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 the devil you know, tag solar/damien
samara kore vane
 Posted: Apr 3 2015, 08:18 PM
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104 POSTS
5'6"
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22
digest those butterflies
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Punky IS Offline
Nightmare


Fear wasn't something she experienced as often as everyone else. Fear was something she was made of yes, but she never really felt it unless she was under extremely unusual circumstances. Of course what she had just experienced would be considered extremely unusual, but this feeling that rocked in her chest as she made her way down the chilly dark streets wasn't fear. No matter how hard she thought on it she couldn't put a name to this wretched knot underneath her sternum that kept her looking over her shoulder every couple of steps. To any onlooker she would look quite perturbed, her stiff gait the result her boots reminding her sharply that their sky high heels were not meant for such heavy, brisk paces.

Unconciously she wrapped her arms tighter about her ribcage as she sped along, trying to fend away the chill that crept across her skin. Her jacket did little to protect her from the cold wind, mostly due to the several holes that had been torn into it only mere moments before. Her jeans weren't in much better condition, she knew she was bleeding from a scraped knee, thankfully none of the dog's bites had been able to pierce her skin.

It had happened too suddenly for her to have reacted properly. A tall man clothed in all black had lurked before her as she turned down a side alley, a massive dog at his side. She didn't honestly pay him any mind as she continued on her way, she knew she had an upper hand in any fight against a human, after all it was tough to throw a punch while you were pissing your pants from fear. She had ever intention of walking past them, until she heard the growling and snarling start, and before she could even react the dog had lunged and attached itself to the arm she instinctively threw in front of herself for protection. She pushed so much fear magic at it that it should have gone into cardiac arrest and died, but it just seemed to continue its' assault with increased ferocity, as though fear was causing it to become more vicious instead of withdrawn, with the man slowly approaching her as the canine roughed her up.

He'd loomed over her for a brief moment as she struggled with the beast, and when she hazarded a glance at him she'd nearly choked on her surprise. The face that leered back at her was one she was mildly familiar with. She had seen them on the Masked Men across the portal. She'd never had to really worry about them, she was exponentially faster than them and normally had the chance to keep away without them even realizing she had been there at all. In New York though, she didn't have equine muscles and less than solid physiology to help her in an escape.

Thankfully she'd been able to stay in her own head enough to withdraw her favorite gut-hooked knife from her boot and drive it into the beasts shoulder, causing it to release her long enough to scramble to her feet and flee. She'd been able to run quite a fair distance, she had stamina to make an olympian athlete jealous, but now she was unarmed, having been foolish enough to leave her only weapon with her canine assailant.

Anyone else would have headed straight home, and Samara would have gladly locked herself up in her tiny little shithole of an apartment, or even crawled throught the window of Hiro's apartment and made him keep her company until the sun started to show itself on the horizon, but there was one little problem, she had run the complete wrong direction. She knew there were hundreds of alternate routes for her to take to try and avoid the masked man and get home, but there was a form of sanctuary relatively close by that she knew the vague location of, and it would be a much faster trip to just head there. With a quick text and zero explanation she aquired the address and made a beeline for the apartment of one Mr. Damien Roth.

Thankfully she spied the building as she whipped around a corner, she was starting to get bored, and quite chilled thanks to the various holes in her clothes. She stormed up the front steps and furiously hit the call button until the was buzzed in, and continued her march toward Damien's apartment, a new knot forming in the pit of her gut.

He'd better not make any smartass remarks about her getting scared, he knew better than that.

She came to an abrupt stop once reaching the proper door, and with only a brief moment's hesitation she knocked harshly with her knuckles, probably rattling the entire building with the force of her strikes. When the door finally opened she mustered up her best smirk and put a hand on her hip, rolling her eyes a little as she clucked her tongue in a teasing reprimand.

"Shame on you to keep a lady waiting."
aloha~ | 848 words | solar/damien


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damien vincent roth
 Posted: Jun 1 2015, 12:29 PM
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Sighing heavily on the couch, Damien couldn't help but be utterly bored with himself. He didn't want to go out. Didn't want to draw. He'd already ate pretty much everything in the small apartment that didn't involve using the stove. Nothing caught his attention and he only wanted to lay on the couch. Maybe it was possible to disappear into the cushions and go back to a time where he was always busy, and never bored. Back to a time where him and his siblings would squabble about how to wreck havoc on the citizens of Halloweentown.

The thought caused him to growl, hands coming to press against his eyes. There was no going back. He was stuck here. As a boring human. Lost and confused on what the actual fuck was going on with anything as he tried to bullshit his way through this world's rules. There were hardly any people worth conversing with. Everyone he did seem to care about had left. He'd finally found Barrel and Shock, but apparently he wasn't up to their standards anymore. They'd disappeared not too long after their amazing reunion back in October. How disappointing was that? Not living up to the standards of the two that was once considered family?

It caused a bitter chuckle to hang in the air of his living space as he continued to stare up at the ceiling.

Blindly smacking the makeshift coffee table with his hand, he went in search of his phone. Maybe he could harass someone into doing something, even if it made him look desperate. Scrolling through the contacts, he either wrinkled his nose or gave a short breathed "no" as he continued on. Ender was useless. His nose apparently clean and head so far up Itzel's cunt that he forgot what it was like to have a good time. Kira; The name caused a pain to grip inside of his chest. He'd done chased her away, so there was no point in trying to reach out to her. Sonny made it big and forgot about the ones he knew here. Samara. Well, he could give it a try? But, where did they stand?

"Why the fuck does it matter?" His own voice startled him as he realized he was talking to himself. What did it matter, actually? So what if they've done things, she was someone who wasn't afraid to be around him anymore. Maybe he should shoot her a text. He wouldn't be waking her up, she had the same schedule as he did.

Selecting her name, a strange feeling washed over him. Something even stranger when she had texted him just seconds after he'd opened a new message for her.

Address. Now.

With a raised brow he stared at the phone, wondering why the fuck she'd want his address, but decided she wouldn't have explained anyways.

Sending her the coordinates, he laid there and continued to stare at his phone. The gesture had caused a small smile to curl at the corner of his lips, and it internally caused him to revolt. In the same instant he was smiling, he was throwing his phone across the room with the force of a baseball player. "Fucking hell!" His throat was tight as his annoyance with himself swirled around him. "Fuck this fucking human body. Fuck this fucking world!"

Pushing himself from the couch, he'd made his decision: He was going home. Darkness or fucking not, he wasn't about to stay in this damn confusing place any longer. He was so messed up inside, he didn't even know if he was really himself anymore. Stomping through the one room apartment, he swiped the mask that was on the kitchen counter and was just about to reach for the doorknob when his buzzer went off. Stunned, he stood there as he stared at the electronic device that signaled someone wanted in.

So lost in his rage induced fit, it didn't even occur to him that she wanted his address so she could come over. Again the buzzer rattled off at him. Over and over it continued, obviously wanting his attention. Groaning loudly, he smacked his head against the door as he buzzed her in. Now that he was going to get entertainment, he was pretty certain he didn't want it now.

The force of her knock was like another bash of his head against the door as he pulled back, hand on the doorknob as he tried to mentally pull in what remaining anger he had. She didn't need to be a part of that.

Finally, after stalling enough, he pulled the mask on, lifting it up to rest upon his head as he plastered a smirk on his face. Within seconds of her opening her mouth he rolled his eyes, stepping off to the side as she made her way in. "Lady my ass." As she made her way in, he felt something off about her, and it caused him to lean outside his doorway and check around before pulling himself back in and shutting the door.

"The fuck brings you here?" Rude? Yes. Common speak for him? Yes. She'd understand it. If not, she'd obviously forgotten how he worked.

I’ve watched you slowly winding down
samara / 881 / hay gurl hay
♔ nickdiazfan

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samara kore vane
 Posted: Jun 4 2015, 12:46 PM
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104 POSTS
5'6"
N/A
22
digest those butterflies
N/A
Punky IS Offline
Nightmare


Scanning her surroundings for a brief moment, she deemed them safe and habitable before turning to look at him, her facial expression carefully maintained and frozen into her usual half smirk. She berated herself briefly, of course there would be no threat here, at least not to her, anyone else, probably, but not her. She and Damien were of a similar mold, out of all the people she'd had the pleasure of terrorizing, he was the one that could handle the darkness she seemed to emanate, which was almost dangerous in a sense. Most would argue that the last thing she needed was someone to positively reinforce her extremely negative and downright wicked behavior. She put a hand on her hip and pondered about what to say. Really she was hesitant to tell the whole story of why she randomly decided to show up at his apartment so late at night. 'I was assaulted and this was the closest place I could think to go, can I stay here?' Yeah, because that didn't sound pathetic at all. Instead she chose to redirect and avoid explaining herself, at least until she could think a more dignified excise for her last minute visit.

"The fuck am I doing here? I think the real question is, what the fuck are you doing here? Isn't there something more crazy for you to do on a Friday night than sit in your apartment?" She let out a half chuckle, a weak attempt at sounding casual. Shit this wasn't going over well at all, and she was suddenly aware of how badly her scraped knee stung and itched, and she was left feeling a bit warm from a combination of near embarrassment and leftover adrenaline rush. She paced around the room a bit, feigning interest at the various things she could see and pretend to be intrigued by with a degree of credibility.

Sure was an interesting coffee table he had.

"Actually I-" She was about to spin a lie about how she was just bored. Bored and unable to find anything to do and she just so happened to be in the neighborhood and blah blah blah what a coincidence, but it fell flat halfway off her tongue. She just didn't feel like putting forth the effort of weaving a convincing story while trying to explain why she looked like hell warmed over. She paused in her pacing in front of his couch, arms crossed and shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"Yeah, no, actually shit just got weird and I couldn't exactly make it back to my place, so I decided to come bother you. Lucky me, it seems you didn't have plans anyway." She removed her jacket and tossed it onto the floor next to the couch, silently lamenting the probably irreparable damage done to the fine leather, ignoring the marks on her arms that were quickly turning into bruises. Damn it that was her favorite jacket, she had a lot of good memories associated with that scrap of leather, and it cost her a pretty penny too. She took a slow seat on the couch, uncaring if she seemed a little too forward in making herself comfortable, but her legs were starting to make it very clear just how sore they were from the abuse they'd taken. Sure she was used to walking in heels, but running and jogging and stumbling in them? That was an activity she obviously needed more practice with.

Slowly unzipping and sliding her boots off she was careful not to bend her knee in any way that would cause the slow sting of her knee to jolt into the the realm of real pain. "So Beelz...." She couldn't think of anything truly fitting. She couldn't think of anything to diffuse the situation into something less serious and more laid back. She looked him in the eye and offered a half-assed grin. "...you uh...you mind if I just stay here for a hot minute. I'll bail before I get too annoying, pinky promise. I just need to uh...to gather myself I guess?"

Damn it that sounded fucking weak. She wished her dear brother Frank was still around, he would have let her stomp into his place and crash on the couch for no reason with no explanation. Sometimes she felt like Frank had been the only one in her messed up family that had truly understood her mind's inner workings. Jet would question her too much, she could just picture his raised eyebrow and could just hear the tone in his voice as he questioned her state of disarray.

Maybe coming here was a bad idea, she could feel the unsettling discomfort rolling off of her in waves and she wanted more than anything just to punch something, take her frustrations out on anything, any act of violence just to make her feel a bit better. She was supposed to be a war machine, a fighter to her very core, she wasn't supposed to be shaken so badly by some jackoff in a mask and his stupid little pet. Maybe if she'd been a little more aware of her surroundings or if she'd not let the dog get the upper hand on her, maybe she would have been able to fend both of them off, maybe even put both of them under so they wouldn't be able to bother her again. Now she'd have to live with the fact that she couldn't finish the fight, she had essentially lost, turned tail and ran, and anyone who knew her for even ten minutes knew that retreat was not in her blood.
she's a mess all over the place | 949 words | solar/damien


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damien vincent roth
 Posted: Jul 3 2015, 11:00 PM
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6'0"
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22
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Standing there by the door, he took to crossing him arms and leaning back against the frame as she decided to pace around his small space for a minute.

She was acting fucking strange as hell. Nothing like her normal self.

Upon further inspection, he'd noticed that there were holes in her jeans- not manufactured holes. They weren't in places they were suppose to be. Exhaling heavily through his nose, he could feel the pull of his eyes as they wanted to roll on him, but he kept them in place as he tilted his head to continue watching her. If she'd gone and got herself into fucking trouble, he wasn't sure how well he would be able to handle himself in the current mindset he was in.

Her obvious insult as to why he was still here on a Friday night was left to fall to the floor as he just silently stared at her. He was still on edge from that mild episode from a few minutes ago, his skin still alight with the spark of anger that was burning inside of him. Why the fuck would it really matter what he was doing on a Friday night. Besides, him being here made it easier for her, right? Whatever the fuck her reasoning was.

The more she paced though, the more he was able to glance at her concerned face. There was something going on inside of her head, and it was bothering her. Had something actually happened to her? Raising an eyebrow as she started to speak, he continued to stand against his door in silence as he waited for her to find the right words to say.

Brows furrowed as she explained the situation, and he felt his hands tighten on his forearms. So something did happen....

Eyes scanned the skin that showed with the loss of her jacket, and from his position he couldn't see anything visible; but for all he knew there was nothing the naked eye could see. Maybe he would have to go in for a closer inspection later.

What gave it away though, was how she was so careful to take her boots off. Not once in their time of hanging out had she ever been so careful in removing her shoes. The fuck does it matter how she takes her fucking footwear off? An agitated voice rang in his head, causing him inhale sharply as his eyes lost focus on the girl sitting upon his couch. Have you lost yourself so fucking much that you're resorting to memorizing other peoples habits? A hard shiver ran through his spine, and involuntarily he lifted his leg and kicked back against the door before pushing himself from his resting place.

"Fucking smooth moves, 'Mara." He'd managed to catch the tail end of what she'd asked, but he was too concerned with shutting the voice inside of his head up to really pay any mind. "It'll fucking take you more than a minute to gather yourself, as fucked up as you are." It'd take him even longer to sort his fucking shit out, so he really had no room to give her shit about it. A chuckle followed his words as he made his way over to her, pausing in front of her as he looked down at her. She looked almost, helpless, as she sat there on the couch trying her best to look all tough. "I suppose I can babysit, but don't make it a fucking habit."

Except do.

Reaching his hand up, he gave her a solid poke to her forehead before letting his hand fall to his side as he made his way to the kitchen. "I suppose you'll want something to drink too." Maybe if he got something decent inside of him he wouldn't feel this way. Wouldn't feel so confused about his fucking existence.

I’ve watched you slowly winding down
samara / 655 / he's a dick :/
♔ nickdiazfan


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samara kore vane
 Posted: Jul 17 2015, 01:59 AM
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104 POSTS
5'6"
N/A
22
digest those butterflies
N/A
Punky IS Offline
Nightmare


The sound of him kicking off of the door made her eyes bolt upward for a moment, but upon realizing he was not in fact throwing something at her or performing any other act of violence she slid her remaining boot off. Shit she really must be jumpy if she expected a blitz attack whilst removing her shoes. Holy shit, she was in a bad spot. She must look so lame, gross.

“You know me, smooth as Italian leather and racy as French lace.” She said it mostly to herself as an offhand comment, but he probably heard her anyway as she chose to not reply to his eloquent observations on her current state, unstable and indeed quite ‘fucked up’. She wasn’t offended or mad, which was odd, more so ashamed and a little embarrassed. Is this what kids felt like when they got scolded? Because if so, she had to call foul. She looked up at him upon hearing his chuckle, thankful he wasn’t intent on tearing apart her disheveled appearance. Thank you Captain Obvious, for pointing out that blatantly apparent, the world can rest easy for another night knowing that Samara Vane was not herself.

She shot a half cocked smirk at him in response. She kind of didn’t have it in her to get huffy at this point, and she really didn’t want to even if she wasn’t exhausted. Shooting him a wink after he’s poked her forehead she felt like she hid her surprise quite well. It wasn’t the kind of thing she was used to, maybe from Hiro or something when he was shit faced, but not from Damien. Whatever, she barged into his apartment and laid claim to his couch, if forehead pokes were what he wanted in return whatever.

She was glad his back was facing her when her cheeks decided to warm.

“Shit yes you can make me a drink, you know what works for me.” She took a haphazard glance into the kitchen too see what he was doing but gave up when she realized it would require more movement and effort than she was willing to put forth.

“C’mon Damien, babysittin’ me isn’t that bad.” She let slip a brief rasp of laughter, relaxing back on the couch a little bit and daring to look at her feet finally. Oh, oh dear. She made quick work of taking them off to have her suspicions confirmed, oh that was an ugly bloody spot. Crinkling her nose in a bit of disappointment she deposited her socks with her boots and decided to just let the small wound be for now. Sure it looked angry but it was superficial, she was positive she’d have some lovely bruises to match it in a few hours.

“Besides,” She relaxed back into a more comfortable position once again, “I’ll even let you tuck me in. Sounds swell dunnit’?” She rest her head against the back of the couch and let out a heavy sigh, repressing the heavy shudder that shot uncomfortably down her back. She had to be realistic with herself for a moment, there would be no sleeping for her tonight. Hell every time she so much as blinked all she could see was that damned mask and that rabid fucking mutt attached to her arm.

Holding her assaulted limb up a bit she could see where she could see where the beast’s initial chomp had nearly broken the skin, the marks darkening by the moment, that was going to be pretty ugly and rather difficult to explain at work, hopefully it would darken and become unrecognizable as an animal attack and she could just blame it on a bar fight, that seemed more typical of her anyway. Another shudder crept through her bones and she hated it, hated everything about it. The way every hair stood on end starting from her neck and working down along her arms. Fucking goose bumps, seriously?

“Babe I really hope you mix this shit strong as hell.”
La di daa~ | 670 words | solar/damien



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damien vincent roth
 Posted: Oct 3 2015, 09:07 PM
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6'0"
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22
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Nerves on edge, he could feel his aura whipping around him as he stood there before her. There was no reason to take it out on Samara. She hadn't done anything to deserve such hardships. Except she fucking called you a lame ass for being in on a fucking Friday night. That didn't matter. He worked earlier in the day, didn't he? Or had he thought that in his delusional state? Fuck, he couldn't remember. She also took claim to your only form of comfort in this enclosed fucking apartment. And she could fucking move. It was as simple as that.

She seemed fine when he was close enough to inspect her, but that was only due to him not really taking note of how she looked. Her presence seemed off put though, and that bothered him as he stood there for a moment before finally venturing off to the kitchen. Her words hung in the air, and he only snorted through his nostrils. Fucking bitch is trying to mooch off you too! And you're just going to her get away with it? "I don't think you deserve a bottle all to yourself." Bring your own fucking liquor if you want something, Bitch.

Pain shot through his arm as he made forceful contact with the counter top. Teeth grinding together, he could feel his aura growing. Forcing his eyes closed, he inhaled slowly through his nostrils, only to exhaling sharply through his teeth. He didn't need to fucking put up with this bullshit right now. It was obvious that Samara came here to stay out of whatever had caused her to act so disheveled, so there was no need for him to lose his shit on her. Fucking seriously.

Her laughter seemed forced, and as he flexed his now sore hand, he reached up and opened the cabinet door that stored all his illegal liquor. Perks of working in a liquor store, he silently supposed. "I suppose you'll want me to read you some gushy fucking bedtime story while I'm at it?" Again his snorted through his nose, though this time it was more obvious than before. "You're out of your fucking mind woman." You could always do more than tuck her in, since she insists on staying here and being babied. A sharp hiss passed through clenched teeth as he hit the counter top again. He had to put this fucking voice in it's place.

Without glancing at the bottles, he grabbed one with his good hand- a fresh bottle of Fireball, before placing it on the small counter space and reaching up for another bottle. "I suppose you want something fucking girly too? Maybe some of that damn Cupcake Vodka bullshit?" He knew she wouldn't, that she was more than content with a six pack of shitty beer and some old peanuts. Though he wouldn't knock it, he had a more heat-intense pallet when it came to drinking. Wrapping his hand around the neck of a bottle of Tequila, he felt an internal tug as the voice in his head made motion of protesting. This time, instead of slamming his throbbing fist into the counter top, he scraped the red knuckles against the edge of the counter. Like hell he would make a fucking fool of himself here and now. At least not anymore than he already was.

Making his way back to the couch, he paused as he caught sight of her forearm. Breath caught in his throat, he felt an anger bubble inside of him at the sight of it. Someone went after her, didn't they? Awwww, did your pussy get hurt? Giving his head sudden twitch, he heard his spine crack as his teeth gritted together, eyes catching sight of her feet propped up on the coffee table. What was she hiding from him?

Pushing those thoughts from his mind, he tried to sound casual as he held out her bottle above her face, his knuckles protesting at how tight he was holding the neck of the bottle to keep it from slipping and cracking her in the nose. "Fuck mixing anything. Be a fucking big girl and drink up. If you're too good for the bottle, you know where the damn glasses are." He knew she wasn't, but he had to keep her comfortable as he tried to sort out his inner demon.

I’ve watched you slowly winding down
samara / 734 / oh look who's got a conscious
♔ nickdiazfan

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