Until Dawn| Sam
Name: Samantha Giddings
Nicknames: Blondie, Sam, Sammy
Faceclaim: Hayden Panettiere
Born: March 3rd, 1996
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Diligent || Considerate || Adventourous
Hannah's Best Friend
 Themes: Red, wildlife, fire, survival
 P E R S O N A L I T Y
Image result for until dawn samantha giddings aesthetic
➳ Wild life and animals
➳ Hiking
➳ Gentleness
➳ Honesty
➳ Violence
➳ Pettiness or Revenge
➳ Weakness
➳ Vulnerablilty
➳ Meat
➳ The Supernatural
 Samantha Giddings is rather an extraverted people pleaser, but isn't afraid to stand her moral grounds and stick to her beliefs. She enjoys hanging out with her friends, and isn't afraid to be herself, which is good, as she has always been comfortable in her spunky skin.
Sam also likes to make her choices based on past experiences, facts, personal reflection and her morals. It isn't often that she will compromise her morals to get out of a stressful situation, and is known to look around in said stressful situations for clues. It helps that Samantha has no interest in elvating other's stress levels, being a pacifist at heart.
As far as talents go, Sam is known to be able to sing, but other than that, has not a single artistic bone in her body. She was always good with athletic stuff, even in highschool, where she did track, tennis and sometimes soccer.
Overall, Sam is loyal, thourough, hard working and reliable with the ability to make good choices.
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When it comes to appearance, Sam knows she isn't bad looking.
She has long, blonde hair with dirty brown highlights, which she'll keep in some sort of hair do- in a bun, braided, ponytail, ect. Anything to keep it out of her face. Speaking of her face, Sam has a straight nose, with a slightly jutting chin, a strong jaw and sharp cheekbones. Sammy also has green eyes, downturned eyebrows and more lowerset ears.
She is 5'0", with an athletic physique. Her torso and upper body are smaller than her waist and hips definition. She isn't afraid to wear bold colors, such as primary colors, along with patterns that have neautrul tones. Her make up is simple- lipgloss, eyeshadow and eye liner.

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Known as Sketchy
Has INFJ personality type
Runs the Witches Account
Fragile! Has B.P.D
Writes Most genres
decently gramatically correct // Multi Paragraph Plotter
Takes time to trust
OWES: JOsh, Dakarai
Awaiting Reply: None




Author Notes
" Hey! Fatty, Over here! " - Samantha giddings


August 13

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Character Gender


Writer's Writing Style (OOC)

Paragraph, Multi-Para, Novella

Writer's Favored Genres (OOC)

Violence, Rated R, 18+, Gore

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  • 4106373?profile=original

    The door swung open with a nasty shriek of rusted old metal as a cold gust of wind greeted her harshly, and stepping into the hallway she would hear the crunch of snow on the floor, and the wooden boards underneath, creaking worryingly underneath her weight, as if ready to give way at any given point and sent her spilling down into whatever unknown was below.
    Indeed everything was falling apart as roots had grown through the floor panels, coiling around all that it found, scaling the walls.

    But all was still, except for crystalline flakes which slowly cascaded down from huge cracks in the ceiling, accompanied by a few rays of moonlight, weakly shining through.
    But there was no sign of the voice, and no discernable footprints in the snow to indicate a presence other than her own.

    But wait, what was that, hanging on the wall…?
    It was a portrait, hanging almost entirely sideways, portraying countless men and women all standing together, forever capture in their moment of utter despair, as was written on all their faces. And scribbled with charcoal on the picture framing were the words ‘Help’’

    Now faced with a decision, she could choose to investigate the picture further, or she could move on.

    Samantha could go right, or she could go left, with the left option seemingly leading her downstairs, as was indicated by a stairwell being somewhat visible. The other option for her was to go through a door, with no indication what lay behind it, although the door was red, almost as if the wood had been completely steeped in blood.



    The Hospital

    Shortly after Samantha’s visit, Josh’s mum had have a talk with the doctors, and it was their shared opinion that Josh was fit to go home, but that he should be in contact with a psychiatrist, to discuss new medication and treatment plans.

    And Josh’s mum sat with him that evening, acting and talking as if Sam’s little visit didn’t happen, and instead talked about how going home would make him feel so much better, and that things would be right again.
    But from Josh’s point of view, he was just changing one cage for another, and each time he tried to talk to her about what had happened that dreadful night, she just shut him down completely.

    And now he lay alone, caught in a carousel of thoughts
    Every thought, notion and event from his day, replayed in his mind, and then finally when the carousel came to a stop, he felt himself drift off into sleep, yet wide ‘awake’ he was once more when he opened his eyes and found himself in someplace devoid of any light, and laid on a cold floor of rock and dust, dust which came to fill the air as he slowly crawled to his feet.

    Was it a dream? A hallucination? He did not know.
    All he knew was that he was back into the cold and merciless depths of the Blackwood Mines.
    He was alone.

  • fuck my asshole and call me betty, it is looking splendid

  • - Under Construction -

  • Dakarai simply stood there, watching the girl, all the while gently stroking the top of the Rattlesnake's head with the pad of his thumb.  Normally, it would never allow such a thing.  But under normal circumstances nor would it allow someone to hold it so.  

    He could smell her irritation-- the sweet perfume that was her fear.  But it was quickly veiled beneath a mask of stubborness. 

     "You're hurt," He said, in no rush at all, tipping back his head to gaze at the crisp night sky. "what's your name?" it sounded like such an innocent question.  And it was.  He was only.. curious.

    But he didn't give a damn who owned where or what law said what.  He'd always gone where he wanted, and anyone who stood in his way... well..  


    He glanced down at the Rattlesnake, then his head cocked in a reptilian manner, slitted, yellow eyes flicking up to the girl.  After a moment, he'd shrug and say; "How do you know what I want?" and watch her turn away.

    Rolling his shoulders, the muscles in his chest taught against the fabric of the long sleeved grey shirt he wore, he knelt and gently deposited the venomous creature back to the ground.  Once it slithered off, he rose and crossed his arms, having yet to actually move from where he stood. 

    "Maybe I want to help you find your horse..?"

  • He found himself smirking just a little bit at the flicker of confusion that passed over the girls face.  It was nearly as cute as that little cage he'd arrived in back on the cliff-edge.  But he kept that to himself and sucked down another slow lungful of smoke from his sweet smelling cigarette, slitted eyes dancing down to her wounded arm, then back to her face with deliberate patience. 

    Not supposed to be here? He tipped his head, his smirk growing larger.  

    "Says who?"

    he asked, in a slow and honeyed Southern drawl, glancing down to his suddenly outstretched hand.  Within it-- coiled around it, tail flicking an erratic death-call, was the Rattlesnake.  It seemed tense, but otherwise unharmed and completely fine within the warmth of his hand.

    "Without me, ya'd be dead."


  • He snuck the length of his nimble fingers into his pocket and pulled out his smoke-pack, sliding it open.  He plucked out a single smoke, flipped it around between his fingers, and stuck the butt between his lips.  Then he slipped the pack back into his jeans and-- he paused, hand lifted halfway to his face.  Listening, straining to hear beyond what these human ears were meant too.

    At first he heard nothing, but his instincts told him to wait.  So he waited, unmoving.  Searching the empty street with his fiery, golden eyes.  Nothing moved, nothing breathed within the darkness but a few rats.  But he still didn't relax, every muscle beneath the flesh tightened like springs, ready to launch him into action.

    Then he heard it again, within the depths of his subconscious.  A faint, ecstatic whispering.  He squeezed his eyes shut and honed in on them, isolating them in a mental bubble.  He realized whoever was whispering into his mind was speaking in Latin..

    And they were casting a spell.

    He bared his teeth in a snarl, eyes snapping open.  It was already too late to worry about defending himself, so he just let it happen.  A moment later he felt the familiar tingle of anothers magic settle over him, wrapping around him like a heavy cloak made of damp furs. 

    "Aw, shit-" he managed to say, before the spell took hold and ripped him away from where he'd been standing.  It was a quick, wild ride he was used too, but it still put his stomach in his throat and his brain in his heels.

    When the world was still again- or he was, he was standing atop a small cliff overlooking a red, rocky plain.  A rolling sea of high, jagged buttes and mesas on the horizon.  It took him a moment to realize he was in Nevada- but only a moment.  And a moment longer to realize he was utterly and completely alone. 

    Whoever had summoned him was quick to bounce, but they left him a gift.  Blood marred the rocky surface under his feet.  Fresh and old alike-- and something had been drawn within the gore, encircling him at a circumference of six feet on either side.   He turned without stepping outside the circle, admiring the enochian seal a moment.  It was.. decent.  Messy, though.  And it would not hold him. 

    He'd forseen his escape, but there was no rush.  So he turned to admire the scenery again--

    And that was when he saw her.  Immediately he assumed she was the one who'd summoned him.  Perhaps, he thought, she'd gotten frightened of the possibilities and decided to flee.  On horseback no less. 

    Eliciting a sniff, he plucked the smoke from between his lips and held it between his index and middle finger.  He glanced down at the circle underfoot, and tipped his head.  With a thought and a twitch of his finger, he battered the ground with a blast of invisible mental energy, cracking and splintering the rock and disrupting the flow of the circle.  He felt it sputter, waver, and then it was no more.

    He slipped from his cute little makeshift cage and stepped to the edge of the cliff, still gazing in the direction of the girl.  He'd seen her fall, her horse fleeing with terror, and found himself growing curious-- if not a little doubtful.  Could she really have summoned him? He wondered. 

    Suddenly, he was standing little more than five feet away from her, gazing down at her with indifferent, slitted yellow eyes.  He said nothing, plopping the smoke back between his lips, and lighting it with a flick of his fingers and the nigh white spark of a holy flame.

    He was unworried about the snake, as it would not attack him.  Nor would any snake turn on him, unless he wanted it too.

    Dakarai took a slow, meaningful drag of his smoke, causing the tip to flare red.  Smoke leaked out from between his curling lips when he parted them to speak, to utter only a single thing; "Sup?"

  • 4106373?profile=original

    Josh’s mom was usually the first one to take up arms to defend one of her children, especially now that only one remained of her three. So it would make sense for her to jump into the fray and try and defend Josh from these wild accusations wouldn’t it?
    Except she didn’t.

    Instead her mouth stood agape ready to deliver, yet no words of either comfort or despair were ever uttered, and her lips twitched this way and that as obvious shock gave free will to her facial muscles. And by Josh’s near identical look on his face it was clear to all that a few details regarding the events on Blackwood mountain had been left out.
    Then as Sam abruptly stormed out Joshua rushed for the door, only to stop himself because he knew in his heart he shouldn’t race after her, but nevertheless couldn’t stop himself from screaming her name, infusing every feeling of despair and regret he could into this one word.

    The room stood still and his mother rested a shaking hand over her forehead to contain the thoughts brewing inside her head.

    “Mom, I need to-”, the boy began, but was cut right off mid-sentence as his mother sharply flicked her hand away from her forehead, letting the tips of her fingers point vertically towards the ceiling, as if to deal out a deadly blow with a single strike of her palm.

    “Just get out. Get out. Please.” Her request was simple, her tone lowered to a pathetic whisper.
    “GET OUT. GET OUT.” She cried out in utter defeat, much higher this time,pointing towards the door. “My son and I need to talk. And so help me god if you two say a single word walking out….I’ll kill you both where you stand.”

    Josh’s blood froze hearing this and things got a lot worse when Samantha’s parents left, either willingly or forcefully, leaving the poor boy to explain himself and reveal the more gruesome and unforgiving parts of his ‘prank’.
    But every day comes to an end when the dark blanket of night is placed upon the world, and as usually is the case was that most people were asleep.
    But Sam’s rest would be disturbed, without any known cause as to why.

    Her eyes would open, only things weren’t exactly how they were when she had gone to sleep.
    If she stared up and into the ceiling she would see the white paint, previously milky white, had begun to crackle, with itty bitty small bits already having been chipped away, and if she’d pan her head to the side she’d see rips in the wallpaper and the concrete wall itself, exposing underneath foliage like flesh underneath skin.
    Each window had been cracked, and naked twigs poked in wherever they could. And finally the bed that she laid upon was soaking wet and smelling of flourishing mildew.
    From somewhere in the house a voice could be heard, all too distorted to recognize if it was a friend of not, or something strange entirely.


    "Help me Sam. Ndithandizeni Sam. Më ndihmo Sam. Ayudame, Sam. Aide-moi Sam. Hilf mir Sam...."

    And on and on it went, and it seemed to mutter the same words, in all the tongues of the world, with a raspy...echoing voice.

  • Slowly reaches out, n' flicks her on the nose. 

    Sammy babbbbbyyyyyyyy.

  • 14198574?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024

    The scooby gang didn’t exactly adhere to any strict code of conduct, so they were basically all just chowing down by the time Sam and Josh eventually got to be seated at the table, joining in on the feast.

    And man what a sight it was, as previously stated it was absolutely jam-packed with food and beverages that lit up the room with dashes of juicy greens and yellow, red and whites, and heck almost every color on the goddamn palette, it was all there! And every now and then a hungry hand greedily hovered over the goodies to eventually reach down and nab a fistfull of nachos, or bring the dip over to their end.

    And everyone was there, except for Hannah, who was mysteriously absent. Her brother was about to get up and see if she was okay when she suddenly appeared underneath the door frame, her eyes surveying the room in an attempt to find Mike, who she found seated next to the queen Fuhrer to his right and Ash to his left.
    The only chair available was one next to Matt, which she reluctantly sank into.
    A passing brotherly smile was sent her way before Josh sent his snarky response across the table and over to Emily.
    “Really?” He began, words slurry on the count of his mouth being stuffed full of tacos.

    He continued, “Besides you...what could possibly be reminding us all of Halloween?” Joshua threw up his hands after that solid burn, to protect himself from any incoming punches and quickly added, “KIDDING. I’m kidding.”

    For a moment the room went silent, with nothing but the howling of the winter winds to fill the void, and people began to wonder if the situation was going to get heated very soon, but then when nothing happened, the conversation moved on and Josh listened to the two girls talk about hiking, distantly fearing Sam would drag him into it as soon as the snow stopped falling and the winds beat so badly.

    Though he could still hear Emily mumbling something to Mike, but he chose to ignore it, whatever it was, and let the whole thing just die out. It wasn’t worth it to start something, he didn’t want to start something, he just wanted to have fun, and when Sam rose to show off her surprise, Josh was splaying another tortilla onto his plate, having finished his first.

    “Why not both? Smores after tacos, getting drunk after that?” Josh suggested. Chris, in a similair manner to Emily, backed him up. "Yeah, yeah, that's definately a good idea." He said.

  • (Okay so it took me a moment to realize you were originally just RPing as Sam. XD Hello! How have you been?)

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