damienofhell-archived-blog

[damienofhell-archived-blog]

"I think I’m pretty fucking far from okay."

“But you’re -- you’re alive. They told me they had killed you!”

[damienofhell-archived-blog]

With his eyes still on her mouth, Damien nodded absentmindedly. He licked his lips, chasing the taste of her. He was brought out of his daze when she held out the key. His mouth went dry and he could feel his chest squeeze. He let her ramble because honestly, he had no idea what to say.

Damien happily accepted her embrace. He pressed another kiss to her lips. And then another. And another. He repeatedly gave her pecks to her mouth and face. “I love you,” he said between kisses. “Ti amo.” The smile that spread across his face was large and maybe a bit too toothy. “Fuck, of course I want to move in with you. I mean, we practically live with each other already.”

Darcy’s more than eager to return the kiss, lips smiling over his when she hears him breathe the words and she leans forward, pleased when he pulls her in close. Her breath hitches when she feels his palm over her side and his fingers tracing over her soft skin, becoming all too aware of his every touch.

She pushes her body against his, hand cupping the back of his neck to anchor him into the kiss until she pauses for breath. Her hand drops to his throat and rests there, thumbing over the scruff on his jaw. She pulls back just enough to look at him, eyes taking in every curve of his face before resting on his eyes.  “Just, just one more thing okay? I just wanna give you one more thing,” Before she gives in, because she’s had one taste of him today and now she’s hungry. Tonight was still going to happen, but just once before then wasn’t going to hurt anybody. They had all day. 

Darcy grabs a key out of her pocket and offers it to him. 

“To my apartment. I had the locks changed out. I’m not, you know. I’m not saying you have to move in or anything. Not unless you want to. I totally don’t mind. Not to make it sound like I don’t care if you do or not, I’d totally love it if you did— uh. I mean it’s not… any pressure or anything and—” She laughs at herself and looks down because she sounds like a garbled mess, trying to not to make it sound like her giving him permission to move in or do what he wanted sound desperate. Because she isn’t, but she wants him to know he has the option to.

She takes a second to regain herself before she looks at him again, her smile bright. She kisses him one more time and rests her forehead to his, closing her eyes. “You know you’re welcome into my apartment. To come in whenever you want, do whatever you want. I guess this is my way of saying my place is yours, too. And if you ever want to move in, you can.”

[damienofhell-archived-blog]

[damienofhell-archived-blog]

they look at you and say, “condemned, accursed, damned.” they look at me and say, “look at him, look at those red-stained hands, look at those cracking bones, look at those ghosted eyes, those serrated teeth, those hellbound feet. he is the wretchedest picture i’ve ever seen!” i look at them and say, “listen to him. listen to this haunted breath, listen to this trembling pulse, listen to this creaking skeleton. this shotgun voice, this hollow footfall. he is the purest melody i’ve ever heard.” i call up to god and say, “see the holiest blasphemy that i know. see the sweetest damnation that i know. see the happiest tragedy that i know. i swear even you cannot wrest him from me.”

[damienofhell-archived-blog]

           All that you will find                                                              is hell waiting inside

[damienofhell-archived-blog]

[damienofhell-archived-blog]

❝  You are something UNHOLY inside of me.                                        Something monstrous.                                                                           Something GREAT.  ❞

[damienofhell-archived-blog]

Darcy noses his cheek and peppers kisses along his jaw, whining softly as she leans over him. She straddles Damien and rolls her hips slowly, a hand splayed over his chest, the other scrunched into his hair. "I don't wanna go to work," she sighs and nuzzles into the crook of his neck, then runs her lips over his pulse, tip of her tongue sweeping over the sensitive skin. "Not today."

The sound of Darcy’s alarm was what had initially woken Damien, but he hadn’t stirred until her lips traced over his skin. He sighed at first, still half asleep. When she climbed on top of him, however, he slowly opened his eyes. With tousled hair and wrinkled pajamas, Darcy looked like goddess perched on him. The roll of her hips made him moan as he squeezed her hips. He almost agreed with her. He almost slipped his hand under her shirt in favor of staying in bed for a few more hours -- or maybe she could run 30 minutes late. 

Instead, he sighed into her ear. “But we’re adults and we have adult responsibilities,” he mumbled. “If you go to work, I’ll have dinner when you come home -- including mozzarella sticks. I won’t even say anything if you want to eat them while I eat you out.”

[damienofhell-archived-blog]

“Yeah, but that’s what? Thirty-five in dog years?”

Rather than going with Darcy’s plan, Damien let out a loud, sharp whistle that had Hubble’s muscles tensing and his ears pricking up. He snapped his fingers and pointed to the bathroom. “Tub. Now.” And with that tone of voice, the hellhound was scurrying into the bathroom. Damien picked up a discarded towel and approached his girlfriend, a small smile on his face. He wiped the water off of her face and took the chance to tease her. “I wasn’t expecting you to get wet until later tonight, but this works too.”

“At least they listen to you,” she grins, giving Damien’s chest a light and playful shove. “Hubble listens to me when it’s convenient. He’s an actual five year old.” Or five hundred, or thousand. She really doesn’t know any more about the hounds than Damien’s been able to find out and even her broad spectrum of friends don’t have the connections to learn anything not out of an old Latin text.

Darcy didn’t bother to wipe the water away. She was already half soaked and makes another mad scramble, hooking her fingers into the fur of Hubble’s scruff before he can get away and pushes him across the laminated wood, toward the bathroom again. It’s hardly easy and Darcy huffs at Damien, smiling but exasperated. “On a scale of Full House to Friends? You haven’t seen anything ‘till you’ve seen me chase Hubble seven times around the sofa and nearly fall on my ass.”

“You wanna mop up the water while I wrestle Armageddon in the bathroom or do you want to try? I bet you can’t.” Who is the actual five year old now?

[damienofhell-archived-blog]

A frown marred Damien’s features at the mention of mutants. He was familiar with the struggle of mutants and the damage the Friends of Humanity had done. While mutants weren’t accepted overall in America, they still had some sort of protection as human beings. In other countries, however, they were more likely to be attacked and/or killed. Many of the photos that covered the surfaces of his loft were of mutants being brutalized and killed. Those photos were less likely to sell since not many magazines and papers wanted to be seen as pro-mutant. 

“Mutants?” Damien echoed, still trying to wrap his mind around the man’s words. “I don’t -- You think I’m a mutant?” It made sense, actually. Between being a mutant and the Antichrist, having the X gene was more believable. “I wish I was a mutant, that would be so much simpler.” And maybe it was stupid to say that, but the words were already out. “But since I’m not, there’s nothing you need to worry about here. So go home and consider it a job well done.”

‘Shady’ isn’t exactly a wrong description, Remy supposes, but it’s also not exactly the way people usually describe him. Shady makes him sound like he might be the neighborhood drug dealer, or a shoplifting teenager or something. Remy hasn’t been that small-time since before he could read, but he decides not to mention the guy’s word choice. He’s apparently worried about being stabbed, or cursed, or harassed by the Vatican, so… weird phrasing is really the worst of his problems, it sounds like.

Anyway, Remy bites back a quip about selling girl scout cookies and cuts to the chase before the guy whips out a gun or sacred battle axe or something. He does have a pretty important job to do here.

“We been hearin’ rumors of mutant activity in de area, an’ neighborhood chatter says you’d know all about it, homme.” Remy points at Damien, a short, kind of accusatory motion – he’d jab the guy in the chest, but he’s pretty sure the dogs would lose their shit if he did. “Only need t’ see the Friends of Humanity staging a lynching of a preteen once b’fore you get real focused on finding stayin’ ahead of those assholes. Which I woulda explained sooner, but you got de manners of a paranoid cult leader, not dat I care what freaky shit y’ gettin’ up to.”

He doubts Mr. Are-You-Going-To-Voodoo-Curse-Me-You-Foreigner is A, a mutant himself or B, full of warm fuzzies for mutantkind in general. Probably thinks mutants are an evil curse from God or something; paranoid bigots are the worst.

[damienofhell-archived-blog]

[damienofhell-archived-blog]

Holds the Damien and pets his hair and kisses his forehead.

thank

[damienofhell-archived-blog]

“Hold the fuck up.” I say. I am the fuck up. Please hold me.

[damienofhell-archived-blog]

Damien&Darcy ➜ I’m in love with my own sins.

for @darcyiisms

I’ve fallen for someone who’s nothing like you He’s raised on the edge of the devil’s backbone Oh I just wanna take him home.

[damienofhell-archived-blog]

I’m going to try to be a little more active on this blog.

And since it’s come up with some other muns, I feel it necessary to talk about Damien’s powers. The ones listed in his bio are:

control of animals

cause hallucinations

minor telekinsis

minor mind control

enhanced healing

cause aneurysms

Some of these powers haven’t been seen yet, but he does have them. That being said, Damien doesn’t know he has some of these powers, or how to tap into them. They usually happen when he’s upset or stressed out. Sometimes with people he intends to use them on, but also sometimes bystanders. We’ve seen him use his ability of mind control to force people to kill one another/themselves. Other than that, no other powers have really been seen. He also has his hellhounds, which can be killed by mortal means (ie being shot), but they’re obviously intelligent and show up when needed, which gives me the theory that they can slip between dimensions and teleport. But other than that, they’re mostly normal dogs. But they’re possessed by hellhounds.

Also a reminder: Damien can’t die without being stabbed by a special type of blade and there’s only 7 in the world, most of which are either lost or held under lock and key by powerful people. Damien is basically immortal.

[damienofhell-archived-blog]

Damien couldn’t stop smiling. No matter how much she pulled away so she could show him the gifts she’d gotten for him, he kept him contact with her constantly. He thanked her with a kiss for the camera. And for the adorable thermos earned her a laugh and a kiss featuring tongue.

“I love you,” he mumbled into her mouth. Damien wrapped his arms around Darcy’s waist and pulled her body flush against his. One hand slipped under her shirt and traced her ribs. A finger plucked at the underwire of her bra. “While I love the presents, I’m still thinking about something else, tesora mia.”

“Come onnnn, Damien. Have I ever given you any reason to think you weren’t?”

She hums against his lips, mouth curled into a smile. Her hand combs into his hair and she strokes her thumb over the lobe of his ear. “Yeah, you’ll get that, too. Promise.” With a possible definite encore. God knows they rarely ever did it just once. 

Darcy pats his cheek and laughs, nudging against his side for a lingering moment. She turns away from him just to grab the wrapped box and gives an eager little tug at the bow, then passes it off to him. Inside is a camera, top of the line with a couple additional lenses, a carrying strap and it looks expensive. “I know you’re still trying to photograph, and I talked to Amani. He helped me pick this one out. Said it’s one of the best ones, so…” A little modest shrug, despite the broadening grin creeping up her face. “Annnnd, this. For when you’ve gotta go to Armitage or, you know. Anywhere.”

There was another gift she hadn’t mentioned (could it be considered one?), this one  smaller but more personal sitting in her pocket.