon considers —— chewing the plush tier of her bottom lip as she mulls over her thoughts . dottie’s doe brown hues are pooled with a rare glimmer of something close to sorrow as she kneads away at her pie base ; her confident hands working at the dough with a tender precision , even as her voice wavers ever so slightly . “ do —— … do you ever get second thoughts about the work we do as demons ? like , have you ever wished that —— instead of securing their soul in a contract —— you could seal a little light and warmth into someone’s heart ? ‘cause you can feel that they’re in pain ? i mean , no one summons a demon unless they’re in a lot of pain , right ?  ” 

                cutting  peaches  into  chunks  and  sliding  them  into  a  bowl  —  it’s  not  what  he  expected  to  be  doing  tonight,  but  there  he  is  in  dottie’s  kitchen,  knife  moving  in  a  peach-scented  hand.  “what’s  up?”  he  responds  as  he  swipes  the  last  of  the  fruit  off  of  the  cutting  board.  his  attention  shifts  to  his  friend  —  one  he  considers  to  be  the  closest  thing  to  a  little  sister  he’s  got  —  and  there  is  no  doubt  that  something  has  been  troubling  her  mind.  it’s  a  suspicion  that  is  verified  almost  immediately  as  he  listens  intently  to  her  question.  “second  thoughts?  probably  back  when  i  was  younger,  when  i  had  less  experience.”  it's  a  lie.  dominic  has  been  around  for  a  long  time  as  a  demon,  but  that  didn’t  make  it  any  easier.  he  only  wishes  to  give  dottie  hope  with  his  little  fib,  that  things  will  get  easier  for  her.  he  would  bear  any  of  the  pain  in  her  place  if  he  could,  but  unfortunately,  that’s  not  the  way  the  world  works.  “the  way  i  like  to  think  of  it  is  that  we  exist  as  demons  for  a  reason,  just  like  how  those  angels  exist  as  angels  for  a  reason.  we  can  leave  the  light  and  warmth  to  them,  and  the  people  who  summon  us  can  just  be  grateful  that  they  got  me  or  you  instead  of  any  of  those  overachieving  contract  counters.”  

          clara pauses for a moment at his words    ,    eyeing the oat milk in question for a moment before bursting out into sudden laughter    .    “    oh    ,    they’re definitely running out of things to milk at this point    ,    but that’s not going to stop them from doing it anyway    !!    i heard that they’re even trying to milk frogs    !!    i guess it’s because they’re small    ,    &    there’s lots of ‘em    &    honestly some of them are kinda gross looking     ,    so no one would have a problem if they turned them into milk    .    ”    of course    ,    that’s not actually true    ,    &    in reality she knows just as much about milk as dominic does    ,    but there’s always something fun in trying to get him to believe in something that’s utterly ridiculous    &    very  obviously  false    .

                dominic  furrows  his  brows  as  clara  relays  to  him  this  new  information.  “frog  milk,  really?”  his  tone  is  quizzical,  and  he  discretely  sets  the  carton  of  oat  milk  down  in  his  cart.  it  wouldn’t  hurt  to  at  least  try  it.  “so  what  you’re  telling  me,”  he  begins,  shutting  the  fridge  door  so  that  he  may  lean  up  against  it,  arms  folded  across  his  chest,  “is  that  frogs  have  udders,  clara.  this  is  exactly  what  you’re  telling  me.”  the  image  of  a  cow-frog  hybrid  graces  his  thoughts,  and  he  immediately  regrets  even  bringing  it  up.  “no,  wait.  you  know  how  they  milk  almonds,  right?  imagine  they  did  that  to  frogs...  that’s  definitely  not  vegan,  but  maybe  you  could  make  a  new  potion  out  of  it.  or  a  bowl  of  frosted  flakes.  whatever  floats  your  boat.”

                it’s  one  of  his  favorite  hobbies  —  people-watching,  that  is.  dominic  situates  himself  by  a  window  in  lunam’s  café,  flat  white  in  one  hand  and  book  he  hasn’t  touched  in  decades  in  the  other.  it’s  an  ideal  setup.  no  one  would  even  bother  to  notice  that  his  eyes  never  once  touch  the  pages  of  text  before  him.  however,  something  does  manage  to  catch  his  attention.  or,  rather,  someone.  someone  he  could  have  sworn  he  crossed  paths  with  a  couple  times  today,  this  being  the  third.  dominic  sets  his  book  down  as  she  passes  by.  “you  know,”  he  begins,  briefly  glancing  over  his  shoulder,  “if  i  didn’t  know  any  better,  i’d  be  under  the  impression  that  you’ve  been  following  me  around  town.  but  you’re  lucky.  i’ll  give  you  the  benefit  of  the  doubt.”  a  soft  chuckle  leaves  his  lips,  and  he  takes  a  sip  of  his  drink  before  adding,  “unless  that's  really  the  case?”

                despite  the  several  decades  dominic  has  spent  living  on  earth,  there  are  still  a  handful  —  handful  being  an  understatement  —  of  things  he  simply  cannot  not  wrap  his  head  around.  his  gaze  fixed  on  the  dairy  section  before  him,  he  cracks  open  the  fridge  door  to  retrieve  what  he  finds  to  be  most  peculiar.  “what’s  the  deal  with  oat  milk?”  he  inquires,  scanning  the  informative  text  on  the  box.  “there’s  soy  milk,  almond  milk,  coconut  milk,  goat  milk,  and  now  oat  milk?  i’m  starting  to  think  that  they’re  running  out  of  things  to  milk.”

               *    ╱    it’s  ya  girl  𝒅𝒓𝒊  ( twenty,  she/her,  pst,  always  late ),  and  i  present  to  u  my  demon  boi  dominic  !  if  you’re  interested  in  plotting  connections,  feel  free  to  im  me  or  like  this  and  i'll  come  to  u  !

               𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴    :    #D3M0N    //    STATS    »    dominic yoon,  ( appears to be )  twenty four,  cis male,  he/him,  software developer.    ATTRIBUTES    »    cordial,  impulsive,  loyal,  foolish.    SEEN    »    reading a book half past midnight,  lingering stares by candlelight,  broken cassette tapes.    DO NOT MISTAKE FOR    »    kim seokwoo  (  rowoon  ).