#flappervcmp

The rain didn’t let up, not even for a second. It came down in steady sheets, cold and relentless, soaking Damon to the bone as he stood on the porch. His lips pressed into a thin line, jaw tight, the weight of his own thoughts heavier than the storm that drenched him. He didn’t even know how long he’d been standing there, staring at the door, every memory of Annie carving into him like a blade.

He didn’t deserve her. He never had. That truth had been his undoing for as long as he could remember and what pushing him to run, to drink, to destroy everything he touched before it could slip from his hands. And yet here he was again, pulled back like a tide.

His fingers twitched at his sides before he finally lifted his hand, knuckles knocking twice against the door. The sound was almost swallowed by the rain, and for a fleeting second, he let the silence consume him. Half of him prayed she hadn’t heard and that she’d be spared from him, from the mess of his existence. But the other half, the desperate, selfish half, begged for her to come answer the door.

[text: scary but hot] you'd block me???? now thats just cruel. 🥺🥺 fate worse than death, honestly.

[text: scary but hot] besides, are you telling me no one else has ever questioned your constant wearing of suits? you seem like the type to have a matching tie for each one too. 🤔🤔

        [text ✉️ → annie]: i assure you fun is not something i object to, provided it is neither excessive nor invasive and within my taste.

       [text ✉️ → annie]: and yes, the block option exists. not as cruelty, but as a boundary. one should never underestimate the value of quiet.

       [text ✉️ → annie]: as for your final question: i'd like to say most people would not dare to ask me such a trivial thing. and while i won't confirm the existence of a tie collection, i will admit: symmetry as well as aesthetics does appeal to me.

❛  i  know  this  might  be  hard  for  you,  but  i  need  more  information  to  go  on  if  i'm  gonna  find  the  motherfucker  that  did  this  to  your  friend  ❜  james  told  annie,  brows  raised  and  voice  serious.  he  sighed  softly,  realizing  how  abrupt  and  aggressive  he  was  when  he  didn't  mean  to.  he  straightens  his  posture,  ❛  look,  i  just  wanna  help.  ❜

The state of Illinois, his favorite state by far. A place where he found himself specifically in the town of Chicago; where the vibrant scene created its own colorful ambient. The night luminosity expanding as the dark hours continued. Live musicians playing out in the streets for a dime while the streets flooded with audiences who traveled to experience the unique Chicago life.

The vampire walks down the street, listening to the Jazz that breathed upon his ears, a devilish smile creeping upon his lips as his feet walked through the various entertainments. Stopping where a woman played the violin. Damon was a sucker for classical music; especially during his killing sprees. It gave an immaculate, spa-like treatment for him. The elegance of the music created for artistic expression through his kills. Creating a name for himself.

He inhales deeply, closing his eyes as he welcomes in the notes. Before exhaling, a familiar scent is caught. Opening his eyes; he looks around the seas of mortals to identify the individual. The scent faint yet strong. He begins to walk, scanning through the people around him. It only took little before finding Annie; the woman who resembled Katherine & who Damon had turned into a vampire.

He watches her from a distance, his head tilting to the side slightly, seeing her live and fit into the rest of the crowd. She wasn’t Katherine, he learned that a long time ago. But, something about her intrigued him. He walks slowly, closer. “Well, if it isn’t the one who got away.” He offers her a smirk, “gonna run?”

It wasn't the first time that he'd heard the complaint, and he looked over at this latest complainer as he contemplated whether or not he'd do so.

munday questions. always accepting!

the way that i sat on this for hours because... i don't really have that much fluff in ships because all of my kiddos are toxic in some way or the other (or just fucking nasty assholes who are incapable of fluff) and i'm a sucker for dark/dead dove ships. but...

i think the fluffiest we've got is louis and amelia (@malumxsubest) just because he's insanely soft for her and that's his wife. his most beloved. she can do anything and he's instant heart-eyes. they're equally powerful enough that even if they wanted to fuck with each other in some antagonistic way, it'd just be for funsies unless... she actually wanted to kill him. she's got the power for it, but he'd just come back later and probably adore her for that, too. talk about how sweet it is that he means enough to her (or pisses her off enough) to kill him with her own two hands. he remembers the time she put him on his ass during their first meeting very fondly now. he didn't in the moment, but now it just makes him love her even more. he is completely and utterly devoted to his feisty deity wife!! she is god to him in every way.

❝ THEY DIDN'T INSTALL A COFFIN, i hope you can survive.  ❞ he comments, staring at the bed in front of them. it wasn't anything amazing - somewhere to sleep, which he couldn't complain about. he'd been stationed in places with nothing but a cot. having an actual mattress was pretty decent. let alone having a whole house to keep themselves occupied. the television set in the living room looked as if it was from the early nineties, but he was grateful to have one at all. without that, they would be deprived of the joy of the morning news.