morituro te salutat

death eater. 24. ravenclaw alumnus. madness is, as you know, a lot like gravity. all it takes is a little push.

[dclohov-blog]

narcissawhite:

She grits her teeth, “Do not tell me to calm down.”

He pauses for a moment and turns to look at her. “What’s wrong?”

[dclohov-blog]

little-greta-catchlove:

“A raven is like a writing desk,” she sulked, “If there’s one thing I know, it’s riddles. You’re wrong, silly.”

“How? Please explain to me just how a raven is like a writing desk.” He leans back and crosses his arms in front of his chest.

[dclohov-blog]

apisremus:

And I’m just saying you’ve got a lot of nerve. Is this what we do now? Argue about everything and threaten each other? 

“I’ve got a lot of nerve?” He raises his eyebrows. “Funny.”

“Also, I didn’t threaten you the slightest. Shame that I have to point that out.”

[aangs]

“And in the end, we were all just humans.. drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness.”

— F. Scott Fitzgerald (via psych-facts)

[veritas-roleplay]

2 FEBRUARY 1979

Antonin Dolohov / @dclohov ( turning 24 years old )

[cendaya]

[dclohov-blog]

charlesbones:

“I’m n-not pick a fight. I’m j-just s-saying your wrong. Th-There’s a d-difference.”

“There isn’t, really. Believe me.”

[dclohov-blog]

narcissawhite:

  “I do not care nearly enough to start a fight about this.” 

“Then perhaps you should calm down. It seems like you care quite a bit.”

[dclohov-blog]

little-greta-catchlove:

“I’m very rarely one to pick fights but-,” Greta  huffed, crossing her arms tightly across her chest, “But you’re wrong.”

“Then don’t even try,” He’s amused at her annoyance, a smile curving his lips. “Because I’m not wrong. You are.”

[dclohov-blog]

herckinnon:

I don’t think picking a fight over this is very smart or necessary. [ he does an annoying imitation of antonin’s voice ]

“And neither is that.”

[dclohov-blog]

apisremus:

You’ve got to be kidding me.

“What?” he asks, coolly. “I’m just saying.”

[dclohov-blog]

marxcusbletchley:

Marcus pauses for a moment, and shrugs.  “I don’t know.   Define ‘mean’  Do you want to be…. meaner or are you worried you’re too mean, because if so I wouldn’t worry.”

“No, I...” He sighs. “I don’t want to be mean, you know? I don’t even really know if I’m mean but I just seem to put people off when I meet them.”

[dclohov-blog]

“Pardon me, but I don’t think picking a fight over this is very smart or necessary.”

[dclohov-blog]

marxcusbletchley:

“Well, as in depth and perceptive as that was, maybe you could try explaining yourself better than ‘weird’“  He narrows his eyes slightly in concern.  “Seriously, whats up?”

Antonin contemplates for a second before speaking up again. “Okay, please answer honestly.” He makes another pause. “Do you think I’m mean?”

[marxcusbletchley]

“Oh, I’m sorry did I say something wrong?”

[dclohov-blog]

He pauses, squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and sighs. “No. No, I’m just...” Antonin falls back into his chair and runs his hands over his face. “I’m weird today, I’m sorry.”

[dclohov-blog]

⟶ ceteris paribus

[dclohov-blog]

ra-lestrange:

“What on earth happened? Have you been injured? For once in your life, Antonin, don’t be a martyr about it.” Rabastan placed his briefcase by his feet and sat in the chair nearest to his friend. He felt more lost now than he had in a long time, totally unaware of the events that had gone down. Ignorance is bliss, they say, but there was nothing blissful about emerging from the working day to find his closest friend injured and others nowhere to be found.

“For Merlin’s sake Rab, calm down.” Antonin slightly shakes his head. “Well, I found out about the riots and went to warn Flora but... all of a sudden hundreds of people were running down Knockturn Alley.” The scratches and scrapes on his left arm start to twinge again and he grimaces. “Next thing I know, I’m here.” He tilts his head to gesture at the hospital room filled with more injured people than he can count. “I’m not being a martyr.” He rolls his eyes. “I’m fine, I promise.”

[veiledmockery]

“The defenders of decent society and the disciples of degeneracy are often the same people.”

— Caleb Carr, The Alienist.