Snatch 'em! @corripere - Tumblr Blog

[ currently offering things for either Scabior or Greyback, hmu if you want one! ]

prxditio

"Pettigrew, ain't it?"

He knows it is. Hard to avoid those four, at school, even from a different year and a different house. But of all of them, Peter is the one that Darick Scabior could see little pieces of himself in. Wasn't exactly difficult to see the way he was often only remembered half a second after his mates. An addendum. Same way Scabior himself had been, much of his life.

"Don't often get your kind, this part of town."

#prxditio #v: come to burn your kingdom down #ayyyy look a thing for u

bibliophiliic-blog

#ooc #jdflkajsd god bless u and ur face #thank you so much for putting me on here #you deserve every follower you could ever wish for!!

#submission #emeraldbetweenyoursheets #yes you may do that if u wish #fuck me i mean #sldkjf #OR AT LEAST U CAN TRY #good luck with that

suitedblue-a

"Not much of a thrill or sport though, if you ask me." Teddy returns just as easily — as if talking to this lot came as easy as day. "All of you lot ‘gainst me? Where’s the thrill in that, ey?” He asks, eyes glinting as he takes a step forward.”

He stands tall, his naturally tall form helping him out in this as he scans amongst the rowdy group. “Perhaps,” He drawls, “We can help each other. You help me find what I’m looking for, and I’ll treat you lot to a nice hot meal, hm? What do you say?”

corripere

He's tempted to tell the kid where he can stick his offer -- to send him running and to chase, just for the hell of it -- but he can sense the mood of the men gathered behind him. The way they shift from foot to foot and lick their lips and think about the last time they ate something that they didn't have to skin, first.

Unhappy men are unhappy with their leader, and he knows what kind of mutterings will go around if he sets the man fleeing, like he wants to. If he hadn't offered, it wouldn't have been a problem. Damn him.

"An' what exactly would you be wanting from us?" he asks, fixing a brittle sort of smile on his face.

#teddylupinxx #v: come to burn your kingdom down #dammit teddy u done pissed him off

emeraldbetweenyoursheets-ar-blog

When she sees how angry he is, she knows she has made a big mistake. His hands on her throat prove her thoughts and instinctively her own hands go up to his arm to hold it, try to hurt it or to make him let go. She barely listens to his words but the voice of his makes her get scared. Scared about her life even though she finds not much use in it anymore. She is worn out, useless and in the past year just has been a burden to everyone so what exactly makes her be so scared of him when she is not afraid to die? Then she realises it’s his ways. His words and just him. At his release, she gasps and sinks to the floor, holding her throat with both of her hands and for a moment, she just wants to jump off the balcony to end this fear. A fear that doesn’t seem to be strong enough to transform. Or maybe it’s just the fact that she doesn’t want to destroy her own house that keeps her from burning it all down. There is no comment or words coming from her anymore. She is not interested into further inter- actions with this man; with this madman. Instead she gets up slowly again and walks inside, her cigarette forgotten a long time ago. Without looking at him, not wanting to anger him or make his attention to be put back onto her, she walks straight into the adjoining bathroom of her bedroom and as she sits down on the edge of the tub, she turns the tap to let hot water into it. It’s when she realises, maybe only now or maybe nor more than ever, that she is trapped with him. He won’t let her go, ever. She escaped him and that must make him incredibly angry and sour so she has no chance. No escaping route and no way to get out of this her own way. There is obviously a plan forming in his head already and she doesn’t really want to know what it looks like. For now, she prefers to be in the dark. As the water is high enough, she ignores everything and just slips out of her clothes again before sitting down into the hot water, enjoying the bubbles that came out of the second -rather magic- tap.

corripere

He seems to have lost interest in her. When she makes her way silently through the room, he's busy pulling the books from her shelves out one by one, flicking through the pages with intense concentration, as though he's expecting to find some secret in there, some answer to an impossible question.

The sound of running water must seep through into his consciousness, though, as when the tap ceases to run, he looks up, alerted by the sudden absence of noise. Without putting down the book that he's holding, he wanders towards the bathroom, opens the door with his foot, and enters, still leafing through the pages in front of him.

"I did my 'omework on you," he says, leaning against the wall, and still, his gaze is captured by the book rather than her. "Looks to me like you've got yourself a fair few dangerous friends."

Finally, he lowers the book, stares flatly at her over the top of it.

"'Course, whatever sympathies you might 'ave, whatever you are -- there's always a way to avoid ending up dead. Shame, t'kill anything so -- "

His eyes flicker over what's visible of her form under the water and the bubbles, and something that looks like an unkind sneer pulls itself onto his lips.

"--beautiful. Or at least, pretending to be."

He returns to the book, not reading, but turning the pages one after the other in a constant, uneven rhythm, so that the sound of it fills the tiled room, echoing off steam-damp mirrors and walls.

"You going to 'elp me, or not?"

#emeraldbetweenyoursheets #v: come to burn your kingdom down #still offended u turned into a giant bird and mauled me :|

eastxrnsea

Lucy knows the look in a man’s eye, when he wants something he’s being denied. And she knows the look in a beast’s eye when it is going to take what it wants. The werewolf has a mix of both, a feral, horrifying look. It forces Lucy to wonder how many people have seen that look before their life is taken from them. No one deserves to have that be the last thing they see in this world.

Though she had seated herself only moments before, Lucy rises, moves backwards as slowly as she can, as unobtrusively. She moves until she’s pressed to a tree, fingers curling against the bark. Her eyes never leave the wolf, and madly she wishes for the other man, because he was mad but at least she knew that absolutely. The unpredictable nature of this creature before her sends shivers down her spine and gooseflesh up her arms.

"I am not a toy. I am not a toy.”

It’s a mantra, gentle and quiet, below her breath because she doesn’t want to provoke him, doesn’t want to give him any reason. She’s holding back a scream, wishing desperately for Peter’s solid warmth to curl into, for Susan’s self-assured, intelligent words. She wishes to be anywhere but here. She just wants her family back.

"Don’t touch me."

The words are edging on hysterical, frantic and hurried. To move any further away is to anger the first Snatcher, who told her not to leave. To stay here is to subject herself to whatever the werewolf has planned.

She feels so useless, so helpless. She doesn’t want to die.

corripere

He laughs at the terror in her voice, revels in it, licks his lips as though he can taste it on the air. He almost can; it rolls off of the child in waves, seeping through her pores and saturating every muscle, every nerve ending, until she's petrified, trapped in this spot, flight-or-fight leaving her entirely, nothing left to do but f r e e z e.

He reaches out a dirty finger, the thick, sharp nail more like a claw than anything, and it traces down the side of her face, barely touching her clean, fear-paled skin. His grin is nothing more than predatory.

"Don't touch me," he repeats in a high, mocking voice, and then his hand is at her throat, his face next to hers so that his matted hair is brushing against her cheek when he growls his words into her ear.

"Go on, scream. Won't help much once I'm done --"

#eastxrnsea #v: come to burn your kingdom down #ch: greyback

curlytailed-deactivated20150731

❝ i’ve never heard of harry potter.”

corripere

"Curious, that, ain't it? 'Cause I don't know nobody what doesn't know who 'e is."

#duursley #whoops my finger slipped #he mistook u for a wizard and now ur hella trouble sir #sdjkflasd #hope you don't mind my jumping in #v: come to burn your kingdom down

emeraldbetweenyoursheets-ar-blog

It takes a look at him, when he mimics her previous behaviour, to be uncertain if that’s a positive or negative reaction to her words. She slowly licks over her lips and watches him carefully with a smile on her lips at his words. “Not women in general, just me. But most likely it’s that and that you stayed as attractive as you were back then. Not that this wasn’t a real offer but if you don’t want to … well … your loss and my time to finish that drink and leave.” Playing games, not her style. Though with him she thinks it might be necessary to get things going and if they’re not, she still has planted her number in his phone to find later on with hopefully a big smile on his face at the name ‘Russian Hooker’. Slowly she finishes her drink and waves the bartender over to get the rest of the bottle that she pays for and then places between him and her. “So either you drink this alone and see it as a gift from me or we share it and spend some more lovely moments together in this cold night. Your choice.”

corripere

" -- as touched as I am at your faith in my attractiveness, you can't possibly know that." He's certainly older, now -- not the skinny kid he was when he first started out. Few more lines around his eyes, for sure. He looks at the bottle, and then at her, and then back to the bottle. A smile curves its way onto his face, and he shakes his head a little with a breath of laughter. Then he reaches out for the bottle, fills his own glass -- and hers. "No promises, mind," he tells her. "Every chance that an angry scouser will burst through that door any minute and drag me back to the 'otel, where I'm s'posed to be."

#emeraldbetweenyoursheets #v: misbehaviour and misdemeanours

riidiculum-archive-blog-deactiv

The forest lights up like fireworks, and he secretly wonders if James and Sirius would be proud of the display of bravery that he’s shown, or whether they would have stayed, but even then, Dora’s pink hair and her hands promising to bound to him for life. He fires his shield charm behind him, protecting himself from the spells that head in his direction and he flickers between adrenaline and fear as the fire keeps coming, just as he hoped, scattering snatchers and distracting them. A full two minutes further he finds the safest apparition zone and as he turns, he swears he sees Darick, hurling himself forward, but all Remus can think of is Dora’s smile. He’s going home. Where he should have been three days ago, and he won’t leave it for anything less than to protect his new family. As the snatchers close in, the werewolf closes his eyes, and just like that - he’s gone without a trace, the only thing remaining, is the fire welling behind them.

corripere

He stands, chest heaving and lungs burning from exertion and the acrid smoke, and stares at the spot that Remus Lupin had just disappeared from. It's practically impossible to trace an apparition, and there's no telling where he might have gone. He curses. Long and loud and sudden, and when he turns, it's to grab one of his men by the ear, to pull him close and tell him find 'im!, even though they've got other jobs to do, other half-breeds to chase, other bounties to fill. This one's bloody personal. Around him, the forest burns. They'll burn too, in time, the beasts with the bad blood. And he'll be there to see them fall.

fin.

#riidiculum #v: come to burn your kingdom down #fin

Starter call!

#ooc

emeraldbetweenyoursheets-ar-blog

She gasps when her hand gets swatted away like this and looks at him with her eyes slightly narrowed before she sees him undressing. Her mind, her creepy and more than weird desires, turned off when she sees the freshly scarred tissue behind the layers of fabric. If he wouldn’t have been such an arse and so incredibly threatening, she would even feel sorry for that –mainly because she absolutely despises her monster– but instead of voicing any of that, she steps closer and looks him dead in the eye. “Shut up, you idiot. You have no idea of me and you prob– ably wouldn’t have even if you ever paid real attention to anybody in school that was not a pure-blood snob.” Then, as if it’s nothing and he is her friend, she places her hand on his chest and makes the scars disappear. Mainly because she doesn’t want him to carry anything of her that makes him think of her. Then she also doesn’t want to see anything of herself, her true self, on him. It’s nothing that comes off easy, wandless healing spells like this one, but she practised it over the years of war and on herself, sometimes. She just never knew if they actually worked or if they were just disappearing because of her own skin. “Much better. Can’t show off with any more scars now to get the chicks. Though I doubt you even have sex, as in– credibly frustrated as you always sound and looks like. But I guess for you it’s more important to kill people or tort– ure them.”

corripere

He snarls at her words, at her accusations of his behaviour. Every word she speaks threads itself into the noose she'll use to hang herself, one day -- all these noble sentiments and feeling that'll do nothing much more than get her killed, than mark her out as someone that needs to be cleansed, needs to be removed. Half-breeds and beasts like herself, they're all the bloody same. And they'll all meet the same fate, sooner or later, if they don't make the effort to conform, to atone for what they are by doing exactly what's required of them. He pushes her away. hand flying to the flesh that's smooth as the day he was born, not a mark there to suggest she'd ever raked claws across him, and for some reason, it seems to anger him beyond belief. His eyes flash dark, lips drawing back across his teeth like an animal, and his own nails dig into the place where moments ago, scars had been, raising little red crescents on the pale skin. And then those same fingers and those same sharp nails are at her throat, and he pushes her back until she's pressed against a wall, mindless of how tight his grip is, or whether she might transform again, show the side of her that's nothing more than an animal.

"What's important for me, siren, is wiping things like you out. This war ain't a bloody picnic, an' I 'appen to know that I'm on the winning side. They didn't pull me out of Azkaban just for fun, y'know, they pulled me out because they knew it'd take someone what thought like me to do the jobs that they don't want to. I ain't afraid of gettin' my 'ands dirty. In fact, d'you know, I kind of like it. There's a power in doing what no-one else wants to." He releases her, watches her for a few long seconds, and shakes his head. He pulls his scarf back into place, and that seems to trigger something. The dark look in his eyes flees, replaced by something blander, less dangerous. He brushes non-existent dust from his jacket. He sniffs. He clears his throat. He is human, again, a mask of sanity strapped on over whatever is hiding underneath. "Nice view, this place," he says, glancing over the balcony before he turns and wanders back into her bedroom.

#emeraldbetweenyoursheets #v: come to burn your kingdom down #raise ur hand if darick scabior scares the shit out of you #in case u can't tell both of mine are in the air right now

licnbcrn

She was sure her skin paled beneath her freckles, smile fading, but only just. After all, even if he recognized her — he didn’t know her. Couldn’t possibly know what sort of business she was caught up in. And, if he was one of his lot, she had to be careful. Extra careful. “Like I said early; a job’s a job. Not many out there these days. And, again, like I said, I can handle my own just fine.”

corripere

"You did say that," he agrees, turns back to the bar and to his bottle, lifting it to his lips for another swig. "Several times, in fact." He doesn't much care whether or not she thinks she can work in a dingy bar in East London with the sort of clientele that no young woman would ever aspire to associate with. But he is interested in knowing if she really is just here to earn some money. Suspicions have rooted their little tendrils in his bones, and he'll let them grow. "If I know who you are, then there's a good bleedin' chance other people will, too. I won't insult yer intelligence by telling you 'ow they might react, in this part of town. But you've assured me that you can 'andle yourself, so who am I to say otherwise?"

#nctafreak #v: mark my words

emeraldbetweenyoursheets-ar-blog

She can’t help but roll her eyes at his comment be– cause everyone who hasn’t tried it, didn’t know how relaxing a fine moment of nicotine could be. Slowly she takes her first drag and closes her eyes to enjoy it before she looks at him. “What am I supposed to tell you? I can’t read your thoughts so I can only guess that you mean what it was that happened last time… I am some kind of siren. Not sure what I am exactly called but as you saw, I turn into a harpy occasionally.” She takes another drag, her hand instinctively going down to her back where his knife left a nasty scar. Her first scar whatsoever and she is sure that he would be too proud of this if he realises it. “Any more awkward questions you have to ask or else I can’t give any answers.” It’s a smile that crosses her lips then when he touches his throat and slowly she places the cigarette on the ashtray nearby before stepping up to him, wanting to view the scars she has left on him. Without asking for permission or anything, her hands go to him and she pushes his scarf out of the way to try to unbutton his shirt, curious if the marks are deep enough for him to always remember what happens if he goes too far.

corripere

"Siren," he repeats, slowly, and stores the word away somewhere safe, where he can dissect it and understand it and find its weaknesses, and where it can stay, safe and silent, until it's to his advantage to free it from behind the cage of his teeth. He bats her hand away, when it comes close, too distracted by his own thoughts to have really seen it coming. He takes a step back, something in his eyes darkening, one moment to the next, so that the man glowering at her now is not the man who had followed her onto the balcony only a minute ago. "Now, now," he says, darkly. "No call pokin' your manicured fingers where they don't belong. What, you want to see what you left me with, that it?" He sneers. His own fingers pull aside the scarf, the jacket, push down the grimy waistcoat that had once perhaps been a particular colour, but which is now just almagamated dust and dirt and blood, until it's not really a colour at all. The marks are still raised, thin white lines surrounded by reddened scar tissue. He doesn't have time for hospitals, or healers, or any of that shit. He's got a fucking job, and he's got to do it, and he's not going to stop running for anyone ---- "Proud, are we? Proper Slytherin? You can pretend all you like that you're better'n me, sweetheart, but we're just the same."

#emeraldbetweenyoursheets #v: come to burn your kingdom down #:|#wait thirty seconds and he'll probably be all nice again #sdjklfjJKA #he's like a changeable weather front #you never know whether you're going to have sunshine or storms

emeraldbetweenyoursheets-ar-blog

She reaches the window but it’s too late, he is fast. It’s reckless and crazy of him to not care that the place where he stood seconds ago is now on fire and everything else is going to burn down within the next few minutes. Instead of taking care about himself and his escape from the burning grounds, he jumps right at her and manages to ram the enchanted knife right into her. There is another shriek of her and a cry so loud it spits burning fire into the air outside of the house as the knife is in deep. It burns in her own flesh like the fire that burns down the house. Her head spins around and she grabs the knife with her beak to pull it out and with a sharp move she throws it right out of the window. Eve, or the monster she is right now, looks at him and with something like laughter in her eyes she then flies off. Surely he had wounded her harshly but her will to survive and escape is stronger and when she takes off, she quickly disappears into the night sky.

corripere

He howls in frustration as the beast manages to dislodge his knife, manages to make it out of the window. He's bruised and he's bloody and he's lost his prisoner. He screams and shouts until his men come running, and find him there -- sprawled across the floor, hand clutching his bloody shoulder. And there are whispers -- that Scabior let a girl, a mere slip of a thing -- beat him bloody and escape, until he cuts off a man's fingers, one by one, and the whispers stop. He'll find her again. Soon enough. He won't let her get away again.

#corripere #v: come to burn your kingdom down #fin #just wanted to add a lil finishing bit on xD

Because I'm weak and because I think Scabior and Greyback rely so strongly on each other as characters, I'm going to sort of trial writing Greyback on this blog as well. I'll never introduce him to a thread without checking with you first, and I don't know that I'll necessarily write him independent of Scabior (or not on this blog at least) but just know that he's there and he has a fc and is available for all your animalistic beast needs.

#ooc #oops

----ah, crap. Just accidentally discovered that I love writing Greyback, and it's all eastxrnsea's fault.

#ooc #what if I wrote greyback sometimes too tho #w h a t if

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