Post by damien on May 9, 2010 7:11:38 GMT 1
Nickname: well, it's become Siriusly 
How You Found Us: Already here.
Contact Via: PM
How You Found Us: Already here.
Contact Via: PM
What can be found in a name:
Damien Alexander Tulips
When the day I was born:
31/10/1958
The Angels screamed:
Donovan Tulips
Saige Tulips
And Hell shut its doors:
None
While creatures retreated:
None
To depths unknown:
Pureblood
I hide from them:
Damien likes to be by himself. You see, he tends to get in a fair amount of trouble when he's around others. He typically sticks to areas such as the Owlery, or close to the edge of the Forbidden Forest... around animals. He actually does enjoy being in densely populated areas, but he's been warned otherwise, so he has to stay away.
Be who they want to see:
Damien looks older than he really is, and always had. At about ten, he hit a growth spurt, putting him at just over six feet tall. He hasn’t grown since. With extremely dark brown hair and hazel eyes, he doesn’t stand out. Or, at least, he wouldn’t if it wasn’t for his body. Damien is extremely well built, possibly due to his obsession with exercise. Exercise keeps his mind off of… things. He has a bit of a shady appearance, but it’s only to be expected. He towers over most boys his age, and he enjoys that. He always kept his hair short and clean-cut, unlike his facial hair. He’s almost always seen with some kind of facial hair, scruffing up his typical clean appearance. Damien has straight, almost strangely perfectly white teeth. He showers at least once a day, and he dresses nicely. He walks with perfect posture, although when he’s reading he always remains hunched over his book. He also has an intimidating aura around him, which suits him perfectly fine. He also has broad shoulders, although does have somewhat of a limp, but it doesn’t stop him from being a very fast runner. He has long fingers and rather large hands, even for his size.
But that leaves no one:
To discover that inside:
Needless to say, Damien has no friends. Nobody wants to be his friend, and he doesn’t even believe in friendship. He has a bit of an… odd personality, you could say. To try to sum him up in a few words: Damien likes blood. No, he doesn’t just like blood, he loves blood. He fantasizes about it. He obsesses over it. Not just blood, either, but pain. He enjoys pain, and likes to inflict it on others. He doesn’t speak often, but has a habit of stalking. Not just girls, though, boys as well. He doesn’t try to hide it either. He becomes obsessed over the silliest of things, and takes his time to write threatening and horrible letters to those he stalks. On numerous occasions, owls were found brutally murdered in the Owlery, and more than a handful of animals from the Forbidden Forest. He has attacked more than a fair amount of students, and had even been taken off of a girl he had been trying to sexually assault. Teachers don’t like him, students don’t like him, and rumour is that even patient Dumbledore doesn’t like him. Damien associates himself with the Dark Arts, and it’s something he takes extremely seriously. He believes in blood superiority, and believes in “draining the dirty blood.”
This soulless being:
- Blood
- Torture
- Pain
- Dark Arts
- Potions
Is just as lost:
- Defense Against the Dark Arts
- People trying to be friendly
- Mudbloods and blood traitors
- "Love"
- People who don't scream.
As everyone else:
- Duelling
- Inflicting pain and torture
- School, as he's actually very intelligent.
- Stalking
- Creating new Potions
In a world that knows only hate:
- Defense Against the Dark Arts; he doesn't need to know how to defend from himself.
- Authority figures
- Flying
- Being told he can't do something
- Inability to care or have a conscience.
And causes pain for the soulless like me:
- He has actually killed 2 people in the past, and has raped a woman. No one knows.
-Damien's first choice was Durmstrang, but he was even kicked out of there.
They left me to die:
Isabella Cormier (Grandmother)
Charles Cormier (Grandfather)
Lisa Cormier (Aunt/Deceased)
On a bed of roses:
Isaac Tulips (Grandfather)
Mary Tulips (Grandmother)
Blood seeping through:
Damien's parents covered up for his murders and rape.
The satin sheets of fame:
Extremely rich.
What a bitter story of love:
Damien was born to a less than loving mother and father. His mother was a drunk, and his father was abusive. Both abused him in many ways, not because he was doing anything wrong, but to “make him stronger.” The worst part was that Damien actually liked the torture. He got his parents to teach him how to do terrible things, and he, like many others before him, began on small animals, playing cat and mouse. He would torture the animals to within an inch of their lives, and then he’d just let them die. He would never do the final thing to kill them, no, that would be too humane.
When Damien was eleven, he got into Durmstrang. He loved it there, for they actually had a Dark Arts class, not just a defence one. Unfortunately, in Damien’s fifth year, he had been caught sexually assaulting another girl, who he had been allegedly stalking for months. When they went through his things, they found an extensive journal about her whereabouts. He didn’t actually rape her, but it was enough to get told to leave, somehow managing to get out of expulsion, but that was probably due to his family's immense wealth and persuasion.
They wrote to Hogwarts and explained (lied) the situation. While they waited for him to be sent off there, during the summer he hit his worst period yet. He began stalking neighbours and random people on the street. One day, he even followed two boys and a teenage girl into the woods. He raped her, and killed the boys, thinking that she would die soon after due to the injuries he had inflicted on her. He told his parents what he had done, and when his parents went to investigate, they found the girl there alive. They killed the girl and disposed of the bodies, making sure nothing would happen to ruin Damien’s life. It's funny how well money could talk.
Now, in his sixth year in Hogwarts, he had been Sorted into Ravenclaw, and he has begun to stalk many others, and not making any friends, like usual. The teachers keep an eye on him, but none can guess what he’s really up to…
Damien looked out the window. Dark, it was dark. The sun had barely set at the horizon, and the first stars began to come out. He checked the time. Seven thirty seven, seven thirty seven. She would be leaving any time now. He disappeared down into the common room, not getting notice from anyone. There she was, already slipping away. He took his time, hiding in the shadows, making sure he wasn't seen, he couldn't be seen. Forty-three steps to where she was going, forty-three. Damien knew exactly where she was going, she was going to the same place that she did every Thursday. To meet up with her boyfriend, her boyfriend Shane.
They disappeared into the unlocked classroom they always disappered into. He went into the room next door, and watched from a hidden hole in the wall, as they did what was required, required. They took off their clothes, and he watched, with no sexual interest. He watched, imagining what it would be like if Shane pulled her hair a little too hard, if her neck snapped, snapped! What would he do, what would he do? Would he leave, and leave Damien with the body? Oh, she wasn't pure, no, she was half, but she liked to pretend. She had dirty blood, dirty blood, that had to be drained. Damien wanted to bathe himself in her blood, bathe while it was warm. Her blood was worthless, but her death would be something to remember, something to remember for sure.
Damien quivered as he watched them, waiting for when they'd screw up, but they didn't. Why couldn't she press her nails into his back any harder? Why couldn't she make him bleed? SLAP! There it was, they were going at it rough, rough again. Damien pulled out his notebook and began to write in it with neat handwriting. This was the fourth, fourth time that he had slapped her during sex. He could hear her cry, but she was crying in pleasure, not pain. Without looking, he could tell there was a difference. Oh, there was a difference.
They disappeared into the unlocked classroom they always disappered into. He went into the room next door, and watched from a hidden hole in the wall, as they did what was required, required. They took off their clothes, and he watched, with no sexual interest. He watched, imagining what it would be like if Shane pulled her hair a little too hard, if her neck snapped, snapped! What would he do, what would he do? Would he leave, and leave Damien with the body? Oh, she wasn't pure, no, she was half, but she liked to pretend. She had dirty blood, dirty blood, that had to be drained. Damien wanted to bathe himself in her blood, bathe while it was warm. Her blood was worthless, but her death would be something to remember, something to remember for sure.
Damien quivered as he watched them, waiting for when they'd screw up, but they didn't. Why couldn't she press her nails into his back any harder? Why couldn't she make him bleed? SLAP! There it was, they were going at it rough, rough again. Damien pulled out his notebook and began to write in it with neat handwriting. This was the fourth, fourth time that he had slapped her during sex. He could hear her cry, but she was crying in pleasure, not pain. Without looking, he could tell there was a difference. Oh, there was a difference.
