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Damon Salvatore is a one hundred and sixty-eight year old pain in the ass. His skin is pale white and ice cold, and it's likely that you know what he is. It is also likely that he has screwed and/or killed most if not all of the beings found on your family tree (dating back to the mid 1800s). This is not something he will apologize for, nor will he apologize for the wig currently resting atop his head. He is selfish and egotistical to a fault, and enjoys attempting to steal any and all things his brother has or hopes to have in the future. The brunette-er the better.
[ Disclaimer: This obligatory psychotic jackass belongs to his original creator. L.J. Smith? I'm looking at you. CW? I...want nothing to do with you. No profit is being made from this most glorious of journals. I tend to play Damon in season one or two, as I stopped wasting my time with this series once season three began airing. I can roll with any developments that occur, and could not care less about being spoiled, but it's something to keep in mind regardless. Muse and mun are over the age of eighteen. ]