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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momijizukamori
no subject
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.