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ever_neutralShe Let Time Slip Through Her Skinny, Skinny Fingers
Damon/Katherine | set somewhere in the bright future | ~1270 words | R
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fluffyfrolicker, who predictably gave me a Veronica Mars prompt: "The last time we actually talked, you were bashing Veronica's headlights with a crowbar."//"Hm. Foreplay." I'm also using this for another prompt bluesuzanne gave me some time ago: What does she feel if she doesn't have the feeling that I have in my fingers? This joy I have could lift this ceiling from its rafters, but I'm not laughing. (yes, I will finish that Christmas meme if it is the last thing I do, WORK WITH ME.) This is another one of those fics where nothing happens (MY SPECIALTY, TROLOLOL). Thank you to upupa_epops for the ego-stroking.
"Would you believe me?" she asks.
He considers.
This time, it's a little less dramatic than her stepping wet and naked out of his shower.
It's still somewhat dramatic, though, because it's Katherine, and Katherine is an attention-loving whore.
She's playing Strauss on his fucking piano.
"Hello, Damon," she drawls, and if this were a movie, he'd congratulate her on her perfect line delivery. This is not a movie.
"What are you doing with that," he greets, vaguely outraged.
She ignores him, ploughs on instead with her grand opening monologue, "Long time, no see. The last time we talked, you were trading me in for a newer model," smug smile attached.
He isn't so impressed. "Selective memory, much? The last time we talked, you were getting the hell out of dodge." And so encapsulates the entirety of our relationship, he adds in his mind.
"And now I'm back." She spreads her hands, as though bequeathing a gift. The gift of her presence, apparently.
Damon surveys her. "Why."
She twirls a lock of hair between her fingers. "Don't you mean, who?"
Damon drinks a lot that week.
The first time -- more like the twenty-seventh time in reality (twenty seven is a good uneven number, he decides as she fastens her mouth around his dick) -- is so cliche it makes him itch. Damon supposedly hates cliches. Fortunately, cliches love him.
What she does is, she throws him through a glass door.
The existence of the door is irrelevant.
The relevant part is when he pulls a broken shard from his side, and she leaps on him like a mad thing. Her eyes are broken bottles, he has the chance to think before she stabs (yes, stabs) her tongue down his throat. (It's a song lyric, shut up, and work with me.)
I could do without the mess, he thinks as she slides back up his body. What a bitch to have to clean up.
"Do you actually feel, like, human emotions?" He happens to be in a mood.
It's an unfortunate string of words, he can admit later when he finds an entire nest of cockroaches in his satin sheets.
Their first time -- the real first time -- he was so happy he could have died. (That came later.) She was moving above him, and he was moving with her, and the earth was moving too, etcetera etcetera.
It was love, simply put. Her savage teeth in his flesh -- that was love, too.
He remembers waking giddily the next morning in an empty bed with fading bruises, feeling like a new man. A revived man. A man of any kind, really.
It was a terrible shame to have to cover up the scars.
What a terrible thing, someone said, to be destroyed by love.
But what a way to go.
Not everybody gets to die for love, you know.
Their (insert number here) time, they're in a darkened cinema.
This is also impressively cliche, but he thinks that seems fitting. Katherine is working her fingers past his belt, because this is what Katherine does when she's bored, and Damon is trying to count the number of mistakes in the movie subtitles. Not that his French is the best, but nonetheless, he's pretty sure that whatever number he comes up with can't be too far off the reality anyway.
The strange thing is that they were getting along. This should have been the first clue.
Predictably enough, she insists on sleeping in a different bedroom each night. He'd never think to ask her to choose.
(The truth is that he simply thinks twice.)
It's a quiet Sunday afternoon when she sprawls beside him on the sofa in her fluffy red robe. ("Why are you walking around in a robe, Katherine.") He's trying to reread Moby Dick and care about it. Second time's always a charm.
"What are you doing."
"Dismembering a zebra," he replies without looking up.
"Why a zebra," she responds without blinking.
"Why not a fucking zebra."
She sighs. "I'm bored."
"Okay." He snaps the book shut, not without relief. "Let's fuck."
She treats him to a withering look.
He cocks a brow. "I'm sorry, did you want romance?"
"We never talk anymore, you know."
This is the point where he loses track of the story. "About what?"
She shrugs. "Town gossip. The weather. Evil schemes."
"Since when," he says slowly, warily.
She makes an impatient sound in the back of her throat. "Fine. Whatever." Gathers herself up off the sofa. "Hindsight is always 20/20."
He ponders the meaning of this long after she's left.
One night he comes home to find her gone.
Not gone gone. Nothing that dire. Her crap is still in bedroom (insert number here).
"Where's Katherine," he asks, because he has nothing to prove.
"On the roof," Stefan tells him.
"What?"
Stefan is preoccupied with a chess game against himself. "I think she wants you to join her."
It's an interesting proposition.
She's sitting like a child against the edge.
"Katherine," he says, carefully, because he doesn't know what story this is anymore. "What are you doing."
She doesn't turn to face him. "I'm bored."
A pause. "We established that."
"You don't understand, Damon." She looks sharply at him, her eyes glittering with some pent-up urge he can't place. "Klaus is dead. Dead." Stresses the last syllable as though it means something. "After 500 years. How could you possibly understand." Turns her face away again; she can hardly stand to look at him.
Damon blinks uselessly. It's true -- he doesn't understand. She's furious and seething at something, at him, and he doesn't understand. Maybe he never did. (A lonely thought that presses its weight on them.)
Meanwhile, her furious, singular profile: beautiful against the night sky.
(the one thing he has always understood)
In another version of this story, he does something brave.
(Imagine that.)
He sits beside the furious, singular girl on the still, exposed roof.
That happened.
In this version of the story: (insert something here)
(something that means something)
It's real for her, too.
Some time later:
Another broken glass door.
Damon laughs with a mouth full of blood, because this is what Damon does.
Katherine doesn't have a scratch on her.
She always was unfair.
They don't have sex.
What an anticlimax, he's obnoxious enough to think.
Katherine's six-inch heels go clack clack clack proudly down the hall. From the floor, Damon watches her go.
This is --
Well, it is what it is.
"We were good together, you know," she says once, out of the blue, as unconcerned as a hurricane.
He almost drops his glass on the polished floor. Almost, but doesn't, because then he'd have to clean the mess up, and frankly he's tired of feeling blood on the pads of his fingers.
This is a moment, he thinks, as dust particles float in sunlight. Maybe the moment he's been waiting for --
-- or something equally poetic. Damon has always cared about poetry. But the thing of it, the thing is, the problem is, nobody else does. On good days, this is the only thing wrong with him.
This is the moment:
Katherine is uncharacteristically waiting for an answer.
And Damon is frozen, suspended in the moment, this moment, the moment of a lifetime (the one he's been waiting for forever), and he doesn't know how to hold on to it -- or even worse, move past.
"Would you believe me?" she asks.
Yes, he thinks, and says: "No."
*
Damon/Katherine | set somewhere in the bright future | ~1270 words | R
For
fluffyfrolicker, who predictably gave me a Veronica Mars prompt: "The last time we actually talked, you were bashing Veronica's headlights with a crowbar."//"Hm. Foreplay." I'm also using this for another prompt bluesuzanne gave me some time ago: What does she feel if she doesn't have the feeling that I have in my fingers? This joy I have could lift this ceiling from its rafters, but I'm not laughing. (yes, I will finish that Christmas meme if it is the last thing I do, WORK WITH ME.) This is another one of those fics where nothing happens (MY SPECIALTY, TROLOLOL). Thank you to upupa_epops for the ego-stroking."Would you believe me?" she asks.
He considers.
This time, it's a little less dramatic than her stepping wet and naked out of his shower.
It's still somewhat dramatic, though, because it's Katherine, and Katherine is an attention-loving whore.
She's playing Strauss on his fucking piano.
"Hello, Damon," she drawls, and if this were a movie, he'd congratulate her on her perfect line delivery. This is not a movie.
"What are you doing with that," he greets, vaguely outraged.
She ignores him, ploughs on instead with her grand opening monologue, "Long time, no see. The last time we talked, you were trading me in for a newer model," smug smile attached.
He isn't so impressed. "Selective memory, much? The last time we talked, you were getting the hell out of dodge." And so encapsulates the entirety of our relationship, he adds in his mind.
"And now I'm back." She spreads her hands, as though bequeathing a gift. The gift of her presence, apparently.
Damon surveys her. "Why."
She twirls a lock of hair between her fingers. "Don't you mean, who?"
Damon drinks a lot that week.
The first time -- more like the twenty-seventh time in reality (twenty seven is a good uneven number, he decides as she fastens her mouth around his dick) -- is so cliche it makes him itch. Damon supposedly hates cliches. Fortunately, cliches love him.
What she does is, she throws him through a glass door.
The existence of the door is irrelevant.
The relevant part is when he pulls a broken shard from his side, and she leaps on him like a mad thing. Her eyes are broken bottles, he has the chance to think before she stabs (yes, stabs) her tongue down his throat. (It's a song lyric, shut up, and work with me.)
I could do without the mess, he thinks as she slides back up his body. What a bitch to have to clean up.
"Do you actually feel, like, human emotions?" He happens to be in a mood.
It's an unfortunate string of words, he can admit later when he finds an entire nest of cockroaches in his satin sheets.
Their first time -- the real first time -- he was so happy he could have died. (That came later.) She was moving above him, and he was moving with her, and the earth was moving too, etcetera etcetera.
It was love, simply put. Her savage teeth in his flesh -- that was love, too.
He remembers waking giddily the next morning in an empty bed with fading bruises, feeling like a new man. A revived man. A man of any kind, really.
It was a terrible shame to have to cover up the scars.
What a terrible thing, someone said, to be destroyed by love.
But what a way to go.
Not everybody gets to die for love, you know.
Their (insert number here) time, they're in a darkened cinema.
This is also impressively cliche, but he thinks that seems fitting. Katherine is working her fingers past his belt, because this is what Katherine does when she's bored, and Damon is trying to count the number of mistakes in the movie subtitles. Not that his French is the best, but nonetheless, he's pretty sure that whatever number he comes up with can't be too far off the reality anyway.
The strange thing is that they were getting along. This should have been the first clue.
Predictably enough, she insists on sleeping in a different bedroom each night. He'd never think to ask her to choose.
(The truth is that he simply thinks twice.)
It's a quiet Sunday afternoon when she sprawls beside him on the sofa in her fluffy red robe. ("Why are you walking around in a robe, Katherine.") He's trying to reread Moby Dick and care about it. Second time's always a charm.
"What are you doing."
"Dismembering a zebra," he replies without looking up.
"Why a zebra," she responds without blinking.
"Why not a fucking zebra."
She sighs. "I'm bored."
"Okay." He snaps the book shut, not without relief. "Let's fuck."
She treats him to a withering look.
He cocks a brow. "I'm sorry, did you want romance?"
"We never talk anymore, you know."
This is the point where he loses track of the story. "About what?"
She shrugs. "Town gossip. The weather. Evil schemes."
"Since when," he says slowly, warily.
She makes an impatient sound in the back of her throat. "Fine. Whatever." Gathers herself up off the sofa. "Hindsight is always 20/20."
He ponders the meaning of this long after she's left.
One night he comes home to find her gone.
Not gone gone. Nothing that dire. Her crap is still in bedroom (insert number here).
"Where's Katherine," he asks, because he has nothing to prove.
"On the roof," Stefan tells him.
"What?"
Stefan is preoccupied with a chess game against himself. "I think she wants you to join her."
It's an interesting proposition.
She's sitting like a child against the edge.
"Katherine," he says, carefully, because he doesn't know what story this is anymore. "What are you doing."
She doesn't turn to face him. "I'm bored."
A pause. "We established that."
"You don't understand, Damon." She looks sharply at him, her eyes glittering with some pent-up urge he can't place. "Klaus is dead. Dead." Stresses the last syllable as though it means something. "After 500 years. How could you possibly understand." Turns her face away again; she can hardly stand to look at him.
Damon blinks uselessly. It's true -- he doesn't understand. She's furious and seething at something, at him, and he doesn't understand. Maybe he never did. (A lonely thought that presses its weight on them.)
Meanwhile, her furious, singular profile: beautiful against the night sky.
(the one thing he has always understood)
In another version of this story, he does something brave.
(Imagine that.)
He sits beside the furious, singular girl on the still, exposed roof.
That happened.
In this version of the story: (insert something here)
(something that means something)
Some time later:
Another broken glass door.
Damon laughs with a mouth full of blood, because this is what Damon does.
Katherine doesn't have a scratch on her.
She always was unfair.
They don't have sex.
What an anticlimax, he's obnoxious enough to think.
Katherine's six-inch heels go clack clack clack proudly down the hall. From the floor, Damon watches her go.
This is --
Well, it is what it is.
"We were good together, you know," she says once, out of the blue, as unconcerned as a hurricane.
He almost drops his glass on the polished floor. Almost, but doesn't, because then he'd have to clean the mess up, and frankly he's tired of feeling blood on the pads of his fingers.
This is a moment, he thinks, as dust particles float in sunlight. Maybe the moment he's been waiting for --
-- or something equally poetic. Damon has always cared about poetry. But the thing of it, the thing is, the problem is, nobody else does. On good days, this is the only thing wrong with him.
This is the moment:
Katherine is uncharacteristically waiting for an answer.
And Damon is frozen, suspended in the moment, this moment, the moment of a lifetime (the one he's been waiting for forever), and he doesn't know how to hold on to it -- or even worse, move past.
"Would you believe me?" she asks.
Yes, he thinks, and says: "No."
*
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2012-07-29 01:46 pm (UTC)Damon supposedly hates cliches. Fortunately, cliches love him.
Never change.
He remembers waking giddily the next morning in an empty bed with fading bruises, feeling like a new man. A revived man. A man of any kind, really.
I think this is a really potent way to look that their relationship at that time--and how Damon progressed from this point, adopting all of Katherine's habits. She plays the piano, too, of fuckin' course.
Meanwhile, her furious, singular profile: beautiful against the night sky.
(the one thing he has always understood)
Just that word, "singular." So stunning, it consumes me, etc etc. I am so glad to have you in this fandom, you have no idea.
no subject
Date: 2012-07-30 12:37 am (UTC)She plays the piano, too, of fuckin' course.
OF COURSE.
it consumes me
MISSION ACCOMPLISHED, LOL.
The feeling is totally mutual, ofc. Especially means a lot coming from you! ♥
no subject
Date: 2012-07-29 03:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-30 12:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-29 04:57 pm (UTC)This is another one of those fics where nothing happens
Mais non
I... okay, I don't use phrases like "This is perfect" as feedback very often, not sincerely. It's always hyperbole and just wanting to make my feelings abundantly clear by blowing them out of proportion (maybe to make up for the fact that all I've got to sell my words is words, not eye contact and body language, so I gotta make it clear how ~positive it all is) but...
This is perfect. You make me love them so much.
And I don't ship it? (I'm not even sure if that's true anymore tbh.) Like, I enjoy it in canon, but it's never been something that's slipped beneath my skin and choked my heart, yanno.
Whereas this fic takes everything that's DAMON (!!! your Damon voice tho, your Damon everything tho, fuck you, i hate you, go away) and everything that's KATHERINE (!!! your characterization post-Klaus, the forever running, my heart, tis a bulge in it, fuck you, etcetera, etcetera) and everything that's DAMON AND KATHERINE (the chase and the missing their moment and Idek fuuucck i think i need to reread it again to do this feedback justice) and crystallizes it, supercharges it, makes it bright and sharp and perfect.
It seems to me that every word is perfect, not wasted, perfectly chosen, perfectly weighted, balanced, placed. Like, it's almost sparse at times, which I love so much, because all that matters is what should matter, and it does matter.
I just really fucking love this fic and I hate you. In that way where I envy because this is perfect and when someone writes something perfect, and you're a writer? You wish you wrote. But I mean, I couldn't write this because I don't live in this place the way you do. You breathe this fic, seriously. I can just tell that it all comes from a place of just fucking getting it. And that's why it's perfect.
Shit, this comment is getting embarrassing. Fuck all. I should hit post at this point, but instead I'm gonna start quoting:
Damon drinks a lot that week. An example of the spartan. And it works because in context it's just the right amount of what needs to be said to say everything.
He's trying to reread Moby Dick and care about it. Second time's always a charm. lmao. Also, Katherine is Moby Dick. lmao again. Damon makes for a shitty Ahab -- he's just not that into the chase anymore.
She sighs. "I'm bored."
"Okay." He snaps the book shut, not without relief. "Let's fuck."
She treats him to a withering look.
He cocks a brow. "I'm sorry, did you want romance?"
ROFL perfect
"You don't understand, Damon." She looks sharply at him, her eyes glittering with some pent-up urge he can't place. "Klaus is dead. Dead." Stresses the last syllable as though it means something. "After 500 years. How could you possibly understand." Turns her face away again; she can hardly stand to look at him.
And then you punched me in the throat with Katherine feelings. When she lets her guard down and the sheer force and sincerity of how she feels just levels you.
"We were good together, you know," she says once, out of the blue, as unconcerned as a hurricane.
He almost drops his glass on the polished floor. Almost, but doesn't, because then he'd have to clean the mess up, and frankly he's tired of feeling blood on the pads of his fingers.
This is a moment, he thinks, as dust particles float in sunlight. Maybe the moment he's been waiting for --
-- or something equally poetic. Damon has always cared about poetry. But the thing of it, the thing is, the problem is, nobody else does. On good days, this is the only thing wrong with him.
This is the moment:
Katherine is uncharacteristically waiting for an answer.
And Damon is frozen, suspended in the moment, this moment, the moment of a lifetime (the one he's been waiting for forever), and he doesn't know how to hold on to it -- or even worse, move past.
This entire passage is a favorite. The dust particles, Damon stuck in the moment, Katherine as unconcerned as a hurricane.
"Would you believe me?" she asks.
Yes, he thinks, and says: "No."
Oh. Yes.
...
Just shut up and go away, Alex.
no subject
Date: 2012-07-30 12:51 am (UTC)what is this comment
Hearing that I made you love them is the best fucking thing you could say to me. Because they are really my favourite, slip beneath the skin and choke on the heart, etc. etc. AND I AM HAPPY TO SHARE THE PAIN. \o/
And ughhhhhhhhh yessssss you got everything I wanted to convey about these fuckers. Fuck you, too, this comment is obscene.
I seem to be doing a lot of that sparseness these days. Mainly to cover up my lack of Plot. So. Glad it works. :DDDDD
In that way where I envy because this is perfect and when someone writes something perfect, and you're a writer? You wish you wrote.
YOU NEED TO STOP
When she lets her guard down and the sheer force and sincerity of how she feels just levels you.
Ugh yes, my bb. I was unsure about Kat's characterisation here because she's a bitch to write, so I'm real happy to hear that it seems right. \o/
THAT LONG LAST PASSAGE IS MY FAVOURITE TOO, YOU UNDERSTAND MEEEEEE. ♥
Man, this comment. Thank you x29828104721 for it, you. Legit ecstatic that you liked. AND NOW FUCK OFF BEFORE MY EGO EXPLODES.
♥ ♥ ♥
no subject
Date: 2012-07-29 05:20 pm (UTC)Oh fuck you, Alex.
+ This is all kinds of GORGEUS. DAMN THOSE TWO for being so great. AND DAMN YOU FOR WRITING THEM SO WELL.
+ ZEBRAS ZEBRAS ZEBRAS <3333333
It's still somewhat dramatic, though, because it's Katherine, and Katherine is an attention-loving whore.
She's playing Strauss on his fucking piano.
THOSE TWO.
She twirls a lock of hair between her fingers. "Don't you mean, who?"
OH KATHERINE.
Damon supposedly hates cliches. Fortunately, cliches love him.
And there goes the story of his life, in two sentences. Oh Damon. Cliches do love him indeed.
I could do without the mess, he thinks as she slides back up his body. What a bitch to have to clean up.
Ladies and gentlemen, the only man in the world who can think about cleaning while Katherine Pierce slides back up his body. ALL MY LOVE.
he was so happy he could have died. (That came later.)
oh, sweet, innocent Damon <3
What a terrible thing, someone said, to be destroyed by love.
But what a way to go.
Not everybody gets to die for love, you know.
DEAD.
"We never talk anymore, you know."
This is the point where he loses track of the story. "About what?"
She shrugs. "Town gossip. The weather. Evil schemes."
"Since when," he says slowly, warily.
She makes an impatient sound in the back of her throat. "Fine. Whatever." Gathers herself up off the sofa. "Hindsight is always 20/20."
He ponders the meaning of this long after she's left.
SHE WANTS TO TALK ABOUT TOWN GOSSIP AND OH GOD HINDSIGHT IS ALWAYS 20/20.
In another version of this story, he does something brave.
(Imagine that.)
He sits beside the furious, singular girl on the still, exposed roof.
That happened.
In this version of the story: (insert something here)
(something that means something)It's real for her, too.
ARE YOU KIDDING ME? SERIOUSLY? WHAT IS THIS AWESOMENESS?
What an anticlimax, he's obnoxious enough to think.
This is the Damon I love <3
AND THEN the moment he's been waiting for and then
"Would you believe me?" she asks.
Yes, he thinks, and says: "No."
SHUT UP, JUST SHUT UP.
no subject
Date: 2012-07-30 01:09 am (UTC)FUCK YOU TOO X(
And THANK YOU, very much, you you you.
+ ZEBRAS ZEBRAS ZEBRAS <3333333
ALWAYS <<<<<<<333333333
Ladies and gentlemen, the only man in the world who can think about cleaning while Katherine Pierce slides back up his body.
I KNOOOOOOOOOW. ♥
What an anticlimax, he's obnoxious enough to think.
This is the Damon I love <3
ME TOO! :DDDDDDD
And YOU shut up, FOOL. This comment is gross. ♥ ♥ ♥
no subject
Date: 2012-07-30 09:22 am (UTC)It's my prompt and I'll be gross if I want to :P
♥
no subject
Date: 2012-07-29 11:26 pm (UTC)So, while I was reading this, I was thinking 'pretty oh so pretty' constantly. I was very convinced I'd manage an articulate review this time. With quoting and stuff. BUT THEN CAME THIS LINE AND EVERYTHING ELSE WAS TERRIBLY SECONDARY.
I wish I knew how to gif right now. Because all the capslock in the world won't suffice. Alas. (Imagine screaming animals/aliens/canibals, will you?)
BASICALLY.
LET ME BE GROSS AND FLAILY?
YOU UNDERSTAND MY DAMON ANGUISH. HOW DO YOU EVEN.
THIS IS WHY I AM SO FUCKING HELPLESS WHEN IT COMES TO THAT KID.
HE IS THE POETE MAUDIT WHO NEVER HAD WORDS TO BEGIN WITH. BUT WILL NEVER GET OVER HIS AESTHETICAL ISSUES STILL. AND NOBODY UNDERSTANDS THEM AND THAT IS HIS CURSE FOREVER.
ONCE AGAIN THE CLICHE PICKED HIM. (BUT THAT ONE HE CANNOT DISMISS, NOT REALLY.)
(Sorry for that. I'm not even hundred percent sure you actually meant for with in this line. Which would render this comment even more embarrassing. So if you did not, please just lie to me. For a day at least. I want my head!canon euphoria to linger on for a little longer.)
UNG. I have so many lines that I should be quoting and random outbursts of flail that I wanted to be sharing.
But I cannot right now. (You keep getting these gross apologetic comments about not being able to comment from me lately. WTF is this lame trend?)
LOVES ON YOU, in short.
no subject
Date: 2012-07-30 01:23 am (UTC)Imagine screaming animals/aliens/canibals, will you?
BLESS. <<<<<33333
LET ME BE GROSS AND FLAILY?
ALWAYS. <<<<<<333333
YOU UNDERSTAND MY DAMON ANGUISH.
BECAUSE IT IS MY OWN?????
HE IS THE POETE MAUDIT WHO NEVER HAD WORDS TO BEGIN WITH. BUT WILL NEVER GET OVER HIS AESTHETICAL ISSUES STILL. AND NOBODY UNDERSTANDS THEM AND THAT IS HIS CURSE FOREVER.
EVERYTHING YOU SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYY. Your Damon is my Damon (who is really me at the core because narcissism = yay). YOU UNDERSTAND MY PAIN.
No embarrassment or lies here, you could not have understood me better. And you're the first person to do so here, which is even more special. <<<<<<<333333
NEVER APOLOGISE FOR THIS COMMENT, IT IS WONDERFUL AS IS. Thank you very much, m'dear, I appreciate every syllable of it.
♥ ♥ ♥
no subject
Date: 2012-07-30 01:46 am (UTC)*jumping up and down like a crazy cat playing with light spots (wtf brain)*
YOU REALLY UNDERSTAND MY PAIN AND I AM RIDICULOUSLY RELIEVED!!!!!!!!!!
Like, I think I would have loved Damon without this gorgeous character trait, for Ian's face holds too much pretty for me to be uncaring. BUT. THIS. IS WHY I LOVE HIM.
This is the character type I fall in neverending, neverfading love with. (Also, all the authors that I worship. Because I have a creepy cursed-author kink or whatever.*)
AND THIS IS THE BEST LINE EVER. IT BLANKED MY BRAIN. IT SHOULD BE THE FAVORITE OF ALL FAVORITES. BUT IN SECRET. BECAUSE THESE THINGS ARE SHAMEFUL AND UNFIT FOR THE FUCKING WORLD.
BECAUSE IT IS MY OWN?????
BUT NOOOO. NOW I AM HOPELESSLY IN LOVE WITH YOU. WHY WOULD YOU EVER DO THAT. ALSO NARCISSISM FTW ALWAYS ♥ It's the only sane way to deal, so no shame shall be wasted on this /nods
*Just look at his motherfucking face (=Artaud icon). He is perfect in the worst ways. My bb. I just can't with him. AND NOW I HAVE ALL THE FEELS AND WANT TO SPAM YOU WITH TONS OF FRENCH QUOTES ABOUT THE TRUTH OF ART AND OBSCENE STUFF OF THAT KIND. (Stop. Stop. Stop. I need to stop this madness. I think Marta is already growing tired of the way I keep quoting him randomly all the time. I need to get my fangirly together and shit. But I can't help it if he writes the most soul-shredding things. WHAT CAN YOU DO BUT KNEEL?)
no subject
Date: 2012-07-30 04:32 am (UTC)lol, true enough about Ian. AND YESYESYES ON DAMON, this fandom does not understand him like I / we do. /snob
IT SHOULD BE THE FAVORITE OF ALL FAVORITES. BUT IN SECRET. BECAUSE THESE THINGS ARE SHAMEFUL AND UNFIT FOR THE FUCKING WORLD.
YOU SPEAK TRUTH. You also speak flattery. ♥
NOW I AM HOPELESSLY IN LOVE WITH YOU. WHY WOULD YOU EVER DO THAT.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
*sounds good to be me tbh
no subject
Date: 2012-07-30 01:50 am (UTC)I REALLY NEED FIC ABOUT THIS!
Damon, le poète maudit. In which Stefans meticulously fills page after page, while Damon dreams and has no words.
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Date: 2012-07-30 04:37 am (UTC)YOU WRITE IT.
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Date: 2012-07-30 09:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-30 03:33 pm (UTC)I do not write? So there.
Someone put me out of my misery instead of asking me for things I cannot give. (Huff.)
Also wrt other comment : being a snob is the paved way to my heart (narcissism and all that jazz). Never stop.
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Date: 2012-07-30 01:12 am (UTC)You say nothing happened? WHYYYYY. SO MUCH DID.
I loved the ending but I loved all the parts that lead up to it too. Because it was so intimate while ending up on a guarded note, and it is something that she was left offering and he guarded, but considering....history is history. But I saw a lot of new stuff here too. Katherine's honesty about her immortality was awesome. And I like that they didn't have sex after that. Good. I like d/k sex, yeah, hah, but I think that made it stronger, that sense.
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Date: 2012-07-30 01:38 am (UTC)LOL, IF YOU SAY SO!
I'm happy that Katherine's honesty works! It's true, I haven't seen that so much in canon, so I felt like I was taking a liberty there that may not ultimately pay off. But your response heartens me. ♥
And I like that they didn't have sex after that. Good. I like d/k sex, yeah, hah, but I think that made it stronger, that sense.
HAHA I'm glad. XD
Very pleased you enjoyed this, yo, thanks for the comment. ♥ ♥
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Date: 2012-07-30 01:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-30 04:43 am (UTC)MY WORK IS FINISHED. \o/
Haha, thanks very much, man. It is appreciated.
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Date: 2012-07-30 11:21 am (UTC)This kind of shit always kills me but then you had to go and do it SO.WELL.
She's playing Strauss on his fucking piano.
He isn't so impressed. "Selective memory, much? The last time we talked, you were getting the hell out of dodge." And so encapsulates the entirety of our relationship, he adds in his mind.
"And now I'm back." She spreads her hands, as though bequeathing a gift. The gift of her presence, apparently.
How you capture exactly who they are so perfectly?
Their first time -- the real first time -- he was so happy he could have died. (That came later.) She was moving above him, and he was moving with her, and the earth was moving too, etcetera etcetera.
It was love, simply put. Her savage teeth in his flesh -- that was love, too.
He remembers waking giddily the next morning in an empty bed with fading bruises, feeling like a new man. A revived man. A man of any kind, really.
It was a terrible shame to have to cover up the scars.
THISSSSSS.
/more ugly crying.
I've just realised I am going to quote the whole rest of the fic. Suffice to say it's like the best thing ever.
Apologies for the trampy gifs, words fail me.
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Date: 2012-07-30 11:34 am (UTC)And THANK YOU VERY MUCH! Your comment is a delight. Very pleased it resonated with you. ♥ ♥
I WILL SCREAM IF KATHERINE PLAYS THE PIANO ON-SCREEN.
omg nabbing that last gif. :O
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Date: 2012-07-30 11:47 am (UTC)You are most welcome, ofc <3
HAHAHA 400% AGREED ON THE PIANO PLAYING.
Though Elijah is still my first choice musical prodigy.
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Date: 2012-07-30 06:56 pm (UTC)I actually feel physically sick, this is so good. I am not kidding. WHAT THE FUCK. I LOATHE YOU, ALEX.
I literally want to quote this entire thing. Ughhhh how to choose. Life is hard.
"Hello, Damon," she drawls, and if this were a movie, he'd congratulate her on her perfect line delivery. This is not a movie.
I read this line and thought, "ooooooh, she's doing Damon and his constant striving to create a narrative, oh how I love Writer Damon," but I didn't realize then that you would weave this through the whole piece so flawlessly. Seriously, Alex, stunning. Just. Stunning.
Damon supposedly hates cliches. Fortunately, cliches love him.
LOL. Oh, Damon.
Oh god, that whole section about the first time, Damon and his pathetic-ness and just everything, oh, I CAN'T.
Damon is trying to count the number of mistakes in the movie subtitles.
THE BEST. Spot on Damon. (And I totally do this too. WHY ARE WE THE WORST, ALEX?)
Stefan is preoccupied with a chess game against himself.
FUCK, ALEX. This is such a little thing, easy to just read over and miss, but OMG WOW. Legitimately stunning.
Katherine being lost after Klaus's death is amazing, and I want to marry it. The way you frame it, a subtle shift from "I'm bored" to a deep identity crisis, just makes me awestruck. How.
In another version of this story, he does something brave.
(Imagine that.)
He sits beside the furious, singular girl on the still, exposed roof.
That happened.
In this version of the story: (insert something here)
(something that means something)
It's real for her, too.AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. I've been trying not to pick out every single reference to the Damon Salvatore, Narrative Constructor, but I just had to c-p this part, I HAD TO. EVERY SINGLE LETTER IS FLAWLESS. I AM DYING WITH FLAW-FREE.
What an anticlimax, he's obnoxious enough to think.
Oh, but this too. How have you written the fic of my secret soul?
Damon has always cared about poetry. But the thing of it, the thing is, the problem is, nobody else does. On good days, this is the only thing wrong with him.
OH MY GOD. I JUST. I CAN'T. I WILL NEVER. BUT. OHHHHHHHH. Damon Salvatore in a single sentence. I seriously can't. Literally shaking my head in awe right now.
But the ENTIRE last exchange, and just, fucking gorgeous. And this:
And Damon is frozen, suspended in the moment, this moment, the moment of a lifetime (the one he's been waiting for forever), and he doesn't know how to hold on to it -- or even worse, move past.
"Would you believe me?" she asks.
Yes, he thinks, and says: "No."
.................................................
I am dead.
SERIOUSLY, ALEX, I JUST CAN'T. I REALLY JUST CAN'T.
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Date: 2012-07-31 02:48 am (UTC)YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT WRITER!DAMON. ♥
WHY ARE WE THE WORST, ALEX?
Born that way tbh.
LOL I KNEW THAT YOU WOULD CATCH THAT STEFAN PART. (Guess which side's winning.)
Also, I REALLY CAN'T WITH YOUR COMMENT, LIZ. BARFING RAINBOWS EVERYWHERE. You got literally everything I was trying to do, and are thus the worst. Thank you x87428372839723982. I LOATHE YOU TOO.
♥ ♥ ♥
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Date: 2012-08-01 10:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-02 06:11 am (UTC)SECONDED.
Thanks, yo.
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Date: 2012-08-02 06:17 am (UTC)I love everything, but a few bits that stood out to me:
"What are you doing with that," he greets, vaguely outraged.
Vaguely outraged is magnificent and so him that I cannot.
Damon picking out the mistakes in the french subtitles made me squeal for two reasons. First because I DO THAT. Second because it's so him and also so something that most of fandom would think was so not him. BUT IT IS? Those are the parts of Damon that are not obvious. The parts of Damon that do not fit an easy mould. The best parts are the parts so many Damon lovers don't even see?
And oh gawd, "a terrible shame to cover up the scars." Amazing.
Oh yeah and I love Katherine's furious, singular profile. And her bedroom hopping.
Thank you for this! Makes me want to actually write some of mine. Lol. We're a pair.
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Date: 2012-08-03 01:37 am (UTC)I love that you care about words.
THE BESTEST THING YOU COULD SAY TO ME ^^)
lol, yes to the "vaguely outraged" thing, Ian does that well.
Second because it's so him and also so something that most of fandom would think was so not him. BUT IT IS? Those are the parts of Damon that are not obvious. The parts of Damon that do not fit an easy mould. The best parts are the parts so many Damon lovers don't even see?
YES YES YES SOPHY TALK ABOUT THIS ALWAYS. This fandom does not ~understand him like we do. /snob
Makes me want to actually write some of mine. Lol. We're a pair.
DO IT. I worship at the altar of your words.
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Date: 2012-08-03 04:12 am (UTC)WOMAN. Your kung fu is the best. Gorgeously rampant Damon/Katherine dysfunction with clean freak Damon and metaphorical messes. I flail with joy in your general direction. xD
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Date: 2012-08-03 04:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-04 03:41 pm (UTC)This time, it's a little less dramatic than her stepping wet and naked out of his shower.
It's still somewhat dramatic, though, because it's Katherine, and Katherine is an attention-loving whore.
She's playing Strauss on his fucking piano.
"Hello, Damon," she drawls, and if this were a movie, he'd congratulate her on her perfect line delivery. This is not a movie.
"What are you doing with that," he greets, vaguely outraged.
I love Damon's vaguely outraged. And only he can think of cleaning when Katherine's jumping him, lol. Also, bringing the piano back. ;)
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Date: 2012-08-05 02:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-06 07:36 pm (UTC)God these assholes are so perfect. What have you done to me? Never have I been so excited and compelled by the prospect of two people living out their miserable existences in some kind of 'together' but not really. Oh Damon, and his stories, all his stupid stories and Katherine doesn't quite fit in any of them (not the way he dreams them up) and they are so perfect. It hurts.
I am so happy you're writing so much again, you don't even understand.
WHYYYYY:
What a terrible thing, someone said, to be destroyed by love.
But what a way to go.
Not everybody gets to die for love, you know.
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Date: 2012-08-07 02:34 am (UTC)Me toooooooooooooo. Creys~~~
I AM HAPPY YOU ARE HAPPY. I'm such a lazy-ass writer, I really don't know. Thank God my flist suddenly inundated me with prompts?
Thank you for the comment, bb. ♥
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Date: 2012-08-12 10:15 pm (UTC)But then you write shit like this and frankly Alex, GO AWAY. Because I read this and I SHIP IT. That's twice today you've done this to me. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU STOP IT AT ONCE.
Your economy of words, the way you've so adroitly delineated Damon's POV, Katherine's every word and action - it's so perfect I could die, resurrect, die again, and come back a third time as a weeping, crying kitten made of rainbows and Teen Spirit. It's obnoxious, really.
Things of which I am shivering in approval:
1. Damon is a poet. (Of fucking COURSE he is, and thank goodness you know it.)
2. Katherine has a singular profile. (He would think so.)
3. Damon doesn't do messes. (Really, how effing dare she? You know she knows and she does it just to fuck with him (and to fuck with him).)
4. Stefan is completely nonchalant about the whole thing. (Riiiiight.)
5. She give him his moment and he tells her no. (That's the Damon I love.)
6. YOU. (♥)
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Date: 2012-08-13 03:21 am (UTC)Acceptable.
But then you write shit like this and frankly Alex, GO AWAY. Because I read this and I SHIP IT. That's twice today you've done this to me. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU STOP IT AT ONCE.
MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA JE NE REGRETTE RIEN \o/ \o/ \o/
Your economy of words, the way you've so adroitly delineated Damon's POV, Katherine's every word and action - it's so perfect I could die, resurrect, die again, and come back a third time as a weeping, crying kitten made of rainbows and Teen Spirit. It's obnoxious, really.
Well, that's a compliment if ever there was one.
1. OF FUCKING COURSE.
3. TEEHEE!
5. Wahhhhh, me too.
6. YOU. (♥ ♥)
Thank you very much indeed, you. ♥ Glad to know this touched your soul somehow. ;)
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Date: 2012-08-26 08:30 am (UTC)Now, I will try to say something coherent in this comment instead of rambling on like I usually do.
This fic is a perfect encapsulation of Damon and his inherent contradictions. Damon tries to be cynical, because this is Katherine and he can't trust her, but like the last line, he thinks, Yes. I love the way you have Damon framing his thoughts, trying to make it mundane as possible (""I'm sorry, did you want romance?"), but the last vestiges of his romantic self creeping in anyway, with his appreciation for poetry, and this whole train of thought:
She's furious and seething at something, at him, and he doesn't understand. Maybe he never did. (A lonely thought that presses its weight on them.)
...
Meanwhile, her furious, singular profile: beautiful against the night sky.
(the one thing he has always understood)
As another reviewer mentioned, that word, singular, is everything. Not to mention, it brings up some perfect imagery.
And I simply adored Katherine. You packed so much into a couple of sentences, in her reaction to Damon, when she's furious at Damon, because she thought that he of all people -- someone who made himself in her image -- would understand. It was still somehow perfect that not once does Damon comment on the most important action, or inaction, on her part -- that she's staying, not running.
One last thing I loved:
Stefan is preoccupied with a chess game against himself.
Why does this line crack me up.
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Date: 2012-08-26 10:05 am (UTC)Indeed, Doris has the right of things. Also, you should go to VM already.
I love your analysis of my fic as ever, lol. Very pleased this conveyed what I wanted it to convey, particularly re: Damon's contrariness. ♥ I may or may not be obsessed with deeply romantic people trying to kill their innate caring-too-much-ness. It's certainly the most interesting about Damon to me.
And I'm so glad Katherine works! She's so much more opaque and I thought maybe I was taking some liberties in her emotional reactions, because she's never actually let Damon in as much as she does here, oddly. And: It was still somehow perfect that not once does Damon comment on the most important action, or inaction, on her part -- that she's staying, not running. -- WAHHHHHHHHHHH.
Why does this line crack me up.
lol, I meant for it to.
Thanks very much for the great review, m'dear. I'm thrilled you liked. ♥
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Date: 2013-04-13 12:40 am (UTC)What a terrible thing, someone said, to be destroyed by love.
But what a way to go.
Not everybody gets to die for love, you know.
Yes, YES, Damon would think this.
He cocks a brow. "I'm sorry, did you want romance?"
Oh, Damon. Always wanting to deny to believe in love after everything and to still want romance and to want it with Katherine.
Stefan is preoccupied with a chess game against himself. "I think she wants you to join her."
!!! Stefan and chess! Yes, sure, Stefan you are totally "preoccupied". Poor Stefan, for him it must be so hard and of course Damon would never understand why and Stefan would never tell because he can't/won't sort out his Katherine issues. And he already told Damon that Katherine had compelled him and Damon didn't care. Poor Stefan. :(
"You don't understand, Damon." She looks sharply at him, her eyes glittering with some pent-up urge he can't place. "Klaus is dead. Dead." Stresses the last syllable as though it means something. "After 500 years. How could you possibly understand." Turns her face away again; she can hardly stand to look at him.
THIS. I always wondered how Katherine would react if she really got to kill Klaus and would be finally free. She would be free which is all she ever wanted but... killing Klaus had been her one wish for centuries and now he is gone, she got her wish and what is she going to do with her life now?
Damon blinks uselessly. It's true -- he doesn't understand. She's furious and seething at something, at him, and he doesn't understand. Maybe he never did. (A lonely thought that presses its weight on them.)
Oh, Damon. :(
Meanwhile, her furious, singular profile: beautiful against the night sky.
(the one thing he has always understood)
*sobbing* Yes, this is the guy who said "She was just very complicated" and who always looked at her with wonder.
And Damon is frozen, suspended in the moment, this moment, the moment of a lifetime (the one he's been waiting for forever), and he doesn't know how to hold on to it -- or even worse, move past.
"This could be our defining moment" :(
"Would you believe me?" she asks.
Yes, he thinks, and says: "No."
Of course, OF COURSE. *ugly sobbing* These two always break my heart.
Do you ship them? I do and it always sadden me the fact that no one else seems to ship it and also knowing that they are never getting together again in canon. And they are the only couple that I ship in this show. Why did I have to ship the one couple the show doesn't care about at all?
This fic is a perfect encapsulation of Damon and his inherent contradictions. Damon tries to be cynical, because this is Katherine and he can't trust her, but like the last line, he thinks, Yes. I love the way you have Damon framing his thoughts, trying to make it mundane as possible (""I'm sorry, did you want romance?"), but the last vestiges of his romantic self creeping in anyway, with his appreciation for poetry, and this whole train of thought:
She's furious and seething at something, at him, and he doesn't understand. Maybe he never did. (A lonely thought that presses its weight on them.)
...
Meanwhile, her furious, singular profile: beautiful against the night sky.
(the one thing he has always understood)
As another reviewer mentioned, that word, singular, is everything. Not to mention, it brings up some perfect imagery.
And I simply adored Katherine. You packed so much into a couple of sentences, in her reaction to Damon, when she's furious at Damon, because she thought that he of all people -- someone who made himself in her image -- would understand. It was still somehow perfect that not once does Damon comment on the most important action, or inaction, on her part -- that she's staying, not running.
All of this. This fanfiction is so wonderful. Ah, my crazy babies. Why must them be so perfect and so doomed?
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Date: 2013-04-13 02:20 am (UTC)These two are in fact my ~OTP, so YANA. One does not know pain until one has OTP-shipped Damon/Katherine, trololol.