rise against your faith,
nothing's gonna keep you down
even if it's killing you
because you know the truth...
devon petros / d&d oc / isola affiliated
all art by salmonandsoup
• living situation: lives alone | lives with parent(s) / guardian | lives with significant other |lives with a friend | drifter | homeless | lives with children | other
• parents/guardian: mother | father | adoptive | aunt | uncle | foster | grandmother | grandfather | other
• sibling(s): sister(s) | brother(s) | none | other
• relationship: single | crushing | dating | engaged | married | separated | it’s complicated
• things i’ve done before: had alcohol | smoked | stolen | done drugs | self-harmed | starved | had sex | had a threesome | had a one-night stand | gotten into a fist fight | gone to jail | used a fake ID (fake identity to enter a place) | played hooky | gone to a rave | killed someone | had someone try to kill them
He’s not sure why--as far as he can remember, he was having a reasonably nice, reasonably quiet dream, and sometimes those can be hard to come by. But something wakes him up with such a jolt that he sits up and throws out a hand in front of him as if to defend himself.
A bolt of pure violet energy shoots from his hand, crackling through the air before smacking into the wall with a burst of force that he’s certain knocks something over in the next room. The magic dissipates quickly, leaving him in the dark illuminated only by a faint purple light flickering over the claws on his fingertips.
He stares at his own hand for a very long moment, trying to catch his breath. So...some of his magic’s returned. Not all of it, he can tell, but the familiar feeling of that strangeness sitting inside of him is...almost comforting?
“...Hey. Are you there?” He mumbles into the dark, hoping against hope something can hear him, and again, he isn’t sure why, but for some reason the silence is pressing in on him, overwhelming, and he can’t stand it.
[ Yeah, I saw, you got your blast back. Nice. Just watch your aim, huh? ]
Devon sighs in relief. The gravelly voice in his head is usually more of a nuisance than anything, but...for a moment, just a moment, he’d been terrified that it had been gone.
...Why would he have reason to believe his patron had left him? Why would he be upset about it? Hadn’t he wanted this thing to leave him alone for twenty years now?
[ That hurts, you know. I’m trying to help. ]
Devon runs a hand through his hair, and he swears the horns on his forehead have gotten longer. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m just...thinking. Doesn’t mean anything.”
He lays back down and stares at the ceiling, the light from his hand fading. He’s glad for this boon, but...what’s come over him?
( [ ...i’m a shitty demon, and you’re a shitty warlock. we fit together. ] )
Devon had known something major was coming--the thirteenth night, the voice mocking that of his mentor had said. He supposes it wasn’t too far out there to guess it’d be a battle, and he’d been ready to try as best he could to fight, to protect those who could not.
But as he stares down the Dark Lord’s monsters from the back of the line, it hits him just how in over his head he is.
Not even the fact that his form has changed back to normal (now only retaining its usual level of demonic features, at least for now) is much of a comfort, nor is the fact that his staff and the arcane focus within is back in his hand.
He does feel the rush of borrowed magic returning to him, burning through his veins ([ fuck yeah! that’s more like it! ]), but as the battle surges forward, Devon takes a step back, both hands clenched around his staff in a white-knuckled grip.
He was expecting a battle, yes, but the sheer number of foes is overwhelming, and as he observes, he can see that every time one of the creatures goes down, three more seem to pop up in its place. He’s frozen, paralyzed with the realization that he can’t take punishment from this many foes at once, and in that moment, it hits him that this is the first time he’s truly fought without his party by his side. The warriors of Fantasia surround him, yes, but there’s no cohesion, no strategy, no banter, just wild chaos. He doesn’t know them, how they work, what they can do, that they have his back.
In that moment, Devon is alone.
...Except, he isn’t.
Whatever barrier between the planes that kept him and his patron mostly separated was weaker, now, he can tell just by the fact that his magic’s returned to him.
Judging by the silent mental nudge he gets, Brazzrallath has noticed it too.
No words. No needling or enabling or encouragement or prodding. Just a little nudge to remind Devon there’s someone else there with him, someone willing to help.
He just has to ask.
Devon’s done it twice before, giving in to his patron’s power to make up for the strength he lacks.
Once had been when the pact was new, when Devon hadn’t realized the dangers of making such a request, of letting something in he couldn’t control. He’d nearly destroyed his home, and had vowed never to listen to his patron ever again.
The second had been standing atop the Old Bonegrinder, helpless and terrified for his friends fighting below, angry at the twisted hags and their cannibalistic machinations there.
Both times, Brazzrallath had asked him if he wanted help.
This time, Devon is the one who has to ask. This time, it’s on him.
...It’s a surprisingly easy choice. Devon’s alone and outnumbered. He can only do so much himself. And this is much bigger than him; this is about the fate of the world.
Besides, if he dies here, he’s never going to get to see his friends again. His family.
Devon takes another step back, planting the staff in the ground in front of him and kneeling down--this is going to hurt like a bitch, and the last thing he needs is to keel over in the middle of this chaos before they can even get started. He screws his eyes shut.
After a moment, Brazzrallath finally speaks.
[ You've just gotta say it. ]
One deep breath. Two.
[ Hey, I’ve got your back. You think I want you to die here? Fuck that. Let’s kick ass. I’ve been dying over here. ]
Devon lets out the third breath in a long sigh.
“...Okay. Do it. Let’s go.”
[ Thought you’d never ask~ ]
Devon grits his teeth, and all at once it feels like his blood’s been replaced with pure magma. There’s a burst of acrid brimstone smoke around him, spiraling off from his body, collecting around his feet, and the smoky illusion of demonic wings comes to life along his back. Not that he notices--it feels like his head’s being bashed in with a mace, his consciousness shoved aside as something else takes its place in his head. His body trembles and convulses, the light on the end of his staff flaring brightly, but he does not scream, not this time.
His head is crowded, with two minds in it. A mortal body isn’t supposed to be able to handle the amount of power being channeled through him right then, and he feels like he’s going to burst. His will is overturned for a moment, buried somewhere deep in the back of his mind, and he loses all control.
But only for a moment.
[ Oh no you don’t, get back out here. ]
Devon feels the metaphysical equivalent of getting whacked with a rolled up newspaper, before being forcibly dragged back into control, the world clicking into focus around him. There’s still an immense amount of power writhing inside of him, every inch of his skin on fire because of it.
But he can control it.
Devon stands and smiles, and it’s an action all his own. When he opens his eyes, they’re pure, burning violet, and purple firelight dances around him.
An endless amount of mindless foes to take out. He has the will to not hurt those he cares for, and he refuses to care about what the people of the city will think seeing him like this--that is a problem for later, something forcibly shoved out of his mind.
He hates to admit it, but he has to. This kind of power...it’s fun.
[ Yeah, YEAH! FUCK ‘EM UP! ]
Just this once, he lets it all go, and an infernal inferno launches into the fight.
things i’ve said while i was sleep deprived and delirious sentence starters, part two.
❝ i’m still awake, sadly. ❞
❝ being careful is for weenies. ❞
❝ i am but a simple bitch. ❞
❝ i’m a bit of what the kids today call a ‘snake’. ❞
❝ holy shit, there’s a snake on you. ❞
❝ excuse me, sir/madam. that fucking hurts. ❞
❝ [after a tiny cough] i’m dying. finally. ❞
❝ don’t yell at me! i’m hungry! ❞
❝ i’m making 3am spaghetti. ❞
❝ eat my cooking, you coward(s). ❞
❝ #blocked ❞
❝ look what you did. you made a fucking mess. ❞
❝ my shitty smart tv is more reliable than you. ❞
❝ you’re not wrong. ❞
❝ you’re killing everyone somehow. that’s crazy. ❞
❝ that’s horrible! why would you show me that?? ❞
❝ i just fell on probably five spiders. ❞
❝ geese are the devil in disguise. one tried to kill me when i was a toddler. ❞
⍤ : What does your muse’s voice sound like? Is it light? High pitched? Scratchy? Deep?
✍ : What is your muse’s handwriting like? Is it neat? Sloppy? Fancy?
☕ : Does your muse prefer coffee or tea?
⌚ : Is your muse good with keeping on schedule for meetings, appointments, or events, or are they always late? Or, are they always a bit early?
♿ : Has your muse had any injuries in the past?
☺ : What is your muse’s smile like? Do they smile often?
⚡ : How does your muse feel about storms? Are they afraid of them, or do they calm them?
⚠ : How does your muse react to possibly dangerous situations? Do they face them head-on, or do they plan out their actions first?
☃ : What is your muse’s favorite season? What about their least favorite season, if they have one?
☂ : Does your muse like rain?
☼ : Does your muse like daytime or nighttime more?
🏨 : How well does your muse sleep?
❤ : What are your muse’s thoughts on love? If they are not in a relationship, do they believe that they will ever find a perfect someone for them?
☘ : Does your muse believe in luck? How about fate?
⚯ : Does your muse have good eyesight? If not, what is it like? Are they nearsighted or farsighted? Or both? Do they use glasses? Or do they prefer contacts?
👓 : If your muse wears glasses, what are their glasses frames like?
♨ : Does your muse have good table manners? How do they feel about bad table manners?
❀ : What is your muse’s opinion about flower crowns?
♬ : Does your muse sing well? Regardless of whether they sing well or not, do they enjoy singing?
📐 : Is your muse good at math? Do they like it, or do they hate it?
♞ : What is your muse’s favorite animal?
εїз : How does your muse feel about bugs and insects?
📱 : Does your muse prefer calling or texting?
☆ : Of the sun, stars, and the moon, which is your muse’s favorite?
ツ : Does your muse prefer lots of friends, or just a few close ones?
‘ the inner machinations of my mind are an enigma. ‘
‘ i’m ugly and i’m proud. ‘
‘ fine , i guess you’re gonna miss the … panty raid. ‘
‘ do you smell that? that smell. a kind of smelly smell. the smelly smell that smells … smelly. ‘
‘ don’t you have to be stupid somewhere else? ‘
‘ can i be excused for the rest of my life? ‘
‘ goodbye , everyone. i’ll remember you all in therapy! ‘
‘ firmly grasp it in your hand. ‘
‘ FIRMLY GRASP IT! ‘
‘ well , it’s no secret that the best thing about a secret is secretly telling someone your secret , thereby , secretly adding another secret to their secret collection of secrets , secretly. ‘
‘ come on. you know , i wumbo , you wumbo, he / she / me wumbo. wombology , the study of wumbo! it’s first grade , _____! ‘
‘ just get outta here you stupid , dumb animal! ‘
‘ we don’t need television. not as long as we have our imagination. ‘
‘ you just can’t wait for me to die , can you? ‘
‘ this is a load of barnacles … ‘
‘ this is not your average , everyday darkness. this is … advanced darkness. ‘
‘ i’m not just ready , i’m ready freddy. ‘
‘ i’ll have you know i stubbed my toe last week and only cried for 20 minutes. ‘
‘ ravioli , ravioli , give me to formuoli. ‘
‘ too bad that didn’t kill me. ‘
‘ well it may be stupid , but it’s also dumb. ‘
‘ quick , _____ , without think: if you could have anything right now what would it be? ‘
‘ we’ve been smeckledorfed! ‘
‘ oh well , i guess i’m not wearing any pants today. ‘
frost blue: does your muse enjoy the snow and cold? or are they the type to enjoy summer more?
peacock blue: is your muse honest? what sorts of lies do they tell, if not?
lapis lazuli: does your muse prefer the idea of exploring the depths of the oceans, or the boundless expanses of space more?
reddish brass: how likely is your muse to step up and take the role of a leader? are they willing to take the challenge, or are they more apt to being a follower?
burnt umber: how stable is your muse, mentally and/or emotionally?
champagne: does your muse drink (alcohol)? are they a heavy drinker, if so?
tea orange: what is something that your muse is fascinated with?
malachite: has your muse ever done anything that they winded up feeling incredibly guilty for in the end?
olive: is your muse prone to feeling envious of others? if yes, what is it that they typically feel envious over?
vermillion: is your muse courageous, or would they consider themselves to be more of a coward?
coral: what is your muse's romantic and sexual orientations?
bougainvillaea: would your muse consider themselves as blunt, or do they beat around the bush instead?
currant: what's something that absolutely disgusts your muse (can be a person, place, thing, ect)?
crimson: how passionate is your muse about the things they love most?
raspberry: what food and/or drink can your muse not get enough of? do they indulge in it often, or is it something reserved for special occasions?
baby blossoms: does your muse have a favorite scent? what is it, and why?
mallow: what sorts of things might remind your muse of those close to them? any scents, objects, sounds?
aubergine: does your muse prefer the day, or are they more of a night-owl?
acacia: how much does it take for your muse to hate someone?
cadmium yellow: what subjects or topics does your muse avoid, because they bring up harmful / painful memories?
honey: when your muse loves someone (whether it be romantic, platonic, or familial love), how do they show it?
chartreuse: if you had to describe your muse with a color, what color would it be and why?
anise: when it comes to self-care, what does your muse do to take care of themselves? do they take care to spend time on it, or do they feel they don't deserve it?
new leaf: what message would your muse send to their past self, if any?
moss: how easily does your muse adapt to any new situations they're thrust into?
silk: does your muse care about appearances much? do they spend a lot of time on their own appearance, or do they just go with the flow each day?
sanguine: does your muse typically have an optimistic, pessimistic, or some middle ground outlook on life?
atoll: if your muse could go anywhere, without any restrictions whatsoever, where would they go? why would they go there?
cool grey: if your muse could ensure one thing for certain in their future to come, what would it be?
black: does your muse have a 'bucket list?' list some things your muse wants to accomplish before they die.
Send a symbol for a headcanon about my muse. All horror/angst/scifi related.
✘ Have they ever committed a murder?
▼ What is their greatest fear?
✿ Would they ever trust dark or wicked magic?
△ Name one thing from their past that they regret.
✂ If they had to choose one weapon to carry forever, what would it be?
☣ Would they kill someone close to them if they had to?
☢ Would they survive an apocalyptic situation?
❣ If someone had the power to bring them back after death, would they want them to?
☠ Do they fear death?
♱ What do they think awaits them after death?
¿ Are they easily frightened?
╳ How would they react to seeing a loved one become possessed?
☹ Name one person they would kill for.
☼ If they had the choice to be immortal with one other person, who would they choose?
☎ How would they react to receiving a phone call from a deceased love one?
★ Do they have a favorite scary movie? Book? Show?
♣ Do they believe the world is made up of good and evil?
♥ Have they ever acting out of heartlessness?
☾ What is their favorite and least favorite thing about the night?
ψ Do they think they deserve punishment for their wrongdoings?
ϟ Have they ever gotten pleasure from causing others pain?
♚ Do they consider themselves to be evil?
♒ If they could choose how to die, how would they want to go?
™ Are they possessive?
✔ Are they holding a grudge against anyone?
◯ Do they believe in ghosts?
✦ Who is their favorite villain?
☄ While watching a scary movie, are they the one clinging to a friend or being clung to?
웃 Do they believe in aliens?
and her face is currently. stuffed with a few leaves.
unfortunately, they are not tasty. nor do they mask her surprise at someone out in the field with her.
after spitting out the leaves, all that leaves is to look at the person who probably didn’t want her eating leaves.
hmmm. up and down, up and down…
「 hagumi didn’t mean to get lost! did one of hagumi’s friends send you to find her…? 」
they looked…responsible! someone was probably worried bout hagumi…!!
His brows furrow as he catches sight of the leaves. He’s...not entirely sure eating those is the best idea, even if you are part cow. After all, he’d never seen his friend go for eating leaves...
He decides not to comment on that part. At least she doesn’t freak out upon seeing him, but he still feels awkwardly exposed.
“No, no, no one sent me. Just a concerned bystander, that’s all.” Devon smiles in what he hopes is a reassuring manner, rubbing the back of his head with a hand. “I just spend a lot of time around here and, well, if you’re lost out here, you’re likely to be found by people who aren’t nearly as nice as me.” The statement is punctuated by a raised eyebrow--sarcasm. He knows he doesn’t look the nicest at the moment, but he is genuinely concerned.
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