#that was a wild ride especially damon's arc

[amorettopedri]

this two literally gave me brainrot in 2020

[highgaarden]

The One Where Caroline Rides A Horse And The Salvatores Win Top Chef

many moons ago, i was lucky enough to be involved in a massive writing ficathon project with a handful of absolutely talented writers. i stumbled upon it by chance when i was traversing my dusty, abandoned livejournal, laughed to myself way too many times, and decided that i simply must share it here. so without further ado...

Title | A Chinese Whispers Fic; Or, The One Where Caroline Rides A Horse And The Salvatores Win Top Chef Authors | catteo, swirlsofblue, cranmers, jane_wanderlust, kwritten, bogwitch, kachera, steph2311, ovariesofsteel, nereemac, lizwontcry, jeremy_finch, elenarain and waltzmatildah Artist | pamsblau Fandom | The Vampire Diaries Characters/Pairings | Rebekah, Damon, Stefan, Caroline, Klaus, Elijah, Finn, Bonnie, Elena, Jeremy, Katherine, Alaric (Klaus/Caroline, Rebekah/Damon, Katherine/Jeremy, Bonnie/Finn) Rating | MA Word Count | 10000 Summary | This fic was written by a team of authors who were only given the several hundred most recently written words to work from each time they added a new section. It doesn’t make sense, it’s not supposed to make sense! It’s supposed to be crack, and it is! Crack, glorious crack! The title says it all, really… .

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ONE: The Part Where Caroline Rides A Horse And Rebekah Rides Damon

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The clock on the kitchen wall tells him it’s four twenty seven. AM or PM is anyone’s guess as the little hand fails to tick a languid journey around the circular face. Damon makes a brief mental note: must buy batteries. Amends: rechargeable batteries. From the inky black that still shrouds the windows, drapes pulled slightly askew as he wanders back into the living room, he guesses the harsh light of morning remains hours out of reach. He takes to cataloguing the damage done as a means to pass the time. A resounding crack in the plasterboard where his shoulder-blades had connected roughly with a support beam. Jagged fragments of vase and lamp and picture frame, shattered, confetti-like, along the length of one hallway. He winces as he bends to collect the larger shards. Notes he can no longer tell the Ming from the Portland and offers up a soft sigh of relief that they’d only been replicas of the real things. There’s a dent in a silver serving tray that looks suspiciously like the curve of Rebekah’s ass. Which is odd because he doesn’t remember them making it as far as the liquor cabinet. Which is empty so… Hmm. Okay. ------ “What are you doing?” He double-takes at the sight of her, naked and dishevelled at the base of the staircase. Imagines glass shards pricking at the soles of her feet and shudders at the inevitability of bloodstains on his oriental carpets. “I’m vacuuming.” His reply swallowed by the airy roar of the device’s motor. “It’s the middle of the night.” He doesn’t really see her point. Tells her. “I don’t really see your point.” “Come to bed.” Which is funnier than it should be but only because, by the smell of her, she’s been rolling around between Stefan’s sheets since they parted ways at the top of the stairs. Naked and breathless and, admittedly, kind of sore. Jesus. “We could have sex again,” she offers. As though she can read his mind. And he must admit, the thought of fucking an Original in his brother’s bed is seven levels of tempting, but… “I’m vacuuming.” Because this mess won’t clean itself up. And it’s not like he can trust anyone else to do it for him. At least, not properly… She pouts, but then… “I’ve never used one of those before…” ------ With a degree of reluctance that is only almost embarrassing, he finds himself handing over control. And when exactly was it that he became this person? This person that could enthusiastically share cleaning tips with his naked sexual conquests. He thinks there must be something about this particular one and the almost wistful way in which she’d regarded the newest member of his collection. The Dyson DC39. Purchased especially because Ric has allergies… Also, the lifetime (heh) HEPA filter warranty and the latest in Radial Cyclone technologies had also been a top selling point. But she’s not quite doing it right he notes. Her sweeping motion with the nozzle entirely too haphazard to ensure optimum debris collection. And he arcs his chest around her bare back then, slides one arm along the length of hers and grips the handle just below where her fingers are tightly entwined. Guides the head of the cleaner into a more fluid motion that is easier to maintain. “Oh,” he hears her whisper. Soft against the side of his neck. “I think I understand it now…” Which is lucky. Because that’s the moment Caroline chooses to ride in. ------ “Is that a - ”No. Ridiculous, he thinks. I’m obviously drunk. Vaguely, he feels his grip loosen on Rebekah’s hand. Notes out of the corner of his eye that she keeps up the fluid, efficient motion he’d taught her moments ago but is too busy gaping at Vampire Barbie 2.0 sitting atop her rather large black horse. Side-saddle, he notes. As if it matters. “Yes. It is a horse. No, you’re not drunk.” She rolls her eyes. “Okay, maybe you are drunk. But this is still me. On a horse.” “In my living room.” Ask him later, and he’ll tell you this is the most hilarious scenario to be part of in almost a century. Right now he’s too busy thinking about the possibility of the animal making a mess on his new Persian rug. Because there is no other logical action that he can think of, Damon rubs a hand over his face and heads for the liquor cabinet. He’s almost there when he remembers it’s disappointingly empty. Luckily, he remembers he keeps a bottle hidden in his room especially for the rare instance in which he runs out downstairs. “Excuse me.” He doesn’t wait for an answer before speeding up the stairs. “Nice ass, Damon!” “Bite me, blondie!” ------- A still naked Rebekah continues vacuuming as if nothing awkward has happened. “Well. I see Niklaus is going for big and bold. He always did seem to overcompensate.” Caroline laughs, despite herself. “What the hell am I supposed to do with a horse? And why are you naked?” “That’s rather obvious, isn’t it? You ride it. Which works as an answer for both questions, doesn’t it?” “But I have nowhere to keep a horse. Or money to pay someone else to keep it for me. Or the desire to own a horse! They’re pretty, yes, but that’s it! When your crazy sociopath hybrid brother asked me if I liked the horse I was looking at, I didn’t think it was so he could make up his mind to buy me one!” The Original gives up on the vacuum when she hears the younger blonde’s hysterics. Notes, rather proudly, that she’s managed to make the carpet look quite like new. “Caroline, this happens to be a very beautiful horse. You happen to look fabulous riding it, as much as it pains me to say, but if neither of those things matter to you, then just give it back.” A rather loud plop, followed by a rather strong odour, serves to punctuate Rebekah’s words of wisdom. ------ Rebekah rolls her eyes as she realises that it doesn’t matter how proficient she is at naked housework, the Persian rug is done for. Damon’s going to be furious. He still hasn’t gotten over Stefan’s sorority girls breaking his crystal decanter during a particularly vigorous game of ‘Twister’ last month. Apparently he was saving it for an especially significant dramatic moment. She realises she’s probably going to have to keep him occupied. Also, she really needs to find out what ‘Twister’ is. “Where are you going? You can’t leave me!” Caroline’s looking a little wild around the eyes. Rebekah wrinkles her nose in distaste as she navigates her way around the rug. “I’m going to distract Damon. You should probably get rid of this. And maybe that.” She gestures vaguely towards the horse. “No hurry. We’ll be a while. I’m sure that Nik would be only too happy to keep you…” She pauses a beat. “Busy.” She blurs upstairs to the sound of Caroline’s new horse snorting in perfect tandem to Caroline herself. Rebekah gives a passing thought to the parquet floors as she goes – manure is so tough to remove from wood. She’s spared any further rumination on the finer points of housekeeping by Damon, wrapping his arm around her waist and tackling her to the bed. “God, you’re sexy when you vacuum.” Damon lifts an eyebrow, pouts slightly, picks up a twenty-five year aged malt and slowly pours it over her body. Busies himself for the next twenty minutes licking it off. It’s the most fun Rebekah’s had since she learned that vinegar could remove lime-scale. Damon’s teaching her a lot. Her back arches as Damon buries a head between her legs, fangs bared. She forgets all about housework. ------ Meanwhile, downstairs, Caroline is finding that there are a lot of things that a horse won’t do. Make a tight turn in a crowded sitting room for example. There are all kinds of things trodden into the carpet and she decides that it’s probably best to leave whilst she still can. The last thing she needs is an irate Damon sprinting down the stairs. The back view was quite enough to be coping with for one day. Besides, she has an original hybrid to deal with. She aims the horse towards the French doors and discovers, as they crash through a window, that the steering is nowhere near as good as her Dodge. She’s not sure if the screaming coming from Damon’s room is pleasure or fury. Decides not to stick around to find out. She flicks the reigns and feels a thrill rush through her as muscles bunch and flow under her, racing towards Klaus’ tastefully renovated home. READ MORE ON LJ