turnonmyheels (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
turnonmyheels) wrote2011-11-13 04:24 pm
turnonmyheels) wrote2011-11-13 04:24 pm
Entry tags:
Fic 2/4: Mason/Damon/Alaric
Title: Here Comes Another Fall from Grace (I'm Always Falling On My Face)
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries
Rating: PG-13 today, eventual NC-17
Pairing: Damon/Alaric/Mason, Damon/Alaric, Damon/Mason, Mason/Alaric
Summary: Post Ghost World -- All the ghosts are gone, or are they?
Notes: Thank you![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
moosesal for the beta. Title from Placebo's Breathe Underwater
Days before you came
it always seemed enticing
to be naked and profane.
There is no denying
days before you came
thunderbolts and lightning
each day a brand new vein.
Each tourniquet colliding
didn’t want you anyway.
Placebo, Days Before You Came
“Have a grrrr-eat day at school!” Damon ushered Rebekah out of the boarding house with his best Tony the Tiger impersonation. “Don’t let the door hit you on the ass on your way out.” Damon slammed the door shut behind her and banged his forehead against it briefly. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply seemingly relieved to be home after spending the night wandering around almost entirely lost in an underground cavern.
“I’m not sure killing Klaus is going to get your brother back.” Mason said from behind Damon as he watched the exchange over his shoulder. “Not as long as that’s the kind of company he keeps.”
Damon looked up and waved at her then gave her his most insincerely sincere smile. Rebekah smirked at him over her shoulder before she climbed into Stefan’s Porsche and drove off.
“I need a drink.” Damon sighed before heading to the basement for a blood bag.
“Boo-hoo, poor Damon needs a drink.” Mason quipped as he followed Damon through the house. “I need a body. And a drink. I wouldn’t turn down a blowjob either. Hell, why stop with a blowjob?” Mason said as he eyed Damon’s admittedly stunning rear. All of the vampires he’d met were incredibly hot, almost as if it were a prerequisite for getting vamped. Or maybe Katherine just knew all the hottest vampires. Regardless, Mason had spent many, many nights buried balls deep inside of Katherine and/or whomever Katherine had wanted to join them: male, female, vampire, werewolf, or just plain dinner. On the very best nights, Katherine would pick out a man -- usually dark-haired and light-eyed -- then she would put Mason in the middle, fucking him while he got fucked.
He missed that. Almost as much as he missed being alive. “You know Damon, a good hard fuck would be amazing.” Damon -- of course -- didn’t respond. Mason chuckled at himself and shook his head. “If only Katherine could see me now, practically throwing myself at her favorite cast-off. She told me you were completely oblivious to people who wanted you. That you always threw yourself after the ones who didn’t want you. She wasn’t wrong. You’re always making cow eyes at Elena. It’s completely ridiculous, why would you want Katherine version 2.0 instead of Alaric? He’s completely into you in that whole ‘reluctant yet irresistible attraction’ kind of way.”
Mason looked around the house as they passed through it, resolutely unimpressed by the antiques. He’d grown up in the oldest mansion in Mystic Falls, after all; it wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before. He did have to admit the boarding house was surprisingly warm and comfortable despite being a vampire lair. It didn’t have that air of “Do Not Touch” the mansion always had. Mason found himself stopping to admire the gleaming mahogany paneling in the hallways. He reached out to see if it was as smooth as it appeared and his hand passed through it. Pissed off at himself, he jerked his hand back as if burnt then immediately turned around and stayed right on Damon’s heels all the way to the basement.
“Well, well, well,” Damon said as he stopped abruptly in front of a barred door. “What do we have here?”
“What the hell?” Mason stepped right behind Damon, close enough that if he’d had a body his dick would be pressed against Damon’s ass, and looked over his shoulder. It was a cell and Stefan was inside it chained to a chair.
“You doing alright in there, brother?” Stefan’s head came up at the word brother. Mason’s self-preservation instinct kicked in, he couldn’t help but take a step back when he saw the expression of absolute loathing on Stefan’s face. “Your girlfriend lock you up again?” Damon wrapped his hands around the bars on the door. “Who helped her this time? McWitchy the Judgey? Vampire Barbie? Your other girlfriend, Barbie Klaus?”
Stefan’s features morphed and he hissed around his fangs. “Let me out of here, Damon.” He jerked and the chains rattled but he was bound too tightly to do more than wiggle around a bit.
“Not a chance, bro. Time out is just what the doctor ordered. You sit there and think about what you did wrong while I go get a nice bag of blood and enjoy my freedom.” Damon winked at Stefan and waved. “Toodles.”
“Dude. You have one seriously messed up relationship with your brother.” Mason stayed at the door to keep an eye on Stefan. He obviously wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, but that didn’t mean he didn’t bear watching. “There’s no way I’d leave my brother tied up like that no matter what he did.”
“You know, Stefan,” Damon said as he strolled back to the cell door with a glass filled to the brim with human blood. “If you’d just learn to control yourself the slightest bit, you wouldn’t be in there.” Damon sipped the blood and moaned as he swallowed. “Yummy, nothing like a little soccer parent to go. I’d offer you someone but I’d hate to undo all your hard work.”
“Klaus will get me out of here, Damon. And when he does I’m going to massacre this entire town.”
Damon drained nearly all of his blood, leaving only a swallow or two in the glass. “Over my dead body.” He dipped his finger into the glass, swirled it through the blood, and flicked it through the bars at Stefan. The blood hit him on the forehead and slowly started to drip toward his nose. “Enjoy your breakfast, Stefan. If you’re lucky it may drip all the way down to your mouth. It’ll probably just dry up somewhere on your nose though.” Damon drained the rest of his glass. “If it does, it’ll start to itch and you won’t be able to scratch it. But you’ll be able to smell it.” Damon kissed the palm of his hand and blew it to Stefan. “Enjoy!”
“That was some fucked-up shit, man.”
By the string of expletives and rattling chains coming from the cell, Stefan wholeheartedly agreed.
Damon wound his way through the house with Mason dogging his every step. They eventually passed by the study. Mason paused at the door, attention captured by the chair he’d been tied to and tortured on. It was exactly where it was the day he’d died, sitting in a patch of sunlight from the window, turned at an angle so that it faced the fireplace. From the doorway it appeared completely unmarked, not a drop of blood anywhere on it. Morbid fascination led him into the room to inspect the site of his death. There were no stray strands of rope to indicate that he’d once been tied to it before his heart was ripped from his chest. He got down onto his knees and inspected the antique rug, looking for any proof at all of what had transpired in that place, before remembering Damon had put a tarp on the floor to catch any unfortunate splatters.
Mason sat back on his haunches and watched as Damon came into the room and headed straight for the bar, upending a crystal decanter filled with something golden brown into a glass. “What I really want to know is how you got all the blood off of the chair.”
Damon had the tumbler halfway to his mouth when he startled Mason by answering. “Trust me, I’ve been getting stains out of the carpets and furniture since 1864, it’s an acquired skill.”
Mason leaped to his feet. “Did you just hear me?”
At the same time Damon’s startled gaze met his, “Where did you come from?”
“I didn’t go anywhere.” Mason said as he walked toward the bar. “I’ve been with you every single step since the cave. One minute I was corporeal and the next minute ...” Mason trailed off and looked at the bourbon-filled glass Damon was holding out to him. He wanted that drink almost as much as he wanted a body with which to drink it.
“What are you waiting for? Take it.” Damon raised an eyebrow at him. “Go on, don’t be a pussy.”
Mason reached for the glass, it was cool to the touch. The hefty crystal was solid in his hand. He raised the tumbler to his lips and groaned when the bourbon touched his tongue. He held the liquid in his mouth a moment, savoring its heat and intensity. As he swallowed, he smiled at the path it burned through his body. “Thanks,” Mason said as he held the glass out to Damon for a refill. Their fingers brushed and Mason didn’t even try to stop himself from making the contact linger, digging his nails lightly into Damon’s skin, scratching gently as Damon poured. “I needed that.” He stepped close enough to Damon to feel the heat from his body. Then he stepped closer still, pressing himself against Damon’s side. Damon quirked an eyebrow at him but didn’t move away.
“It looks like that’s not the only thing you need,” Damon said as he poured another couple fingers of bourbon into the glass. “I thought the ghosts were gone.”
“They are.”
Three things happened simultaneously: Bonnie entered the room, Mason disappeared, and the crystal tumbler filled with bourbon started to fall to the floor. Damon’s reflexes saved the glass, he caught it well before it hit the floor. A few drops of the amber liquid splashed out of the glass and onto his hand. He brought his hand to his mouth and absent-mindedly licked the drops.
“Fascinating.” Damon toasted the empty space around him and smirked in the general direction Mason had been standing.
“Damon? Can you see me?” Mason grabbed at Damon’s arm, but his hand passed through it. “Come on!” Mason shouted and this time reached for Damon’s cock, he could see it had stiffened up from their brief contact but once again, Mason was completely disembodied. “Can you hear me?”
“Is Stefan still in the cell?” Bonnie asked from the door.
“Of course. Someone went to such trouble to put him there, I wasn’t about to let him out.”
Bonnie made a noncommittal sound and turned to leave.
“Shouldn’t you be at school?” Damon asked even though his attention was focused on the spot Mason should have been standing in. He squinted his eyes, tilted his head first one way then the other. He reached out into the empty space around him seemingly trying to see if there were any temperature variances.
“Your hand is on my hip, but it keeps passing through me.” It was torture. He was being punished for all the admittedly terrible things he’d done while he was alive. “Can you tell I’m here at all?”
“I have history first period. Alaric said I should check Stefan’s cell, make sure it’ll hold.”
“Mmm.” Damon sipped his drink and tried listening very hard, but he couldn’t hear any Mason-like sounds. “It’s held before, I’m sure it will hold again.”
“You don’t sound too concerned,” Bonnie said sharply.
The bite in the words captured Damon’s attention enough for him to look at her. “Bonnie, Stefan has been on and off the wagon since the day he became a vampire. He doesn’t have some sort of Blood Addicts Anonymous problem that can be solved with a little bit of cold turkey and some rehab.”
“Then what is his problem?”
If she’d been sarcastic he would have been flippant but she wasn’t so he gave her his full attention and the truth. “It’s two-fold.” He set down his glass and crossed the room to stand in front of her. “He has no impulse control. He’s never had any impulse control. From the time he was born, if he wanted something he did whatever it took to get it and damn the consequences. As a vampire the hunger is what drives you. Most vampires eat until they’re full. Stefan eats until there isn’t anyone left to eat.”
Bonnie grimaced. “And the other part?”
“Klaus compelled him to turn off his emotions.” Damon shrugged. “Rose said after you lived long enough the switch just … stayed on. We haven’t lived that long yet. So until Klaus tells him to feel again or dies and the compulsion breaks, Stefan’s not going to change. And even then? He’s going to have to want to change for it to happen.”
Bonnie sucked in a breath at Damon’s pronouncement. If she’d been Elena, Damon would have touched her in some small way to comfort her. But she wasn’t -- and truthfully -- he had no comfort to give. Stefan was his brother and anything regarding their relationship belonged to the two of them, not Bonnie. What he did have was a vanishing werewolf ghost, which was infinitely more interesting than his brother and his eating disorder-slash-dispossessed emotions.
“So, it’s kill Klaus or lose Stefan forever?”
“That’s pretty harsh man, he’s your brother.” Mason stood between Bonnie and Damon. He’d been trying to get their attention since Damon stopped trying to see him. “I thought you two stuck together no matter what.”
“Pretty much.” Damon shrugged. “There’s no guarantee the compulsion will break if Klaus dies. And that ‘if”? Is a pretty big if.”
“I’m on it.” Bonnie snapped back at Damon. “I’m supposed to pick up my grimoire for Alaric to help him find some symbols and translate something. After I check to make sure Stefan can’t get out.”
“You do that.” Damon smiled at Bonnie as she glared at him before turning on her heel and striding purposefully out the door.
“I don’t get this at all, it doesn’t make any sense.”
“Jesus, warn a guy first!” Damon startled as Mason reappeared in front of him. Mason reached out and grabbed hold of Damon’s arm. Damon put his own hand on top of Mason’s and squeezed it hard enough to make Mason wince. “What do you think about a game of scientist?”
“Does it involve a prostate exam?” Mason deadpanned, but there was a light in his eye that Damon recognized.
“Not until we figure out the parameters of your corporealization.” Mason’s gaze locked onto Damon’s. “After that? We can role play all you want.”
Next Part
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries
Rating: PG-13 today, eventual NC-17
Pairing: Damon/Alaric/Mason, Damon/Alaric, Damon/Mason, Mason/Alaric
Summary: Post Ghost World -- All the ghosts are gone, or are they?
Notes: Thank you
moosesal for the beta. Title from Placebo's Breathe UnderwaterDays before you came
it always seemed enticing
to be naked and profane.
There is no denying
days before you came
thunderbolts and lightning
each day a brand new vein.
Each tourniquet colliding
didn’t want you anyway.
Placebo, Days Before You Came
“Have a grrrr-eat day at school!” Damon ushered Rebekah out of the boarding house with his best Tony the Tiger impersonation. “Don’t let the door hit you on the ass on your way out.” Damon slammed the door shut behind her and banged his forehead against it briefly. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply seemingly relieved to be home after spending the night wandering around almost entirely lost in an underground cavern.
“I’m not sure killing Klaus is going to get your brother back.” Mason said from behind Damon as he watched the exchange over his shoulder. “Not as long as that’s the kind of company he keeps.”
Damon looked up and waved at her then gave her his most insincerely sincere smile. Rebekah smirked at him over her shoulder before she climbed into Stefan’s Porsche and drove off.
“I need a drink.” Damon sighed before heading to the basement for a blood bag.
“Boo-hoo, poor Damon needs a drink.” Mason quipped as he followed Damon through the house. “I need a body. And a drink. I wouldn’t turn down a blowjob either. Hell, why stop with a blowjob?” Mason said as he eyed Damon’s admittedly stunning rear. All of the vampires he’d met were incredibly hot, almost as if it were a prerequisite for getting vamped. Or maybe Katherine just knew all the hottest vampires. Regardless, Mason had spent many, many nights buried balls deep inside of Katherine and/or whomever Katherine had wanted to join them: male, female, vampire, werewolf, or just plain dinner. On the very best nights, Katherine would pick out a man -- usually dark-haired and light-eyed -- then she would put Mason in the middle, fucking him while he got fucked.
He missed that. Almost as much as he missed being alive. “You know Damon, a good hard fuck would be amazing.” Damon -- of course -- didn’t respond. Mason chuckled at himself and shook his head. “If only Katherine could see me now, practically throwing myself at her favorite cast-off. She told me you were completely oblivious to people who wanted you. That you always threw yourself after the ones who didn’t want you. She wasn’t wrong. You’re always making cow eyes at Elena. It’s completely ridiculous, why would you want Katherine version 2.0 instead of Alaric? He’s completely into you in that whole ‘reluctant yet irresistible attraction’ kind of way.”
Mason looked around the house as they passed through it, resolutely unimpressed by the antiques. He’d grown up in the oldest mansion in Mystic Falls, after all; it wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before. He did have to admit the boarding house was surprisingly warm and comfortable despite being a vampire lair. It didn’t have that air of “Do Not Touch” the mansion always had. Mason found himself stopping to admire the gleaming mahogany paneling in the hallways. He reached out to see if it was as smooth as it appeared and his hand passed through it. Pissed off at himself, he jerked his hand back as if burnt then immediately turned around and stayed right on Damon’s heels all the way to the basement.
“Well, well, well,” Damon said as he stopped abruptly in front of a barred door. “What do we have here?”
“What the hell?” Mason stepped right behind Damon, close enough that if he’d had a body his dick would be pressed against Damon’s ass, and looked over his shoulder. It was a cell and Stefan was inside it chained to a chair.
“You doing alright in there, brother?” Stefan’s head came up at the word brother. Mason’s self-preservation instinct kicked in, he couldn’t help but take a step back when he saw the expression of absolute loathing on Stefan’s face. “Your girlfriend lock you up again?” Damon wrapped his hands around the bars on the door. “Who helped her this time? McWitchy the Judgey? Vampire Barbie? Your other girlfriend, Barbie Klaus?”
Stefan’s features morphed and he hissed around his fangs. “Let me out of here, Damon.” He jerked and the chains rattled but he was bound too tightly to do more than wiggle around a bit.
“Not a chance, bro. Time out is just what the doctor ordered. You sit there and think about what you did wrong while I go get a nice bag of blood and enjoy my freedom.” Damon winked at Stefan and waved. “Toodles.”
“Dude. You have one seriously messed up relationship with your brother.” Mason stayed at the door to keep an eye on Stefan. He obviously wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, but that didn’t mean he didn’t bear watching. “There’s no way I’d leave my brother tied up like that no matter what he did.”
“You know, Stefan,” Damon said as he strolled back to the cell door with a glass filled to the brim with human blood. “If you’d just learn to control yourself the slightest bit, you wouldn’t be in there.” Damon sipped the blood and moaned as he swallowed. “Yummy, nothing like a little soccer parent to go. I’d offer you someone but I’d hate to undo all your hard work.”
“Klaus will get me out of here, Damon. And when he does I’m going to massacre this entire town.”
Damon drained nearly all of his blood, leaving only a swallow or two in the glass. “Over my dead body.” He dipped his finger into the glass, swirled it through the blood, and flicked it through the bars at Stefan. The blood hit him on the forehead and slowly started to drip toward his nose. “Enjoy your breakfast, Stefan. If you’re lucky it may drip all the way down to your mouth. It’ll probably just dry up somewhere on your nose though.” Damon drained the rest of his glass. “If it does, it’ll start to itch and you won’t be able to scratch it. But you’ll be able to smell it.” Damon kissed the palm of his hand and blew it to Stefan. “Enjoy!”
“That was some fucked-up shit, man.”
By the string of expletives and rattling chains coming from the cell, Stefan wholeheartedly agreed.
Damon wound his way through the house with Mason dogging his every step. They eventually passed by the study. Mason paused at the door, attention captured by the chair he’d been tied to and tortured on. It was exactly where it was the day he’d died, sitting in a patch of sunlight from the window, turned at an angle so that it faced the fireplace. From the doorway it appeared completely unmarked, not a drop of blood anywhere on it. Morbid fascination led him into the room to inspect the site of his death. There were no stray strands of rope to indicate that he’d once been tied to it before his heart was ripped from his chest. He got down onto his knees and inspected the antique rug, looking for any proof at all of what had transpired in that place, before remembering Damon had put a tarp on the floor to catch any unfortunate splatters.
Mason sat back on his haunches and watched as Damon came into the room and headed straight for the bar, upending a crystal decanter filled with something golden brown into a glass. “What I really want to know is how you got all the blood off of the chair.”
Damon had the tumbler halfway to his mouth when he startled Mason by answering. “Trust me, I’ve been getting stains out of the carpets and furniture since 1864, it’s an acquired skill.”
Mason leaped to his feet. “Did you just hear me?”
At the same time Damon’s startled gaze met his, “Where did you come from?”
“I didn’t go anywhere.” Mason said as he walked toward the bar. “I’ve been with you every single step since the cave. One minute I was corporeal and the next minute ...” Mason trailed off and looked at the bourbon-filled glass Damon was holding out to him. He wanted that drink almost as much as he wanted a body with which to drink it.
“What are you waiting for? Take it.” Damon raised an eyebrow at him. “Go on, don’t be a pussy.”
Mason reached for the glass, it was cool to the touch. The hefty crystal was solid in his hand. He raised the tumbler to his lips and groaned when the bourbon touched his tongue. He held the liquid in his mouth a moment, savoring its heat and intensity. As he swallowed, he smiled at the path it burned through his body. “Thanks,” Mason said as he held the glass out to Damon for a refill. Their fingers brushed and Mason didn’t even try to stop himself from making the contact linger, digging his nails lightly into Damon’s skin, scratching gently as Damon poured. “I needed that.” He stepped close enough to Damon to feel the heat from his body. Then he stepped closer still, pressing himself against Damon’s side. Damon quirked an eyebrow at him but didn’t move away.
“It looks like that’s not the only thing you need,” Damon said as he poured another couple fingers of bourbon into the glass. “I thought the ghosts were gone.”
“They are.”
Three things happened simultaneously: Bonnie entered the room, Mason disappeared, and the crystal tumbler filled with bourbon started to fall to the floor. Damon’s reflexes saved the glass, he caught it well before it hit the floor. A few drops of the amber liquid splashed out of the glass and onto his hand. He brought his hand to his mouth and absent-mindedly licked the drops.
“Fascinating.” Damon toasted the empty space around him and smirked in the general direction Mason had been standing.
“Damon? Can you see me?” Mason grabbed at Damon’s arm, but his hand passed through it. “Come on!” Mason shouted and this time reached for Damon’s cock, he could see it had stiffened up from their brief contact but once again, Mason was completely disembodied. “Can you hear me?”
“Is Stefan still in the cell?” Bonnie asked from the door.
“Of course. Someone went to such trouble to put him there, I wasn’t about to let him out.”
Bonnie made a noncommittal sound and turned to leave.
“Shouldn’t you be at school?” Damon asked even though his attention was focused on the spot Mason should have been standing in. He squinted his eyes, tilted his head first one way then the other. He reached out into the empty space around him seemingly trying to see if there were any temperature variances.
“Your hand is on my hip, but it keeps passing through me.” It was torture. He was being punished for all the admittedly terrible things he’d done while he was alive. “Can you tell I’m here at all?”
“I have history first period. Alaric said I should check Stefan’s cell, make sure it’ll hold.”
“Mmm.” Damon sipped his drink and tried listening very hard, but he couldn’t hear any Mason-like sounds. “It’s held before, I’m sure it will hold again.”
“You don’t sound too concerned,” Bonnie said sharply.
The bite in the words captured Damon’s attention enough for him to look at her. “Bonnie, Stefan has been on and off the wagon since the day he became a vampire. He doesn’t have some sort of Blood Addicts Anonymous problem that can be solved with a little bit of cold turkey and some rehab.”
“Then what is his problem?”
If she’d been sarcastic he would have been flippant but she wasn’t so he gave her his full attention and the truth. “It’s two-fold.” He set down his glass and crossed the room to stand in front of her. “He has no impulse control. He’s never had any impulse control. From the time he was born, if he wanted something he did whatever it took to get it and damn the consequences. As a vampire the hunger is what drives you. Most vampires eat until they’re full. Stefan eats until there isn’t anyone left to eat.”
Bonnie grimaced. “And the other part?”
“Klaus compelled him to turn off his emotions.” Damon shrugged. “Rose said after you lived long enough the switch just … stayed on. We haven’t lived that long yet. So until Klaus tells him to feel again or dies and the compulsion breaks, Stefan’s not going to change. And even then? He’s going to have to want to change for it to happen.”
Bonnie sucked in a breath at Damon’s pronouncement. If she’d been Elena, Damon would have touched her in some small way to comfort her. But she wasn’t -- and truthfully -- he had no comfort to give. Stefan was his brother and anything regarding their relationship belonged to the two of them, not Bonnie. What he did have was a vanishing werewolf ghost, which was infinitely more interesting than his brother and his eating disorder-slash-dispossessed emotions.
“So, it’s kill Klaus or lose Stefan forever?”
“That’s pretty harsh man, he’s your brother.” Mason stood between Bonnie and Damon. He’d been trying to get their attention since Damon stopped trying to see him. “I thought you two stuck together no matter what.”
“Pretty much.” Damon shrugged. “There’s no guarantee the compulsion will break if Klaus dies. And that ‘if”? Is a pretty big if.”
“I’m on it.” Bonnie snapped back at Damon. “I’m supposed to pick up my grimoire for Alaric to help him find some symbols and translate something. After I check to make sure Stefan can’t get out.”
“You do that.” Damon smiled at Bonnie as she glared at him before turning on her heel and striding purposefully out the door.
“I don’t get this at all, it doesn’t make any sense.”
“Jesus, warn a guy first!” Damon startled as Mason reappeared in front of him. Mason reached out and grabbed hold of Damon’s arm. Damon put his own hand on top of Mason’s and squeezed it hard enough to make Mason wince. “What do you think about a game of scientist?”
“Does it involve a prostate exam?” Mason deadpanned, but there was a light in his eye that Damon recognized.
“Not until we figure out the parameters of your corporealization.” Mason’s gaze locked onto Damon’s. “After that? We can role play all you want.”
Next Part
no subject
(Anonymous) 2011-11-15 01:14 am (UTC)(link)no subject
(Or, in other words, I liked it.)
no subject
I'm glad you like it, especially as you're the only one reading. This is the single most self-indulgent thing I have ever written.
Part 3 is in beta. I'm 800 words into part 4 \o/
no subject
btw, i read back a few of your posts and something caught my eye. you semi- equating Damon to Brian Kinney. and then my brain went oooooooh! interesting parallel.
that is all.
no subject
Buffy/Angel and QaF were my first fandoms. If I like a character I always try to get them in bed with Brian Kinney [in my mind at least]. In actual writing I've only managed it with Justin Taylor [of course] and Lex Luthor
no subject
Mason's SO pretty.
no subject
no subject
no subject