#devilsxson

[honeybeed]

                  ❝  --  okay,  so  i’m  real  confused.  ❞  not  exactly  a  rare  occurrence.  brow  is  furrowed,  chin  propped  up  on  her  hand.  frown  is  thoughtful ;  she’s  clearly  really  trying  to  work  through  something,  here.   ❝  so,  my  friend  invited  me  t’  go  to  church  with  her  on  sunday.  which  is  all  well  ‘n  good,  i  don’t  mind  goin  at  all.  but  she  told  me  she’s  a  PRESBYTERIAN.  ❞  a  beat  or  two,  tilt  of  her  head.   ❝  i  just....  don’t  get  what  eatin  fish  has  t’  do  with  god ?  so  i  really  don’t  know  what  i’m  gettin  myself  into,  here.  ❞     /     @devilsxson

[endfate-blog]

“ — how’d you get in ? ” he doesn’t look particularly dangerous. dirty, yes — probably slightly deranged by the looks of it, but not dangerous. so she doesn’t raise her weapon, even if an intruder on this side of the barricade would be enough to drive half of erydian nuts. she approaches him carefully, the way she would a wild animal. “ there’s other ways to get inside. this one might be, uh — frowned upon. ”

@devilsxson ♡’d !

[historyloved-blog]

@devilsxson.

        ❛  you know, not every girl needs a knight in shining armor.  ❜ fingers run through short locks for a moment before she shoots him a wry smile, hands smoothing down the wrinkles in her skirt. she might not be well equipped in the martial arts area, but she does have her wits.

[overdove-a-blog]

@devilsxson / post .

fucking great now I have that song in my head

DOES IT FEEL LIKE A TRIAL ?

DOES IT TROUBLE YOUR MIND THE WAY YOU TROUBLE MINE ?

[amaranthinepride-archive]

@devilsxson ||  Requiem Aeterna

Good Hope, Georgia.

There had been whispers of the hauntings in the old sanatorium since its abandonment. Recently though, the rumors had grown until every member of the town had a story of seeing strange lights or hearing screams emanating from the building. While some of the townsfolk attempted to enter and investigate, all were soon driven off by the oppressive atmosphere and strangely enough, what looked like paper planes. Their presence would have simply been curious if it weren’t for the fact they seemed to follow any who entered, shepherding them through the building as they floated on imperceptible drafts.

Their numbers only grew the deeper one went, culminating at the old mess hall where countless origami basilisks (for that’s what they were) perched, each ready to defend their creator.

At the epicenter of this all sat Leon, surrounded by pages upon pages of spell diagrams, his manual floating beside him.

He was deep in thought, staring at the tangled lines of speech representing the unstable tear throwing out enough energy to empower the surrounding hauntings. The local wizards had done their best to help him, but as the danger levels ramped up, it soon became prudent for him to be alone in order to present less of a target for the hungry ghosts. Despite the dangers, he trusted his constructs to protect him.

Indeed, that trust was what allowed Leon to become as absorbed in this task as he was. So much so that it seemed to backfire in this moment, the basilisks whirling around him in an unheeded attempt to warn of someone’s approach.

[cosmicwar-a-blog]

TOM.

honestly, he’s not sure how he gets from point a to point b to point c.   they’re laughing, an acceptable amount of space between them, and then something in the light catches the brights of tom’s eyes or slants just right across his cheek and that familiar surge of need in his chest rears its head like there’s any sort of call for it.   they’re not these people.   they don’t do this sort of thing.   tom is, for all intents and purposes, entirely off limits and he’s not sure why suddenly it just doesn’t matter.

it’s a head space he’s intimately familiar with and one he’s learned not to hide from.   ever the pragmatist, ever the optimist—and yet it’s not optimism that’s driving him, not practicality.   tom, for an instant, doesn’t scramble away into the dark of his mind and whatever this is, whatever point b is, is good.   it’s genuine and the right kind of hurried and his fingers curl into the front of tom’s shirt and he’s more than okay with just seeing where it goes. 

and then, point c—   “what?���   voice turned rough; he’s not even offended.   idly he thinks maybe he should be, but he’s not sure why and the whiskey is doing its best to make sure he can’t quite focus on the specifics.

heat lingers on his mouth like a promise of something he’s not quite worth.   eyes narrow, lips thin, but it’s confusion that finds itself a home on his face, not anger or despair.   he doesn’t lean away yet.   “m’not.”   small words, nearly lost between them.   he’s not sober, he won’t argue that, but wasted is a stretch.   it takes a lot for him to reach wasted these days.   “you’re thinking too much.”   or maybe eli isn’t thinking enough—it wouldn’t be a first.   

his fingers are still twisted into tom’s shirt and instead of backing up or letting go he tightens his hold, like tom might turn to smoke and disappear into the dark if he’s not careful.   should he care?   does he?   “why?”   //   @devilsxson

[excommune-a]

“It’s not that bad.”

injury starters — accepting.

                marcus can’t tell if it’s the head wound or that tom doesn’t like being touched that’s making him talk bollocks, but irritation rattles around in his head anyway. it’s not... real irritation, though, because marcus is still rifling through his bag looking for wound wipes, instead of throwing the bag at tom’s feet and saying do it yourself. scalp wounds are always so - frightening, so bloody and open, but true, they’re rarely that bad. but marcus isn’t sure, and if he’s not sure, the hell is tommy sounding so certain for?

                ‘ yeah, well. i can’t tell under all that blood. are you gonna let me clean that? ’

[vanderlylles-a-blog]

it never gets easier. easy was never in the job description, anyway — she knows this, so she won’t complain. even with disturbance calls in the middle of the night — those are the real fun ones. when the dark is so thick she can barely see her steps, when there’s something wrong in the way the trees bend to the wind & the low buzzing of streetlights that have been broken for the past month. but she’s not surprised, nor frightened: the deputy walks the same way she’d walk in the daylight, with her gun safe in its holster & her stride not confident but determinate. “ thomas. ” the name uttered with a hint of exhaustion — not the first time he’s been the subject of a 2 a.m. call, with all probability won’t be the last. “ what’s going on here ? ”

@devilsxson ♡ ‘d.

[scriose]

         ‘ no. keep talking. ’ he doesn’t mean it as an insult when he adds, ‘ you’re putting me to sleep. ’

@devilsxson,  sc.

[tvvolips]

@devilsxson liked for a starter

There’s no subtly in her suspicion towards the stranger, eyes warily sweeping from his shoes to his eyes, “You ain’t from this part’a Texas, are you? If you was, you wouldn’t be hangin’ in this shithole bar, lowest of ‘em all. Unless you’re lookin’ to get in a fight with Annville’s finest, you must be lookin’ for somethin’, huh? Maybe not. Ain’t my business,” a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders precedes a long drink from the beer she’s been nursing. 

[brokenmagxc-a]

@devilsxson ( cont. )

                  “ i wish i could believe you. i really do. ” and he smiles with him, with his sad attempt to sway the only man left in this world who would put up with this - lying. the blanket within his grasp slips gently from his arms as he approaches, and within the next few moments, he’s wrapped it around the other’s shoulders, clicking his tongue like a chiding father. funny, how much he cared for the careless. he leans over the man, hand to shoulder, and plucks the whiskey from his grasp as well. “ but -- just in case. ” a laugh. it’s sweet. it’s sad. 

                  “ you really need to sleep, tommy. can’t walk around like this. can’t work like this either. ” a cold hand moves to brush the man’s hair back, hoping to soothe whatever worried him, any troubles that he may have. because even if thomas didn’t want to share his problems, arthur would do his best to make them his own anyway.

[honeybeed]

❛ we are capable of love but choose to be toxic. ❜

milk  &   honey  meme     /     accepting !

              MM.  YEAH.  HE  HAS  A  POINT.  fingertips  trail  over  the  ring  of  condensation  left  by  someone’s  soda  glass,  vaguely  contemplative  look  furrowing  her  brow.  ❝  i  dunno  about  toxic....  ❞  despite  the  fact  that  the  relationship  she’s  thinking  about  right  now  is  toxic.  ❝  i  think....  well,  i  think  some  people  are  just  selfish,  that’s  all.  and  maybe  they’re  a  bit  more  concerned  with  what  they  wanna  do  when  they  wanna  do  it  instead  of  thinkin  things  through  and  tryin  not  to  hurt  anyone  else.  ❞  small  tilt  to  her  head,  she  still  doesn’t  look  up  at  him.  ❝  that  make  sense ?  ❞

[foreignrsgod-blog]

15. What kind of inner life do they have — rich and imaginative? Calculating and practical? Full of doubts and fears? Does it find any sort of outlet in their lives?

Thank you for sending this in and I’m very sorry for how late I am in replying.

Aleksey has a strange mix of being practical and imaginative. He has his practical and calculating side from a lifetime of working on boats in dangerous conditions, and his rich and imaginative side from much of the same environment. He needs an imaginative inner life to combat the boredom he encounters on long trips and was naturally a very imaginative child. I would say his practical side actually came later as a result of his work environment. He isn’t doubtful but he is fearful often of dying as he works in a very dangerous field. As far as outlets in his life, he let’s his imaginative side spill over into theatre that he either helps out with of actually holds a on stage role in. Yes, he’s an actor as a hobby in his off-time. Don’t laugh at my romantic assed son, okay?

[vicemirrored-a]

27-How does your character normally deal with confrontation?

twenty-seven --- how does your character deal with confrontation?

not very well. he’s got one hell of a temper, and while he keeps that under wraps fairly well in most situations, it’s easy for the anger to start to blind him. he’ll be foaming at the mouth for the rest of the day if he gets pissed off. he’ll usually go right for ad hominem attacks, too --- insulting the person themselves, instead of actually addressing the argument they’re presenting. he’s really bad in confrontations. 

[overdove-a-blog]

"I have worn nothing but blood and death for years".

  “ — and bullshit. can’t forget about that one. ”

blame spills out of her like a leak — she can’t contain it, or maybe doesn’t want to. maybe she’s just tired. of what, she’s not sure — waiting perhaps. for him to leave again & come back years later, with his face changed but expecting hers to be that same old freckle-stained face, with gravity pulling her lines down, weighing on her features, making her so much older than she is. he’ll leave, soon enough. he’ll come back. she’ll be the cliffs, he’ll be the tide — but water erodes the rock, & fuck, he’s wearing her out. she’s tired, & she’s angry. she’s lost the ability to pity thomas crowder about two years ago. ( she’s not unsympathetic — she’s not blind to the bloodstains, she can smell the age on his skin. it’s just not her place to give a shit about it, really: it’s not her place to give a shit about him ).

  “ yeah, i’m tired. i’m going home. ”

@devilsxson / i can’t abide a poor liar. / sel. acc. !

[amaranthinepride-archive]

character info sheet

stolen from @devilsxson    >_>

name of your muse: Leon Trabocchi

aliases: Leon Bray

one picture you like best of your character’s fc: This shoot is what made me pick him in the first place tbh.

two headcanons you have for your character that you never told anyone:

✘ He’s honestly slightly shunned by a lot of the Wizarding community. Not on purpose most of the time, but there’s just this big disconnect. Like they’re all waiting for him to fail and betray them. So he generally doesn’t “hang” with them other than for purely professional purposes. Cuz he sure as hell isn’t going to hide Who or What he is. 

✘ Along the same vein, I feel like this has been hinted at but never really said: He’s lonely. He never actually shows it or admits to it out of pride, but he missed his Siblings and being together back when he was still actively trying to do evil. Even now he still tends towards lonliness since he has a hard time connecting with others and just showing he cares in a way most would see. 

three things your character likes doing in their free time:

✘ Messing with spells. ✘ Reading - especially about philosophy and theology. ✘ Caring for his plants and insects.

seven people that your character loves/likes:

They’re all other OC’s I haven’t really mentioned yet tbh + his parents + his Siblings so no one to tag quite yet.

✘ N/A

two things your character regrets:

✘ Unleashing death and entropy into the world. ✘ Not being a better son and forcing his family to move multiple times when he was younger due to his pride.

two phobias your character has:

✘ Being alone forever. ✘ Find out he’s truly unable to change Who He Is.

tag ten people to do the same: Do it if you wanna!