#I think we have the Vampires album somewhere??? i remember we got it I think one holiday in Austria

[diathadevil]

You know you're truly Millennial European™ when you have more than one album of DJ Bobo and know at LEAST three songs of his.

[gorey]

hello. please explain in as much detail as is comfortable how your music taste has grown and changed over the course of your life. thank you. ?<- question mark for redundancy since you said to ask it but i accidentally didnt phrase it that way

Hi!!! Thank you for this question

So one thing you gotta understand is we're the son of two professional orchestra violinists so a lot of our early introductions to music were classical with the exception of fiona apple when our mom introduced us to the album extraordinary machine when we were like 7. we also listened to a lot of stephane grappelli and django reinhardt, ella fitzgerald singing harold arlen, duke ellington - jazz is one of our favorite genres to this day and fiona is an all time favorite artist so clearly that era stuck with us. lots of the Beatles also and we have a soft spot for some of their songs despite despising them as an entity

we'd listen to radio pop on our computer and record shit thru the speaker onto our shitty voice recorder so we could play in the backyard and listen to it this was a no phone no ipod era

the first artist I can remember us really getting into on our own was owl city before we found out he's rather Christian which we don't really vibe with. our best friend at the time introduced us to some classic rock especially queen. somewhere along the way we discovered patd by watching some random speedpaint and then got rly into them age like 10-11. some mcr too but we never had a fall out boy phase Hashem bless.

I remember buying a Florence + the machine cd at Barnes and noble at like 11? 12? Lungs which is a great album I've always loved their music but I didn't list any of their albums on my big list of favorites just now bc I take issue with some shit she's done. Also got into Muse around that time I think

2012 is when shit really started the idler wheel by fiona apple came out and we were a hot mess so it rly resonated with us. This is also when we got into andrew bird. Discovered a bunch of shit - soley, daughter, marina, lana. really mentally ill period

After summer camp 2013 I got into arctic monkeys and vampire weekend which was at the time really transformative to our approach to music. Then we started dating someone with rly fucking good music taste and everything really fell into place. Got rly into alt-J on my own but my now-ex showed me james blake, rory ferreira, sufjan stevens, the antlers, death grips, bunch of shit. I started getting more into hip hop, got into chance the rapper for a bit before realizing he's kinda mid though acid rap does rly hold up, also discovered glass animals in like 2015, really there was a lot of stuff I don't have very good memory of this time period

2016 was like. Vince staples car seat headrest deerhoof Hiatus kaiyote whatever the kids at Berklee summer were listening to...got rly into a sun kil moon album but later found out he did some creep shit so we don't listen to that anymore which sucks. Our then best friend got us into gorillaz and Kate bush

2017-19 we discovered king krule and mount eerie among other things which was epic and cool. Phil elverum sees straight into our mind it was a revelation. Rory ferreira only keeps getting better and better. Too many things to name. Hyperpop, sophie and PC music, lots of blood orange, we were chronically high as shit

2020 we holed up in the upstairs of our house with a dude who no longer speaks to us to record an album of original music. I finally decided to listen to talking heads and my world was blown open. Also the era of listening to let's eat grandma and grimes (I know) while flagrantly psychotic in quarantine. Shabazz palaces black up shoutout and all the random goofy shit my (ex) bandmate showed me also fugazi

2021 i broke up with good music taste ex and started dating someone else also with very good music taste but in a different direction, got into the Mars Volta and a bunch of shit here you go

And the 2022 one is even longer. By a lot. it speaks for itself really fucking good year for music

And this year I've been getting more into punk shit like cherubs, special interest, a frames; finally got into sonic youth the other day, lots more deerhoof too.

extremely long response thank u so very much for letting us ramble about this!! 💓

[bosspigeon]

‘ this is your favorite, right? ’ for characters of your choice

The station is dark and empty, and honestly, Chase is more than happy with that. He's running on fumes at this point, after yet another last-minute Agency job that dragged on way longer than it should have, and he has absolutely no energy to put up with another human before sunrise.

Plus, he can blast music as loud as he wants to keep himself awake while he works his way through piles of paperwork that have been neglected for far too long. If anything can keep him awake with only the assistance of cheap, bitter black coffee brewed by the station's shitty coffee maker, it's the heavy percussion and raw, discordant vocals that got him through school.

With the backlog he's stuck with, it takes a good two hours to get through maybe three-fourths of the pile, but he also makes it all the way through some random punk album he hasn't listened to since he was an angsty teenager. He's pretty sure he found in the bathroom of some seedy club he bluffed his way into before he was old enough to drink. He'd consider it a fun trip down memory lane if he could remember anything from that night aside from finding the CD.

His eyes are dry and his shoulders ache, but he's nearly done, and he's still got at least an hour before anyone starts to arrive.

He leans back in his chair, his spine creaking in protest, and rubs his aching eyes. He's reluctant to open them, and he's getting to the point where he's not sure the angry music is going to be enough to keep him going without some help.

Another cup of jet fuel in the guise of coffee it is.

He pushes to his feet with a tired grunt, stretches a bit to shake out the worst of the aches from sitting in the same position for hours, and trudges to the door.

And then his phone buzzes loudly on his desk.

He sighs, but turns back to answer. If someone is texting him at the ass crack of dawn, it's probably something he can't afford to ignore.

turn that shit off

He doesn't even need to check the name to know who it's from. He scoffs and rolls his eyes, and doesn't bother to reply. He turns off the music, and within a minute, a certain pissy vampire sulks his way into his office. And he's got a tall cup with Haley's bakery logo on the sleeve, and a plastic dome lid to protect the pile of whipped cream drizzled with caramel on top.

Chase leans his backside against his desk and crosses his arms. "Treating ourselves today, are we?"

Mason doesn't deign to answer that. "I think I preferred the musicals to whatever the fuck that shit was."

"Did you come for a reason, or are you just here to judge me for reliving my crust punk phase?"

Mason scowls at him and shoves the cup unceremoniously into the detective's hand.

He cocks a brow. "What's this?"

Mason shifts and shoves his hands into his pockets, looking somewhere above Chase's head to avoid looking at him directly. "That's your favorite, right?" he asks gruffly. When Chase doesn't immediately respond, he forges on, "The weird... bubbly girl at the coffee place, she said that was your favorite. I've only ever seen you drink black coffee before, so maybe she was full of shit--"

Chase cuts him off by taking a grateful, noisy slurp from the cup, now that he knows that it's one of Haley's salted caramel lattes. The one she makes specifically for him, with two extra shots of espresso. He sucks down a good third of it before he looks up again, sighing happily. "Fuck, that's good," he groans.

Mason takes the bait easily, and Chase almost wants to laugh. "Should I leave you two alone?" he purrs, stalking into the detective's space to hem him in against his desk. God forbid, the vampire does something nice without covering it up immediately with some quality innuendo.

And, well, Chase wouldn't set him up if he didn't enjoy it. And if he wasn't wary about letting things get too honest himself. He pops the plastic lid off and licks a bit of caramel and whipped cream off the top, humming low in his throat. "You jealous, sunshine?" he asks slyly.

Mason plants one hand on the desk next to his hip and leans down, smirking. "Not at all. Just nice to find another way to make you moan. And with the place empty like this..."

Chase laughs. "Don't even think about it, sunshine." He takes another grateful sip of his latte and lets his tired eyes flutter closed for a moment, while he waits for the caffeine to perk him up again. "Even if I wasn't exhausted, I still have shit to do, and there are cameras."

Mason rolls his eyes. "You're no fun."

"I'll remember that the next time you want to get frisky in my backseat." With that, he rounds his desk again, twisting around the vampire to get back to his chair. "You gonna hang around? People will be showing up soon."

He pushes off the desk and tosses his hair, shrugging. "Wasn't planning on it. Got some debriefing with Adam to finish. Just wanted to drop that off." For a moment, Chase thinks he's just going to leave it at that, but he stays there with his hand on the desk, head cocked, looking at the detective with an unreadable expression.

And then he leans over the desk and brushes a quick kiss over Chase's forehead.

He's out the door before Chase recovers enough to call a quick, "Thanks."

His footsteps halt sharply, before they pick up again, slightly faster than before.

Chase smiles into his drink, takes another luxurious sip, and gets back to work.

[damonsalvatorefanfiction]

Home // Damon Salvatore x Reader

Description: You’d lost everything, and you just wanted to find home again. Slight AU, major cannon divergence

Words: 20,424

Warnings: Sexual Themes, Violence, Blood Sharing, Semi Slow-Burn

Pairings: Damon Salvatore x Fem!Reader

Mystic Falls had been the only home you’d known. For most of your life, you’d never considered leaving. Not until your parents died. Then, you’d left to run away from the memories and predetermined obligations. It had taken you several years and many mistakes to find your way back. At first, you couldn’t call it home, It had taken you a while to get even close to that point. Living in your childhood house definitely didn’t help. Slowly, you’d found a purpose again, working as a deputy with Sheriff Forbes. It helped that you were now on the counsel, working closely with the woman you considered a mentor. 

None of you were expecting Zach Salvatore to move out of town unexpectedly, his spot being filled by his nephew, Damon. The first time you saw Damon, you had a gut instinct that something wasn’t quite what it seemed. His chiseled features were like a marble statue, his pale blue eyes like a lake you could let yourself drown in. You had standards. Your unapproachable demeanor, however, was not heeded by the man.

“I’m Damon Salvatore,” he said, hand extending to take yours. You gave him a courteous smile, shaking his hand.

“Y/N Gilbert,” you answered. 

“As in John Gilbert?” You just nodded to answer, taking your hand away after he held onto it for a few seconds too long. 

“Yes. And you’re descended from Giuseppe Salvatore. His what? Great-great-great-great nephew?” You grabbed one of the glasses off of Mayor Lockwood’s bar, pouring yourself a glass of scotch, not offering to pour Damon one. 

“Something like that.” The way he looked at you was inquisitive, yet also predatory. It sent shivers down your spine, but you shrugged it off. He was more or less a stranger in this small, tight knit circle. 

“Well, Mr Salvatore,” you told him, downing the scotch in one go, “We should get back to the party. They’ll start to wonder where we’ve gone.” 

“Well, Ms Gilbert. Save a dance for me?” You couldn’t help but laugh, knowing that wasn’t going to happen.

“These events aren’t my cup of tea. I’m probably going to head home here soon. Maybe next time?” you suggested, getting a nod from the man. “Goodnight, Damon.”

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but seem to recognize him from somewhere. You weren’t sure where, but it started nagging you that night as soon as you got home. 

-----

You’d dug out the old journals. Vampires were something you’d known about for as long as you could remember. Your father had made sure you knew, had made sure you were protected with both the knowledge and with the magic. Though, he was never sure why Vervain worked so well. You had to figure out why you felt Damon was hiding something. It didn’t make sense that Zach would leave town so suddenly, and have Damon replace him. That’s not how any of this worked. 

The journals were spread out, flipping through them until you got to 1864. 1864 was a big year for Mystic Falls. That was the year they’d burned all the vampires. Or so they thought, as you looked through the photo albums that had been meticulously passed down through the generations. 1864. 1864. You couldn’t get the year out of your head as you read the name ‘Damon Salvatore’ on the page in front of you. 1864. A labeled photograph of the man in a Confederate uniform. A dead ringer for the man you’d just met that day, his brother to his left and his father to the right. 

There was no way the Damon Salvatore you’d met was the same as the one on the page. In your years you’d been gone, you’d studied everything you could get your hands on when it came to the vampires. You’d heard of doppelgangers, but this was different. As far as you knew, that was one lineage, one that Damon didn’t belong to. Either the genetics passed through his family were...coincidental, or Damon Salvatore was a vampire.

You weren’t sure what to do with that information, but you knew you had to find out for sure. 

-----

The next morning, you’d driven to the Salvatore Boarding House, knocking on the door. Instead of Damon, you were met by his brother Stefan, your breath catching at the back of your throat. You couldn’t act nervous or scared. So, you cleared your throat.

“Hi. I’m Y/N. I’m looking for Damon,” you told him with a faux smile. This couldn’t be happening, this wasn’t supposed to be happening. All the vampires were supposed to be out of Mystic Falls. But with the string of animal attacks, the counsel knew they were back. And here they were. It had to have been the Salvatore brothers. But again, you had to be sure before making accusations. 

“Yeah, he’s upstairs. Come on in, make yourself comfortable. I’ll go get him,” Stefan told you, motioning for you to join him inside. You followed, sitting on the couch and sitting your bag down next to you. 

You looked around, taking in everything you saw. It was no secret the Salvatores had always had money, dating back beyond Mystic Falls. Not to mention, if you were right about them, an additional one-hundred sixty four years give or take. 

“Ms Gilbert,” Damon said with a smile, rolling up the sleeves of his black-button-down. 

“Please, I think we can be on a first name basis, Damon. Especially considering I know,” you answered, starting with a smile before quickly dropping it. 

“And what is it you think you know?” he asked, pouring himself a drink. 

You sighed, pulling out John Gilbert’s journal from 1864 as well as the photo you’d pulled from the album. 

“I thought I’d recognized you from somewhere,” you told him. “I mean, I know you didn’t go to school with me. Or college. I really couldn’t figure it out. But then I got to thinking. I mean, my father would read these old journals to me when I was a kid. He wanted me to know what my destiny would be as a Gilbert. It was gnawing at me all of last night, on my way home. I knew I recognized your name.”

He took a seat next to you, looking at what you were pulling out.

“Giuseppe’s oldest boy, Damon, has returned from the war. My friend is ashamed of his boy, the fact that he has deserted his cause. I know though, that Damon doesn’t share my friend’s beliefs,” you read from the old journal. 

“I saw them,” you continued. “It’s impossible, seeing as though they died that night trying to save the Pierce vampire. But I saw them. I don’t understand why they took pity on me. I am the reason she was taken from them, why they are who they are now. They killed him, Giuseppe, their own father.” When you put the book down, you handed him the photo you’d brought. The one of him as a human.

“It’s no use in trying to lie, is it?” he asked. “You’re on vervain, the entire counsel is. Well, almost the entire counsel.” He took a drink from his glass, fingers tracing over the photo. “Why did you come here, Y/N? If you knew, why risk coming here to confront me about it?”

“I just came back to Mystic Falls less than a year ago, Damon. I got thrown back into the world of hating vampires. In my time gone, I did a lot of soul searching, Occult research. Coming from Mystic Falls, I knew vampires were real. You’re not the first I’ve met. Your brother isn’t the first I’ve met.” 

“Again, you haven’t answered my question. Why did you come here?” he asked again.

“I don’t know, honestly,” you finally answered. “I needed to know it was true. As a kid, I just thought the vampire stories were just that, stories. Until my parents were killed. An animal attack. You and I both know it wasn’t an animal attack, not in this town. Yet, I know not all vampires are ravenous monsters. So, which one are you, Damon?”

“I mean,” he smirked. “A little ravenous monster here, a little not so ravenous monster there. Depends on my mood.” As you watched him, you couldn’t help but watch his facial expressions. They were unique, almost exaggerated, not all of them though. Just some. And the way he looked at you, still that borderline predatory look, yet he seemed interested in what you were telling him.

“Still doesn’t make a lot of sense, but okay. I’m sure I’ll understand eventually. So, what do you want out of this? I mean, surely this is blackmail.” You couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Do you think I’m stupid enough to blackmail a vampire that could easily kill me in two seconds flat, Damon?” you asked, getting a shrug as a response. “I’m not that stupid. There’s nothing I want from you. I just need to know one thing. The string of animal attacks that happened a few weeks ago. Who was it?”

“Me.” 

-----

You woke from your nap on the couch to the sound of somebody knocking on your front door. You’d had a late night at work, offering to take the dreaded night-shift for Sheriff Forbes. You knew Liz was worried since the animal attacks started that a vampire was in town. Little did she know the vampire was hiding right under their noses. Except yours, obviously. All thanks to your father. 

Groaning, you got up and rubbed your eyes. The incessant knocking didn’t stop.

“Coming!” you called out, tying your robe over your pajamas before opening the door. “Damon? What do you want?” you asked, leaning against the door-frame. 

“Well, seeing as you’re the only one who knows about us, figured we might as well get to know each other,” he suggested.

“As much as I would love to, Damon, I worked last night and I work tonight, so…” You let yourself trail off, hoping he would get the hint. 

“Come on, Y/N. A drink, some lunch. I can cook.” He was tempting, but you knew better.

“Goodbye, Damon.” You shut the door in his face, seeing the look of confusion on his face right before the door shut. 

-----

Damon was incessant on trying to get to know you, showing up at your house every few days with offers of wine and food. And each time, you made him stay outside, trying to find a reason to not be around him. He was a killer, a vampire. Why would you even want to spend time with him? Yet, you did. 

"Damon, I swear to God I'll get a restraining order," you said, pulling the door open. 

He was leaning against the door-frame again, smirk on his face as always. This time, in his hands he held a to-go bag and a bottle of wine. 

"Look, you don't have to let me in. But at least eat lunch with me on the porch. Please?" he asked, trying to play the sweet guy. 

"Fine. I'll get glasses. You stay out there." You weren't sure why you agreed. Maybe it was the interest you had, wanting to learn more about vampires. And maybe deep down, you wanted to learn more about Damon. 

You joined him on the porch swing, setting the wine glasses on the patio table. He'd already started setting out the carry out boxes,  opening them up. 

"Burgers from The Grill," he told you, sliding one over to you. If he was going to annoy you every day for the past two weeks, you were going to have a little fun with him. 

"Damon, I'm vegetarian," you said, looking at the burger before looking back at him with a sad look. 

"Oh, well I'll just go back and get you a veggie burger," he said, brows furrowing as he stood up, going to grab the box. At that point, you laughed, slapping his hand away from the burger box.

“I’m kidding, Damon,” you assured him, picking up the burger and taking a bite. He scowled and shook his head, sitting next to you again. “So, why have you been hounding me for weeks about having a meal together?” you then asked as he poured the wine. 

“Because it took you all of less than twelve hours for you to figure out our secret. You...intrigue me,” he answered, taking a drink from his wine glass. “And it’s a plus you didn’t try to kill us, though you are a Gilbert.” 

“Well, I’ve learned to give people the benefit of the doubt. But I don’t easily give second chances, Damon. That’s something you need to understand. And I expect the truth.” He nodded, the two of you eating in relative silence aside from the sounds of the town around you. 

“From what I gathered, your parents died and you left. Why? If you knew how they died, why not try to get revenge?” he asked you. 

“Not everybody wants revenge. It wasn’t going to bring them back. Not to mention, whoever it was was long gone by the time we found them.” You took a drink, not expecting him to bring up this line of conversation so soon. 

“But you knew how they died. Why not just go full vampire hunter at that point? You had every right to do so, Y/N.” He didn’t seem to understand your first answer. 

“Like I said, it wasn’t going to bring them back, Damon. Now, my turn. Why did you come back after all this time?” You propped your feet up on the patio table, crossing your ankles with wine glass in hand. You didn’t see a reason to not make yourself comfortable. 

“My little bro decided to come back. Figured we hadn’t seen each other in a few decades.” His cockiness radiated off of him as he spoke, shrugging off his leather jacket to show a grey v-neck. 

“And the trail of bodies you’ve left in your wake?” you continued.

“Look, I’m not the best of guys. And I mean, I am a vampire after all. But no worries, I’m reformed. For the most part. No more drink and dump. Now, drink and erase. No more bodies, cross my heart,” he assured you, making an X over his heart with his index finger. 

“Why do I intrigue you?” That was something you needed to know. 

“Ah-ah-ah,” he tutted. “It’s my turn to ask. Why won’t you let me in?” 

“I don’t fully trust you yet, Damon. Trust is something you have to earn, especially since you’ve infiltrated the counsel.” He nodded, seeming to understand your hesitation, but he seemed hurt.

You could tell he tried to hide how he felt, tried to not show any emotion on his face as to not give himself away. 

“We should do this more often, Y/N, but I have business to attend to. I’ll see you around,” he told you, getting up, leaving the half-drank bottle of wine and dishes for you to clean up.  

-----

It became routine. Once a week, Damon would bring take-out and you’d eat on the porch, learning new things, learning about each other. It was fun, interesting. You’d learned about the daylight rings, which explained how he walked in the sun. It took several months, but he finally started to earn your trust.

“I got Italian this time,” Damon told you with that cocky smile. Just opening the door was enough to make you sweat. 

“Damon, how are you not sweltering in that jacket?” you asked him. You’d prepared for a hot day by dressing in a tank top and shorts, but even then, it wasn’t enough, and yet here Damon was in a leather jacket. 

“I really don’t feel temperature like humans do,” he reminded you. “Now, you coming outside or what?” You couldn’t help but chuckle at that, shaking your head. 

“It’s too hot outside. So…” You smiled, stepping out of his path in front of the door. “Come inside, Damon.” 

You could definitely tell his smile was of the cocky nature, knowing he finally had access to your house whenever he wanted. He walked over to the dining room table, setting everything up as you grabbed plates. 

“Now, I have some ground rules, Damon. Because I know you,” you told him, the both of you sitting down. He raised an eyebrow, so you continued. “No breaking and entering when I’m not home. Don’t randomly be in my house when I get home. No creepy stalker stuff, got it?”

“Don’t watch you as you sleep. Don’t watch you in the shower. Don’t show up when you’re not here. Got it,” he repeated back. 

“Why is it as soon as I say no creepy stalker stuff, you automatically go to watching me sleep, or in the shower?” you asked, separating the food onto the plates as he poured the wine. “And plus, how many bottles of wine have you bought for our lunches since we started hanging out?”

“Too many,” he answered with a laugh. “So, what will we talk about today?”

You leaned back, taking a drink from your glass and looking at him. There wasn’t anything the two of you hadn’t talked about in the twelve weeks you’d been hanging out. 

“What’s with the look?” he then asked, which confused you. 

“What look?” you countered. 

“That look,” he said, motioning to your face. “That look of...I’m not sure what.”

“Damon, of all the things you could be doing on Wednesday afternoons, all of the girls you could take home, or the drinks at the bar you could be having with Alaric. Why do you spend Wednesdays with me?” you asked. 

“You’re...a friend, Y/N. I like spending time with you, just how I like spending time with Rick,” he told you. 

“I’m not that interesting. What’s the phrase? Keep your friends close, keep your enemies closer?” you countered. Surely that had to be why he’d stuck around. You knew his secret, so that had to be it. You regretted it as soon as you’d said it, though, the look of hurt on his face obvious for a split second. If you hadn’t known him, you would have missed his tell, then the stoic Damon showed up again.

“You think that little of me?” He downed the rest of his glass. 

“Damon, that’s not-” He held up his hand, cutting you off. 

“I’ll see you at the Founders Party tomorrow,” he said, getting up, and leaving without letting you say anything else.

-----

You’d felt bad about what you’d implied the day before, and you were determined to apologize. As much as you hated the Founders Party, you knew you had to go to keep up appearances and fulfill obligations. Not to mention, you could see Damon. You did your hair with simple curls. It took a minute to figure out what to wear. It had to be elegant, but not extravagant. Which is why you chose a burgundy, long sleeve lace cocktail dress and a pair of black heels to accentuate your legs.

You showed up, looking around for Damon but not being able to find him. Not for a while, not until the counsel meeting started. The two of you shared looks from across the room as the meeting talked about how there’d been no more animal attacks -- having been months ago, that it seems like it might have just been a vampire passing through. There was nothing anybody had to do for a while. 

“Damon,” you said, grabbing his wrist before he could leave the room. You’d asked Liz to make sure you could have the room with Damon, that the two of you needed to talk about some stuff. You didn’t elaborate further with her. She didn’t need to know. 

“There’s nothing to talk about, Y/N,” he told you, clenching his jaw. 

“Yes there is, Damon. I’m sorry about yesterday. It’s just...It’s going to take a while for me to get used to it all,” you reminded him. 

“It’s not like I’ve been tricking you like everyone else,” he reminded you. “It’s not like you found out months after the fact that I was a vampire,” he said, hissing the last word so nobody could hear. 

“I know.” You squeezed his hand. “But it’s been ingrained in my brain to hate vampires for my entire life. I invited you in my house, Damon. That took a lot of trust. I trust you because you’re my friend.”

“So, you’re lowkey saying you’re worried I’m going to come in and kill you in the middle of the night. Or at least feed on you. Because I know you don’t drink vervain like most of the others. You wear yours.” His fingers toyed with your bracelet.  

“I trust you, Damon,” you assured him with a tight smile. 

“Good, because I would never do that to you.” You nodded, taking him in a hug. He stiffened up for a moment before hesitantly doing the same. When you pulled away, you couldn’t help but smile.

“Good. I think I owe you a dance.” He gave you that smug smirk again, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Now, no tricks, Damon.” 

“I mean, you already agreed to a dance. All the tricks are fair game.” You couldn’t help but laugh as the two of you made your way to the dance floor, Damon pulling you close. You let him lead, not being much of a dancer, not taking your eyes off him. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, Damon was your closest friend. Even if he was a vampire. 

You saw him glance around the room before looking at you again. But he didn’t try any tricks. Once the song was done, he let you go with a smile. 

“I really don’t like these things,” you told him. “So I’m going to go home.” It was just like you’d told him when you’d first met. You really didn’t like these kinds of parties. 

“I’ll walk with you.” You smiled and nodded, taking his arm as the two of you walked out of the party. You couldn’t help but feel some eyes on the two of you as you left. “You know,” he said, speaking softly, almost a whisper in your ear, “I was at the first Founders Party. You can see my name on the original guest list.”

“I don’t know why that surprises me. Maybe it’s the way John wrote about you, how much you seemed to hate your father.” Again, you felt him stiffen against you. “I don’t mean to make assumptions, Damon.”

“It’s no secret my father and I didn’t get along,” he told you. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t go for other reasons. Let’s just say, I was young and in love. We’ve never talked about how I got in this vampire situation. And that will be a discussion for another day.” 

The rest of the walk went by in silence, you leaning into him a little more. You didn’t live far from the Lockwood’s, but the heels were still a pain. Once you were on your porch, if you were being honest, you didn’t want to let him go. You didn’t want the night to end, but you knew it had to. Because Damon was your friend. 

“Goodnight, Damon,” you told him with a smile, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. 

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He gave you a smile, making sure you got inside before leaving. 

-----

“Damon, what did I say about breaking and entering?” you asked as you tossed your backpack on the couch, seeing him rummaging around in your kitchen. 

“What do you know about werewolves?” he asked, continuing to search until he pulled out your grandmother’s silverware. 

“Not much. I mean, in my travels, I’ve heard of a few packs here and there. But for the most part, they’re almost extinct. Why?” He grabbed the silver knife out of the box, twirling it in his hand as he turned to look at you. You were in the middle of taking off your work uniform, stripping down to your tank top and compression shorts. “Don’t ogle, Damon.” 

“Not ogling, just admiring,” he assured you as you ran upstairs to put actual pants on, though that was the exact same thing. 

“What’s with the interest in werewolves, Dae?” He looked at you confused. “Your name can be a mouthful sometimes. Just trying something new.” He just shrugged. “Now, answer my question. Why the interest in werewolves?”

“Because one just strolled into town. Mason Lockwood,” he answered. “Also, keep this if you need it.” He put a baggie of some herb on the counter. 

“What is it?” you asked, picking it up. You knew he was freaking out, even if he didn’t want to admit it. “And when is the next full moon?” 

“Wolfsbane. Think of it like the vervain to werewolves. And tonight.” You nodded. “I want you to stay here. Call of work. Please? I pissed off Mason Lockwood, and he’s got murder on the mind.”

“Damon, I knew what I was signing up for when I took the job. Vampires, definitely. Werewolves, not so much. But I can’t just not go into work.” It wasn’t possible, not sure what excuse you’d come up with. Not to mention your perfect track record of attendance. Plus, you wouldn’t want Liz to be the one out there with a werewolf on the loose. 

“For me.” He took your hands in his, squeezing gently.

“Dae...I can’t. Because then it would be Liz out there. And she has a daughter at home. I’ll be fine.” He shook his head, grabbing the knife. 

“I guess I’ll have to deal with Mason before the full moon then. I’ll get this back to you.” He put the knife in his jacket before heading towards the door. 

“Be careful out there, okay? A werewolf bite is lethal to vampires,” you warned him, thinking he probably already knew. However, his sudden stop and the look of confusion on his face said otherwise. “You didn’t know?”

“Up until like three days ago, I thought the mutts were extinct!” he told you aggressively. “Which given the fact that a bite will kill me is a pretty damn good reason for you to stay home. Because if I can’t kill Mason before the full-moon, I’m going to be too worried about you.”

You sighed, leaning against the counter. It was a predicament. You didn’t want anything to happen to him. Plus, if he was too worried about you, it would put him at risk. 

“Fine. I’ll tell Liz I’m sick, but I stay at your place. It would make me feel a bit better if there’s a werewolf on the loose.” 

“Okay. Pack a bag,” he agreed. “We’ll go now, and then I’ll start my hunt for the big bad wolf.” 

-----

“You know, in the what...nine months? That we’ve been friends I’ve only been to your place once,” you reminded him in the car on the drive. “We need to have lunch at your place sometime because mine is getting boring. Plus, I want to know more about you Damon Salvatore.”

“No going snooping in the underwear drawer,” he warned you with a mischievous grin.

“Oh you’re one to talk about boundaries. Because I clearly remember telling you not to break into my house. And what did you do today? Broke into my house.” He just shrugged with an ‘eh’ which earned him a slap on the arm. 

When the two of you arrived, he gave you almost the grand tour. He left out the juicy bits, like his bedroom and Stefan’s. He focused on the guest room and the main floor, leading you around until the two of you were back in the living room. 

“Bourbon?” he asked, pouring himself one. You just shook your head, knowing it was too early in the day for you. 

“I’m going to head upstairs and to bed. Because one of us works the night shift, and you’ve kept me up most of the morning when I’m usually asleep.” You went to stand up when all of a sudden he was right in front of you. It was just part of the ‘my best friend is a vampire’ life.

“What if you tell me everything you know about werewolves, and if you fall asleep, I’ll make sure you get to bed?” he suggested. You couldn’t help but sigh, knowing he needed the information if he was going to go up against Mason Lockwood. Which was insane, because you’d gone to school with the guy -- albeit being a couple years younger than him. 

“Fine, because I don’t need you getting yourself killed,” you agreed, laying down on the couch. He sat at the opposite end, your legs and feet propped up on his lap as he nursed his bourbon. “What do you know?”

“Werewolves turn with the full moon. Silver kills them. Wolfsbane hurts them. And oh yeah, if I get bitten, I’m dead,” he answered, setting his glass down on the table before rubbing your feet. You could almost melt into the couch.

“First of all, the silver does nothing to them. In fact, they heal faster with silver than anything else. So give me my grandmother’s knife back,” you told him with a sigh.

“I’ll make sure you get it back. Continue,” he urged, needing to know. 

“Kill them like you would anybody else. Severe blood loss, suffocation, decapitation. In human form, they’re fast and strong and usually need some anger management, and in wolf form...Well, I don’t really know that one. Tell me, why do you want to kill Mason? And why am I helping you?”

“You’re helping me because you don’t want to see me die. And let’s just say Mason and I had a disagreement, and werewolves are the mortal enemy of vampires. The rest of the details are unimportant in this situation.”

“The details are important because, one, I’m the deputy in this town, and two, you’re telling me you’re going to kill someone I’ve known almost my entire life. I deserve an answer since I’m helping you after all.” 

“Fine. Mason and I had an argument. He threatened to out me and Stefan to the counsel -- which included his brother, the mayor. Who doesn’t seem to know about the whole werewolf thing. Unless I give him something he wants, which I won’t do. Family heirlooms and all that.” You nodded, eyes drifting shut.

This wasn’t something you were going to agree with, ever. But you knew there was no talking Damon out of it. His mind was made up, and you didn’t want to get hurt by either man. You’d learned in your years away from home not to get in the middle of a pissing match, figuring Damon wouldn’t actually kill Mason, just teach him a lesson.

-----

You woke to a heated argument downstairs. Looking outside, you saw that it was sunrise, so you figured it was Damon downstairs. You were surprised you’d slept that long, but whatever. Making your way downstairs, you could tell the other voice was Stefan, but still couldn’t really make out what they were saying. 

“How’d it go?” you asked, rubbing your eyes as you entered the room, Damon quickly rolling down his sleeves, a layer of gleaming sweat on his skin. 

“Well, Mason Lockwood is still alive, if that’s what you’re asking,” Damon answered, taking a shot of one of the alcohols on the table, not sure which one. Stefan shot his brother a look before stalking out of the room. 

“What’s up with your brother?” You sat down on the couch next to him, taking your own shot. He stared at the fire going in the fireplace, jaw clenched. Something wasn’t right when he wouldn’t even look at you. “Dae, talk to me.”

It took him a while to say anything, his hand resting on your knee, your hand resting on the top of his. After a few minutes, you leaned your head on his shoulder, which made him relax just a little, but not enough. 

“Damon, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?” you finally asked again after nearly fifteen minutes of silence, of him just watching the fire. 

He pulled his hand away from your knee, which got your attention, so you leaned away from him, watching as he slid the sleeve up on his other arm to reveal a bite mark. You couldn’t help but gasp, grabbing his arm to inspect it. The sudden contact caused him to hiss in pain, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that the wound already looked infected, necrotic at the point of contact. Damon was going to die. 

“How are you feeling?” He scoffed at the question, pulling his arm away and quickly getting up. 

“How-How am I feeling?” he asked, angry, not trying to hide it. “For once in my existence, things were going right for me, Y/N! I’m feeling angry! I want to rip that mutt’s heart out. Stefan thinks he can find a cure, but...” He leaned against the chair with his good hand before a coughing fit wracked through his body. 

“Why don’t you go lay down, Damon?” you suggested, but he just shook his head. 

“I’m not spending what could be my last day in bed, Y/N. I don’t want that.” 

You understood where he was coming from. If it was you, you’d want to spend as much time as you could with those you cared about. 

“Do you want me to call Rick and get him over here?” you asked as you stood, walking over to him as he began coughing again. 

“No. No, I don’t want him knowing. Stefan will tell him later,” he assured you as his breathing became more labored. “Maybe laying down will be a good thing. Come with me?” 

“Of course.” 

You let him drape an arm around your shoulders as you hooked one around his waist, slowly making your way up the stairs to his bedroom. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were terrified to lose him. This wasn’t supposed to be happening, and if something happened to Damon, you would kill Mason yourself. 

“Lay down,” you instructed as Damon sat on the edge of the bed. “What do you need to be comfortable?” All you wanted was for him to be comfortable.

“In the basement there’s a cooler,” he told you. “With blood bags. Can you-?” 

You didn’t let him finish the sentence, knowing what he was getting at, quickly agreeing. You wanted to scream, to throw something. But you didn’t, you couldn’t. Instead, all you could do was be there for him. You grabbed a couple of the bags from the cooler, letting out a sigh before turning around and being startled by Stefan standing there.

“Stefan, you scared me,” you admitted with a nervous laugh. “It’s not good is it?” You could tell by the solemn look on the younger Salvatore’s face.

“I have a friend, Lexi, who might know somebody who knows somebody who knows a cure. But it might take a while. And we don’t know how long Damon has.” You nodded, not wanting to hear what he was saying. But you had to. “You’re good for him, you know. I haven’t seen him this happy in a long time.”

���Out of curiosity, how long?” Damon had only given you bits and pieces of the story of his existence. You understood though, considering how long he’d been around. Some stories he’d think would scare you off. 

“Not since 1864. Go, be with him. He needs you now more than ever,” Stefan told you, stepping out of your way so you could make your way back upstairs. On the way, you grabbed a bowl of cold water and a washcloth. 

When you got back up to Damon’s room, his eyes were closed and he looked peaceful. He’d unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, had kicked his shoes off which landed just off the foot of his bed. He looked almost peaceful, if you didn’t know that he was dying. Which was brought back to your attention quickly as another coughing fit started deep in his chest. This time though, you saw blood come from his lips, landing on the palm of his hand. 

“You’re okay,” you assured, rushing to his side to clean the blood off his hand. 

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N,” he said softly. “I’m not going to be okay.” 

“Let me have my hope, Mr Pessimistic.” You joined him in bed, his head resting on your lap for the time being as your hand stroked through his hair. His breathing evened out as he fell asleep. 

You did everything you could to not cry, trying to tell yourself that he’d lived a long life. But what Stefan had told you echoed through your head. Was this really the happiest he’d been since his human life had ended? You didn’t want to believe it to be true, but he did seem a lot happier than when you first met him. He seemed more relaxed, less high strung. 

Every once in a while he would cough hard enough to wake himself up, the thin layer of sweat becoming thicker, his skin getting hotter. You’d started dabbing his face with the wet washcloth, trying to cool him down, to buy you time. That’s when it really started to get worse. 

“Katherine, I’ll follow you forever,” he said, eyes drifting open and shut. “Turn me so we can be together forever.” 

“Hey, it’s okay, Damon. It’s Y/N,” you reminded him as he sat up. “Here, drink.” 

You handed him one of the blood bags which he quickly downed. You’d never seen him feed, never seen his face change. Not until that moment. The human survival instinct inside of you said to run, to be terrified of the monster. But you couldn’t. Not when your heart started pounding, the sinking feeling in your gut telling you to stay because you didn’t want to be away from him. Not now, not ever. When he finished, he laid back down, this time with his head on your chest, his hands on his own. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around him, continuing to try and keep him cool with the towel. 

“Tell me about her, Damon,” you told him. “Tell me about Katherine.” He just groaned, and you weren’t sure if it was from pain or from mentioning her.

“She was the most beautiful woman I’d met,” he started. “And she broke my heart. She changed us both, but we both knew she’d chosen Stefan as her favorite, as the one to have her heart. And then she died. What more is there to say?” You rested your chin on the top of his head. 

“Talk to me, Damon, about anything. Everything.” 

You just wanted to hear his voice, tears welling up in your eyes. But he didn’t, falling back asleep. The sun continued its progression through the sky, and you couldn’t help but wonder how much longer he had. 

It felt like you’d dozed off for only a few minutes when you realized he wasn’t there in bed with you, panic filling your body. You searched the house, trying to find him, not sure if he’d left. If he’d left, you didn’t know what to do, not sure what his mind was thinking. That was until you’d found him in the basement with at least ten blood bags around him.

“Damon,” you said softly, trying not to startle him. He looked up at you, hands and mouth covered in blood, but it was more like he looked through you, as if you weren’t really there. “Dae, come back to bed.” 

He didn’t move, and neither did you. “It’s me, Damon. Y/N,” you reminded him, taking a small step towards him. It was the wrong move though, with him being in front of you in a blink of an eye. Your hand grabbed his wrist lightly, hoping that maybe it would ground him. “Come back to bed.”

He didn’t move to leave the basement, though, backing you up until your back was pressed against the cold, concrete wall. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, as if he was going to catch fire any second. Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to keep your breathing calm and even. You brought your other hand up, cupping his cheek. There was no telling what he was going to do. The black veins around his eyes were visible, fangs protruding.

“Damon, you don’t want to do this,” you reminded him. “I’m your best friend. You always said you would never hurt me.” 

“Y/N,” he said softly, backing away as his face became his again. You gave a pitiful smile as he fell to his knees, groaning in pain as he clutched his chest. 

“Hey, hey.” You knelt in front of him, pulling him close to you. “You’re going to be okay. Stefan is working on finding a cure. Let’s get you back upstairs.”

“I don’t know what’s happening to me,” he half cried as you got him to his feet. 

It took longer than you’d hoped it would to get him up the stairs. Once you got him in bed, you weren’t sure what to do. You had two options. Stay and comfort him and watch him die, or leave and let him die alone. You didn’t even have to weigh your options, joining him on the bed, cleaning the blood off of him before laying next to him with your head on his chest. His breaths were labored and shallow, able to hear him wheeze with every breath. 

“This is even more pitiful than I thought,” he managed to say, eyes half open as you looked up at him. 

“There’s still hope, though. I’m not giving up on you. Just hold on as long as you can, okay?” He nodded weakly. 

“I’ve made a lot of choices that have gotten me here. I deserve this. I deserve to die.”

“No. You don’t,” you said adamantly, tears stinging your eyes. 

“I do, Y/N, it’s okay though. Because if I’d have chosen differently, I wouldn’t have met you. I’m glad to have met you.” His voice was raspy, speaking slowly as if he couldn’t breathe. It was obvious he couldn’t. “You should have met me in 1864. You would have liked me more.”

“I like you just the way you are, Damon.” You held onto his hand, not wanting to let go. 

“You would have loved me back then, Y/N. I’m glad you came into my life when you did. I love you, you should know that. It’s why we had all the lunches, why we hung out so often, why I didn’t try anything. Because I love you,” his voice cracked, every few words interrupted with coughs. Your heart felt like it skipped a beat, hearing him say that. It didn’t come as much of a surprise though.

“I know, Damon. I love you too.” His eyes fluttered open, looking at you with tears in his own eyes, blue eyes glistening. 

“I’ve waited over a century for someone to say that.” Your heart felt like it was breaking. Because this wasn’t enough time for the two of you. Nine months wasn’t long enough. You wanted a lifetime with him. A long, long lifetime. You cupped his cheek, pressing your lips against his softly, moving together until he pulled away, coughing again. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. 

“Damon Salvatore, I love you,” you said again, the corners of his lips pulling up into a weak smile. “I just need you to hold on, okay? I’m sure Stefan will have a cure soon. You can’t leave me yet.”

“Keep an eye on Rick for me,” he told you. “He’s going to need someone there for him. Stefan...He has Lexi. Rick doesn’t have anybody.”

“What about me, Damon? What am I supposed to do?” you asked him, voice cracking.

“You’re going to live a long, happy life without me.” 

You felt him squeeze your hand, and all you wanted to do was run away. You weren’t sure if you could watch him die, because that’s what you’d been doing for the past eight hours, slowly watching him die.

“Is it going to be a happy life, when you’d be my greatest what-if?” you asked softly as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

You couldn’t close your eyes, couldn’t move away from him. You had to make sure he was still alive, still breathing as you held back sobs. You’d lost so many people in your life, you didn’t know if you’d be able to handle another one. Especially not Damon. 

“Lexi is almost here,” Stefan told you from the doorway in a hushed voice, trying not to wake Damon. This got your attention, sitting up to look at him, wiping away your tears.

“She found a cure?” He nodded with a sad smile. The only thing you could do was wait and hope that she got to Damon in time. “I can’t lose him, Stefan.”

“I know. Neither can I. So I need to ask you something, Y/N.” You held onto Damon’s hand, feeling the pulse in his wrist continuing to beat. 

“You would never hurt him, right? Katherine...she was the last person he really loved, aside from himself. And she broke him, and he’s never been the same. You’re not just telling him you love him because he’s dying, right?” A part of you wanted to be offended, but you understood where Stefan was coming from. 

“If I wanted to hurt him, I would have told the counsel months ago that he was a vampire. I do love him, Stefan. That isn’t a lie, it could never be a lie. Maybe him dying is what made me realize it, but it doesn’t make it less true.” Stefan nodded as a blonde woman came to stand next to him, a vial in her hand. 

“Sorry to interrupt the moment, but we have a brother to save,” she said with a smile, walking into the room as she popped the cap on the vial. “Damon!” That got him to open his eyes, squinting as his lips parted to say something. “You’re a lucky bastard. Drink this.” 

She put the vial up to his lips, pouring it in his mouth. He grimaced, but swallowed before coughing. 

“Tastes like wet dog,” he mumbled, head falling back on the pillows. 

“Suck it up. Stefan and I are going to go get some drinks and catch up. You should be feeling better soon. You’re welcome!” she told him as she walked out of the room. It didn’t take a genius to realize they didn’t get along the greatest. 

“How are you feeling?” you asked softly, looking him over. His pale skin was slowly getting color back, his breathing less labored. 

“A little better. Doesn’t feel like I’m drowning anymore,” he admitted, reaching out to hold your hand. “Did you mean what you said?”

“Of course I did, Damon.” His face softened, looking like he was going to cry. But he didn’t, because he was Damon afterall. He rarely showed actual emotion. 

“Come’ere,” he told you, pulling you to him. Your face nuzzled in his neck, breathing him in. His shirt was soaking wet, skin sticky, but you didn’t care. He was alive, he was going to be fine. 

“I thought I was going to lose you,” you said against his skin, letting yourself cry. He held you tight, rubbing circles on your back. It took a few minutes for it to die down, pulling back just to have him wipe the tears from your eyes. 

“You can’t get rid of me that easily. You should probably head home. I’ll pick the car up tomorrow.” There was no way of hiding the look of confusion and hurt on your face. He’d just survived almost dying, and now he was kicking you out? 

“I want to stay with you.” He shook his head no. “Why not?”

“When vampires almost die or get hurt, we need to feed. And I vaguely remember finishing up our stash in the basement. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

That made you understand. He just wanted you safe, but that wasn’t enough. Because he was just going to end up hurting someone else. You couldn’t let him do that. 

“Damon, I trust you.” That got you his usual confused look, eyes squinting in curiosity. “You’re just going to end up going out there and hurting someone else. I trust you won’t kill me though.” You offered him your wrist. 

“Y/N, I can’t,” he insisted, leaning away. 

“Yes you can. I trust you. I would trust you with my life. Now, you need to feed. You have someone here who is willing to let you do so. No strings attached.” He didn’t move, staying where he was. “Damon, please.”

He took your arm, bringing your wrist to his mouth. He didn’t bite though, kissing the inside of your wrist. Your free hand combed through his hair. That was until he did bite down, grimacing in pain as his fangs tore through your skin. It didn’t hurt as bad as you thought it would, but it was an odd feeling. As if you’d cut yourself, but the blood never reached your hand, fingers going numb. You continued to comb through his hair with your free hand, assuring him it was okay. Until it wasn’t. 

“Damon,” you said softly, trying to get his attention. “Damon, stop. Stop.” He didn’t though, feeling lightheaded as he continued on. “Enough, Damon. Please.” You pulled at his hair, which was enough to finally get his attention. He pulled away, face going back to normal. You were still lightheaded, but knew it would go away. 

“I’m sorry,” he told you, getting up and walking into the bathroom. You would have followed him, had you thought you’d be able to make it. He came back a minute later with a first aid kit. 

“It’s okay. I told you I trusted you. I still do,” you assured him as he bandaged your wrist. There was something about his silence that spoke volumes about how he felt. Damon wasn’t one to just not say anything, always having an opinion or something to stay. “I don’t want you feeling bad, okay? I offered. I told you I trust you. And I still love you.” 

“I’m going to get changed.” You didn’t think Damon felt guilt, or really anything. But his reaction changed that perception of him. He put on the tough guy persona, but he did feel underneath it all. While he was gone, you slipped out of your jeans, not wanting to get up to put pajama pants on. 

When he came back in, he was in his boxers. You couldn’t help but take the sight in, defined muscles, flawless skin, abs. He really was like a living marble statue, and he was there with you. 

“I’d understand if you wanted to stay in the guestroom tonight,” he said softly, standing at the end of the bed, fidgeting with his ring. 

“I’m not going anywhere. I almost lost you today. Everything that I said, everything that I feel is true. And me staying right here with you is the first step of proving it to you. I can tell you don’t trust easily, Dae. But I need you to trust me just like I trust you. Now come to bed,” you insisted.

It took another minute for him to move to lay down with you. The two of you laid on your sides, facing each other. You couldn’t help but cup his cheek with your hand, thumb rubbing along his cheekbone. He held your waist, thumb sliding under your shirt, pressing against your skin. 

“I love you, Damon,” you assured him again, looking into his eyes.

It was something you’d told people before, but you’d never meant it more than in that moment. 

-----

You woke to the sun shining through the curtains, warm on your skin. You almost didn’t want to open your eyes, until you felt someone laying next to you, the memories of the previous day rushing back. You didn’t move as you felt his fingers trace your face, light as a feather. This was your new happy place. 

“Morning,” he said softly as the corners of your lips pulled into a small, relaxed smile. When you opened your eyes, you were taken away by the sight. His usually very tame hair was in loose curls. The dark circles under his eyes long gone. He looked like his usually cocky self, in boxers. 

“I could get used to waking up like this, with you.” He smiled as you moved closer to him, pressing against his chest. 

“There’s still so much you don’t know, Y/N.” You cut him off with a kiss before he could say anything else. 

“You can tell me all of it later, okay? But right now, I just want to enjoy laying here in bed with a still very alive you,” you told him before kissing him again. You knew it wasn’t going to go anywhere, at least not that day. You could tell he was hesitant, a stark contrast to his usual very self assured behavior. “Okay, what’s on your mind?” You sat up, back against the headboard as you looked at him. He wasn’t going to relax until you let him talk.

“I could have killed you last night,” he finally said. You were about to say something when he shook his head, silencing you. “I know I didn’t, but I could have. I don’t know what I would do if I ever hurt you. No amount of trust, no amount of…”

“I don’t want you carrying that guilt, that fear. I trusted you from the time I met you at the counsel meeting. Why else would I have come here to confront you about it?” 

“If you trusted me, why keep me out of your house for six months? You’d even said it yourself the first day we had lunch that you didn’t trust me yet,” he reminded you, which caused you to sigh. 

“I did trust you, but I was still trying to find a reason not to. I was scared, thinking that maybe I was going to end up like my parents. Dead. I trusted you, and that idea scared me at the time,” you countered, trying to make him understand. “I trust you with my life, Damon.”

He smiled, toying with your bracelet. “I could take this off, make you forget everything. You’d be safe.”

“Don’t,” you whispered, scared that he might. “I haven’t had a family since I was a teenager. Then, when I left, I never stayed in one place long enough to make a home. I never found the right place. You’re both of those.”

“I’m too selfish to do that,” he sighed, letting go of the bracelet. “I haven’t loved someone in a very long time, and I forgot how good it felt.”

“Stefan told me he hasn’t seen you this happy since 1864,” you admitted. “You mentioned her. I’m not sure if you were hallucinating or not.”

“I don’t want to talk about Katherine right now. Because she’s not here. You are.” 

That made you smile, hoping it was a good sign that he was choosing being with you over talking about his dead vampire ex. You just leaned your head against his shoulder, his arm wrapping around you. 

“Vampire blood heals humans,” he said after a few minutes of just enjoying being there with him. 

“I know. And you won’t do anything if something happens to me, Damon. Because as much as I love you, I don’t want that existence,” you told him, not getting an answer in response. You could tell he didn’t like that, but didn’t bring it up again. “I should get home. As much as I want to stay here with you, I have to go back to work tonight.” 

“I’ll drive you home.” 

The two of you got up, getting dressed. You were still a little woozy from the night before, but not as bad. Sleep had definitely helped. By the time you’d finished getting dressed, Damon was leaning against the bathroom door frame watching you which got you to smile, walking over to him to kiss him. This was something you could get used to.

-----

“Mason,” you said with a smile as you sat across from him at a table at The Grill, sliding a glass of scotch to him. “You’ve been in town for two months, and you have yet to stop by and say hi.” 

You hated him with every fiber in your being for almost killing Damon. Damon, who had given up on his warpath to kill the werewolf after much pleading with him since nobody knew how to get more of the cure. You’d convinced him it wasn’t worth it, that you’d make sure Mason kept his mouth shut. 

“I’ve been keeping busy. Plus, I didn’t realize you were back in town considering you jumped ship right after you graduated,” he answered, mirroring your smile. 

“Tell me, what brought you back? Weren’t you enjoying your time in Florida?” You drank from your own glass, hoping it would make him more comfortable. 

“Time of my life, but Richard called saying he needed some help with Tyler. He’s been going through a rough time since Sarah died.” You remembered that. A freak accident where Sarah fell down the stairs at the Lockwood house one night when Tyler’s parents were out of town. You’d been the first on scene, trying to comfort Tyler -- who was freaking out.

“You mean because Tyler triggered the curse, and Richard hasn’t?” you asked, Mason shooting you a shocked and angry look. “I’m in the loop about a lot of things, Mason.”

“So you know about the Salvatores? How’s Damon doing? Haven’t seen him around.” You chuckled at first before he mentioned Damon, your face dropping as you finished off your drink. 

“Damon’s alive no thanks to you, Mason. Whatever pissing match you two had, or are still having, it’s over. You’re going to keep your mouth shut and so is Damon, got it?” He nodded, taking a drink from the glass you’d slid his way, quickly spitting it out. You didn’t say anything as you stood up, walking out and to your car.

You hated it. Mason had been one of your closest friends growing up, and now it came down to this. As much as you cared about your friend, neither of you were the same as you were in high school. You’d both changed too much. And you were always going to take Damon’s side, because you loved him.

The drive to the Salvatore Boarding House was a quiet one, not even knowing if Damon was going to be home. You just needed to see him, wanted to see him. Your entire life, everyone that you’d cared about had left you in one way or another. Seeing Mason, confronting Mason just confirmed that for you. You had no friends from your old life. Instead, you’d made new ones. But that didn’t make it hurt any less. 

You parked in the drive, about to get out of the car when it all came crashing down around you. You’d worked so hard to build a new life, to try and be happy, but you weren’t. You felt stuck. Sure, you loved your job, loved working with Liz, loved being in love with Damon. But for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why you’d gone back to Mystic Falls in the first place. Your hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white. You couldn’t bring yourself to get out of the car.

The car door opened as you cried, chest tight. Strong arms pulled you close to a warm body, breathing in his scent as you clutched his shirt. He didn’t say anything, letting you cry, letting you grieve. When your sobs finally died down, you couldn’t let him go.

“Talk to me,” he said softly, kissing your temple. “Let’s go inside and talk.” You nodded, letting him help you out of the car, leaning into him as the two of you walked up to his room. 

“I saw Mason today,” you told him. “He’s not the same person I knew, Damon.”

“Is that why you were in your car crying?” You shook your head before sighing, wiping away newly forming tears. 

“I mean partly. Damon, this isn’t what I was expecting my life to be.” He sat down next to you, holding you against him. “My parents are supposed to be alive. I was supposed to go to college, to create an amazing life. But now, Mystic Falls seems far from home.”

“Let’s take a trip, just for a weekend. Let’s get your mind off all of this,” he said, motioning around. “Clear your mind.”

“I have a better idea to clear my mind,” you suggested, turning to kiss him, one hand on his cheek, the other hand on the back of his neck. You could feel him smiling against your lips as the two of you kissed. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what you wanted, quickly moving to straddle him. His hands were on your lower back, sliding up the back of your shirt, palms pressed against your skin to pull you closer to him. 

“Y/N,” he sighed against your lips as your hips moved against his. 

This was what you wanted. Despite the sadness you felt, Damon made you feel like you mattered, like you belonged somewhere. You pulled back only to pull his shirt off him, lips back on his before the fabric even hit the floor.

The two of you fit, like he was a missing piece of the jigsaw puzzle that was your life. Mason didn’t fit anymore, you’re parents' pieces missing since they died. 

“Tell me what you want, and you can have it,” Damon said as he kissed down your neck, ravishing you, not taking his time at all. 

“Make me forget,” you answered before he flipped the two of you over. He took the opportunity to get your shirt off before attaching his lips to your skin again. And make you forget he did. 

-----

“Rick conned me into helping him chaperone for the decades dance tomorrow,” Damon told you as the two of you cuddled on your couch. “Want to be my plus one?”

“Which decade?” You weren’t going to tell him no, but you were going to make him think that you were debating it before agreeing. You relaxed further into him -- if that was even possible -- as he traced an invisible pattern on your side. 

“Seventies.” You hummed for a minute before looking up at him with a smile. 

“I guess, if you insist.” He smiled back, kissing you softly. “But tell me, what were you up to in the seventies?” 

“Well, in the seventies, I was in New York. It was a very bad time for me. A lot of parties, a lot of drugs, a lot of people,” he answered, and you could tell he didn’t want to answer. 

“Whatever you’ve done in the past, I can’t hold it against you. I won’t. Okay?” you reminded him with an assuring smile. He just nodded, holding you a little tighter. 

“We have the option to turn off our humanity. It stops us from being able to feel whatever we’re feeling. Usually it’s pain and grief that pushes us to that point. Pretty much from 1958 to the early 2000s, that’s what I was doing. I didn’t care who I hurt. The seventies weren’t a pretty time for me,” he continued. You could tell it bothered him, but not enough to not talk about it. 

The next day, you told Damon you’d meet him at the high school. You were running late, so you shot him a quick text to let him know you were on your way. When you got there, you had to scan through the crowd of hormonal teenagers to find him standing with Alaric at the punch table. How ironic it was that your alcoholic boyfriend was supposed to be making sure nobody spiked the punchbowl. 

“Wassup, foxy mama,” Damon called out as you approached. 

“Careful, casanova,” you replied, stopping him from kissing you as you got to his side. “Children are present.” That got Alaric to laugh, kissing Damon on the cheek instead. 

“You two look good together,” Alaric told you both. You appreciated the compliment, knowing that he was really Damon’s only other friend. 

“Thanks, Rick. You need to come over for dinner some time. We could all use a little bonding,” you suggested as Damon’s arm snaked around your waist.

The night droned on, making idle conversation with Damon and Rick. You and Damon were nearly inseparable except for when you needed a human moment or two, or to break up some shenanigans the highschoolers were getting up to. 

“Think I can have this dance?” he asked, extending his hand as Make it With You began playing. You smiled, shaking your head, but taking his hand, letting him pull you to the edge of the gym. 

“We need to talk, Y/N,” he told you. “About why you don’t want me saving you.”

“We will. When we go home, okay?” He nodded, the two of you finishing the dance with your head resting on his chest. 

The two of you typically rotated whose house you’d stay at each night, but this time he’d suggested your place. It made you wonder how serious of a conversation this was going to be. Especially since he’d suggested having this discussion in the living room, and not trying to sweep you off your feet to the bedroom as soon as you stepped through the door. 

“Damon, as much as I want to spend eternity with you...I can’t risk it. I just...I want to see my parents again,” you told him, knowing where this was going.

“So, you want me to stand idly by and watch you die is what you’re telling me. You don’t want me to save you, even if it doesn’t change you. Am I not worth it, Y/N?” he asked, leaning against the fireplace. 

“You are everything to me, Damon.” It broke your heart that he thought he wasn’t enough. He was more than enough, but the thought of living forever...even if it was with Damon. It wasn’t enough. “But your life...I don’t want that for me. I want to live like a normal human being. I want to live my life to the fullest. I want to experience everything humanity has to offer. And being magically saved by my vampire boyfriend every time I get hurt? That isn’t my idea of life.”

Damon had tells, but he was hiding them so well. Until you saw him swallow hard, looking like he wanted to break something. 

“So, I’m enough...Until it comes to experiencing everything humanity has to offer. There are things I can’t give you, Y/N!” he reminded you. “Because experiencing humanity means getting married, having children, growing old together, dying! I can give you only one of those things, and it’s the one that means the least. And if something were to happen to you? Today, tomorrow, next week, next year. I won’t be able to handle saying goodbye. Because I’m selfish!” 

“I know you are, Damon.” You stood up, walking over to him. He didn’t move a muscle, looking at you with icy blue eyes as you held his face in your hands. “I know you’re selfish. But so am I. But I know you’ll be able to live without me.”

“How?” That’s when he let the facade drop, face soft, eyes sad. 

“Because you’ve lived this long without me. I’m going to be just a blip in your existence. In ten, twenty years after I’m gone, you’ll find somebody else that makes you feel this way. There’s not just one soulmate for everybody. Katherine, me...There will be others.” He just shook his head.

“I don’t want there to be others, Y/N. I want you.” You kissed him softly.

“Just promise me you won’t do anything if something happens to me,” you requested, getting a nod in response. You didn’t know if you were going to believe him, but for now you were going to. 

-----

“Damon, can I just go take a bath in that nice bathtub of yours and take a nap?” you whined, hands on your knees as you bent over to catch your breath. He’d been training you on how to protect yourself from vampires if the need ever arose. A water bottle was placed in front of your face, quickly grabbing it from Damon and taking a drink.

“We’ve been out here for less than an hour, Y/N. Humor me a little, for my own peace of mind.” You huffed, setting the bottle down, going back to running drills. Occasionally you’d try to trick him into letting you go early, but it never worked. He’d kept you at it for three hours before you called it quits, saying you needed food. 

“Why is this so important to you?” you asked him as you ate the sandwich he’d made you. 

“Well, if you won’t let me save you, at least I know you tried to save yourself,” he answered, drinking from the blood bag in his hands. “There’s one more thing to teach you, after you eat.” You nodded as he headed upstairs. 

You knew he was just trying to make himself feel better. From your conversations with Stefan, you knew this was the tame version of Damon. When he was upset, he usually lashed out, pushed people away. Stefan had never seen him hold someone closer. 

When you were done, you’d meandered your way to Damon’s bedroom, hearing the shower going. You smirked, a dirty thought in your mind. Might as well follow it, seeing as you told Damon you wanted to experience everything humanity had to offer. Stripping down, you joined him in the shower.

“Saving water?” he asked as the shower door shut behind you.

“Something like that.” Both of you couldn’t help but smile, Damon pulling you close, making sure your hand came to rest on his chest. His hair was wet, sticking to his forehead. But you were too focused on his eyes, always his eyes. 

“This is the sternum,” he told you. “Trying to attack here will just piss a vampire off.” He moved your hand slightly to the right, over his heart. “This is where you want to go if you’re coming from the front. You have the chance of hitting a rib, but even if you do, the likelihood of you hitting the heart is still high. The best place though.” He spun you around, making sure you didn’t fall. His hand came to rest just below the left side of your rib cage, just next to your spine. “Here and up.” 

“Aren’t you worried? I mean, you’re teaching a Gilbert, someone who had her parents killed by vampires, the secrets to killing one?” you asked, breathless as he pressed against you. 

“I trust you.”

-----

“Damon,” you said over the phone. You hated that you had to make this call, the mechanical beeping of the EKG hurting your ears. Everything hurt, and all you wanted was for Damon to be there.

“Hey, you didn’t show up for lunch. Started to get worried,” he told you. You could hear the concern in his voice over the phone. “You alright?”

“I don’t want you to freak out.”

“By you telling me not to freak out, I’m starting to freak out,” he warned you.

“I got into a car accident. I’m at the hospital.” Before you could say anything else, you heard him hang up, sighing as you knew he was freaking out. You knew it was only a matter of time before he stormed in, so you decided a quick power nap was in the cards. You were exhausted.

“Y/N,” you heard through the fog of sleep, a pressure on your hand. “Wakey, wakey.”

“Damon,” you mumbled, opening your eyes to see his gorgeous face in front of you, a goofy grin on your face.

“They have you on some good drugs, don’t they,” he said, mostly to himself as he pushed your hair out of your face. You just nodded, squeezing his hand. “What happened?”

“I got t-boned in the square by some idiot drunk,” you answered. “Few broken ribs, broken humerus, tore my knee.” He nodded, a look of pain on his face. “I’ll be fine. No worries. I’ll just need some help for eight to twelve weeks.”

“I could help you,” he offered. You just shook your head, not wanting that. It was too risky for you. “I know. Figured I’d just remind you.”

“Whose house are we staying at for the next few months?” He just shrugged, and you figured you guys would decide that later.  "What's going through your head, Dae?"

"I just really hate hospitals. And I hate seeing you in one even more,” he answered, holding your hand up to his lips, kissing your skin softly. 

“Well, they’re sending me home tomorrow. So you only have to deal with the hospital for a day.” That got him to smile and relax a little. “If you’re not careful, all that frowning is going to give you wrinkles.” 

“Frowning? What frowning?” He kept the small smile on his face to prove a point, getting you to kiss him. “Scoot over.” 

Damon had his dark moments, his angry moments. But he also had moments like these, the sweet ones. He wasn’t a monster like he thought he was, he wasn’t selfish. He cared to a fault. His heart was his weakness, and you’d managed to hold it in your hands. Much like he held you close, careful not to jostle your arm or leg.  

"I love you," you told him, half asleep. He just kissed your forehead and let you fall into a deep sleep. 

-----

You woke up to the sound of your alarm going off, dreading getting up. But this was different. You had a test that you didn’t want to take, one that you hadn’t studied for. Sitting up, you stretched as the sun shone in your eyes through the window. 

“Y/N!” your mom yelled from downstairs. “Breakfast is ready!”

“I’m getting dressed! I’ll be done in a minute, Mom,” you replied, grabbing a pair of skinny jeans and your favorite shirt. You bounded down the stairs, your mom standing in the kitchen and your dad already sitting at the table reading the paper like he did every morning. For some reason, you felt sad, as if you missed this.

“You seemed happy,” Damon told you as he stood from the couch. 

“This is a dream?” you asked, wanting it to be real. Damon nodded, as you focused on your parents and not him. “I miss them so much.” 

“Then go be with them, Y/N. This is your dream.” You nodded, kissing him before going about your morning routine with them. This wasn’t the first time you’d had this dream, but it was the first time Damon showed up. It was curious. 

-----

“I had the greatest dream,” you told him when you woke up the next morning. 

“I know.” You were confused. Was that why he had shown up? Had he gotten into your head somehow. “I didn’t mean to invade. I just...I wanted to make sure you were really okay.” 

“It’s okay. It was just...unusual that you were there. That’s all,” you assured him, kissing him softly.

“Well, you’re all good to go,” Doctor Fell told you as she walked in the room, looking between you and Damon. “I see your ride is already here. Just no strenuous activities. Try to stay off your feet since you can’t use crutches yet. And follow up with the orthopedic surgeon who will track your progress for your arm and leg. Do you have any questions?”

“I think we’ll be able to figure it out,” Damon answered for you. Doctor Fell nodded, leaving the room after leaving your paperwork on the table. It took a few minutes for you and Damon to figure out how to get you dressed with your cast and knee immobilizer, but you managed. 

“Damon the wheelchair isn’t necessary,” you whined as he sat you down. 

“Yes it is, at least to get you to the car. You heard the doc, got to keep you off your feet as much as possible.”

“She also said no strenuous activity, but I have a feeling you won’t be listening to that once we get home,” you countered, Damon glaring at you as you looked up at him with a smirk. He wheeled you out to the car, helping you in as carefully as he could. But it was difficult seeing as he drove a sports car. Plus, he couldn’t drive your car since it was definitely totaled from the car accident. 

“Can we stay at my place?” you asked Damon softly once he got in. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to spend time at his place, but you just felt safer at home. He and Stefan were the only vampires you’d invited in. And you couldn’t protect yourself, knowing you had to rely solely on Damon for the next couple of months. 

“Of course.” He reached across to hold your hand gently, not wanting to hurt you. 

The drive to your house was a silent one, neither of you really speaking to each other. It was a comfortable silence, though. It wasn’t uncommon to have silent car rides with Damon, just enjoying each other’s company. It was nice. You didn’t realize you’d dozed off until you woke up to him carrying you up your front porch steps, your good arm around his neck while you cradled your bad one to your chest.  

“Go back to sleep,” he whispered, kissing your forehead as he carried you through the threshold and up the stairs to your bedroom. You just hummed in agreement, letting your eyes drift shut again. 

The next time you woke up was in pain. Not as bad as when you’d first crashed your car, but pretty bad. Your entire body ached, head pounding. The doctors said it was normal and to be expected. That didn’t make it any better though. It definitely didn’t help that Damon wasn’t there. Sitting up with a groan, you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. 

“Damon!” you called out, knowing you couldn’t get up. It was physically impossible. 

It took a minute before he showed up in your room in one of his t-shirts and pajama pants. You smiled, loving seeing him somewhat relaxed. You could still tell he was carrying some weight of something on his shoulders. 

“Can you bring me some of my painkillers? And then come to bed?” you asked him, Damon holding up the pill bottles and water glass as if he’d read your mind. You rubbed your face again as Damon sat next to you, the bed dipping underneath him. 

“What did I do to deserve you?” you asked him before popping the pills, quickly chasing them with water. 

“I ask myself that question all the time,” he replied as you leaned over to kiss him. 

-----

It had been a long twelve weeks, wanting to tear his head off at times. Occasionally, he’d leave to get some air when things started getting tense. Each time, he came back when you called. You were both thrilled when you were given the all clear to get around on your own. It was odd though, being home alone. You’d gotten used to his company. But both of you were stubborn, both of you having what you considered ‘home’ even when being with each other felt even more right. You couldn’t give up your family home, and he loved the freedom he had at his. 

So, things went back to normal. The two of you would rotate where you stayed, partly dependent on Stefan and when he was going to be home. Lexi had stuck around after saving Damon, and you could tell she was good for Stefan. 

Things were just still...off with Damon. You really couldn’t figure it out, couldn’t figure him out. You’d tried talking, but Damon wasn’t in a talking kind of mood every time you tried. It was frustrating. You’d even tried getting Rick to get him to talk, but with no luck, so the two of you had come up with a plan. Which is how you ended up sitting on the couch in front of a burning fireplace with a bottle of wine in your hand as you waited for Damon to get home. You knew it would take a while for Rick to get Damon drunk, so you sat back and relaxed. 

“Funny seeing you here!” he sing-songed from the foyer. “I thought you had work tonight.” You heard him stumble, knocking something over that sounded pretty expensive. Everything in his house was expensive. 

“I lied,” you answered, turning to see him stumbling towards his alcohol display, pouring himself another drink. “Haven’t you had enough?”

“No because I have a bad feeling about why you’re here,” he answered with a laugh, not looking at you. You couldn’t help but scoff. That got him to look at you. “What?”

“Whatever has been weighing on you for the past few months, whatever you’ve kept bottled up. Talk to me,” you told him. The smile dropped as he shook his head, downing the drink in one go. 

“Is that why Rick suggested tonight? You behind all this?” 

“Guilty as charged. Now, Damon. Talk to me.” 

You could tell he wasn’t going to talk, the brooding look plastered on his face. There was no way you were taking ‘no’ for an answer this time. Definitely not this time. 

“Damon. I swear to god. I can tell something has been bothering you for a while. And I haven't pushed it much. Until now. Because it’s bothering me that something is bothering you. And I have a feeling it’s about me,” you finally said, getting him to look at you. “This is me telling you. Whatever is bothering you, we need to talk about. Or this-” You pointed between the two of you, closing the distance between the two of you, “isn’t going to work.”

His jaw clenched as your palm rested on his chest. You heard the glass shatter in his hand, hearing the pieces of glass hit the floor as he opened his bleeding hand. You knew he would heal quickly, not worried. 

“Maybe that’s for the best,” he finally said, breaking the tense silence. Your heart dropped, not wanting to believe what he just said. 

“Dam-” He didn’t let you finish, taking a step back. 

“No, Y/N. You can’t make it better!” he told you. “You and me, this puts you in danger. Just being near me is dangerous. And you are all too human.” 

“So, that’s what this is about? My vulnerability?” He didn’t answer, and you couldn’t help but scoff again. 

“What’s with all the?” He mimicked your scoffing noise. 

“Because we’ve been over this, Damon! It’s a risk I’m willing to take. Because I love you.” You didn’t want to believe you were having this conversation again, but it was obviously something that had to be talked about. 

“I want to say the same, Y/N, but for once I’m being selfless. Or maybe I’m still selfish. I’m not sure which. Because everything in me wants to keep you by my side! Everything in me says to never let you go!” You could see the look of pain on his face, his bottom lip quivering. “But I have to let you go. I almost lost you, Y/N. And I had to be there every step of the way, helping you get better. Because you’re stubborn.” He let out a small chuckle at that. “You’re so strong willed. Despite having a fix it all cure literally right in front of you, you decided to take the human way through things.” 

“What are you saying, Damon?” You didn’t want to believe what he was saying. His hand held your wrist before snatching your vervain bracelet, hissing in pain as he dropped it on the floor. You went to grab it, but he kept a hold of you. “Damon, what are you doing?”

“I want you to live a long and happy life, Y/N,” he told you. “And you can’t do that with me.” Tears burned your eyes, knowing what he was doing. 

“Damon, don’t. Please, Damon,” you begged, but he just gave you a sad smile. 

“You’re going to forget we were together,” he told you, your eyes captivated by his. “You’re going to leave here, thinking we decided to break up. If anybody asks, you’re going to say it’s for the best. We’re going to be friends again, just friends. You’ll be able to think back on our relationship and not be sad.” His voice cracked as he nodded. “You’re going to be happier without me, Y/N. You’re going to find a nice human boy who is going to be right for you. And you’re going to fill in love. And you’re gonna love him more than me. And you’re going to forget this conversation, forget I took your bracelet off. You’re going to be fine.” 

As much as you didn’t want to listen, every fiber in your being telling you to listen to him instead. When he looked away, that’s what you thought was the truth. Your bracelet back on your wrist before you even realized it was gone.  

“I have to go home, Damon. Lunch on Wednesday?” He just nodded as you walked out of the door. 

-----

You had gone on several dates since breaking up with Damon. The two of you still had weekly lunches, and he seemed more than okay. Occasionally, you’d see him flirting with other women. But for some reason it didn’t bother you. You weren’t exactly sure why. You thought seeing him with other people would hurt more, but it didn’t. 

And then you met a nice guy. Something inside you was drawn to him, and all you wanted was to be around him. Call it fate or love, you weren’t sure. Damon took it better than you thought he would when you introduced your new boyfriend, Klaus. There was something simmering under the surface, though. Maybe Damon wasn’t as happy with it as he tried to make it seem, though you didn’t question it.  

“Klaus suggested you come over tonight for dinner,” you told Damon over the phone when you called him. Klaus was laying next to you, fingers tracing patterns on your side, getting you to giggle. 

“Sure, I’ll be over at six,” he agreed, quickly hanging up. You rolled over to look at Klaus, his blue eyes staring into yours. They weren’t as piercing as Damon’s were, but you still were caught up in them. 

“Good job, darling,” he cooed. “Now, where were we?” His lips pressed against yours, rolling on top of you with a smile.

-----

You’d gotten dressed in the dress Klaus had laid out for you, a nice black dress. It wasn’t too formal for a friend dinner, but just formal enough to make you feel sexy. He’d also set out a set of thick bracelets for you to wear to cover the bite marks -- the ones you didn’t know he’d compelled you to forget about how you got them.

“Darling, Damon is here!” Klaus called from the kitchen. You just put on a smile, clasping the bracelet before going downstairs. Klaus made you happy, it just felt right. When you saw Damon you gave him a hug with a smile before going over to Klaus who gave you a quick kiss. “So, what’s with the impromptu dinner party?” Damon asked, hanging his jacket on the coat rack. 

“Well, Klaus wanted to get to know you better, Damon. I mean, you are my best friend, and he’s my boyfriend.” Damon rolled his eyes, but sat at the table anyway. He watched the two of you move around the kitchen, watching you be happy with Klaus. 

“What happened to your wrist?” Damon asked when your bracelet slid up your arm when you reached for the plates in the cabinet. 

“Cut myself on some broken glass. It’s nothing,” you assured him. You saw the disbelief on his face, looking between you and Klaus. 

“So, Y/N tells me you know Katherine Pierce,” Klaus said, speaking to your best friend for the first time. “I know her too.”

“Wait, how do you know Katherine?” you asked, confused. There was no possible way Klaus knew Katherine. She’d been dead since 1864. 

“I knew her before she was Katherine Pierce. Back when she was Katerina Petrova. Back when she ripped my family from me,” Klaus answered. You looked between him and Damon as the latter stood up slowly. You still didn’t understand. “Damon, did you notice something missing from your best friend?” 

“Y/N, where’s your vervain bracelet?” he asked. Your brows furrowed as you looked at your wrists, not seeing it. “Run.”

“Ah-ah,” Klaus ticked, your legs not moving. As much as you wanted to move, you couldn’t. And that was terrifying.

“What do you want, Klaus?” Damon asked, anger evident on his face. “Or is that even your name?”

“No, Klaus is my name. Where is Katerina Petrova?” Klaus handed you a knife, and you weren’t sure why you took it. You knew you had to. 

“Kiss my ass,” Damon growled, eyes dark as he scowled. 

“That’s not a good answer. Darling,” Klaus said, getting your attention to look at him. When your eyes met, he spoke. “You’re going to stab yourself in the abdomen now, just like we talked about.” 

“No!” Damon said, rushing towards you as the blade plunged into your flesh, a scream ripping through your throat. You fell to your knees, blood already seeping from around the blade and covering your hands. Klaus stepped to the side as Damon joined you on the floor. “No, no, no,” he kept repeating, your face going pale.

“Dae,” you whimpered as he pulled the knife out, the blood coming out faster. You fell into his chest, his hands becoming covered with our blood. “You’ll be okay,” you assured him, hand reaching up to cup his cheek, smearing your blood on his perfect face. 

“Screw that,” he growled, biting open his wrist before pressing it to your lips. You resisted, not wanting to risk it. But you felt his blood running down your throat. “You’re the one who’s going to be okay.” 

You felt him lay you on the ground, lightheaded. You knew what he’d just done, the one thing you told him never to do. But here you were, wounds healing because Damon saved you. And you could hear your ex and your soon to be ex fighting in your house, breaking god knows what. You knew you heard a chair break, and you were stuck staring at the ceiling as your breathing evened out. 

“Sorry to tell you,” you heard Damon groan, sounding like he was probably being choked. “Katherine died in 1864.” 

“Well then, you’re no longer useful. And since you’re no longer useful, she’s no longer useful,” Klaus replied, Damon groaning again. 

“I swear to god if you hurt her, I will kill you,” your friend growled. You heard bones break, and nothing else from Damon. The next thing you knew, Klaus was looking over you. 

“I could kill you. Or…” The world went black.

-----

The first thing you noticed when consciousness started to come back was the pain in your neck. It was a deep ache, like when you broke your arm. The next thing you realized was that you weren’t on the ground like you remembered. You were in a soft bed, no longer in the dress, but in pajamas. The last thing you noticed was the deep hunger inside of you, one that you didn’t want. It was the one thing you didn’t want. 

When you opened your eyes, it wasn’t your house. It was Damon’s guest room - the one you’d only seen once before. The night before in the back of your mind, slowly coming through. You’d stabbed yourself because Klaus had compelled you. Klaus, your boyfriend. Klaus, the vampire. How did you fall for another vampire? How did he trick you into falling for him? Or maybe it was just you. Maybe that’s just the girl you were, the one who fell for the undead. 

“You’re awake,” Damon said softly. When you opened your eyes, he was sitting on the side of the bed, looking at you. When you saw him, it was like a fire inside of you started all over again, one that had never left. It felt like it was going to consume you. Overwhelmingly so. “How are you feeling?” 

Then the world came crashing back down. You were supposed to be dead. And you weren’t. You’d died. And then Damon had saved you. And then Klaus had killed you again. Which meant…

“Is that a trick question, Damon?” you asked, sitting up. “What happens now?”

“There’s two options. You either drink blood and finish your transformation. Or you don’t and you die for good.” You nodded, not sure what you wanted. You were angry and upset. You weren’t supposed to be alive. Damon did the one thing you were the most adamant about. “What’s going through your head?”

“A lot. Damon, a lot.” You stood up, stretching out your neck. “There’s a lot of conflict in my head. I’m angry, and upset, and those are the first things in my head because if I focus on anything else, I feel like I’m going to...I don’t know.” 

“Being a vampire makes everything heightened. All those feelings, all those emotions are on overdrive. Especially if you haven’t completed your transformation.” That made you snap. All of that anger bubbling inside of you.

“I wouldn’t be dealing with these emotions if you hadn’t saved me, Damon! This isn’t what I wanted and you knew that!” Tears filled your eyes, hand raking through your hair. 

“Yes, Y/N, I know,” he said softly, looking at you with those eyes. “But Klaus couldn’t win.”

“No, don’t bring Klaus into this, Damon! This is about you! This is about you being too selfish to just let me have what I wanted!” With each word, you stepped closer to him until you were nearly nose to nose. “I didn’t want this, Damon!”

“I know you didn’t.” His hand reached out to push your hair out of your face. “And I swear, I didn’t mean for this to happen. But had I waited, you would have died. Because of him, because of me. I tried...I tried to keep you safe.”

“Why, Damon? Why not just let me die like I wanted?” you asked. 

“Because I still love you.” You didn’t know how to react, especially as his lips were on yours. It was as if every spot he touched was sparking with electricity, like you were a candle that he was trying to light with every touch. You couldn’t help but whine as he pulled away. “And you need to make a decision, Y/N. Because you don’t have a lot of time.”

“I don’t know, Damon.” You squeezed your eyes shut, gripping his shirt. 

“You know I want you to do it, want to keep you around forever.” The back of his hand caressed your cheek. Again, you couldn’t tear your eyes off his, but this was different. It was like you would do anything to make him happy. 

“I want to do it,” you nodded. He nodded with you before the two of you walking down to the basement to get a blood bag for you. 

“Are you sure?” he asked again as he opened the bag. You could feel the pain in your gums, causing you to groan in pain as your hand came up to your mouth, feeling the fangs protruding. 

“I’m sure.” You grabbed the bag out of his hands, quickly sucking it empty, blood on the corners of your mouth. You smiled, dropping the bag in the trash. “That was good.” 

“Good. In time, I can teach you how to feed, how to control the urges,” he assured you. “But we need to get you a daylight ring, which might take some time to find a witch to do it who knows how to do it.” 

“What ever are we going to do until then?” You smirked, pulling him closer by the collar of his shirt. “You don’t have to worry about breaking me,” you then reminded him before crashing your lips against his, backing him up against the wall. 

You couldn’t help it, Damon was just so irresistible. And it felt so right. Before you knew it, he’d lifted you up, your legs on his waist as he carried you upstairs -- all the way upstairs to his bedroom. Your hands were in his hair, nails gently scratching at his scalp as his tongue invaded your mouth. This time, your back was pressed up against the wall, giving the two of you the leverage needed to grind your hips together. You could feel his erection against you. 

“Damon,” you moaned softly as his lips were against your neck, your jaw, your shoulder. His teeth grazed along your skin, marking you with hickies along the way. “Need you.” 

He pulled back to look at you with a smile before throwing you on the bed. You propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him before he leaned down, lips against yours again. It was as if you had been stranded in a desert and he was the first drink you’d found. You needed him, craved him. There was no hesitation as you tore open his shirt, the buttons scattering on the floor. Your hands slid down his chest, down to the waist of his jeans. 

His hands, though, were not so tame compared to yours. You could feel one hand slide up your shirt, the other slipping down into your pajama pants. Your nails scratched down his chest, not realizing you drew blood until you felt the stickiness on your hands, but he didn’t stop. 

“Oh, god,” you moaned, skilled hands playing you like his own personal instrument. 

“I want to say the same, Y/N, but for once I’m being selfless. Or maybe I’m still selfish. I’m not sure which. Because everything in me wants to keep you by my side! Everything in me says to never let you go!” You could see the look of pain on his face, his bottom lip quivering. “But I have to let you go. I almost lost you, Y/N. And I had to be there every step of the way, helping you get better. Because you’re stubborn.” He let out a small chuckle at that. “You’re so strong willed. Despite having a fix it all cure literally right in front of you, you decided to take the human way through things.” 

“What are you saying, Damon?” You didn’t want to believe what he was saying. His hand held your wrist before snatching your vervain bracelet, hissing in pain as he dropped it on the floor. You went to grab it, but he kept a hold of you. “Damon, what are you doing?”

“I want you to live a long and happy life, Y/N,” he told you. “And you can’t do that with me.” Tears burned your eyes, knowing what he was doing. 

“Damon, don’t. Please, Damon,” you begged, but he just gave you a sad smile. 

“You’re going to forget we were together,” he told you, your eyes captivated by his. “You’re going to leave here, thinking we decided to break up. If anybody asks, you’re going to say it’s for the best. We’re going to be friends again, just friends. You’ll be able to think back on our relationship and not be sad.” His voice cracked as he nodded. “You’re going to be happier without me, Y/N. You’re going to find a nice human boy who is going to be right for you. And you’re going to fill in love. And you’re gonna love him more than me. And you’re going to forget this conversation, forget I took your bracelet off. You’re going to be fine.” 

As much as you didn’t want to listen, every fiber in your being telling you to listen to him instead. When he looked away, that’s what you thought was the truth. Your bracelet back on your wrist before you even realized it was gone.  

“I have to go home, Damon. Lunch on Wednesday?” He just nodded as you walked out of the door. 

“Oh. My. God,” you said again, this time, shoving him off you with anger as your breaths came faster, hands clutching your head. 

“What?” he asked, confused, as if he didn’t know. As if he didn’t have a clue as to what he’d done. 

“What?” you repeated back. “What! Oh my, God, Damon!” 

You got up, pacing the room, not sure what to say. Damon just looked at you as if you had a second head. You couldn’t believe what he’d done, what he’d made you forget. You couldn’t believe what he’d made you forget, the feelings, the memories, the love. You couldn’t understand.  

“Talk to me,” he told you, using your own words against you. Which pissed you off even more. 

“Oh, you’re one to talk, Damon,” you growled. “I tried talking to you that night! I tried getting you to talk to me so we could work through it! I…” You violently shook your head, trying to wrap your head around it. “I trusted you, Damon! But I remember! I begged you not to. I. God Damon, you’re so selfish! As if I wouldn’t remember!” 

“Y/N, I can explain.” That got a vase thrown at his head, which he quickly ducked. 

“Damon, you don’t understand do you? How can you not fucking understand! If you hadn’t compelled a break-up! If you hadn’t compelled me to start moving on! I wouldn’t have met Klaus, Damon! I wouldn’t...I wouldn’t be this!” The anger quickly turned to grief, tears starting to drip down your face. 

All of the anger. All the frustration. All the hurt. It all shifted. Instead, it was grief and sadness as you dropped to your knees. You remembered the day you showed up at Damon’s house after confronting Mason. You’d felt so alone. And it was even worse now. You’d had one person in the world that was family. You had one person who you trusted more than anything. And now you had nothing. Sobs wracked through your body, tearing at the back of your throat. Your chest hurt. And he didn’t move to touch you. He didn't do anything besides stand there. He wasn’t saying any comforting words, he wasn’t pulling you in. Which made you feel even more alone.

You wanted it to stop. You wanted it all to stop. And then you remembered what he’d told you once. We have the option to turn off our humanity. It stops us from being able to feel whatever we’re feeling. Usually it’s pain and grief that pushes us to that point. The sobs died down as you looked up at him. 

“Y/N,” he said, realizing what was going on. “Don’t do this.” He dropped to his knees in front of you, taking your face in his hands as he looked at you. “Please don’t do this.”

“I said the same thing once,” you sniffled. “And you didn’t listen.” Your facial expression evened out as you flipped the switch. “So why would I?”

-----

It had been three days since you’d flipped your switch, packing a bag at your place. It wasn’t home. It hadn’t been home since your parents died. You couldn’t understand why you thought you could make it work, really. There was nothing left for you in Mystic Falls.

“Where are you going?” Damon asked you from the doorway of your bedroom. 

“I don’t think that’s any of your business, Damon. You’re not in my life anymore. Remember?” you reminded him. 

“I’m not giving up on you that easily, Y/N.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the irony of that statement. 

“Oh, you gave up on me months ago, Damon. So I suggest you leave. Now.” Your meticulous packing turned into throwing clothes into a bag. The longer Damon was there, the more annoyed you were. That was the only thing you felt now, annoyance. And hunger. 

“If I had given up on you, I would have made you completely forget me,” he corrected with that smug smirk. 

“Either way, Damon. I’m done. I. Am. Done,” you growled, finishing packing your bag. You’d compel some movers to get the rest of your stuff later. You heard him walk up behind you, quickly turning around to face him. All you saw was a future you had wanted. You would have been more than willing to spend eternity with him, especially once you’d turned. And he had royally fucked it up. He had ruined you, to the point that your only option to try and function was to turn off whatever you felt for him. 

“Y/N.” You just shook your head. “I don’t care. I don’t care that you hate me. Because this. You and I are not a lost cause. I will follow you to the ends of the Earth, to the end of time until you turn your humanity back on. Until the balance in the universe is restored.”

-----

Damon wasn’t lying. He followed you everywhere. Occasionally, you’d get away for a couple of years, but soon he found you. You got tired of running, though. It seemed like you were always running from his judgemental eyes. 

You’d found yourself at a club in downtown Chicago. It had been fifteen years of avoiding Damon like your life depended on it. It was fifteen years of starting over, of learning on your own because you would refuse his help every time he started lurking. You had just wanted away from him, but this...He definitely wasn’t lying. 

This club, though, was different. This one was run by a witch. She had it enchanted, or something. It was a safe haven for the supernatural, a place where you could just relax and enjoy your time. The vibrations of the music through the speakers flowed through you, making you feel alive. And whatever Y/BF/N put in your drink made you feel even more alive. You just closed your eyes and danced, without a care in the world. 

There was so much you had learned without Damon. And there was so much you still had to learn that you hadn’t even heard about. Even with your emotions off, even with your best witch friend more or less drugging you, Damon was in your head. 

You could feel somebody’s hands roaming your sides, very familiar hands. He pressed against your back, feeling his face in the crook of your neck, lips on your skin. It felt good, but even that didn’t erase the fact that it was Damon. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked softly, hand coming up to encourage his ministrations on your neck.

“Mmm,” he hummed, feeling the smile on your neck. “I missed you.”

“You just saw me, at that diner a few months ago in Denver,” you reminded him, eyes fluttering shut as he licked a stripe up your neck to your ear before nipping at your ear. Your other hand ran down his side, hooking your finger in his belt loop. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss this, didn’t miss him. 

“I meant being this close to you,” he corrected. “Do you trust me?”

“Is that a trick question?” you countered before pressing against him even more. His hands moved from your side to your stomach, one sliding up your shirt. 

The next thing you knew, his teeth were in your neck, your breath catching in the back of your throat before moaning. Your eyes slipped close, that feeling of every fiber of your being being on fire coming back. It was dulled, but it was there. 

“Damon, we can’t do this,” you reminded him right before he spun you around to face him, your palm resting on his chest as you looked up at him. He was still the same, cocky Damon you remembered. 

“Yes, we can, Y/N. We can do anything, everything we want to. Just… turn it back on. Please.”

“Not here,” you replied, taking a step back and taking his hand. You knew he would follow you blindly anywhere. It had been fifteen years and you were ready to stop running. It was a lonely existence, even if you didn’t fully realize it. 

You took him back to your hotel room, not saying anything on the walk or on the elevator ride up. Had you compelled the penthouse suite? Definitely. You were used to the best, because of Damon.

“Why should I turn it back on?” you asked softly, staring out the window. You could see his reflection behind you, not touching you, but being close enough to feel his breath on your neck. 

“You’ve been running for fifteen years,” he reminded you, as if you didn’t already know that. “Don’t you want more out of your life? Aren’t you tired of it just being an existence? I know what it’s like to have it off for so long. It’s not going to be pretty, Y/N. But I will be there every step of the way.” 

“Again, why Damon? Give me one good reason. One. Just one,” you said again, almost pleading with him. You couldn’t look at him, not directly. Instead, you looked at his reflection mixed with the sea of the city.

“Because I still love you,” he finally said. “I couldn’t stop trying to save you. Because you are worth saving. Because I couldn’t go a single day knowing that I was the reason…” His chin rested on your shoulder as he finally looped an arm around your waist. “I couldn’t let you go. I…” You’d never seen Damon Salvatore at a loss for words. His cockiness and arrogance had all but faded. This was who he really was. A man so desperately in love that he would give up everything for you. 

“I want you to say it, Damon.” Your voice on the other hand was unwavering. 

“I’ve spent the past fifteen years regretting that night.” He sighed. “It was one of my weakest moments. I thought I was keeping you safe. I thought...I am sorry. I am sorry. Because of me, you are a vampire. I am reckless. And I am selfish. Except when it comes to you.”

“But that’s not true,” you corrected, not moving. “You are selfish even when it comes to me. Compelling me to forget was selfish because it kept me in your life. Saving me when Klaus made me stab myself? Selfish because it kept me in your life. Suggesting I complete the transition? Selfish. Following me for the past fifteen years? Do you see where I’m going with this?” He nodded, eyes closing as he took a deep breath. 

“What are you thinking?” he asked as your hand rested on his. You were debating if you should push him away or pull him closer. 

“You are the most selfish person I know, Damon Salvatore.” You pulled away, only to look at him. He looked like the same man as that you’d met fifteen years ago at the Founders Counsel. He was the same man that wormed his way into your heart all those years ago, but there was something different about him. “And I am not the same person I was.” 

“You don’t think I know that? I’ve seen you grow into an amazing person over the past fifteen years. You’ve evolved, you’ve changed. You’re more confident.” 

“Damon,” you said softly, hand reaching up to cup his cheek as it all came crashing down. Everything you’ve done over the past fifteen years. Everything you’ve tried not to feel. “When…” You choked out a sob as he pulled you to his chest. You clutched him close, like a child’s security blanket. 

“It’s going to be okay,” he assured you. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” His fingers combed through your hair. 

The next morning you woke up to an empty bed. It took you a minute before it all came crashing back down. You weren’t expecting to feel so...alone again. It was the reason you’d shut it all off in the first place. Until Damon walked through the door with breakfast in his hands. 

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he said when he saw you were awake. “I would have ordered room service, but I wanted to feel nostalgic.” You understood what he meant, feeling like it was fifteen years ago all over again with Damon bringing you lunch and wine every Wednesday. If only it was a Wednesday. 

“I have to tell you something, Damon,” you said before he even had a chance to sit down. He just sighed.

“Can we just have breakfast first, and then we can continue our tour of humanity and feelings?” He pulled out two fresh blood bags, tossing you one. It wasn’t as glamorous as old times, but you figured you guys would probably have plenty of time. 

“I turned it off, Damon,” you reminded him as you began drinking. He just nodded, able to sense the sarcasm on his face. “Do you remember after Mason almost killed you, when you found me crying in my car?”

“Yeah. What about it?” He kicked off his shoes before sitting cross-legged next to you on the bed. 

“I told you Mystic Falls didn’t feel like home,” you continued, Damon nodding along. “You were the first thing that felt real in a long time. When I was with you...I didn’t feel alone anymore. You’ve had Stefan your entire life. I lost everyone years before I met you. Mason was one of my closest friends when I was in school, so when he tried to kill you it was like I had finally lost everyone I cared about. Except for you.” He had a pained look on his face, as if he knew where this was going. 

“And when I found out what you did.”

“That loneliness was magnified,” he finished for you, dropping his head before looking at you with those sad Damon eyes. 

“I loved you, Damon. With everything in my being. I would have walked to the ends of the Earth with you. And I felt like I had lost you that night, lost this idea that I had of you in my head.” You could tell saying you loved him in the past tense hurt him. 

“I’ve told you, I’m not the good guy,” he reminded you. You nodded, knowing that was true. 

“I didn’t want to feel lonely or hurt or angry anymore, so I decided not to. And then you spent fifteen years following me. I was just waiting for you to decide I wasn’t worth saving anymore. Maybe it would be one person too many. But you never gave up.”

“I couldn’t give up. I blamed myself every day. So I couldn’t give up until I knew that you were happy. Not numb, but actually happy. Even if it wasn’t with me.” 

“I was the happiest when I was with you. You made me feel like I belonged somewhere again.” 

“Until I didn’t,” he corrected, taking your empty blood bag, tossing it in the garbage can. “I can’t take back what I did, though I’ve wished every day that I could. I can only try and show you everyday how much I love you.” 

“Then show me, Damon,” you told him in a hushed voice. “Show me what I’ve been missing for the past fifteen years. Remind me what I’ve been missing.” 

Your eyes fluttered closed as you felt his hand on your cheek, his lips on yours as he laid you back on the bed. There were plenty of times you and Damon were rough and passionate. This was different. You remembered the lazy mornings, the noon quickies, the passionate late nights. But there were a handful of times that it was like coming home. That it felt as easy as breathing. Like it was the rightest thing in the world. 

You remembered when you kissed him right after your transition. When it felt like electricity running through your skin, like every touch was going to set you on fire. It was something you had dreamt about, something you had only in your memories. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, his thumb brushing the tears off your cheeks. You hadn’t realized you’d started crying again. Fifteen years of pent up feelings would do that to a girl. 

“I missed this. Missed you,” you told him as your hand rested on the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the hairs on the back of his neck. “Do you feel it when we touch? The fire, the electricity?” He nodded, capturing your lips again. 

You’d spent so many years alone after your parents died, sure that you’d never find home again. For fifteen years, you’d run away from the idea of home. You’d never thought home would be in a person, would be in Damon. 

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” you reminded him, your hands sliding up his shirt as his hands slid down to your waist. You were still just in your tank-top and underwear, and here he was completely dressed. He only pulled away to let you pull his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor. 

“God, I missed you,” he told you, staring into your y/e/c eyes. 

You didn’t move, not wanting to miss a second of this. Sure, you two now had forever, but this moment was the best moment of your existence. Your hands slid down his chest, feeling the smooth expanse of skin. Though your exploration was cut short as he peppered kissing along your jaw, your eyes closing and head falling back on the pillows. 

You just let yourself feel. Feel him. Feel the emotions that came with being so close to him. You couldn’t deny that the bad feelings were just there under the surface, but you tried to just focus on him. Which worked, your hands holding onto his biceps. 

His lips continued down your neck, one hand holding onto your waist as the other came up to gently push away the strap of your tank-top, giving him access to your shoulder. Your breaths came a little faster out of anticipation. He was everything you’d ever wanted. 

He pulled you up a little bit to slide your shirt off. You thought you’d feel more self conscious after all this time, but the only you felt was desire as you undid his belt buckle before sliding your hands down the waistband of his pants and boxers. 

“Dae,” you sighed as his lips found your breast. He knew exactly how to make you want more, peppering kisses before toying with your nipple with a mix of teeth and tongue. 

He didn’t stay long, continuing to work his way down to your stomach, sucking hickies along your hip bone that you both know would heal within minutes. It didn’t matter though. You were with Damon, close to him again. This reminded you of when you were the happiest. 

It came as no surprise when he pushed your underwear down your legs, letting you kick them the rest of the way off as he stood to drop his pants and boxers. You propped yourself up on your elbows, taking in the glory that was Damon Salvatore. 

“Come here,” you told him, taking your bottom lip between your teeth in anticipation. 

You saw him look at you, much like you were looking at him, licking his lips. You just couldn’t tear your eyes off his as he joined you on the bed again, kissing him like your life depended on it. One of your legs hooked around his waist, not wanting to waste any more time.  

The feeling of him sliding into you was more intense than you’d ever remembered, thinking it was probably because of your heightened senses. You hissed at first, burying your face in the crook of his neck, teeth biting into his skin. Until he started moving, moans falling from your lips, mingling with Damon’s. 

Your nails dug into his shoulders as you kissed anywhere you could reach -- his lips, neck, arms. You hadn’t been this happy in fifteen years. You hadn’t wanted someone as much as you wanted him in fifteen years. There were no words between the two of you, just the sounds of two people being together in the rawest form possible. You felt it build up and build up until it all came out, Damon following you. 

“I love you, Damon,” you finally told him, his face softening. You looked into his eyes and you saw endless possibilities. You saw a future you could have only dreamed of having as a human. You had eternity with him. For the first time since you were a teenager, you’d found home. 

[seokljin]

ult group tag  💕

tagged by the sweetest @jintae @kooseokss & @dnaez \ @dnaes

rules: answer the following questions for your ult group

who was your first bias?

- hobi

who is your bias now?

- 2seok, sun & moon.... i'm just the typical astrology loving gay (but also yoon is trailing v closely by)

what was the first mv you watched by them?

- black swan art film

what’s your favorite mv?

- first of all, fuck you. second if we don't include mixtapes; black swan, ego & run

if you could listen to one of their songs for the rest of your life, which would it be?

- good day but also jamais vu, baepsae, outro: tear, ugh!, every cypher, trivia love, every seokjin\hobi\tae solo

who would you want to see them collab with?

- mitski, kim petras, shinee and oh my gosh i will sell my first born for rap line x clipping. 

what mv concept do you want to see them do?

- victorian gothic vampires 🖤🥀⛓🔪🩸 but also super pink soft gentle eternal gleaming fairies 💗✨🩰🧚🌸 and hobi taking the boys to hopeworld!! if it's to dis-ease bonus points 👌

have you ever had a dream with any of the members in it?

-  v recently!! for the first time ever!!! a incrediblely sweet dream where i attended their masterclass? lecture? and yoon was sitting in the crowd behind me (i guess bc of his shoulder? idk) and while the boys talked on stage he "secretly" played around with the audience using these huge cards against humanity cards like he held the answers to audience members black cards and as the boys wrapped up on stage i leaned over to ask him if i could ask him v small quick q and he was all smiles and said ofc!! and i asked if he himself recorded the birds in set me free and if yes what birds were they and if he wanted that breeds specifically; r they the ones he hear every morning outside his window or did he went somewhere especially to record them....and he got really excited abt my question and replied he did recorded them himself and he won't tell me all now bc it's smth he wants to talk abt lengthily "i promised i'll do album review right? that's going to be the first thing i'll talk about i promise i really want to" OH MY GOD I'M TYPING TOO MUCH (shout out to rachel the only reason i remember this is bc i wrote it down to her as soon as i woke up, ty for putting up with me ily 💖) but if you've read till here i'll finish: basically after that i thanked him and was bubbling about what this song means to me and he was smiling huge and thanked me back, and namjoon came along as he was talking (and he was all smiles as well as he heard our exchange) and as i was getting up to leave i still tried to pry out a lil bit "could you tell me what bird or birds were/they? were there a few or just one? and was it one breed? or few types of birds?" yoongi laughed and said smth to nj in korean and nj translated "it was just one type" and yoongi repeated that as well in eng and they were super happy and laughing as i was leaving

2 quote ksj okay thank you finished! this is such a tmi oh my gosh i really wrote all of it sorry 🙊 such a overshare but it's bc i was so overjoyed abt this dream!!!!!!! bc i've been having really bad sleep for the past few months (like literally waking up sweating from nightmares most mornings) and this was so cute but also i'm so sad bc in rl he already did a d2 vilve so i gues we'll never know the real answers for all my birds questions 😔

if you could spend the day with one member, who would it be and what would you do?

- yoongi. i think me and yoongi are the most similar and i find it difficult to maintain friendship with ppl who are like me, tho we do get close really fast- and so one day where we hang out and talk about art\music\film\history.. anything

which member do you think you’d get along with the best?

- tae and namjoon. yoon 2 but c above :((

which member do you think you would argue with?

- namjoon, but friendly arguments; discussion and disagreement abt our shared interests

if you had to let one member scroll through your tumblr, who would it be?

- this blog?? idk hobi? my main definitely yoongi, i think he would enjoy it very much <33

tagging: as always only if you feel like it ilysm mwah <33333 @daechwitas @eternal-bangtan @slipped-away @ambivartence @honsool @jung-koook @jingetspegged @syubb @kimtaehyunq  and @ anyone else who wants to! consider yourself tagged <3

[bamon4bamily]

TVD 9x16 - What happens in Vegas... (part 1 of part 1) Enjoy!

Cut to - The Salvatore mansion family room, present day. Damon is watching Bonnie sleep. She wakes up slowly…

BONNIE: Ian?

DAMON: Ian? Who the heck is Ian? And tell me where he is, so I can kick his ass!

BONNIE: (Smiles) Sorry, had the craziest dream… And your name was Ian, for some screwed up reason…

DAMON: Oh, okay… then Ian is cool in my book! (Smirks and gives her a kiss).

BONNIE: What time is it?

DAMON: Almost 3pm…

BONNIE: What! Oh my god! I had to be at the airport an hour ago to meet Elena! Shit! Shit!

DAMON: Uhm… Bon… don’t you remember?

BONNIE: Remember what?

DAMON: About Elena…

BONNIE: What about Elena?

DAMON: Her flight got canceled; she got another one straight to Vegas. You don’t remember?

BONNIE: I do, I do… Told you, strange dream… I’m still a bit drowsy.

DAMON: Well, she won’t be able to help you bring all that “bachelorette” stuff. But the bachelor boys are heading the same way; I’m sure we can fit some of it; just promise me there’s nothing illegal in those bags.

BONNIE: (Mischievous smile) I can’t promise you that…

Cut to – Two days later, somewhere in the middle of the Mojave desert. Damon, who looks like hell, is dialing on his cell. Behind him, a crashed police car with Alaric, Iker, and Kai inside; also looking like crap. They are wearing nothing but their underwear.

 DAMON: Care, it’s Damon… Listen ...The bachelor party got a little crazy and, well...we lost Stefan.

BONNIE: Uhm…think we might have a problem of our own…

DAMON: Bon?

BONNIE: It’s me, I think… Anyway; the bachelorette got a little crazy too, and, well… we lost Caroline.

Cut to – A couple of hours earlier. A Sky Villa at the Palms Casino Resort. 

Damon wakes up confused, he is lying on the bathroom floor, drool coming out of his mouth, brain drilling headache. His vision is blurry, but he manages to recognize a familiar face, lying inside an empty bathtub, completely passed out. The familiar face is Kai, dressed in what seems to be a ballerina tutu. 

He stares at him for a minute, wondering why he is there… not in the bathtub, but in Vegas; he hadn’t been invited. Oh well, he’ll figure it out later. For now, he needs to do an overall casualty assessment. He gets up slowly, holding on to whatever is at hand. He eventually gains the balance to find his way out of the bathroom, and into the living room. The place is a war zone, the hotel bill won’t be cheap! Amongst the debris of the previous night, he searches for other survivors… 

Soon enough he finds Alaric, also passed out, half of his body hanging over the piano, which, to Damon’s surprise, a monkey seems to be playing.

DAMON: What the…  (shushes the monkey away from the piano, shakes Alaric to wake him up, no response… He hears a sound coming from a mount of sofa cushions and clothes; someone is under there… it’s Iker, who slowly fights his way out).

IKER: (Looking messed up and disoriented) Hey, man… (looks around, grabs his head) What the hell happened last night?

DAMON: Beats me… I can barely remember my own name… 

(Alaric wakes up suddenly, holding his hands up in a cheer).

ALARIC: Jackpot, bitches!!!!!!!!!!! (He realizes he has no idea where he is, or making any sense). Hey, guys… where am I? What are we doing here?  

DAMON: (Sarcastic) Oh, boy… I have a feeling this is gonna be fun!

(Kai walks out of the bathroom, passes them by, but apparently doesn’t notice they are there, and goes into the master bedroom, throws himself on the bed. Just as he gets comfy, he realizes something is very wrong… 

There is an elephant in the room; literally. Jumps up, screams like a little girl, runs out of the room and shuts the door).

KAI: Holy shit! There’s an elephant in the room!

DAMON: I’d say you’re right, stalker boy. What the hell are you doing here?

KAI: … I have no idea, but I swear, there is an elephant in that room!

DAMON: Are you sure it isn’t Stefan? He can look pretty scary in the morning…

(Goes to check it out, vamps back about a second later) Nop, that ain’t Stefan… and there is definitely an elephant in the room... (takes a drink).

ALARIC: So, where is Stefan? And, why the hell is he (referring to Kai) here!

DAMON: Ric, I think we have more important things to focus on right now… Like, for example, there is a freakin elephant in the room! It’s a baby elephant, yes, but still, a freaking elephant! Those things are dangerous! Oh, and I’m pretty sure there’s also a loose monkey somewhere around here! What the hell did we do last night? Rob a zoo?!

IKER: The only thing I have a vague memory of, is a steakhouse, a casino… a strip joint?

KAI: That pretty much describes all of Las Vegas, so, not a lot to go on.

DAMON: Okay, okay, I’m sure we can figure this out.

ALARIC: Let’s just find Stefan and get the hell out of here, before they put us in jail.

DAMON: Fine. Shouldn’t take too long. Ric and I will check every corner of the villa. Iker, you and psycho boy check around the hotel… restaurant, pool area, casino, etc.

IKER: (To Kai) Think you can keep up, princess?

KAI: (He hadn’t noticed he was wearing a tutu until this moment; he looks at Damon) This was definitely your doing! (Takes the tutu off).

DAMON: (Sarcastic smirk) Probably… Okay, let’s move.

 (They search everywhere, Stefan is nowhere to be found. They teamback at the villa).

 ALARIC: Well, we’ve searched everywhere, he’s not here. (Sarcastic) This is great! The wedding is tomorrow, our plane leaves in a couple of hours, and we are missing the groom... 

We should call Caroline, maybe he ditched us and joined the girl’s party.

DAMON: And if he didn’t?

ALARIC: They can help us find him.

DAMON: Did you get brain damage last night?! 

No way we are calling Caroline! I’d like to live a long and happy life with my Bon-Bon, so, not an option!  Just chill, we’ll find him. He couldn’t have gone that far… it’s Stefan, he’s probably hunting bunnies. All we have to do is retrace our steps from last night, and we’ll find him.

ALARIC: The main issue being… none of us seem to remember anything about last night!

KAI: (Coming from another part of the room) Okay, I just called reception, they assure there is no Stefan Salvatore at any of the area hospitals, morgues, or police stations…

DAMON: No shit, Sherlock, he is a vampire! Of course he wouldn’t be in any of those places…

IKER: Wait… a police car… I remember we were in a police car!

DAMON: Ooh, that can’t be good…

KAI: Oh, oh, oh, no, no, no… (looks at his hand) This can’t be good either (shows them a very tacky ring).

DAMON: Come on, that’s just your daylight ring.

KAI: No, no… I don’t need a ring for that… which means this is … (takes the ring off, sees it’s engraved) most definitely a wedding ring!  

ALARIC: Who the hell would be crazy enough to marry you?!!

IKER: (Cracking up) Shit, this too funny…

DAMON: (Takes the ring from Kai, reads the inscription) “To my knight in shining armour, from your damsel in distress” - Cupid’s Wedding Chapel. Well, boys, I believe we have a lead… 

We need to go to this chapel, ask them if they remember us; and if Stefan was with us.

KAI: And who the hell I married!

DAMON: (Sarcastically) Oh, I’m sure she’s a lovely gal.

ALARIC: I’ll get us an uber…

Cut to – Cupid’s Wedding Chapel. 

As soon as they walk in, the receptionist recognizes them.

RECEPTIONIST: Oh, shit! You guys are back!? Please, just no stealing the “King’s” costume this time!

DAMON: You remember us?

RECEPTIONIST: Of course I remember you! You guys are crazy! Specially you, damsel (winks at Kai). Where are the other three?

ALARIC: What other three? We are only missing one…

RECEPTIONIST: Uhm, no you aren’t; there were seven of you. You four… the wolf man, the cop, and the handsome hero hair guy.

DAMON: So Stefan was here with us, that’s a start!

ALARIC: And, apparently, Matt and Tyler too… So, not only did we lose the groom, we managed to loose two members of the wedding party. (Sarcastic) Fantastic!

KAI: Listen, I really need you to tell me who I married last night...

RECEPTIONIST: Sure, you married Whitney Houston; you lucky bastard!

KAI: What!? I mean, I love me some Whitney, but, really? She married me?

RECEPTIONIST: (Looking confused, and a bit sorry for him) 

Well, an impersonator, obviously. The real Whitney has been dead for a while. Boy, your hang-over must really be screwing with you.

IKER: Don’t these places usually offer packages? Like photo albums and stuff…

RECEPTIONIST: We sure do.

IKER: Did we, or he (referring to Kai), buy any?

RECEPTIONIST: The whole nine yards. I thought that’s why you guys came back. (Takes out a box of wedding souvenirs and a photo album) Look… mugs, crystal balls, pins, key chains…

DAMON: Let’s go straight for the album… (They go through the photos. Some are “somewhat” normal...

Others, go along these lines…  Kai, dressed as a ballerina, and the bride dressed as a noble knight. Stefan, wearing an Elvis outfit, mastering every single one of his iconic poses. Iker and Damon playing catch with the bride’s bouquet. Alaric, sneaking about, in full Indiana Jones mission. Matt, riding an inflatable unicorn, role-playing to be the Lone Ranger. Tyler, on all fours, howling).

DAMON: (Terrified at the pics they just saw) Oh god… I don’t even want to know...

ALARIC: (Sharing the sentiment) Oh, fuck no... apparently, I was the one to walk Kai down the aisle… Those pictures really need to be destroyed….

RECEPTIONIST: I’m telling you… you guys are totally insane!

ALARIC: You don’t happen to know where we were heading when we left here, do you?

RECEPTIONIST: No. But you did mention something about settling a debt; getting Britney Spears back for something…

ALARIC: Britney Spears?

RECEPTIONIST: Yep; the hero hair guy kept going on and on, about her owing him big time; and that he was going to collect… And you (referring to Damon) kept saying “It’s Britney, bitch!” That’s all I got, hope it helps. (Alaric looks at Damon to see if he remembers anything from hearing that …)

DAMON: Sorry, man, I’m at a blank…

IKER: Wait… I think I’m getting a flashback… of you (referring to Damon), strip dancing to “Gimme More”?

DAMON: No… I’d never strip dance to that! Britney Spears? Nice try, but nop.

KAI: Oh, come on, everyone loves Britney!  

ALARIC: I think I remember that… God, please, take that image out of my head! Of all things, that’s what you chose for me to remember?! Have some mercy!  

DAMON: If I did… I probably rocked it (winks and smirks).

IKER: Okay, I’m definitely gonna need therapy after this trip.

ALARIC: Well, we got all the information we are going to get from this place; and I don’t think I want to find out more. So, what’s next?

DAMON: I say we pay Miss Spears a visit…

ALARIC: First, no one would ever let us be less than 300 feet from her. Second, that’s ridiculous; she is obviously not involved, aside from you stripping to her songs. What we need to find is that strip joint we apparently went to after, or before, this place.

IKER: (Who has stumbled upon a box of matches in his pocket) Maybe this can help… (shows them a very tacky match box, which reads: Mystic Divas.

Cut to – Mystic Divas strip joint. The place, given the hour, is obviously closed. Just as they are about to leave, a woman, wearing Whitney’s “Queen of the Night” outfit, spots them as they are about to leave.

 LADY: My princess! (Runs to hug Kai and kisses him) Why you bail on me last night?! Thought we were having fun!

KAI: Uhm… I’m guessing you are, my knight in shining armour?  

LADY: Sure am! Till death do us part… (Sees Kai’s terrified face and laughs) Don’t worry, it was only pretend, honey, nothing permanent. We were both really drunk and thought it would be fun.

DAMON: (Sarcastic) Aw…what a love story! (To the lady) Sweetheart, you think you can help us put some dots together?

LADY: I can, but there is no way I’m letting you on my stage again. And, don’t call me sweetheart.

ALARIC: So, we were here last night?

LADY: Physically, yes. But I’m not sure any other part came along. Y’all were completely wasted.

IKER: All, meaning us four; or were there more?

LADY: Shit! You really don’t remember anything?

DAMON: (Trying to avoid the whole Britney strip thing) Nop!

LADY: Well… you were all here; plus the other three dudes.

ALARIC: I’m assuming that was before “the wedding”?

LADY: Yes. This is where (looks at Kai) we fell in love. But we came back here after the reception. Well, only me, my hubby; you fine looking thang (referring to Iker), and you, the ultimate party pooper (referring to Alaric). Don’t know where the rest of you went. All I know, is that my princess here, pulled a runaway bride after he got a call, and you two (referring to Iker and Alaric), left along with him.

ALARIC: Do you know around what time that was?

LADY: I’d say three-ish? Anyway, I have to go (kisses Kai on the cheek) It was lovely being your wife for the night. Good luck boys! (Leaves).

IKER: Not bad, psycho boy, she’s hot!

KAI: (Proud smirk) Totally hot!

ALARIC: Kinda reminded me of…

DAMON: (Before Ric says the name, he knows he’s going to say, he changes the conversation) Kai, check your phone…

KAI: (Rubbing it in his face) What... she remind oyu of someone, Damon?

DAMON: Please, you wish! 

Now, check your freaking phone!

KAI: Fine, fine… (looks at his received calls; sure enough he has an inbound call, from an unknown number, at 3:13 am) Well… Yep; I received a call, clueless about the caller, but seems like we had a lot to talk about, call lasted 20 minutes…

DAMON: (Sarcastic) Gee, I wonder how we can find out who the mystery caller is?

KAI: We could try to hack into the local police system, they have a huge database. Except, we’ll need a computer, preferably a stolen one so it’s untraceable…

IKER: (Also sarcastic) Or, maybe just call the number?

KAI: Of course I was gonna do that first! I was just thinking ahead, in case we get no answer. Amateurs! 

(Calls the number…) What a surprise… no answer! Oh, wait… (someone answers: Rawson Neal Psychiatric Hospital, how can I help you? Hangs-up immediately).

DAMON: So, who was it?! Why did you hang up!!

KAI: Ooh, I’m getting a bad feeling…

ALARIC: Give me that (takes the phone from his hand, calls the number… Rawson Neal Psychiatric Hospital, how can I help you? Hangs-up immediately) Shit…

DAMON: So, who the hell was it?!

ALARIC: Not who, but what…

DAMON: Ric, I’m too hung-over to be playing guessing games.

ALARIC: Does anyone remember anything about a psychiatric hospital?

DAMON: Now, that’s definitely a place Stefan could be at…

KAI: Specially if he was found hunting bunnies…

DAMON: Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go one flew over the cuckoo’s nest…

ALARIC: I’ll get us another uber…

IKER: Wait… 

Uber! Of course! I can’t believe we didn’t think of that! Everyone, check your phones for any trips we took last night.

DAMON: Duh! Man, we are really out of it!  (They check their phones…) Well, I have one at 5:30, from the hotel to the Andiamo Italian Steakhouse, downtown. And another one at 7:40, from the steakhouse to the Bellagio… That’s it.

IKER: I have one, from the Bellagio to Mystic Divas at 1:06am.

KAI: As for me, one, at 3:33am, from Mystic Divas to the Rawson Neal Psychiatric Hospital…

ALARIC: I don’t have any from last night.

DAMON: Okay, so far, our best bet at finding Stefan is at that psych hospital. Let’s move.

 TVD 9x16 (part 2 of part 1) coming very soon! Hope you stop by, read, and enjoy! =)

P.S Had to split it into more parts otherwise it would be too long for one post per part. 

[radramblog]

Radiohead Retrospective Part 6: I try to sing along but I get it all wrong (‘CAUSE I’M NOT)

I don’t have as much to say about the lead-in to Hail to the Thief, much like I didn’t have much to say about that for Amnesiac. There isn’t as earth-shattering a shift as Kid A, and there isn’t a big story like with The Bends or OK Computer.

Hail to the Thief was (probably) the first batch of music Radiohead recorded after the sessions that produced Kid A/Amnesiac, meaning they had the full breadth of that experience to work with. What we received as a result was somewhat of a fusion of the electronic/jazz-influences of those albums and the rockier stuff of the band’s past.

Now I’ve heard a fair few complaints that this album is too long. That’s probably fair, it’s their longest album, with a total of 14 tracks, meaning it does kinda drag on a bit. Thom Yorke apparently agrees, seeing as he put out an alternative tracklist in ’08 (link) missing four songs. At the same time, I’m going to pull Death of the Author on this one, because as much as I’ve seen people complain that there’s too many songs on this, nobody ever seems to get along with which ones they’d cut- let alone people wanting to pull B-sides in the mix.

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves there, aren’t we? Suppose I should just talk about the fucking album.

We begin this record, like all Radiohead records, with studio chatter. Wait, what the fuck? Yeah, it’s quiet but it’s there. Why not, right?

2+2=5 is a lovely little banger to open on. Unquestionably a rock song, it features a very slow and quiet (and heavily panned) first half before just fucking exploding in the latter half. It genuinely might be the most aggressive track the band has put out, a manic cascade of energy and breathy falsetto that’s genuinely headbangable. It’s also a fun thing to try and read the lyrics for, since the booklet the album comes with gives up for this bit and just goes “eezeepeezee NOT” or something along that line.

Oh yeah, that’s actually something worth bringing up. Neither Kid A nor Amnesiac had lyric booklets, deliberately obscuring the actual words to the songs, to the point where people had pretty wide interpretations of what they actually were. Considering the incompleteness of 2+2=5’s entry in it’s booklet, perhaps similar occurred with that. I’m still unsure if the subtitle of this post is actually the real lyrics.

Most people, I think, read the name of this track and just kind of assume it’s about 1984, the book boomers bring up whenever their freedumbs are impinged upon. And it’s not not about 1984, but there are extremely specific political references as well- Hail to the Thief, title of the album and line in the track, is a quote regarding the U.S. President of the time, George W Bush, who lost the popular vote but won the electoral college- something that sounds awfully familiar to those of us living in 2021. “January has April Showers” similarly refers to the unseasonable weather of Bush’s inauguration.

The last thing I’d like to bring up before we finally move onto the second track is that every single song in this album has a subtitle- for 2+2=5, it’s (The Lukewarm). According to Yorke, it’s a reference to Dante’s Inferno- the Lukewarm being the people around the edge of hell, damned due to their passive indifference- the kind of people the song’s lyric, “you have not been paying attention”, is referring to. I’m literally learning these meanings now, so we’ll see how many are worth bringing up.

Perhaps fortunately for my word count, Sit Down. Stand Up (yes the full stop/period is part of the title) (that’s not the subtitle) doesn’t have quite as much going on. Though it does have a video, for some reason. It’s a sort of repetitive trance of lyrics set to an electronic percussion, distant piano, and….I don’t know what other instrument is making those light dings. A xylophone? Interestingly, much like 2+2=5, it’s one that builds slowly into a chaotic finish, the raving of that track reflected in the almost cold mania of the raindrops the raindrops the raindrops the raindrops the raindrops……. It’s a decent enough song, but I legitimately cannot imagine listening to it ever outside the context of this album. Which is weird, because I definitely remember doing so when I was younger.

Track 3 is Sail To The Moon, a lullaby or ballad or sorts, a calm after the storm that is the previous track. Quite literally, considering it’s repeated lyric. And also literally, in that it was actually written for Thom’s son at the time. The subtitle, (Brush the Cobwebs Out of the Sky) evokes a very literal interpretation of the song’s title, which doesn’t actually reflect the lyrics.

Sail To The Moon is, as any good lullaby should be, utterly soothing. It’s calm, with Thom’s vocals just drifting across the piano, loose guitar, and percussion like a low tide. This is one of those songs I’ve come around to much more with time, because I distinctly remember skipping this a lot. You’ll find I’ve listened to this album a fair few times, though the section between 2+2=5 and Go To Sleep is one I skipped a fair bit, I think.

Backdrifts is a heavily electronic song that apparently in part predates Kid A and Amnesiac, which is kind of interesting- we’ll see a bit more of that later. As a track, it’s kind of spacy- the synth instrumental feels like something out of an eerie sci-fi film, if you notched the tempo up a bit.

Backdrifts is also the first song where I can see the “too long” argument come in. Not for the album (though I believe it’s one of the ones the alternate tracklist leaves out), but the song itself- I’m not sure this is a song that needs to be the second longest on the album (and only by a second). It’s fine, but considering what it comes off and what follows it, it’s in a bit of an awkward spot.

Go To Sleep is another one that kinda took me a while to get. I always heard it as being one of the top tracks on the thing, but it never really clicked with me for a while. I suppose I’ve never been massive on purely acoustic-guitar-led affairs? With age, though, I’ve better appreciated the depth the song has. Possibly the folkiest song the band has, it might have taken me getting into R.E.M. to recognize what the song is.

And the song is good!

But unfortunately for Go To Sleep, Where I End and You Begin is my favourite Radiohead track.

Holy shit, this song sounds so fucking sick. That percussion, that bassline, those fucking Ondes Martenot babyyyy. The song is spacey and ethereal, but tied down by the more traditional elements of the instrumentation. The fantastical lyricism tying into very real themes of personal boundaries, how they define how people interact, and how when they fail, things tend to go badly- “There’ll be no more lies, I will eat you alive”. It’s just an absolute fucking track.

I don’t think I can possibly explain why I like this song so much. Opinions and favourites are kind of like that. But it just speaks to me. The hyper-fuzzed out guitar soloing in the bridge, the loneliness of the second verse, it’s just incredible.

Also it possibly references Optimistic with the lyrics which is cool! I also like that song a lot.

The subtitle, (The Sky Is Falling In), is something I’ve not been able to find a reference for regarding it’s meaning, but since I like the song so much, I’m going to do some interpreting. If we assume the song is about boundaries in a relationship, it’s clear that the final lyrics are the utter devastation after those boundaries are breached. But “The Sky Is Falling In” fits better with the third verse, what with the house falling into the sea- the tipping point has broken, the household (or, the house) is in freefall, the sky is falling with it. But that’s just my opinion, man.

Still with me? We’re not even halfway.

We Suck Young Blood can best be described as off-kilter, perhaps even deliberately out of tempo. A very pointed use of handclaps, typically a part of substantially more energetic tracks than the dirge this song presents. I’m sure this isn’t what the song is about, but at face value the lyrics read like some sort of social service run by vampires- give us your young blood, and we’ll make things better for you. In a way, it’s kind of fun, silly even. I suppose the claps help with that. The track is otherwise just, melancholic- slow, piano-y, even the sudden pickup barely lasts- though I always forget it’s there, making it kind of a surprise every time. Like, oh shit, we’re going somewhere for a bit, I need to put my seatbelt back on- ah never mind it’s over (and then the song keeps going for a while).

We come now to The Gloaming, the song that was originally going to be the title track for the album. They changed it, apparently, because it got rejected- too gloomy, apparently. According to Wikipedia, a fair few of the subtitles from the album’s tracks also came from proposed names for the album proper.

The song itself is also pretty gloomy, as it happens. Apparently, it’s literally about the rise of fascism, so fair enough. An electronic track, with many a repetition, feeling uneasy and cold the whole way through (making the subtitle, Softly Open our Mouths in the Cold, pretty apt). It feels almost minimalistic at times, without especially many lines running through it- and without a big crescendo like many to most of these songs have, it feels somewhat lifeless- a deliberate choice, no doubt.

Oh shit, are we up to There There? We are! God this song fucks. Those opening drums are iconic, not to mention the way it layers onto itself. And the video! Eerie horror at its finest.

Like, I know Where I End and You Begin is my favourite song on this album unquestionably. But there is no doubt in my mind that There There is the best song on the album.

Good enough that I don’t have anything really interesting to say about it? Like many songs on this album, it’s got a big old crescendo, but the build is just so smooth, and the climax is just such a swelling. “We are accidents waiting to happen” is such a powerful lyric, and it’s hardly the only one on the song. A comment I’ve seen about the song describes the guitar as akin to laughter, a mood I can definitely see in the track itself.

Anyway the song ended so I guess I gotta move on.

I Will is kind of an interesting case. It’s unquestionably one of the most emotional songs on the album, considering it was written about a U.S. bombing of a shelter that wiped out 408 innocent people, and that’s fucking horrifying (S.O.P. for the Army it seems). It’s short, and…well it’s not sweet, but it is tragic and haunting.

It’s also a song that went through variation on variation before finally appearing on this album. Early live performances date to 5 whole years before Hail to the Thief, and considering the bombing was in 1991, it was probably written well before then. Versions of this track are kind of everywhere as a result- one early version was eventually chopped up and reproduced into Like Spinning Plates on Amnesiac- reconstructions of the process are available on citizeninsane.eu- or they were, at least, because apparently that site’s embeds relied on Flash.

I do particularly want to highlight the Los Angeles version of the song, which was a b-side on 2+2=5 (and also was on the Com Lag EP), because it’s a fuller version of the track- not necessarily better, but the full band is involved, making it a much different experience.

Track 11, A Punchup At A Wedding, has become somewhat of a meme on the Radiohead subreddit. Mostly it’s a result of the opening lyric, literally “No” 42 times over. The subtitle, for reference, is also all “No”s. On a similarly lighter note, the track is apparently a result of the band stumbling upon just a needlessly scathing review of one of their live shows, making it one of the few Radiohead tracks I could confidently say is about one person in particular. With all the second person, the lyrics probably wouldn’t be out of place on an early Linkin Park track (whether that’s an insult or not, I’ll leave as an exercise to the reader).

The slow, almost marchlike rhythm of the song well suits the tone of the lyrics, and to be clear, the tone is pretty much “Man, what the fuck is wrong with you?” and the emotions that come with being torn down by someone who doesn’t know you or really recognise what they’re doing. I suppose it’s refreshing for the metaphor to be this obvious for once. It’s a pretty decent song, piano-driven like many a song on the album, which means theoretically if I ever relearn the instrument I could play it. Maybe.

Myxomatosis, while a pretty fucked up disease, is an absolutely excellent song. If 2+2=5 is the heaviest rock song on the album, Myxomatosis is the heaviest electronic song on it. The lyricism is incredibly dark, unsettling and violent, suiting the harsh buzzing synth line. They say fuck in this one! And the way the entire song save percussion drops for the key line (I don’t know why I feel so tongue-tied/skinned alive) is so excellent. Interestingly, said line also appears word-for-word in Cuttooth, a B-side from Amnesiac, though the mood is profoundly different.

I suspect the song being named Myxomatosis and being pretty clearly about public perception and fame should give you a hint as to how the band views the media and the world of the rich and famous- the subtitle, (Judge, Jury, & Executioner), certainly adds to that. Thom sounds a mix of hesitant, confused, disgusted, and frustrated on the track, and it works incredibly well.

We’re finally on to the penultimate track, Scatterbrain. And I’m going to be honest, I don’t know what this one’s about. I’m out of patience to figure out what Genius is going on about, though it’s fairly incomplete for this track anyway. It’s relatively simple, for a Radiohead track, and pretty enough, but I can see why people don’t tend to like this one as much. I distinctly remember it being bottom of the list or close to it on a subreddit poll at some point (might have been above We Suck Young Blood, which I don’t agree with).

Scatterbrain kind of just has the problem of being a pretty decent album track, right between two of my favourite songs on the album. Which is awkward as always.

Our final song is A Wolf at the Door, and talk about a closer. Thom has described it as like waking up from a nightmare and finding out reality is worse, which is both relatable and upsetting. The song is grim, with confusing imagery in the verses leading to a desperately emotional chorus about someone’s children being fucking ransomed. Also, a bridge with more Nos than A Punchup at a Wedding, where are your No (x105) memes Reddit, get it fucking together!

The lyrics of the verses in A Wolf at the Door have a swaying flow to them that’s almost rap-like, especially since the falsetto that Thom usually sings in around this time is completely absent from them. This makes it one of the few rap-ish songs I’ve actually tried to perform, and I’d probably be pretty okay if I didn’t keep forgetting bits.

The song is just, frustration (verse 1), desperation (chorus), anger/frustration (verse 2), and back to desperation (chorus) again, which doesn’t quite fit the stages of grief cleanly, but that’s probably fine. The final vocalisation of the song (and thereby the album) feels almost like a sorrowful howl, which makes less sense the more I think about the imagery and intent of the lyrics, so maybe just ignore that actually. There is just so much imagery packed into this track, especially in the second verse, that listing it out is pointless- but it all just clicks so well, into this deluge of frustration and madness carried along by that instrumental that just seems to get lower and lower forever.

Anyway that’s the whole album, isn’t it? I’m going to keep this outro brief, because we’re approaching 3000 words at this point, but I think that fact says it all. There’s a lot of Hail to the Thief, but it never really misses per se. It has less great songs, but no bad ones. I’d argue my own biases probably cloud my judgement, but even if some of the tracks are more forgettable, the highs are so high for me that it easily stands among the band’s best.

Unfortunately, not everyone agrees with me. But that’s fine, this is my opinion, the rest of the world is allowed to be wrong.

A lot of things would happen between Hail to the Thief’s release in 2003 and the followup, In Rainbows, in 2007. But that’s ultimately a story for another day. A week from today, to be precise.

See you then?

[missroserose]

all you touch and all you see

“So...why are we here?”

A moment of silence.  Fingers tighten around a trendy reusable mug.  Green eyes flick up, meet his, far more sincere than he could have imagined, even a week ago.

“I can’t explain it.  I’m just...more myself, when you’re around.”

Sam Wesson is dreaming.  Well, half-dreaming; awake enough that he can tell that he’s lying in bed on sheets with some ridiculous thread count, covers bunched around his legs, the cool constant breeze of the ceiling fan blowing over his sleep-warm chest.  At the same time, he’s sitting in the passenger seat of an old muscle car, rain tapping on the roof and hissing beneath the tires.  The thrum of the V8 permeates his whole body as he flips through papers, research for the next job.  The automatic reverse on the tape deck clicks over, and Sam wonders how many times Dean’s played this exact Led Zeppelin album on this very deck.  A hundred?  A thousand?

Dean.  Dean is there in both worlds, beside him.  He glances over to where this Dean is squinting through the rain.  Takes in his scruffy jacket and worn shirt, hair standing on end in places, the ketchup stain on his jeans from his lunchtime drive-through burger.  It’s such a contrast to the Dean beside him in the bed, the Dean of suspenders and suits and Brylcreemed hair, the environmentally conscious vegetarian Dean who wouldn’t be caught dead driving a car that got fewer than thirty miles to the gallon.  

And yet, there are tells.  Little commonalities, signs that the two of them aren’t as different as they might look.  The way their eyes narrow slightly when faced with something they don’t immediately understand.  Their absolute disdain for talking about feelings any more than strictly necessary.  Their unbridled fierceness when they take on a threat, corporate or noncorporeal.

The way they both love Sam.  Fierce.  Devoted.  Protective to a degree that makes Sam wonder, sometimes.  Or would, if he weren’t every bit as smitten.

Sam isn’t sure what to say to that.  It’s disconcerting, seeing Dean in casual clothes—still natty in a sweater and slacks, but his hair is carefully (and attractively) mussed, his posture a fraction looser.  He keeps quiet, keeps his face open.  Knows, somehow, that this is the best way to keep people talking.

“You bring out something good in me.  If I’m going to keep climbing the corporate ladder, I need someone to help me remember I'm not actually in hell, you know?”

Sam can’t blame Dean for staying at Sandover, not really.  He’s on the fast track, in a position most people their generation would kill for.  Especially with the economy the way it is, steady jobs with good salaries and benefits are nothing to sneeze at.  Working as an executive is prestigious; it’s not like he was a cubicle jockey, subject to the indignities of unflattering uniforms and unsavory coworkers.  Dean is on his way up.

Sam, meanwhile, was on his way out.

The week after his slightly dramatic walkout, he’d been making serious plans to go hunting alone.  Spent his days poring over newspapers, looking for strange deaths or weird occurrences; imagined sniffing out supernatural threats, saving people.  He applied for a loan for a car—found a great deal on a Dodge Charger—and dedicated an afternoon to looking up supplies he might need to kit it out properly.  It was terrifying and exhilarating reading, realizing how much might be out there, how many beings he had yet to encounter, how much studying there was to do.  What to look for, what to pack, where to even begin.

Perhaps most saliently, his dreams—the strange, inexplicable dreams that had haunted him during his entire three weeks at Sandover, where he hunted things, where Dean was his partner, continually present—had stopped.

Then Dean Smith had called and asked him for coffee.

Dean’s eyes meet his again, just briefly, before dropping, a charmingly bashful smile spreading over his face.  “Look, I’m not asking you to marry me or anything,” he says, rubbing the side of his neck, looking away.  “It’s just, if you wanted...I think we could have a good time together.”

They do have a good time together—it’s a little surprising, really, the uptight executive and the slacker cubicle jockey pairing off.  But they share a love of bad action movies, and a passion for video games; Sam hasn’t had his ass kicked so thoroughly and consistently in Halo 3 since college.  But even beyond that, it was like their rhythms are aligned; they fall into cohabiting in Dean’s tiny apartment almost immediately, as if they’re already entirely used to living in each others’ pockets.  Work during the day.  Chores on weekends. And at night—

Well, of course, there’s the chemistry.  The sheer blinding-white magnesium-flame heat of the two of them together, as bright-burning as it is undeniable.  The way Dean’s eyes, green as his own, darken, pupils dilating, when Sam stands just a little too close.  The pulse-pounding rush of need that hits him when Dean’s mouth curls up at one corner in just the right way, the way that indicates Sam is about to come harder than he ever has in his life.  The soft, broken noises he knows Dean makes, that they both make, when they teeter together on the edge, a bare breath from tipping over, entwined.

“I know you don’t think this is our life.  What we’re meant to be doing.”  The words give the air around them strange twin taste—resigned and relieved, both.  “But Sam—it’s a good life.  It’s the life I’ve wanted, the one I never thought I’d be able to have.  God knows my dad didn’t think I’d make it.  Nobody did.  But here I am.”  His eyes meet Sam’s again.  “Here we are.”

Those beautiful manicured hands on him feel right in a way Sam’s never experienced before.  It’s not even sexual, not really—the sensation is there as much when Dean musses Sam’s hair as it is when Sam is shaking apart with Dean knuckle-deep inside him.  There’s just something about the two of them together that’s...centering.  Liminal.  Like they form their own shelter, the eye of the hurricane when the chaos of the world is howling around them.

Sam asked Dean once if he felt the same. Dean had quirked a brow at him, given a little smile—”What, like some kind of past life thing?  You going to start telling me we’re soulmates?  Whatever you say, Samantha—” and yet there’s something in the way he touches Sam at times.  Reverent.  Almost disbelieving.

Like Sam, too, is something Dean had never thought he’d be able to have.

“I’ve got some connections at my old firm.  I can make a few calls, get you an interview for a decent job.”  He takes a drink of coffee, forcing a pause; shielding himself for a moment from Sam’s reaction.  “I know it’s not your dream.  But you could stay.  With me.”

And yet, in a way, it is Sam’s dream.  Because Sam’s been having dreams again, almost from the day of that fateful coffee date.  Dreams where he and Dean do everything together that Sam had imagined, had read about.  Where they hunt demons, vampires, demigods—creatures that make Old Man Sandover look like something out of Beetlejuice.  Where they spend what feels like half their life in the boredom of long drives or library research sessions, punctuated by the heart-pounding adrenaline rush of a hunt, a fight.  Where he and Dean save each others’ lives over and over, where they would die for each other, probably will sooner rather than later, but where they’re alive now, where they retreat victorious with whiskey or beer to their shitty motel room—

Somewhere more private.  Lips swollen from kissing.  A hand on the side of his face, long fingers threaded in his hair.  Green eyes on his once more, open, honest.  Vulnerable.

“I’d like you to stay.  God, Sam—please.  Stay.”

—and where they never, ever touch.  

So Sam took the job.  Let the loan application lapse, eventually deleted the various websites on ghosts and mythology and monsters from his bookmarks.   He spends his days working in IT security, which is at least more interesting than tech support—it turns out he has a knack for breaking into systems, for getting into places he’s not supposed to be, for ferreting out information companies would prefer remain hidden.  And his nights—well, if spending his nights in Dean Smith’s bed (and on his couch, and over his desk, and in his office chair, and) is the consolation prize for growing up and letting go of childish dreams, it turns out adult life has its perks as well.

He takes one last look at the scruffed-up Dean—still pretty, Sam thinks, fondly; there’s just no way to make a face like that look common—and lets the dream fade.  The vibration of the engine, the hiss of tires on wet asphalt, even the dry-dusty smell of the Impala’s heater all grow distant; Sam moves his fingers, stretches, moves just enough to scoop his lover into the crook of his shoulder.  Dean nuzzles him, murmurs a few nonsense syllables, and sighs, settling back into sleep.

Sam takes a deep breath through his nose.  Hair pomade.  Cologne.  Sweat.  Dean.  It makes him happy, in the kind of way that leaves his chest a little tight, that brings tears to the corners of his eyes.

Most people don’t even get one life with Dean.  He gets two.  Gets to tread the thin line between them, the one where Dean is his perfectly ordinary lover, and the one where he’s—both more, and less.

As dreams go, he’ll take it, and be grateful.

[grimelords]

I have been unbelievably busy for all of 2020 so far. Starting a new job and crunching to finish an old one, it's been very good but it has also meant that I haven't had the downtime I'd have liked in order to write long screeds about when drums sound good in songs so my December and January playlists unfortunately never got finished. They will exist as 'lost' playlists in the grimelords canon where you will simply have to listen to them and have your own thoughts about the songs instead of having your judgement clouded by me saying things like 'this sounds nice' and 'I love when the guitar goes woo-eee'.

You can listen to them here:

December https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4crPEVSPwftPpWl14xUrXF

January https://open.spotify.com/playlist/25MP7onYLCwWRYBIi0u3yc

As far as this, my February playlist goes: It's great! It's two and a half hours. The songs sounds nice and the guitars go woo-eee. I was worried I wouldn't be able to listen to as much music with my new job but it turns out I'm listening to more than ever which is extremely nice. Please enjoy, and if you'd like to subscribe to this playlist please do so here: https://tinyletter.com/grimelords

Listen to this playlist here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3ZraEZOeS6qvVxfnz3AJS9

Ballad Of The Skeletons - Allen Ginsberg, Paul McCartney, Phillip Glass and Lenny Kaye: I had a dim childhood memory of this 1996 Hottest 100 funny skeleton song that my sister randomly brought up this month and was was shocked to find out that somewhere deep in my brain the part where the electric chair skeleton says “hey what’s cooking???” was still stored. I was also shocked to find out that the funny skeleton song I remembered from when I was a kid was actually a collaboration between Allen Ginsberg, Paul McCartney and Phillip Glass and was an unexpected hit on MTV and Triple J in 1996 for an as yet unknown reason.

I Can Go With You - Sam Burton: This song came up in my Discover Weekly, and I was so excited to listen to more of this 70s singer songwriter I've never heard of before who has no doubt had a long and illustrious career and was shocked to find out that not only is this song from 2020, it is also the first and so far only release by Sam Burton and his debut album is coming out sometime this year. I love how plain it is, and the first time I heard it it made no impression on me until a couple of hours later when I realised I was humming the melody to myself. It has this decepitive simplicity to it, and it sounds like a song you've always known which is really about as good a compliment as you can give a song. I also love this statement from him: “I was writing a song a day for 30 days as a personal challenge to myself. I Can Go With You came near of that practice and I considered it a throwaway at the time. After recording most of the album I still needed a couple more songs and decided to throw it on and we recorded it live followed by two others. When I listened back it ended up being one of the tracks I was happiest with on the record.” I love when artists are asked about songs and they have no divine inspiration to relate, just a process of daily work where they're like "well, I wrote it, like I always do. Did the chords and the words and everthing just like normal. I write hundreds of these things and this one came out pretty good. I don't know what else to tell you."

Wild Dogs - Colter Wall: This is a song by Billy Don Burns who you can probably expect to see on this playlist next month, and who as I understand it is one of these 'real' country guys that have been around for a million years and only ever had success when other people sang their songs. So it's very nice of Colter Wall to continue that tradition for him. I love the way this song takes the metaphor to a place of almost uncomfortable literalism, a tryst metamophising into something private, bloody and feral. The subtle way the lap steel whines slowly along in the background before stepping out and taking centre stage once the song picks up steam near the end is a marvel too.

Tom's Diner - Suzanne Vega: I had a live version of this randomly recommended to me by youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DkYPge6ZKSQ and it made me see this song that I'd always been sort of aware of in a new light and really properly appreciate it for the first time. Somehow I'd never noticed the last verse where it moves from literalism to memories, and of course that's sort of the moment that ties the whole song together. What I really appreciate about the acapella arrangement is that it feels like this is a song that's existed a million times before but she's the first person to actually write it down and record it. Everyone's made up a little dishwashing song or a little walking song, reciting some to-do list in your head. It's an entire genre that exists under people's breath for a few minutes and gets immediately forgotten.

If You Don't Know Now, You Never Will - Drugdealer: I could have sworn this was a Tobias Jesso Jr song. I really just assumed it was until I looked at the credits. It's such a nice song though and I'm glad this sort of 70s californian vibe is making a quiet comeback because it is just uniformly pleasant and it's nice to hear these sorts of arrangements, with the accenting violin runs and things like that. All the extra decorations and ornamentations that have sort of disappeared.

Crimson Tide - Destroyer: I absolutely love this new Destroyer album because it just feels like such pure uncut Destroyer. I’ve always thought of him as a sort of 400 year old vampire lounge singer who is just amusing himself at this point and so the cover art has really confirmed my suspicions on that front. The lyrics through this whole album are so good, the sort of stream of consciousness strangeness like ‘when lightning strikes twice the funeral goes completely insane’ that takes a on such gravity because he sings it with complete deadpan seriousness.

Truth (feat Alicia Keys and The Last Artful, Dodger) - Mark Ronson: I didn't really give this album a chance when it came out but ever since I found out Alicia Keys is good now (Time Machine) I've been looking for more good Alica Keys work and found one here. The Last Artful, Dodger is one of the worst artist names I think I've ever heard but she absolutely kills it on the way she says biiiiitch so I'll forgive it.

Surf & Turf - Boldy James + The Alchemist: Alchemist's production on this whole album is so incredible. He really just lets Boldy go and doesn't get in his way like good production should. Especially on the opening verse where Boldy James sticks with that loping flow for so long in 3s over 4 that matches that arpeggios in the beat, it's just a perfect harmony of rapper and producer.

Fat Mac - Duke Deuce: Misogyny in rap is a real issue that nobody seems really allowed to talk about because it's obviously very complicated, and this song some real classic 'stay in the kitchen' type woman hating in it and is basically incredibly callous and cruel throughout. However this beat is hot and there is also a part about a third of the way through where he says "fuck her till that pussy fart" and then makes a big fart noise, so.

Set It Up (feat. Trina) - Kamaiyah: I only found out about Kamaiyah's fantastic 2016 album A Good Night In The Ghetto about two weeks before her new one came out so I've been on a real Kamaiyah hype for a little while now. She's just fantastic. I love this song because I love the part where Trina seemingly out of the blue threatens to piss in my mouth. The first time I heard it I said 'wow!' out loud.

Come As You Are - Greg Phillinganes: There's something going on with the pop math in this song that I just can't put my finger on. It feels for all intents and purposes like this should be a hit. The melody is great. The big synth voice is great, it's got extremely fatty bass. It's great! But something about the structure of it is just off, it's got too many sections or something. Which kind of makes me love it more really.  

Devotion - Pure Bathing Culture: What surprised me the most about this song is the secret shredding happening throughout. It feels like a sort of clean and cool guitar that hasn’t existed in the wild since the Lethal Weapon soundtrack and it adds such an energy to this already completely wonderful song.

Paper Cup - Real Estate + Sylvan Esso: The production on this song is just so beautiful. The violin melody and the pillow soft synths really add such an extra dimension to it. The tone on everything really. The guitar in the solo. Every time I listen to this song I just want to listen to it again because it goes down so smooth.

Mark Zuckerberg - Nap Eyes: I’m a very big fan of the way this song transitions from a sort of TMBG novelty song halfway through into a lonely and beautiful thing instead. It’s like he got distracted and wandered off in the middle of his set but the camera followed him. I also haven’t heard a lyric in a long time that made me bark laugh so instantly as “And what does he do with all that sand? He collects sand right? I think I read that somewhere. Seems innocent enough.”

Viking Hair - Dry Cleaning: I fell in love with this band immediately on hearing this song. The way the spoken lyrics sit in a place of almost coherence, dipping between mysterious phrases and earnest admissions feels like Life Without Buildings for a new generation. I love the feeling of a huge crush at the centre of this song that comes through achingy in every single word, even when she's talking about abandoned refrigerators.

LeBron James - Do Nothing: This is my number one song this month I think. I've listened to it every single day and I cannot wait to see what this band does once they've got more than a couple of songs out. It's my absolute favourite kind of lyrics: the kind that sounds like you just wrote down every one-sided phone conversation you overheard on the bus and then the music is some halfway point between Black Midi and Franz Ferdinand. What else do you need!

Can I Receive The Contact? - The Spirit Of The Beehive: The Spirit Of The Beehive's album is one of the best I heard this month. The way the production incorporates sound collage and samples without diluting the immediacy of the songwriting is really something special that feels hard to pull off in a rock context but sounds effortless through this whole album. The way this shifts at the end into the odd time section is so great and really the way the whole album flows like one long track is just amazing. Please listen, I'm obsessed.

An Air Conditioned Man - Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever: There is so much space in Rolling Blackouts songs. They just go and go, sitting in this great jam space without feeling shaggy. The tempo across the album stays pretty consistently at this breezy, upbeat, driving speed that makes it feel like as soon as one song ends the next one just picks up exactly where it left off. It almost feels like a studio confines them and they'd be better off just recording their album live at a show where every song can go for 8 minutes like it wants to.

Leak -Truth, yesnoyesnoyes- - Boris: I got to see Boris and Merzbow this month, which was a great treat for me but it was also at a seated theatre venue which was a very strange choice. Sitting down and clapping politely as Merzbow pressed the screaming button feels odd, like being at an 1800s World's Fair show about the wonders of electricity or quite literally like being the guy in the chair getting blown away by the speakers in the Maxell ads. I bought earplugs for the show but ended up pulling them out for the last three songs or so to properly experience it, and it was fucking great. Something I was thinking about after the show is that it's interesting how Boris mostly have clean vocals, and really approach metal as an idea from and angle that's more shoegaze than Slayer. Aside from the immense volume, there isn't a lot about their music that I would describe as agressive, even most of what Merzbow added to the set was just extra feedback frequency noise, not atonal agression. I don't mean this in a trve kvlt way, more like it's interesting how they've taken the aesthetics of metal and refined them into pure amplifer worship, in their words, by either playing straight drone, or just playing normal hard rock at inhuman volumes. Boris are very good is what I'm saying, and I can't wait to listen to more of their extremely large discography.

Nameless Streets - Defeater: I've never really listened to much hardcore and I'm not really sure why. I've listened to Defeater's first two albums to death though so maybe it's time to branch out. What I love about this song, and this band in general is the vocal delivery. In a lot of agressive music from metal to screamo, because the agression and emotion is always sitting at a 10 the nuance can get lost and it becomes a sort of white noise, but Defeater have a nice way of backing off musically and vocally here and there to let the hard hits really hit hard. The outro to this song is also some absolutely world class snare work, building a tension bed in the simplest way thats relieved when the rest of the band comes crashing back in.

Boys In Town - Divinyls: I love the true desperation in this song. The trapped in a small town, surrounded by fuckers stress that gives way in the second half to just screaming "get me out of here!!". I am also interested in the evolution of the phrase 'too much, too young' and would like to know whether this song is referencing the song by The Specials, and if the Defeater song on this playlist is referencing this song or The Specials song, or if all three came up with it independently. It's a simply enough phrase, I suppose they could have. Who cares, really.

Body By Crystal - Spike Fuck: Come on a journey with me and imagine a world where Alex Cameron makes good music. That's Spike Fuck! The sort of burned out, past their prime singer desperate for a hit in any sense type of character - except actually put together with some heart and emotion and not an 80s comic book writer's understanding of human lows. I cannot wait to hear more from Spike Fuck.

Rogue Wave - Aesop Rock: It is something of a marvel how consistently high quality Aesop Rock's work is. For all his verbosity and expansive vocabulary he seems to never veer into white guy rap god flexing for the sake of it. Even a song like this that's 3 minutes of dense verses with nothing resembling a hook doesnt feel exhausting, it just feels like a series of extremely pleasing words and images like "take it where the warlocks lock horns, soda pop, popcorn / top notch gore set to Bach over fog horns" that makes my brain go "nice".

Momentary Bliss (feat. Slowthai and Slaves) - Gorillaz: I love the strange rollout Gorillaz are doing for this album, building the tracklist one song at a time. It's a nice way to force close listening, especially in songs with odd structures like this. I love hearing how different prouction changes Slowthai's approach; on this and Deal Wiv It that he did with Mura Masa it feels a lot brighter than anything on Nothing Great About Britain and there's a playfulness in his flow that comes through accordingly. Gorillaz are always moving around musically but I love how much of a live band feel this has compared to the more studioy sound that killed their last album for me.

We Will Always Love You (feat. Blood Orange) - The Avalanches: I am so excited at the possibility of a new Avalanches album already, and this is the perfect song to have as a lead single because it functions more like a teaser. Like 'would you like an hour more of this kind of beautiful, loving dream?'

Tar Sequence - Lalo Schifrin: I found out a little while ago that the local news theme when I was growing up was actually this song from the score to Cool Hand Luke, and according to a bunch of other guys in the youtube comments it was the local news theme for a lot of stations across America as well. The scene is of a prison road gang working under the blazing sun, and I'm sure someone could write a thinkpiece about the soundtrack to the nightly news, and really the platonic ideal of news themes in general stemming from the score to a scene about prison labour. But not me! I'm just going to write this little post and say we all owe Lalo Schifrin our lives for inventing the sonic pallette of kung fu AND the news, which is an incredible achievement whichever way you slice it.

When You - Tha Pope: It's a little bit of a shame that footwork is 'over' now but I suppose that's the way of things. The intro to this song is an absolute all timer for me. The delay soaked tag, the extended organ lick and then a total gear shift into this shrieking vocal sample that sounds like something has gone wrong but is revealed in actuality to be the centre of the whole track. I absolutely love Pope's little adlib at the start, and halfway through when he brings it back - it injects some real humanity into this cacophonous, volatile song and lets you know someone's done this on purpose, they've not just turned every dial to 10 and pressed play.  

Jonny/Jonny (Reprise) - Faye Webster: I am absolutely in love with the tone of Faye Webster's voice and especially the way she slowly slides up to the note at the end of every line in the verse. This is a song that belongs to the great genre of songs that sound like they were entirely written and performed while laying on the floor and staring at the ceiling. The reprise here comes back at the end of the album and I love it so much. It feels like a Sex And The City monologue set to music, an underexplored genre I'd definitely like to hear more of.

Holes - Matt Berninger: Matt Berninger of The National covered Mercury Rev's Holes for a series of charity 7"s that Planned Parenthood are doingand I really love his take on it. It's a difficult song to cover because it is so beloved, and I think he does really well to not smooth out the arrangement into any sort of easy listening version. The rumbling piano and the extra vocals that mirror the original saw sound near the end are just wonderful. The part that always breaks my heart in this song is the "bands" line at the end and he really does it perfectly without being overdramatic.

Ta Aro - Nadia Reid: I love the way this song is just soaked in tension and potential energy. She has a beautiful way of holding a note just past the edge of her breath, like when she sings 'glory hallelujah' or 'I am stronger' and in the wordless refrain that just draws me in. Then the way it all closes in on itself and shadows close in at the end while it swells to this beautiful thunderstorm of sound. Just great.

Purify - Neurosis: Someone had a tweet a while ago that was like 'listen to a new album every day in February and write about it' and I thought 'fuck it why not' and started doing that. I kept a little note in my phone of every album I listened to that I'd never heard before, and I ranked them out of 5 so I could remember which ones I liked. I ended up listening to 49 new albums which surprised me, and it was surprisingly easy to do as well so I've decided to keep doing it in March as well. Highly recommended. A nice side effect of constantly searching for new things to listen to is it's given me a chance to hear bands that I've always heard about and know the name of but never actually listened to for one reason or another, which is how I got to Neurosis. It's nice to hear this kind of industrial 90s metal that I'd only ever previously heard in Tool from another angle, and it is especially nice to hear bagpipes in a drone metal context - a thought I'd had independently about a week before hearing this album and was glad to have willed into existence before me.

Shallow Sun - Real Estate: Time! I love a song about aging that mentions specific years and ages so you can count along on your fingers. '25 in 2010... so he was 24 when they put out in their first album.. 39 in 24.. so he's... 35 now.. and i'm 28... which means I'm... 3 albums behind..'

Quand Vas Tu Retrer - Melody's Echo Chamber: I'll listen to any song in 5/4. It is simply groovy. This song is so beautifully textured it feels like you can just get completely lost in the sound while the groove moves it along.

Living Through Another Cuba - XTC: I think I've posted this song on one of these playlists before but fuck it, the more time passes the more I think this might be one of the best songs ever written and a complete and total encapsulation of the cold war mood. The absolute maniac resigned powerlessnes on full display, screaming and shouting about pullings fins from an atom bomb and the absolute certainty that even if the world isn't destroyed this time it'll all come around again soon enough anyway.

Time - U.S. Girls: I am a huge proponent of the long song at the end of the record as a concept, and really I believe every song should be the long song at the end of the record if at all possible. This amount of colour in this jam is just incedible, it never gets weighed down or waylaid it just keeps moving though an ever shifting kaleidoscope and I absolutely love it. It also reminds me of Los Bitchos who were on one of my secret lost playlists from December so it's nice to have their vibe represented here at least. This song also interestingly ties into a thought I was having this week about the limits of music wherein time is the only immutable constant. In all of life music is an inescapable constant of course, but in music especially compared to visual art or written art, time is an inexorable force. You simply cannot bend time in music, a song or performance will always have a duration that will define it, short or long, which cannot be muted or played with in the same way that rhythm or tonality can. 4'33" is a good example of that, being devoid of everything except time. When there is nothing, there is still time. Canyons of time.

Bad Magic - Weyes Blood: I got to see Weyes Blood a couple of weeks ago and I feel extremely blessed that I did. She's just amazing. She played this song solo as her last encore, and she's in a sort of interesting position of blowing up majorly on her fourth album so people (myself included) weren't overly familiar with her older stuff. So when she said 'this is a song called Bad Magic' everyone clapped politely and one woman right up the back screamed "oh my GOD??" which is the kind of personal, just for her, singular experience I'm always here for. Hearing this song for the first time in that setting has really made me fall in love with it. The thing that's always alienated me a little abot Weyes Blood's earlier work, and the thing she changed so dramatically on Titanic Rising is the structuring of her songs. Titanic Rising embraces pop songwriting so wonderfully where her earlier work was so much shaggier and harder to access as a result - but in this song I love it. This song is meandering and long and wanders around in circles and I'm here for every second of it.

Listen to this playlist here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3ZraEZOeS6qvVxfnz3AJS9

[awsugar]

oh bullets for the album thing

the first song from this album I heard:  if i remember correctly i downloaded the whole album and listened to it in full the first time so romance

do I own the album?: yea, i bought the cd at borders in 2008<3 and i can’t find the cd but i won’t admit i’ve lost it because i would never like. get rid of it. it has to be somewhere. also i have two copies on vinyl, i’m slacking on my bullets collection, they’re hard to find for not a million dollars

my favorite song: vampires!

my least favorite song: headfirst for halos

a song I didn’t like at first, but now do: i think i liked them all on first listen? i’m one of those annoying people who thinks mcr doesn’t have a bad song so even my least favorites are songs that i love

a song I used to like, but now don’t: like i just said i love ever mcr song i think they all slap i just have ones i love less, that being said i think i used to like headfirst for halos more than i do now. i think i was streaming a couple weeks ago and i said ‘anyone could write headfirst for halos’ and people went CRAAAAZY i have such bad opinions <3

my favorite lyric: how do i pick one lyric. i just had to pause folie a deux to think about this. ‘we could be in the park and dancing by a tree kicking over blades we see or a dark beach with a black view as pinpricks in the velvet catch our fall’ but actually no i just remembered my actual favorite which is like the entire bridge of skylines and turnstiles. ‘and in this moment we can’t close the lids on burning eyes our memories blanket us with friends we know like fall out vapors steel corpses stretch out towards and ending sun scorched and black it reaches in and tears your flesh apart as ice cold hands rip into your heart that’s if you still got one that’s left inside that cave you call a chest and after seeing what we saw can we still reclaim our innocence and if the world needs something better we’ll give them one more reason now’

overall rating out of 10: 10/10 obv

[who-is-olivia]

Track 10. From the Dining Table

Harry Styles x OC

Harry struggles with loneliness after Olivia refuses to answer his calls. [2.4k]

Genre: angst

Warnings: substance abuse, sexual language

 December 2016

  He calls her one more time. It beeps, beeps, beeps and it ends up on mail. It must be the tenth message he sends but he does so anyway.

“Hey love, it’s me again. We haven’t spoke since you went away and I hate this silence, if you don’t want to talk to me can I at least know why?” he begs to the cold phone, hunching over his knees with a hand holding back his hair. “I know I was an asshole, I’m so so sorry, but I want to talk. Can you please call me? Even if it’s just to shout at me and call me names? I love you”

  He wipes the corners of his eyes, not in shame, just to avoid his mates asking what’s going on. Harry leaves the waiting room and walks in the studio where Ryan and Mitch are tweaking his recording of Two Ghosts. The album is almost done, they only miss a couple more songs to close the set. As he sits beside Mitch, he notices his friend’s worried gaze as if he could hear his failed attempts through the acoustic protection.

“Nothing?” he asks.

“Just silence” Harry sighs and Mitch pats his leg in comfort.

“Why don’t you go to New York?”

“I don’t know if she’s there, she could be with her grandma in New Orleans or Rio, she could be in London, I wouldn’t know”

“She’s not answering my texts either” Mitch replies. It’s as if, overnight, Olivia vanished from the face of the Earth. “Not even Frank”

  He leaves the studio late and walks back to his hotel. A few fans stop him on the way, he’s not on the mood to be his usual cheerful self but he still obliges when they ask for pictures. One of them has a t-shirt with her album cover, when he looks up he’s almost speechless.

“You okay?” she asks, a mix of elation and awkwardness.

“Yeah, you just... remind me of someone”

“Olivia, right? I get that a lot” she laughs, “There was a time I copied her braids, people stopped me in the streets for pictures”

This time, he chuckles as well. Oli loves taking pictures, it appeals so much to her vanity it’s exhausting. She’s not a very sympathetic person when it comes to interacting with strangers, but she always made her fans an exception. “That’s crazy”

“Can you send her a picture of me? I’m a huge fan”

At her request his weak smile falters. He’d love to send her a picture but she won’t notice it, she won’t reply, she won’t care. “Of course”

He politely takes a picture with her and pretends to send it to Oli. “Thank you so much”

“Do you live nearby?”

“No, I’m staying at the Hilton, I’m actually from Mexico”

“So am I! I mean, staying at the Hilton, I’m quite British” she laughs at his clumsy excuse, “Do you want me to walk you back, maybe get a few drinks?”

“Sure!”

  He tried to forget her, he tried to drown away his sorrow and sleep with someone else to fix the problem but he failed pitifully. His drunken haziness only caused him to sob over someone, and looking at her likeness made it even worse. He wasn’t struggling for the lack of sex, that’d be easy to fix, he misses her entirely, body and soul. He misses her company, her weird insights, her particular taste for rom-coms and the strange foods she smuggles from her hometown. He misses her touch, the texture of her collarbones and the way her hair smells in the morning, he misses the stargazing and the way her eyes shine like a dark sky with a single star...

  When he wakes up the morning after, her twin fan is sleeping on his bed while he gets up from the couch. She’s dressed from head to toe, only her shoes are stored nicely in a corner. By the time, he’s already missed a fine amount of working hours in the studio. A text from Mitch begs him to stay at the hotel and try to work himself out, better than sniffle over his shoulder while he tries to work. He works his dizzy way to the bed and pokes the young woman.

“Oli... I-I mean...” he steps away, trying to recover her name somewhere in his drunken mind. “Luna?”

“Hm?” she rubs her eyes open.

“Hey” he strokes her arm clumsily, “Morning. I might need to leave in a few minutes, you’re a guest here right?”

“Oh, yes” she gets up in a stretch. “I’m so sorry”

“It’s alright, thank you for last night”

“It was nothing” she recalls him laying on her lap bawling his eyes out as she tries to comfort him the best she can. “I hope you figure yourself out”

“Thank you” he pulls her in for a friendly hug and walks her to the door.

  Now that he’s alone, he takes his phone again to no avail. She won’t answer, she won’t even listen to his voicemail. He then googles her name to search for recent news, the most recent one is about Frank’s new affair and his sister’s approval, the last one indicating her location is three months old, when she joined him in Jamaica. He checks her social media, Frank’s, all her former bandmate’s but when he least expects it, he finds a clue.

  Her friend Matty, who he hasn’t seen in months, posted a photo wearing one of Harry’s old t-shirts, a white one he wore to a Burberry fashion show. Without a second thought, he reaches out.

“‘ello? Who’s this?”

“Hey, it’s Harry, Harry Styles” he immediately regrets the call. It is a stupid idea, he shouldn’t be intruding.

“Oh, hey! Sorry, didn’t recognize your voice”

“I’m sorry... listen chap, I need to ask you something and you might find it weird but when was the last time you saw Olivia?”

He ponders for a moment, “She came by when her tour began last year, but we haven’t talked much ever since” Harry sighs in defeat, “But I saw Frank last weekend when I was in LA”

“Weird, I just saw a picture of you with a shirt just like mine-“

“It probably is, I got it from Frank” he shuts his eyes in realization. Of course, Frank is like a damn vampire, only he takes his peer’s clothes. “He stole a shirt from me, thought I’d do the same to him”

“Did he mention anything about Oli at all?”

“No, she said she’s just fine... but he was weird about it, I could tell” Matty confesses, always prizing his truthfulness.

“I see... cheers mate, sorry for the weird questions”

“No problem, let me know if you need anything”

  Another finished phone call, another silence. He hates the silence, all that’s left in silence are his troubled thoughts. Slowly he falls back to sleep thinking about her, dreaming of their home in New York, Oli waking up early to water the plants as he played the guitar in the garden, making dinner together, napping together at their studio’s couch after a long day of work. He wakes up a bit lost and finds his writing journal few inches away from a pool of wine he accidentally spilled last night. He hoisters the journal carefully but lets something fall in that puddle: a map.

“No, no no no” he picks it up and runs to the bathroom pressing the white towels against the paper. He unfolds the thing and stares in slight relief as the whole thing wasn’t too affected. That map of New York has so many precious memories recorded on it, her handwriting is all over the place. He finds the spot east of Central Park where she marked with a circle and wrote ‘home’.

  He wants to go home, he wants to relive their good moments and make new ones. Every piece of poetry in that book somehow reminds him of her. There’s the one describing how he felt after their vacation in Rio, when he got to see her interacting with the place she grew up on. She was so fulfilled, so joyful... He had then rented a penthouse across the street from the beach where they could see the whole coastline. They’d wake up in bliss, make love all morning and spend hours just on pillow talk. Then he’d take her to the sea and hold her legs around his waist, leaning to kiss her between the waves, her touch light on him. He called the poem “Waves in Her Eyes”, he never felt like making it a song, just a good reverie.

  One of his favorites, “Spotlight”, is about watching her perform. She feels so in sync with her music, it’s like she’s possessed by it. He always idealized her when he saw her onstage, after all she looked other-worldly beautiful, but coming off stage that side of her disappeared and she was just Oli: playful, simple, charming Oli. He remembers watching her practice when she’d spend the weekends in his flat in London, one earpod giving her the playback as he could only hear her powerful low-pitched voice roaring the melodies.

  He dozes off quite often, waking up randomly to read another poem, drink some wine and doze off again. When it’s noon, he picks up the phone to no messages of her.

“Hey Oli, it’s me again. This is getting old, but I just want to talk to you... You’re so fucking complicated, ay? Why won’t you ever say what you wanna say?” he spits bitterly but immediately regrets it. “Sorry, in your defense, that side of you never stopped me from loving you. I do it almost like breathing. But now... I know I’ve fucked up, but so did you. I’ll never give up on us but I’m tired of apologizing to silence, maybe one day you’ll call me and tell me that you’re sorry too... who am I kidding, you never do, do you?”

  He loses track of the days he’s spent in the hotel room. One evening, Mitch comes around with his guitar to play something he’s working on but Harry barely clocks in.

“This is a bunch of shit” Mitch groans, looking around the place.

“Sorry mate, I’m not really in the mood for it”

“By the looks of it, your mood is only self-pity and wine. I could agree with wine but self-pity isn’t cool”

“I’ve never felt less cool, Mitch” Harry sighs.

“Fuck’s sake... Harry, go to New York”

“She might not be there-“

“She might be” he counters, willing to play cup half-full if it gets his friend out of this mess.

“I have to finish the album”

“You’re not finishing the album like this”

“I’ll write you something, I promise” he insists, the album is the last string he has grounding him to her world, he needs to finish it.

“Don’t force yourself to it, do what you want whenever you want it. I’ll be right here pal”

“Thanks Mitch”

  He doesn’t remember when he left, nor how he came to the hotel room in the first place, but now he finds himself at the dinning table staring down a blank page of his journal. There’s so much he feels but very little he can put into words. In his haze, he thinks about writing about a particularly steamy night they spent together. It started with them making out on the couch, but slowly their touches became more daring and things got heated. He can’t take the pen to write as he’s too busy playing with himself.

He feels disgraceful, unable to work, to leave the hotel or do anything but feel sorry for himself. But suddenly, his phone rings. In a room so doomed by silence, his ringtone feels like a needle piercing his eardrums. “Hello?”

“Harry?” Frank asks from the other end of the line, “Is that you? Are you ok?”

“How the fuck you think I am?” he answers in a fickle tone, “Why didn’t you answer my texts, I’ve been trying to talk to you for days”

“I know man, I feel awful about it”

“Where is she?” his anger simmers to a small whimper.

“She’s in New York”

“Why won’t she answer my calls?”

Frank dallies with his words trying to find the best ones for this situation, “Harry, there’s something she needs to tell you but she doesn’t know how”

“What is it?” he begs.

“I can’t tell you, I swore to her I wouldn’t”

“Ain’t that precious: she can’t tell me, you can’t tell me, I might as well just fuck off”

Frank feels the full weight of his heart-break, which is in part his fault as he couldn’t talk Olivia through her silence, but this is his only chance to atone. “Tomorrow we’ll play at Jim’s to celebrate the band’s anniversary, 9:00 pm. Your name will be on the list. Don’t miss it”

  Without further ado, he ends the call.

  Harry leaps up in a burst of energy and starts packing his stuff. With everything packed, he looks at the mess he left in the room. If Anne was in this hotel room, she’d bash him up for his behavior, so in honor of her education he makes sure to leave the place spotless. After that, he texts Frank an apology. They both fucked up, but Frank never deserved this treatment. Years of friendship have made him look at his in-law through Oli’s lens, her undying love for him is contagious.

“Hey love, if you haven’t heard any of my voicemail you won’t hear this either, but I’m coming home. What I’m doing here without you doesn’t make sense. I hope when we get to see each other we’ll figure ourselves out, ‘cause this small taste of life without you is quite miserable... anyway, we’ll sort ourselves out. I love you”

  He books himself an overnight ticket to New York and leaves, spending the whole trip trying to justify his absence to Ryan and the other producers. He can't work until he's got Oli back, or at least until they're sorted out.

  He arrives at Jim's pub almost at the end of the show, calmly strolling down the snowy streets. The doors open to a crowded hall, he has to squeeze between the guests to find a privileged spot. Once he gets it, there's nothing between him and Oli. He sighs and smiles until her eyes find his beneath the spotlight.

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Masterlist

[onlytaylor]

Drarry, Eighth Year, and that time Draco Malfoy was a closet Swiftie

There it was, lying innocently on one of the tables in the eighth year common room like some kind of sick joke. Harry approached it, alone and painfully curious as he bit his lip with apprehension.

He’d promised to stay out of Malfoy’s business at the conclusion of the war. They weren’t rivals anymore, and silly games of conflict were left behind in sixth year. Defeating a Dark Lord had that effect on people, and consequently friendships had formed uncannily between members of all houses as they returned to complete their education.

In fact, Draco Malfoy has become sort of a friend of Harry’s if he dared to word it that way. The git was witty and cool, and something about the glint that remained in his eyes when he smiled had Harry coming back for more. It was as if he was a whole new person.

Which is why he detested the innate longing that came with prying into the business of a Malfoy; it was like an old habit that died hard. Or maybe it was that silly whisper in the back of Harry’s mind that wanted nothing more than to know Malfoy better.

Either way, the temptation was far too strong to resist, and he knew that the rest of the eighth years would be back any minute from the younger students’ quidditch match. So with a sinking feeling in his gut, he reached forward.

***

Hermione, in an effort to share her love of Muggle Studies, had extrapolated an intricate doing of her own magic that allowed a certain kind of electronic to work within the castle walls: a Muggle iPod. The trend spread rapidly throughout the eighth years, who now found it commonplace to study with ear buds in and their favorite tracks blaring. She’d even been working recently on a modification of the spell that could project the music from any given device like a speaker. She was still working out some of the kinks, but it was coming along just fine, and she knew before long they’d be using it effortlessly.

***

This is why Harry was itching to know just what Draco Malfoy was humming, poised elegantly as he always was in a chair while he read. He’d watch as his eyes would scan a book, or a roll of parchment, and his lips would mouth the words of some mystery song softly. And his attention would loll on his mouth, trying to piece together phrases at first, but then... he’d begun to daydream about them. They were the gentlest shade of pink, like rose or carnation or some other sappy color, and they were far from chapped (unlike Harry, who was constantly battling dehydration). He wondered what they would feel like, how they could possibly taste, and before long he began to blame the unknown music for all of his embarrassing yet intriguing thoughts. Sometimes they would come at meals, when Malfoy had his earphones secretly slung through his robes as he ate. And Harry would blush, staring unintentionally until they’d meet eyes and he’d glance away quickly and self consciously. That damned iPod, what could he possibly be listening to? And why was he suddenly so bloody attractive while he did it?

***

There it was, shining like a beacon in his hand. An iPod, a normal, ebony lined piece of hardware that he’d typically consider mundane. But this, this held the secret that Harry had been contemplating for weeks. Here, in his palm, he’d finally have answers.

He paused for a brief moment, still fighting his instinct to scroll through every playlist and album the device had to offer. Would Malfoy be mad? But what he wouldn’t know, wouldn’t hurt him... right?

He clicked the center button, and the screen popped on. Harry’s curiosity piqued. His breath quickened. Here it was, all of the answers to his impending attraction...

The door slammed open. A crowd of eighth years walked in, jabbering as always. Hermione was in the forefront with her newest friend Pansy in tow and a very amused Blaise Zabini. Behind them, Draco Malfoy entered with an almost grateful expression.

“Need some tips on music, Potter? I’m just glad I haven’t lost the damned thing.” He extended his hand, and Harry cocked his head confusedly as he readied himself to hand it back.

“You’re not pissed that I was about to go through your things?”

Malfoy shrugged. “We all know you have a history of stalking me. Go ahead, press play.”

Harry wasn’t sure why his heart was racing. His gaze traveled down to the circular button, propped against his now sweaty palm. He expected the song to be muted, for a title to flash across the screen with the absence of ear buds.

What happened next was far from what he ever could’ve guessed.

Firstly, his thumb glided in downward motion as he pressed it. Secondly, the rest of the students filed in from Quidditch, faces painted in red and gold, green and silver. Third, it appeared that Hermione’s magic was more solid than she’d anticipated.

Because all at once, everyone’s attention diverted to the two boys on either side of the iPod that was now absolutely blaring the first few lines to Shake It Off by Taylor Swift.

Harry, confused and startled, hit next without thinking.

“I promise that you’ll never find another like Me!”

He hit next again.

“Drew looks at me...”

Again.

“I remember when we broke up the first time-“

And one last time.

“We were both young when I first saw you...”

“Draco!” He called as Hermione lowered the volume with a flick of her wand. “This is nothing but Taylor Swift!”

Draco glanced around, suddenly feeling the presence of everyone’s gaze boaring into him.

“Yeah? So?” He seemed hesitant at first, but after a moment of thought, his shoulders straightened. “Got a problem with it?”

“Uhm, no, it’s just... it’s just...” Harry suddenly couldn’t spit out the words that were scrambled and fried within his mind. Those lips. Those eyes. The way he moved gracefully and effortlessly in a fashion that opposed his own blunt clumsiness. All at once, he knew. It wasn’t the music. It was Draco. It was everything about him.

“It’s just that he’s in love with you, mate.”

Ron piped from the sidelines, and Harry turned to him, flabbergasted, mouth dropped, heart beating erratically in his chest.

Ron’s response was a shrug. “It’s quite obvious, really. You deserve to be happy, Harry, with all that we’ve been through in the past year.”

“I can second that,” Zabini stepped forward, arms crossed as he stood comfortably next to Ron. “It’s been a rough year, Draco. Wouldn’t you agree?”

For the first time, Harry shifted his focus to the boy in front of him. He appeared almost scared, a few shades paler than his normal vampiric tone. Suddenly, he felt sick to his own stomach. What if Draco didn’t want this? What if Zabini’s intervention was only pious?

“He-here’s your iPod.” Harry stuttered, handing him the object with an unexplainable electricity as they touched. Draco’s eyes widened, but Harry pivoted to head back to the dorm. Away from all of these faces. Away from the rejection he hadn’t known he’d feared.

“Potter, wait.” Draco demanded helplessly, and he turned back. Malfoy was frozen for the moment, but finally formed he words.

“It’s been a rough year for me, too.”

And then, like lightning striking through his being, Harry knew. He just... knew that everything he’d been feeling, thinking, wanting, was mutual. He ran forward, pulling Malfoy into an embrace that quickly led to a sample of those lips.

They were just as delicate and perfect as he’d imagined.

After the cat calls and the clapping (largely from the area of Hermione and Pansy) subdued, they separated and shared soft smiles that meant the world.

“So, uh.. Malfoy,” Harry coughed with a grin, taking his hand as if to lead him somewhere.

“Yeah?”

“It’s a love story, baby just say-“

“NO, you twat!” Draco playfully hit him in the back of the head before Harry led them from the common room. Truth be told, they had a lot more to talk about than just Quidditch and Taylor Swift.

[huahsu]

YEAR OF THE BUTTERFLY

previous years: A SONG THAT DEGRADES EACH TIME YOU PLAY IT :: 2018 A CHURCH AND JOHN LENNON’S “IMAGINE” :: 2017 SIKH DEVOTIONAL MUSIC :: 2016 SPOOKY BLACK :: 2015 this year: I’ve spent the past few months working on a book that I’ve always wanted to write but never figured I’d make the time for. At a really basic level, it’s about listening to music with friends. A couple weeks ago, I devoted a few days to reading a stack of books and articles about the emotional experience of music. They were written by philosophers, critics, cognitive scientists, historians. I took from them two overarching questions. First, what does it mean to assign a piece of music a feeling, like “happy” or “sad?” Is the song itself “sad,” or does it just model a kind of sadness proximate to how we feel? What elements of a song do this? The fraying of a voice? Minor keys? Tempo? Is it all a trick of memory? None of the answers really satisfied me, since music is such an intimate thing. A song makes us feel a way for reasons that are often either blindingly obvious or remote and mysterious. An expert can tell you that humans are wired to feel joy when a certain configuration of notes are struck in tandem, but maybe it just reminds you of looking at the front door.

The other question was whether music itself facilitates any unique emotional possibilities--a mode of feeling that we can’t get anywhere else. Music doesn’t mimic the real world, it doesn’t make arguments. One writer suggested that the thrill of music was its capacity to remind you, foremost, that music can thrill you. In essence, each time we hear something new and feel something, we are being reminded of all the times we’ve felt this way before. We’re living in the echo of a former enchantment. Maybe you’ll hear it again, process it, assign it a genre or context, and the mystique evaporates. But music is one of those things that doesn’t happen on our time. We don’t stand in front of it and train our gaze on this quadrant or that. We don’t flip back to make sure we didn’t miss something. You can’t slow it down as it is happening, you merely let it happen. 

In the spring, the Museum of Chinese in America in Manhattan showed “The Moon Represents My Heart,” an exhibition I worked on with MOCA’s curators, Herb and Andrew. The basic idea was to look at all the ways music had enriched immigrant life, from early opera troupes touring America’s Chinatowns to karaoke bars, church choirs, and after-school violin lessons, fifties doo-wop trios to garage punks and self-taught dance music producers. There’s no legible tradition of Chinese American music so we just wanted to present it as a textured and everyday thing--the experience of the fan could be as legitimate as that of a Mando-pop superstar. While working on the show, people would often ask me for a playlist, but I didn’t really have any to share. It wasn’t really about the music itself, which could sound derivative or amateur to some. It was about the fact that they sought to express themselves through music, in contexts that made them outliers and oddballs. I came to love all the music in our show because of that second-hand thrill--that sense that these moments had been deeply meaningful to everyone in the room. 

You can hear it in the voice of Stephen Cheng, who ended up being the show’s most memorable star. He put out a rocksteady gem in the sixties and then spent the next decade in New York trying to get the Dragon Seeds, his Chinese “folk-rock” band, off the ground. Cheng died years ago, but Andrew found his children, who brought some reels of unreleased music to the museum. I remember staring at them, wondering what was on them. It was a kind of anticipation and wonder that I often miss, when the operative feeling I associate with music-listening on the internet is the frenzy of opening and closing windows, clicking links, proving my humanity to a captcha.

Stephen’s singing wasn’t great, but it was perfect. His version of “Yesterday,” all warbly and over-the-top, has now supplanted the original for me. Somehow, we played some of Stephen’s songs on the radio, including one about butterflies and love. Somehow, one of the people listening was a butterfly expert, and he was about to marry another butterfly expert. Who knew such a song was possible, the groom-to-be told me. Stephen was too obscure to be properly forgotten. Or maybe his song was just dormant all these years. It awaited just the right listener, and now, over forty years later, he would get his propers, sandwiched somewhere between the vows and Kool and the Gang, a couple minutes of people scratching their heads, searching for the right smile, saying Can you believe this? to one another.

### TEENAGE DREAM

Warren Defever/His Name is Alive, All the Mirrors in the House

EXCELLENT USE OF “P.S.K.” Kindness feat. Robyn, “Warning” EXCELLENT USE OF A TELEPHONE Mavi, “Guernica” TECHNICALLY 2018, BUT TAIWAN’S ANSWER TO COIL, JOY DIVISION, ETC SEN, “The Cicada” SAME (2018) BUT TAIWANESE DREAMBOAT VIBES Linion, “Can’t Find” ANOTHER, KINDA BILLY BRAGG-Y Wayne’s So Sad, “Wanderer’s Guide to Taipei” SUMMER IN TAIWAN, AND SO I BOUGHT A LOT OF CDs, INCLUDING THE LIMITED EDITION SIGNED 9M88 DEBUT 9m88, “Love Rain” THEY ARE VERY INTO THE “FUTURE SOUL” THING Andrea, “You Better Kiss Me” THIS GUY HAS THE SAME NAME AS MY COUSIN Yo Lee demos LOTS OF BACKPACKS Hsien, Lately AMAZED TO SEE LIM GIONG REISSUES THERE, THIS IS THE DANCE ALBUM HE RECORDED IN 1994 IN THE UK BEFORE BRINGING RAVE CULTURE BACK TO TAIWAN Lim Giong, Entertainment World (IF YOU ARE UNFAMILIAR WITH LIM GIONG, THIS IS THE GREATEST SONG EVER Lim Giong, “A Pure Person) AND HERE’S 9m88 COVERING “PLASTIC LOVE” 9m88, “Plastic Love” AIR SUPPLYERS Oso Leone, Gallery Love Sunset Rollercoaster, Vanilla Villa I ENJOYED THIS WHEN IT CAME OUT BUT HONESTLY FORGOT IT CAME OUT THIS YEAR, OR THAT I ENJOYED, BUT FOR THE LONGEST TIME MY “2019″ EMAIL DRAFT JUST READ “CHIEF KEEF HNIA KAIL MALONE (sic)” Chief Keef and Zaytoven, GloToven

ANOTHER DEVASTATING DUO Pink Siifu and Akai Solo, Black Sand

MYSTIC CHORDS OF MEMORY Kali Malone, The Sacrificial Code Clarice Jensen, Drone Studies I AM A SLOW WALKER, BUT I NEVER WALK BACKWARDS Michael Vincent Waller, Moments ana roxane - ~~~ A THOUSAND POINTS OF LIGHT Caleb Giles, Under the Shade Medhane, Own Pace WE ARE THE ONES WE HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR Angel Bat Dawid, The Oracle Art Ensemble of Chicago, We are on the Edge READ JOSEPH JARMAN Joseph Jarman, Black Case I and II RESPECT YOURSELF Helado Negro, This is How You Smile Deb Never, “Swimming” LET’S DO IT AGAIN Tommy Holohan & Casper Hastings- RVE001 Eris Drew, Raving Disco Breaks LET’S DO IT AGAIN AGAIN, BUT SMEARED Burial, Tunes 2011-2019 OR PERHAPS YOU WERE THERE Callisto, Guidance is Eternal, Part I PERHAPS YOU WERE THERE FOR MICROHOUSE AND PEAK MEGO AND BLOGS Barker, Debiasing AT A WAREHOUSE PARTY, ABLE TO HEAR TOO MANY FLOORS, ROOMS, SOUNDS AT ONCE, IN A GOOD WAY Dies Smely, “Neptune Rises” AT A WAREHOUSE PARTY, BUT THINKING ABOUT PLUNDER, THE TRAIL OF TEARS, THE SANCTITY OF EARTH Kelman Duran, 13 Month A KIND OF BLUE Steve Hiett, Down on the Road by the Beach POSSIBLY MY MOST PLAYED ALBUM, 2019 Galcher Lustwerk, Information R.I.P. PRINCE, FOREVER AND ALWAYS Serpente, Parada Moodymann, Sinner Nelson Bandela, Purprain THE OPPOSITE OF “I AM A GOD” Nelson Bandela - “i'm mortal” YOU GOT ME Shane Eagle feat. Santi and Bas, “Vanya” HARD TO BELIEVE JAZMINE SULLIVAN REMAINS SO OVERLOOKED Kindness feat Jazmine Sullivan, “Hard to Believe” WATCH FOR THE HOOK Quando Rondo, “Gun Powder”

ANTE UP Polo G feat Lil Tjay, “Pop Out” “PANTS GON BE SAGGIN TIL I’M FORTY” Freddie Gibbs and Madlib, “Thuggin”

“WHY THEY LET THE TERMINATOR WIN THE ELECTION?” Sault, “Why Why Why Why Why”

HOLLOW BONES Showbiz and Milano, “Guillotine” LADI LUV, “GOOD TO THE LAST DUB” City Girls, “Act Up” MONEY BOSS PLAYERS Benny the Butcher feat 38 Spesh and Jadakiss, “Sunday School” Roc Marciano, “Richard Gear” WARP 30 (1989-2019) Droop-E, “The Droop-E Way” INTERSTELLAR SPACE, PROBABLY KILLER LIVE Blacks’ Myths, Blacks Myths II ALICE NEVER WENT ANYWHERE Sam Wilkes, “Sivaya” Alice Coltrane, Live at the Berkeley Community Theater 1972 RIYL: LYRICHORD, EFFECTS PEDALS Seungmin Cha, Nuunmuun RIYL: EFFICIENCY, INTERLUDES Solange, “Binz” “WHO HERE IS STILL LISTENING TO JOHNNY MAY CASH’S “DRUGS” IN 2019?” Playboi Carti, “Molly” “MOLLY” CZ Wang and Neo Image, “Just Off Wave”

YOU’VE SUBSCRIBED TO “UK STREETSOUL YOUTUBE PLAYLIST” Apiento feat Harriet Brown, “Down That Road” WHERE WERE U IN 2092? Jai Paul, “He”

LIL B, INNIT Voldy Moyo, Paper World SCREAMADELICA Vampire Weekend, “Harmony Hall” Humeysha, Nusrat on the Beach FOLKTRONICA Aldous Harding, “The Barrel” TOO PURE Springfields, Singles 1986-1991 MY AQUARIUM Rod Modell, Captagon ANOTHER WORLD IS POSSIBLE Vagabon, Vagabon 4-TRACK TWEE BEDROOM COVERS OF BLINK-182′S DUDE RANCH Colleen Green, Blink-182′s “Dude Ranch” as Played by Colleen Green

KINDA AS THOUGH A PART OF MY 2016-19 LP PURCHASES FORMED THEIR OWN BANDS Anunaku, Whities 024 75 Dollar Bill, I Was Real Joshua Abrams and Natural Information Society, Mandatory Reality

JUST 30 OR SO GECS Cool Fang, Sparring I’M A DEADHEAD BUT FOR STANDING ON THE CORNER SOTC Art Ensemble, SOTC Double Bass Ensemble * Merciful Allah Black Hole Theater * 4/24/19 SOTC Art Ensemble, Variation 9 * Merciful Allah Black Hole Theater * 4/27/19

SONG OF THE SPRING, SUMMER, WINTER, YEAR, STILL UNDEFEATED

[bishiglomper]

I HAD WEIRD DREAMS

Probably because I took my drugs at bedtime. My glipizide causes funky dreams.

First of all I woke up mentally chanting:

"Demons never stay

Stay away, stay away"

It makes less sense the more I sift back through it..

So. I (not physically myself) had a little sister. At some point she turned into an orange kitten that had licked up a pill that had poisoned her. The male guardian dude didn't give a shit. I shot a baby bottle of milk down her throat because I'd read milk will bind to some poisons. It worked and the kitten expelled brown chunky sludge. (Dream logic! I popped her head off like a bottle to dump the liquid out. I had to give her cpr to start her up after screwing her head back on...)

She apparently accessed some forbidden knowledge and her soulmate-couple parents were doomed to split so she decided to give up her form and we would become sisters again sometime later when the time was right. Next thing I know, she's a little Lego viking woman.

I was taken to some boy's house to play and I dug around in a junk box in their garage to find little Lego weapons and stuff my Lego sister could use to entertain herself with because she was staying there. We made the promise that I could come visit after a while. Like a year. I was worried the kid would get rid of his legos and she would be gone.

Next part is murky..

But the next part got very plot heavy. I guess I had made friends with the warrior cats and some of them had traveled out of their place and into the world. So I went looking for them

Somehow toy story characters got involved and they were interchangeable... (I remember seeing life size Woody and Buzz go into Applebees. I don't know how, why or when. I remember wondering how they were life size)

I went to the zoo and sought out this prairie dog exhibit. You could walk right up to it like it were a guinea pig pen at Earl May's.

One of my buddies was a prairie dog. He'd been separated by his buddies but he was going to somehow get back to them. I could speak to the other prairie dogs and they thought this not-really prairie dog was weird because he had refused a mate. You could tell he was sad and lonely but he was holding out for his clan. I wished him luck and said goodbye. I'd find him later.

There was this resort.. theme park... city? Thing an hour away. I think I had a lead that my buddies were headed in that direction.

Mom read me a job ad for this area. They wanted a kid for PR purposes. You have to work on this stone bridge, posing and taking pictures with cats and dogs. They did articles on service dogs and warm fuzzy things like that. We discussed it because 1) I am a very socially anxious person and omg a job wut. 2) this place was an hour away we can't just drive there everyday. Someone then said we could be picked up by helicopter (and I was like whoa I don't think I would be real chill with that, that's scary)

But then I realized I was too old but my (non-lego, now 12ish year old outgoing sister would be perfect! ...???)

I'unno. We end up in the city (its evening/night now) and I'm anxious to find a sign of my friends. I split up from my family and look around.

I find some cheap souvenirs someone dropped that were kid make-up and 2 necklaces. They were clues somehow..

There was a line going up this resort's stairs and all across the balcony, my family were in there. It was for a nifty private movie showing.

But I went looking for clues.

I found this pretty white cat with an orange patch wandering around. I talked to her, waiting apprehensively to see if I understood her speaking to me. (I could understand the warrior cats and it spanned the gap to the prairie dogs so why not)

She did speak! But it was in spanish.

I was disappointed. But then I saw 3 Latino kids playing nearby and I called them over like "Hey! Spanish speaking children!"

To the cat I was like "....habla espanol?" And she looked suprised. I told the kids I needed help with some sentences and they translated for me.. not knowing I was talking to the cat right there. I pretty much just asked if she saw any weird cats. She confirmed with a couple more tiny clues.

During this exchange, my aunt Susan had wandered over looking for me. She overheard me asking about warrior cats and she griped "You're still on that cat story? Aren't you a little old to be believing that?"

And, it was glorious. I just glared at her, raised my whole arm above my head and flipped her off. Because I was still talking to the kids/cat. She stalked away in a huff.

(My aunt always does that, saying I'm too old to like Disney characters and shit. Like wtf? Who the fuck is too old for disney?)

Anyway.

Back when we pulled into the place, I saw a "Cars" beetle car pull out of the parking lot. It was "my friend, RC" he was upset. But by time our car had stopped he was long gone, heading in the direction we CAME FROM which was odd. I tried calling for him. Obviously didn't work. Got lots of weird looks for screaming "RC!!" Into the night.

Plot happened fast after that.

I wandered up into the hotel area, trying to find the movie viewing mom was at. I wandered a hallway of rooms. I stopped at one where a woman was playing a record. There was hippie stuff in the room but otherwise was kinda sparse. I was carrying a large pan of casserole that I put down and went up to talk to the woman who looked like she expected me and greeted me with a smile.

I forget how I received this information, but Firestar was trying to lead his clan when Squirrelflight decided she wanted to go to college. She had a little teal, square album or notebook that had a spiral of pearls on it and a bottle of what was salt? Or beach sand? She took it as a nice little pretty thing but if she didn't do something specific with the bottle of sand, something would happen to the clan and they'd fall apart. But they couldn't find her.

While I'm finding this out (I think by ambient dream symbiosis) a white cat with brown tabby patches comes in. He's a jerk but I don't remember what he said.

I take some metallic plastic confetti and some tiny potion bottles from the woman's table (who had left) I had a very strong sense I had to take a piece of this heart shaped spiral confetti from this paper bag.. I was about to write the woman a note explaining this when a man entered the room. I told him that (the woman) knew I was there and I was just about to write this note..

When the cat yells at me "What, are you an idiot? He's a demon!" Y'know. Like, run!

So I flee and he lumbers after me. Suddenly people are everywhere like a convention. I'm dodging, trying to lose him..

Stuff happens. Some girl finds me and teaches me a chant that's essentially "see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil" and is a ward against demons that very fragiley renders me invisible to them. But I have to keep chanting it and I kept stumbling over it. The girl helped. An extra chanter strengthened it.

She led me to a hidden alcove in the side of the building like the size of a vent. The piece of spiral confetti; when you held it, bent in the direction of something like a locator spell . It led me to the correct hole. (There were half a dozen) Where there were several piles of random little items and pills. Apparently these all helped ward me against the demons. They were for specific times and situations.

The girl explained that as time went on, wards moved away from enchanted items and they just started making pills that did the work. It was more convenient and worked more reliably. Some looked like antihistimines..

So I shoved all these haphazardly in my little backpack and I followed the girl who ran across some lawns away from the hotel.

I needed somewhere to take a breather and sort through all this shit. Also there was a letter from the alcove too.

But this was BAD because I look back and find a teenage black girl was running... or gliding after me. She looked like a pissed vampire.

Girl I followed yelled at me that my chant only worked in the vicinity of the hotel. I was completely unprotected. I wasn't supposed to follow her. Oops

We ran until we crossed a few lawns a few blocks and towards a strip mall.

A very dismayed middle aged Asian dude was waiting at the door of one store. As soon as the we cleared the door, he closed us in with like a garage or storage unit door. It would protect us for a while.

Asian doctor guy was very unhappy that we were there. He was friends with the girl but did not have permission to use him to protect us.

Unfortunately that's when I woke up...

So I woke up chanting for demons to stay away and never found out what happened to my friends 😣

[unholyhelbig]

For your vampire au, can you do one where they look through old photo albums together?

Work Title: Spring Cleaning 

Word Count: 1302

AO3 Link

“This is totally unfair.” The girl griped out, her tone was dark and filled with a growled resentment, but Beca paid no mind. Instead, she shoved the broom and dustpan into her daughter's hand without a second thought- if not a cocky smile. “You know, Kelley asked me to go to the mall with her today. I could be there.”

Beca snorted “You could be a lot of places, little fox, but instead you’re here, suffering with the rest of us.”

She reached above her head skillfully and wrapped the cord to the attic around her palm before giving it a good yank. The stairs lowered and the thick scent of dust filled her lungs to the point of causing a scowl much as her older daughter carried. Though, Florence didn’t’ seem to be bothered by anything other than the childish nickname from her childhood.  

Chloe had insisted that this Sunday was reserved for spring cleaning, even though winter had barely broken for the year through a thick dusting of snow was already on the ground. It made the air in the attic feel stale and cold as it drifted through the boxes of old junk that was sure to be donated to a charity by the end of the days light.

Her wife and younger daughter had taken the garage and they were assigned the attic.

Beca took a step back and lifted her chin towards the ladder. Florence was in a stalemate with her for a few moments before letting out a groan and shoving the broom back into her mothers’ hand. Was I this bad when I was fourteen? Beca couldn’t’ remember, it was a long time ago and she had done far worse things than catch an attitude.

Florence was the spitting image of Beca, with long brown hair thrown into a messy bun and a slender frame. She had delicate features that she had outlined in black makeup for a year or two before deciding it didn’t fit her. Most of the time her temperament matched that of Chloe- except for days like this. Days when chores were the main focus and the two of them would be cooped up in an attic when she could be somewhere else.

“God, you guys are hoarders!” She heard her call down.

She rolled her eyes and skillfully climbed into the attic with the broom in one hand. She hated to admit that Florence was right- but the sheer space of the upper room in the house was filled with box upon box labeled with different years and staggered bins that had Christmas lights.

Beca walked to the far end of the attic and pulled the blinds, the sunlight coating against every far end. She struggled to cough against the particles, setting the broom aside. “Okay, so if you start in one corner, I’ll take the other”

“Can’t we just shuffle them around a bit and tell mom that we donated half of this?”

“dear, I’ve learned long ago that it’s best to do what your mother asks.”

Florence let out a groan but shuffled over to the first box and ripped off the masking tape in one fluid movement. She started rooting through it and Beca watched her for a few moments before shaking her head and tackling her own box. It was the year 2005. Filled with documents that they needed. It was the year they bought the house they were standing in now- though, they had to get crafty back then.

It was a Victorian nightmare that had been left at the end of a suburban street to rot into nothingness. But Chloe saw potential in it and had beamed when they signed the final papers, claiming both to be a little over twenty at the time. The realtor had no questions, and neither did their neighbors when they spent from dawn until twilight fixing up the old home.

Beca smiled as she reached and pulled out an old polaroid. It had some light damage to it, but it was all the same, visible. Chloe sat on the edge of a hospital bed. Florence in her arms, the girl wrapped tiny fingers around Chloe’s as he held her close. It was the day they had brought her home from the hospital. Beca remembers the flash made Florence cry and it was the first moment of panic she had. But once she held her, she knew it was nothing. Knew that she was theirs forever.

“you never tell me about my surrogate mother.” She said suddenly. Beca frowned and glanced up at her. “Not that I’ve ever asked but… I look so much like you so I figured you guys were family or something.”  

“I uh-“Beca was taken aback. She shook the photo in her hand, letting it touch the opposite fingertips. “Her name is Christina. She’s a very distant cousin.”

Tracking the woman down had been a struggle in it’s own right. She had married, divorced, then remarried before Chloe and Beca could even get a hold of her. She was more than willing to become a surrogate- even if it did come at an insane price. She was hard out for cash, had practically begged for it in exchange for carrying Florence. They debated long before Chloe relented and they drew up a contract. One that included Christina not contacting them unless contacted first.

Beca knew she would ask one day.

“What was she like?” Florence ran her fingers over a dusty box, leaving long marks against its surface.

Beca turned to face her daughter with a slight heave of her breath. This was a conversation she envisioned sitting with Chloe right next to her. She always knew the right thing to say, always had a way to make things sound less terrifying and more like they fit in a perfect puzzle.

“Christina was passionate. Is passionate.” Beca said, trying to highlight her good qualities. “She never wants to stay in one place for too long, didn’t like being tied down. It took a lot of her to stay in town for the nine months that she was getting ready to have you. You sure got her spit-fire attitude though. I think it runs in the Mitchell family.”

Florence snorted out a laugh and shook her head. “Do you know where she is now?”

“Not a clue… She wrote postcards for the first couple of months. Brazil, Russia- everywhere in between. But after awhile it stopped completely.” Beca shook the polaroid in the air, taking a step to her daughter. “If it means a lot to you, we can always look for her. Find her.”

“No,” She grasped the picture, staring at Chloe’s beaming smile as she stared down at a young her. “I don’t think I’m ready for that yet. If that’s okay?”

“of course, it’s okay.” Beca had a half-grin on her face, leaning forward as she pushed a kiss against her daughter’s temple.

“Gross, mom” She shoved her away with an eye-roll before turning away and digging back into the box in question. The conversation dropped for now. Beca felt a weight lift from her chest as she filed the photo back where it was according to Chloe’s intricate system. “Hey, what’s in here?”

Beca glanced back around at her daughter, who had moved onto a box from the 1930s. She was holding up a cookie tin that was almost rusted shut but still worked to separate the two halves. Beca’s eyes widened.

“Oh my god.” Florance’s breath caught. “Is this mom?”

Beca snatched the tin from her daughter and sealed both sides quickly, heat rising to her cheeks. “It was a different time.” She scrambled, dropping it into another box. “Lets just… move some stuff around and pretend we did something worthwhile.”

[izzy-b-hands]

The Taste of Blood

So here’s that vampire AU for Sledgefu I talked abt a while back. It falls into the two other AUs I’ve created thus far, Horror Movie and NOLA. This specific vampire one is going under the Demolition Lovers AU tag (because yes, this was inspired by the first MCR album in part.) Title is taken from one of my fave tracks on the Only Lovers Left Alive soundtrack (another inspiration for this AU.)

This is another one that might have some sequels, I’m still playing with the idea based on some other sources of inspiration! In any case I don’t think I can leave it with just this one piece.

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

“I think we should call my dad,” Eugene touched the mirror he was looking into, waiting for his reflection to appear, but it didn’t. “We’re both obviously sick. I mean...I can’t even see my reflection, and I know it’s there. It has to be.” 

Snafu moved behind him and peered into the mirror. “Where? I don’t see mine either.” 

“We’re both losin’ it,” Eugene muttered miserably. He didn’t want to call his dad, hadn’t even tried since he’d left to find Snafu in New Orleans. But he also didn’t want to go to any of the local doctors, and as it was they’d both started to develop an intense sensitivity to sunlight. Even if they’d wanted to see a doctor in town, they’d have to somehow convince one to make a house call at night. 

He moved back to the couch, where they’d both been sleeping for the past week since the trouble had all started, and picked up his glass of water. Neither of them could keep anything down, but they kept trying water in the hopes of at least being slightly hydrated. 

He sipped, and immediately gagged and brought it back up, nearly choking as his stomach contracted violently at the water inside of it. 

“Baby,” Snafu whimpered softly, pulling him gently back onto the couch. “No more water. Just gonna make yourself more sick.” 

“That isn’t possible,” Eugene protested. “We’re sick, so we need fluids. Give me your wrist, we can at least do a pulse check.” 

“Alright Florence,” Snafu sighed and held out his wrist. They’d been doing these checks all week, with their pulses getting fainter and fainter with each passing day. Eugene was worried, but he didn’t know what he could possibly do to try and fix it. Nothing was working, and they both looked worse with every hour. 

“What the fuck,” Eugene spat, and moved up Snafu’s arm, then to his neck, searching for a pulse anywhere. Nothing. 

“Check me,” Eugene said, his hands shaking at the thought of what Snafu was (or rather wasn’t) going to find. 

Snafu did the same, moving from pressure point to pressure point, anywhere, searching for a pulse. “Uh. Eugene.” 

“I know, I know, I know,” he felt like he couldn’t breathe, and suddenly noticed how stiff the air felt in his lungs. The air went in and out, and he was still breathing, but it felt...off. “This isn’t possible. We’re dreaming. Or dead. Or something.” 

“I think we are dead,” Snafu said quietly. “I think I know what’s wrong.” 

“I gotta call my dad, now. Before we pass out and-” 

“Eugene,” Snafu interrupted, and grabbed a hold of his hands, just tight enough to keep him sitting on the couch. “You aren’t gonna wanna believe me. And that’s fine, cause I don’t wanna believe me either. But...you remember how we brought Hugo home late last week?” 

Eugene did. It had been a bit spur of the moment, but they’d been talking to Hugo for the past few months, meeting up with him most nights to hang out. It had always edged up near wanting to bring him back to their bed, but it had taken them until Friday of that last week to finally feel brave enough to ask him to come back home with them. 

“What do you remember from that night?” 

Eugene blushed. There was a lot he remembered, a lot of fun and good things. But he couldn’t remember much after. 

“I know I found a weird rash on my neck. Figured Hugo and you were just overly enthusiastic about the hickeys.” 

Snafu shook his head. “Still got the rash?” 

Eugene moved his collar to show it off. Two small red dots, evenly spaced. 

Snafu undid the first few buttons of his shirt and showed off the same. 

“Okay, so Hugo was a little rough. What’re you gettin’ at, sweetheart?” Eugene laughed. 

“We’ve never seen Hugo during the day. He bar tends some nights, but otherwise he doesn’t work. He dresses like he’s at least five years behind everyone else, and his teeth are...well, you’ve seen them,” Snafu continued. “I...this is everything my family made fun of growing up. All the ‘spooky’ parts of the city that the tourists fall for. But...” 

“But what?” 

“Some folks always used to warn about vampires. The city’s old, and you can melt right into it. Where else would you go if you couldn’t die and wanted somewhere you could just be and party or hide away or do whatever else you wanted?” Snafu asked. 

“Are you saying you think Hugo’s a vampire?” 

Snafu looked at the floor, and Eugene sighed internally over how pale he looked. How pale they both looked. Whatever this was, it was eating them alive. 

“And you think he turned us, but it’s just now...taking full effect or something?” 

“Don’t say it like that,” Snafu protested. “You think I like thinking that this is what it is, what we’ve got? This wasn’t my first option for a diagnosis.” 

“Okay, I’m sorry I just...you know how it sounds. I know you do.” 

Snafu nodded, sighed, and dropped his head into his hands. “There’s ways to find out. I mean...it’ll feel silly, but if we do some of these tests, and then it turns out it isn’t this, then we can move past it.” 

“Fair enough,” Eugene agreed. “What tests do you know of?” 

“Well, we failed the first one. No reflection. Failed the second one. Can’t keep any food or water down. Failed the third one. Don’t have a pulse anymore. I’ve got one more, but you aren’t gonna like it,” Snafu replied. He went to the fridge and pulled out the meat they’d picked up from the butcher on Monday. 

It slowly dawned on Eugene what the test was, and his stomach turned. “Oh no.” 

“Oh yes,” Snafu said, slicing into the meat with a knife from one of the kitchen drawers and draining the little bit of blood that came out into two glasses. “C’mere.” 

“I don’t think I can...” Eugene said. It looked repulsive, thickly settled at the bottom of the glass. 

“It’s old blood, but nothin’ we can do about that,” Snafu said, and handed over one of the glasses. “Bottoms up, darlin’.” 

He tossed it back like a shot after Snafu tossed back his, grimacing at the sensation of the blood as it slid down his throat. 

“Now what?” 

“We haven’t been able to keep anything down, so this should come up too,” Snafu replied. 

They stood at the kitchen counter and waited. And waited. And waited. 

“Jesus,” Eugene whimpered, and dropped to his knees, hiding his head against them as he wrapped his arms around himself. “Snaf-” 

“I know,” Snafu interrupted softly, and pulled him up to standing again. “Come on. Back to the couch we go. We’re gonna be alright.” 

“No, we aren’t,” Eugene heard himself whisper, horrified. “What the fuck, what the fuck what the-” 

“Shhh,” Snafu interrupted. “Can’t do nothin’ about this if we panic.” 

“We’re dead,” Eugene hissed. There was no other way around it. He was walking, talking, feeling the panic but with none of the usual heart-pounding. Because his heart no longer beat. Because they’d fucked a vampire, and now they were dead. 

“I know,” Snafu was alarmingly calm, and it made Eugene itchy to watch. As much as he valued Snafu being able to be cool and collected, he also couldn’t bear to be the only one freaking out. 

“We have to find Hugo,” Snafu continued. “May as well go straight to the source. I know going out sounds like shit right now, but we can do this.” 

They dressed, just barely presentable to be out of the house, and wandered down to the nearest bar. The sun had just recently gone down, but Eugene missed it. If this was all real, and he really had already had his last moment in the sun, then he wished he could have somehow known. He would have enjoyed it more. 

Hugo was behind the counter, working. But he looked like he wanted to jump the counter as he caught sight of them. 

Eugene let Snafu take charge of the situation. He was too weak, too tired to do much more than stand by Snafu and lean against him. 

“Hugo. We gotta talk,” Snafu called across the bar. 

Hugo winced as they stepped up to the bar counter. “You guys look like shit.” 

“Yeah. Feel like you might know somethin’ about that,” Snafu said. “Wanna take a moment in the back room with us so we can sort this out?” 

Hugo sighed. “Fine.” 

He led them to the back room, and Eugene let himself collapse onto the couch in the room with a groan. He’d felt better after the glass of disgusting, sludgy blood, but whatever effect it had given him had worn off. 

“I thought I had drained you both completely. You should be dead,” Hugo said, staring at them in amazement and confusion. 

“We are dead, asshole,” Eugene barked. 

“I mean...not dead like me. Completely dead. Not getting up and looking for blood to drink dead. Speaking of, have you guys been feeding? Because you look awful,” Hugo said. 

“Wow, thank you for again tellin’ us we look horrible after doin’ this to us,” Snafu spat as he dropped into a wooden chair near the couch. 

“I didn’t mean to,” Hugo protested. “I was going to just kill you both. I hadn’t fed in weeks...it was nothing personal, I swear.” 

“Hugo...this is is why you’re still single. I swear to fuckin’ god...” Snafu muttered. “Nothin’ personal. Jesus.” 

“I’m sorry, I really am,” Hugo continued. “Look, I can help you adjust to this. It’s the least I can do, and it’s what my maker did for me. Granted, he was also well off and not bar-tending to pay rent, but-” 

“Boo-fucking-hoo for you,” Eugene scoffed. “I’d say this is the least you can do.” 

Hugo sighed. “Clearly, whatever we had is gone. So I’ll do this. I’ll give you a list of places folks like us-” 

“Vampires,” Snafu interrupted. “I wanna hear you fucking say it.” 

“Vampires,” Hugo said. “Places where vampires like us can meet up for resources, help when you’re new and learning how to feed and how much to feed, things like that. I’ll give you my phone number, but you call me; I won’t call you. You only call if you’re comfortable with doing so or really need immediate help, okay?” 

Hugo grabbed a piece of stationary from a desk near one wall of the back room, and started to jot down the various places and people they could use as resources, and as he listened to the pen scratch Eugene’s heart sank. 

No more sunny walks in the park, or sunsets watched in between making out with Snafu. No more dinners they cooked together, learning new recipes. They’d have to quit their jobs, and find new ones with only night shifts, or they’d lose the house. No traveling, unless they were willing to drive all night while knowing they for sure had somewhere to hide during the day. 

And more killing. If they wanted to survive, there would have to be more killing. 

“For now...give me five,” Hugo said and handed Snafu the paper before ducking out of the room. He returned with one of the other bartenders, who calmly bared his neck to Snafu as he knelt down near him. 

“What the fuck is this?” Snafu scoffed. 

“Dinner,” Hugo spat. “Unless you wanna keep looking and feeling like death.” 

“We are dead!” Eugene screamed, forcing himself up off the couch even though every limb protested the effort. He strode towards Hugo faster than he intended to, unsure if it was his new state of being or his anger carrying him forward. He pushed him up against the nearest wall, and hissed. “We’re dead and it’s your fucking fault and-” 

He was suddenly incredibly aware of blood in Hugo’s veins, and before he could stop himself he latched onto Hugo’s neck, effectively stealing his dinner from within him. 

“Get him fucking off of me!” Hugo was screeching, caterwauling, but Eugene held tight onto him, hating how much he enjoyed the feeling of his now much sharper eyeteeth sinking into Hugo’s flesh, emptying his dead veins of his last meal. 

“Eugene! Enough!” Snafu pulled him away, and Hugo dropped to the floor, whimpering. 

“He deserved it,” he huffed. 

“I know,” Snafu said. “But what good is killin’ him gonna do us, huh? None. Let him live with the knowledge. I guarantee that’s worse than bein’ all the way dead.” 

“Neither of you are even up to my usual standard,” Hugo scoffed, still on the floor. The other bartender was staring at him, but made no move to retrieve him. “That’s what I get for fucking ugly goddamn-” 

It was his turn to hold Snafu back as he tried to race towards Hugo, shouting abuse right back at him, how he was a shitty fuck, how he was lucky they’d even allowed him near them to begin with. 

He dragged Snafu outside, regretting that he’d lost his cool. 

But he did feel better, with the blood he’d taken from Hugo. 

“Here,” he offered Snafu his wrist. “You’ll feel better. If we both feel a little healthier, then findin’ all of these people and places’ll be easier.” 

Snafu pulled him into a dark corner near an alley, and kissed him hard before moving his wrist up to his mouth. The feeling of Snafu’s teeth slipping into his wrist was something else, painful but not so much to make him do more than wince. It was almost erotic, especially when Snafu looked up at him, still drinking, his lips locked against the skin of his wrist. 

Which at least confirmed one thing he’d been mildly worried about, regarding blood flow. He didn’t know how it could still work, but he wasn’t going to question it when he had Snafu with blood on his lips, pulling him close and rutting against his hard cock. 

“Let’s go home,” Snafu murmured into his neck. “We can check out everything Hugo gave us tomorrow night.” 

Eugene nodded, but used a hand to carefully pull Snafu’s face back up towards his, and gently, with just the tip of his tongue, licked the drying blood from the corners of Snafu’s mouth before kissing him. 

He had figured it wouldn’t be a jubilant walk home, but he had expected to at least feel better, having gotten confirmation of it all. But he didn’t. He was tired and hungry despite having fed off of Hugo, and wanted nothing more than to fuck until the morning or until they were both too tired and sore to move, whatever came first. 

By the time they got inside, however, he was only half-hard and he could tell Snafu was just plain exhausted. They dropped onto the couch after making sure the door was locked and the windows were all still tightly covered with blinds and newspapers they’d taped over them, and Eugene knew they’d both be asleep soon. There would be no calling into work; he couldn’t keep his eyelids open let alone get up to go to the phone and call them both in. 

What he could manage was to wrap his arms around Snafu, and try not to cry when he didn’t have the familiar sound of Snafu’s heartbeat to lull him to sleep. But he still had Snafu’s hand squeezing his, and it was just enough to work in place of the heartbeat.