Lone Wolf

Fenrir Greyback.

[gryfinbell-deactivated20180715]

The last week of summer was always something to be relished. Daisy planned to make the best of it despite the world’s current climate. No way was she going to sit at home and wait for time to pass by at her family’s town house in London, stewing in her parents’ paranoia. Thankfully, today they’d been off to Diagon Alley to gather supplies for her final year - which meant there would be plenty of time to slip off. In theory, at least, as the day dwindled on, she saw not a single window that would allow her to escape. Not one to throw in the towel so easily, just as her mum was muttering the words on heading home, her eyes flickered towards the first lone soul she saw. “Wait! I think I see someone over there. I need to say hi.” Not waiting for any sort of go ahead, the redhead dashed over, leaning in a whispered, “Act natural.” before clearing her throat and continuing much more loudly. “How long has it been since I’ve seen… you? I can’t believe this! How’ve you been? I want to hear everything.”

[fcnrirgreyback-blog]

Fenrir was not one to usually find himself in awkward situations.

He found himself in interesting situations quite often, plenty of them to which the descriptor “sticky” might be accurate, but not awkward. He just wasn’t an awkward person and awkward people often avoided him -- probably because of the fangs and eyebrows and the fact on a whole he looked more like he’d eat you if there was a lull in the conversation.

Despite of all of this, he managed to find himself in one of them as a girl -- certainly no woman -- bound up to him, acting as if they were friends, clearly trying to fool whoever she was with despite the fact he was double her age most likely and certainly someone as innocent looking would find themselves associating with. He played along though, never one to be called a bad sport.

“It’s been too long,” he said, smiling a close-lipped smile that didn’t reach his eyes. There was only so natural he could be in any human situation. “It’s good to see you too. I’m fine but what about you?”

[fcnrirgreyback-blog]

“Sorry, fresh out of sweet forgiveness.”

“Good thing I never asked to be forgiven.”

[moodilyalastor-blog]

“If that’s what you want to do….” Moody shrugged. He didn’t really care what Greyback did with his time so long as it was quiet and peaceable.

[fcnrirgreyback-blog]

“What else can I do?” he asked, the challenge clear in his tone and in his eyes. “Can I roam the moors? Can I go into town? Can I go to the bar? Can I drink? Can I bring a lady home for the evening? Can I piss in the Trafalgar Square Fountains?”

[dreamymiina]

Mina chuckled with him, unsure if he was serious or if he was just joking. So far he didn’t seem either cruel nor sadistic. He may have served her that shit, but it wasn’t like he’d forced it down her throat. “Maybe,” she mumbled, before she gulped down mouthfuls of water. “That I can understand, but do you like that? I mean, come on, you can’t be serious. It tasted like – like.. worse than pee, and I haven’t even tasted that.” To be honest, Mina hadn’t tasted a lot, not lately anyways. During her Hogwarts years she was more willing to try out new things. Now she hardly drank anything she wasn’t sure she liked. “If you’re planning on surprising other girls, I wouldn’t suggest serving them that nasty stuff,” she said with a grimace.

[fcnrirgreyback-blog]

“It’s good for a bit of a pep... or a dare, usually given by myself when I’m bored,” he said, giving a small chuckle. He leaned back in his seat, confidence oozing from his form as he watched Mina -- watched how her throat bobbed as she gulped mouthfuls after mouthful of water. His gaze was predatory, his half-wolf mind thinking of the way her flesh would feel between his teeth. Not that she needed to know that. “Neither have I -- pee, that is. I don’t mind getting dirty nor kinky but that’s just not for me.” He laughed, nodding his head in acquisition; “noted. What should I surprise them with though? I’m not a flowers and chocolates sort of man.” 

[fcnrirgreyback-blog]

“You’re just as sane as I am.”

“You must not be very sane then.”

[casually-furious-blog]

Lucinda grinned back at him, but turned to survey the rest of the bar patrons, particularly the females.. “True,” she agreed. “Wouldn’t want to miss out on all the beautiful women.”

[fcnrirgreyback-blog]

Fenrir’s grin in the moment was more than a little laviscious, his attention torn between Lucinda and the other patrons. “Always good to see someone who can appreciate the artwork that is a woman,” he said, tilting his mug to her in a joking sort of cheer.

[casually-furious-blog]

then the walls came crumbling down--OPEN

[casually-furious-blog]

She let out a scream that she bit back into a yelp, that she smothered by biting her lip when the hand closed around her arm.  It’s not that she didn’t want to make a scene, but she didn’t want the other person to know how fucking scared she was. The fear that was coursing through her veins, encouraging the flight response.  She had no concept of where she was going, not now that she realized Emma wasn’t there, likely wouldn’t be. She just needed to get away. She needed to hide, to cry, to scream, to rail, to find somewhere safe to curl up and just sleep away this nightmare until she could wake up and find everything back to normal.

She whipped around, eyes wild, her wand out. She was taking no chances, not now. And the person had better fucking watch out because in her current state, the only curses that came to mind were bad ones, dark ones.  To hell with the Statute of Secrecy, too. If she was being attacked, she was not going quietly. She was not going to worry about any Muggles nearby. She would go kicking and screaming and fighting. Because she had done nothing wrong and now she was being punished.

“Let me go!” she shrieked, using the momentum of her turn to try to tug her arm out of the other person’s grasp. The words were an order, a cry, a plea, all in one.

[fcnrirgreyback-blog]

Maybe people stopped to watch and stare, to wonder what was going on. Maybe some worried if they should intervene as the scream -- that oh so pretty, melodic scream -- ripped it’s way from Lucinda. People were cowards though. Cowards, every single fucking one of them; they might stop to stare but they’d never muster the courage to intervene. It was what he was banking one and it panned out well for him.

She tugged her arm from his grasp -- stronger than she looked, he noted -- and had her wand aimed straight at him. This was not the first time he’d been in a similar situation, nor would it be the last he was certain. He gave her a grin, all glimmering fangs and arrogance.

“My apologies,” he spoke, but oh how god they sounded so fake -- so fake she had to know, even if she didn’t already recognize him, “but you seem so distressed.”

[alvinsevile]

Send me a Ship and I’ll Break Them DOWN

How did they they meet?

Who developed romantic feelings first?

Who is their biggest “shipper?”

When did they have their first kiss and under what circumstances?

Who confessed their feelings first?

What was their first official date?

How do they feel about double dates/group dates?

What do they do in their down time?

What was the first meeting of parents as an official couple like?

What was their first fight over and how did they get past it?

Which one is more easily made jealous?

What is their favourite thing to get to eat?

Who’s the cuddly one? What their favourite cuddling position?

Are they hand holders?

How long do they wait before sleeping together for the first time? What’s the circumstances?

Who tops?

What’s the worst first they’ve ever gotten into?

Who does the shopping and the cooking?

Which one is more organized and prone to tidiness?

Who proposes?

Do they have joined Bachelor/Bacheloette parties or separate?

Who is the best man/maid of honour? Any other groomsmen or bridesmaids?

Big Ceremony or Small?

Do they have a honeymoon? If so, where?  

Do they have children? How many?

[fcnrirgreyback-blog]

“You’re just as sane as I am.”

“You must not be very sane then.”

[casually-furious-blog]

“Must make finding pleasant conversation and company quite a trial,” Lucinda mused. “Almost easier to just take the booze back to your place and have done with it.”

[fcnrirgreyback-blog]

“Ah, but taking the booze home means I miss out on all the beautiful women,” he countered, his lips curling in a lecherous grin. 

[fcnrirgreyback-blog]

”What makes you think that I’m so special?”

“I don’t. I think you’re a little girl with an over-inflated ego.”

[emma-a-vanity-blog]

Emma glared and pulled her hand back, the movement probably not even noticeable in his steel grip. “Call me whatever you want but violence isn’t an act of revolution. It puts people’s lives in danger. It makes casualties of people who don’t want to be involved!” she wanted to get right in his face but was too short, the most she manged was to get on her toes and as close to in his face as she could. 

“And I would rather be naive than a brute!”

[fcnrirgreyback-blog]

“What is an act of revolution then?” he asked, his voice as steely as his grip. His gaze was hard and intense as he glared down at the girl -- for she was a girl, that was the only way to describe her. Or a chihuahua -- that was what her anger, her posturing, reminded him of.

“The world doesn’t change because of pretty words. It changes because of force and force is just another synonym for violence,” he spat. “And change is worth for more than a life. If you wish to be naive, fine -- let’s see how the works out for you in the end.”

[fcnrirgreyback-blog]

“Sorry, fresh out of sweet forgiveness.”

“Good thing I never asked to be forgiven.”

[moodilyalastor-blog]

“Good. Glad to hear it. I intend to make sure you stay that way.” Let it be said that Moody was keeping an eye on the werewolf for his sake rather than for the sake of everyone else.

[fcnrirgreyback-blog]

Fenrir knew better than to think Moody was here out of any sort of honorable or respectable reason. If the hostility in there air wasn’t enough of a dead giveaway, Fenrir never trusted anyone to have good reasons. “And what would I get up to? Planting exotic flowers in my garden?”

[thedruellablack-blog]

Druella let herself smile a little and tilt her head in agreement. He had a point. “Then I am right in assuming that mine are not the first you’ve set your eyes on,” she responded, not wanting to feel as though she’s scarred the boy. He wasn’t exactly a boy, but he was still far younger than Druella was.

[fcnrirgreyback-blog]

Fenrir couldn’t hold back the snort the bubbled up in his throat even if he’d been the type to try. To think of him as someone who’d never laid eyes on woman -- there wasn’t an alternate universe in which that would ever be true as far as Fenrir was concerned. Still he answered her, his lips curled in a smirk; “not at all.”

[dreamymiina]

The brunette arched her brows, still grimacing and making sounds. “The worst drink in the world? And you gave it to me? Wha’ts wrong with you? Merlin, I said I was no fan of alcohol, and you give me this–” She raised the glass towards him, disgusted, both by the liquid and him. Not  because of his looks of course, because the man looked rather good, but his actions. What was he thinking, serving that crap to a poor girl like her? “Please give me something else. I don’t want to go around sticking my tongue out all day. Why do you even have this?”

[fcnrirgreyback-blog]

Fenrir chuckled at her reaction. “Because I’m cruel and sadistic,” he responded, his tone light and playful as he grabbed a chilled bottle of water and filled her glass with it. “And because you’d beg for mercy.” He shrugged his shoulders at her question; “I like to drink,” was his answer, as if that was a good answer for having one of the most bitter alcohols in the world in his collection, and as if it was a good reason to give it to a woman. 

[casually-furious-blog]

then the walls came crumbling down--OPEN

She awoke to a rough sandpapery tongue on her cheek and a pounding in her head.  Opening bleary eyes, Lucinda sat up and almost passed out again. She didn’t know what had happened, other than that she had walked in the door to her house and then been hit over the head.

Heart pounding—because it wasn’t as if getting knocked over the head when walking into your own house ever lead to anything good—Lucinda picked up her black cat, cradling her in her arms, relieved at least that she was safe, and looked around.  The house was a mess. A lamp was on the floor, broken, cushions from the couch had been slashed, papers were thrown everywhere, and there was glass, so much glass.  

Unsteadily, Lucinda tried to get to her feet and almost slipped. Looking down, she realized she had been lying in a pool of blood.

Lucinda put a hand to her mouth fighting the sudden urge to retch. She didn’t feel as if she had been injured. Didn’t feel as if the blood could be hers.  Tentative fingers slid up her scalp to the back of her head to check. A headache, but no open wound.

The blood wasn’t hers.

“Mum?” Lucinda called out, her voice coming out hoarse at first. She coughed and tired again. “Mum?  Da?”

The silence echoed back at her, mocking.  The house was deadly still. And that’s what she was afraid of.  

Tetu squirmed in her arms and Lucinda put her down. Immediately, she missed the comforting weight of the cat against her chest. She wrapped her arms around her waist.

Tick tock, tick tock.  

She passed the grandfather clock in the hall which was strangely undamaged.  

The kitchen was filled with more destruction.  Food and glass mixed on the floor. All of the cupboards stood open, and now empty. Drawers were pulled out, their contents thrown everywhere.

Lucinda shivered. Whoever had been here had been mad.

“Da? Mum?” Lucinda tried again. She didn’t know if they were here. She half hoped they were and half hoped they were not.  But she was preparing herself to find them either way. Dead or alive.

Someone must have found out about Lucinda’s mother. That was the only explanation she could think of for this.  Not that it had been some great secret. Lucinda had just not advertised the fact. Not been open about it. Older people in the Ministry had to know, so some of their children did too, right?

                                                                                  Wrong.

Lucinda’s hand was clenched so tightly together, she didn’t realize why it felt so strange. No wand. Patting herself down quickly, she found her wand where she had left it, tucked into the waistband of her pants. She pulled it out, fingers sliding against the familiar wood, seeking reassurance where there clearly was none.

She walked around the whole first floor until she came back to the front. And realized a message had been left for her.

                                       Dirty-blood.

              Liar.

Drag marks in the blood, and bloody footprints, leading out the door.

Lucinda’s heart felt like it was beating in her throat. She tried to swallow and couldn’t, tried to breathe and couldn’t.

Not wanting to believe that it was true, she ran up the stairs, searching through the rooms there. Knowing she’d find nothing except for more destruction.

As she ran towards her own room, she caught sight of herself in the hall mirror. She had blood all along one side of her body, dried now.  Palms stained red. Splatter on her cheek. Hair sticky with it. Eyes wide in a pale face.

Lucinda stared at her reflection and forced herself to breathe. Breathe.  

She walked into her room and was caught off guard. Everything in here was pristine, perfect. Except for her broomstick lying broken in two on the floor.

At the sight, Lucinda choked back a sob, dropping to her knees.  This, this was what undid her. Made her realize this was targeted. She had known it was before, but this just drove it home. And suddenly Lucinda couldn’t bear to be in this house for one second longer.

Jumping to her feet, Lucinda clattered down the stairs.  

“Tetu!” she called, relieved when the cat came unhurriedly to her side. Using her wand, Lucinda cast a sleeping spell on the cat to make her easier to transport. Where she was going she had no idea. Except….

“Emma.”

Tetu clasped to her chest, Lucinda ran out the door. She was in no state of mind to Apparate but she did it anyway. What was getting Splinched after all? After all this?

Lucinda’s feet slapped pavement, almost slipping on the wet cobblestones as she ran towards Emma’s.  Numb hands banged on the other girl’s door. “Emma!” she cried.  “Emma, it’s me, let me in!”  

She didn’t know why she was at the door of her friend, hadn’t seen her in weeks. Not since—well since the last time she saw her. Emma hadn’t been home in weeks, and Lucinda ought to know. She had practically haunted the place.

                 Yesterday, all Lucinda had to worry about was where her best friend            had gone. Why she wasn’t speaking to her. What the fuck she was doing.

Today, there was so much more.

Lucinda pounded on the door, knowing it was no use.  Crying, screaming her friend’s name until she realized that she was drawing attention to herself, that if people were looking for her, she was making it pretty obvious where she was.

Her mouth snapped shut and, still holding her cat’s sleeping body, she turned away from the door as quickly as if she had been slapped.

She hurried back into the street, and just started running, running. Because she didn’t know where to go or what to do. She was lost and alone.

[fcnrirgreyback-blog]

Red.

Fenrir’s world had always been red -- it started that way as all children’s world’s did, expelled from the womb, screaming and crying, coated in the blood of their mother. It was red when one were born, red on you, red in you eyes, red dripping from you. It was also chaos when one was born, and chaos was the law of his world.

It was red and chaotic when he was born. It was red and chaotic when he was bitten. It was red and chaotic when he first turned. It was red and chaotic growing up. It was red and chaotic when he first killed.

It was always red and chaotic.

No, he was always red and chaotic.

He knew this. He knew that, objectively, this was bad -- he’d been told, in no uncertain terms, this before, sometimes politely, sometimes aggressively, sometimes with someone’s last breaths, and sometimes spat at him like a curse. He didn’t care though. No, that was wrong too -- he didn’t not care, he reveled in it.

Fenrir reveled in the chaos -- in the blood and smoke and sulfur, in the destruction and mayhem and pain. He wore it like a crown -- he was the king of hell on earth, sweeping in like Alexander and bringing down all in his path. 

Those around him knew this too, and they used it to their advantage. He was the attack dog -- the snarling, rabid beast they let off its chain when they wanted to instill fear. He was the muscle, brawn, brute -- whatever you wanted to call it, he certainly wasn’t the brains of any operation. He was intelligent enough -- knew how to slide his way out of any tight situation he got into -- but his bulk and his glower and his bruised fists were fighting, not for debating.

Today was just another example of this.

Lucinda Talkalot. Not so pure as she led everyone to believe -- another dirty blood or whatever the Death Eaters cared about. Unimportant to him (all that mattered was if they were human or not) but important to them. It was a mark of qualification -- a bar set to pass -- and Lucinda failed. For that, they got their revenge. It had been bloody -- red and crimson, sticky and smelling of iron -- and for that he’d been dragged along. But he’d been left too (not at the scene of the crime, no, but where she was to go -- where they expected her to go). Left to intimidate -- to scare.

As expected, she appeared -- banged on the door of her friend’s home and received no answer. She was panicking -- there was fear in her eyes, in her form. So cliche, so expected. (But then, not everyone was as psychopathic as him.)

Fenrir watched from around a corner, tucked just out of sight, as she made a scene. Screamed and shouted, begged and pleaded. He watched, waited, and then followed her as she left. 

She ran and he ran after her. Maybe it looked like two lover’s after a spat, or a concerned person chasing a trouble one, or something like that but oh was that not the case. This was the chase -- the hunt. She was prey and he was wolf. He was the sharp-eyed predator and she was the bounding, unaware rabbit. 

Unaware until his fingers -- his claws -- wrapped around her arm.

[fcnrirgreyback-blog]

Do you believe in forgiveness? Or do you hold grudges?

You’re asking me if I hold grudges? Are you an idiot?

[fcnrirgreyback-blog]

OOC- opinion on chipotle?

They put Taco Del Mar out of business -- unforgivable. (Also tastless :P)

[riddlesregime-ops]

Memes

Send ‘a moment of weakness’

and the generated outcome will be used for a small drabble scenario or starter. { tw violence, possible noncon/dubcon implications, nsfw }

Your muse is emotionally compromised and breaking down.

My muse is emotionally compromised and breaking down.

Your muse is smashed drunk and incoherent.

My muse is completely drunk and incoherent.

Your muse is tied up (how and why is up to the mun)

My muse is all tied up (how and why is up to the mun)

Your muse is surrounded by thugs up to no good and mine happens to pass by.

My muse is surrounded by thugs up to no good and yours happens upon this.

Your muse is having a vivid nightmare and is shouting out brokenly.

My muse is having a vivid nightmare and is crying out in their sleep.

Your muse has been drugged with a aphrodisiac and is out of it, needing release.

My muse has been drugged with a aphrodisiac and is in a haze, needing release.

Your muse is being beat up by mine, something your muse did must of been the last straw.

My muse is being beat up by yours, something they did must of been the last straw.

Your muse is being kept hostage and mine has just rescued them.

My muse is kidnapped and yours has just rescued them.

Your muse has been beaten badly and is in bad shape, mine happens to find them.

My muse is been beaten badly and is in bad shape, yours finds mine in this state.

Your muse falls very ill and continues activities even if they seem on the verge of passing out.

My muse is sick and continues daily routine even though they seem on the verge of passing out.

Your muse is in a frightened or nervous state (why is up to the mun)

My muse is in a frightened or nervous state (why is up to the mun)

Your muse is being punished by mine.

My muse is being punished by yours.

Your muse is temporarily blind.

My muse is temporarily blind.

Your muse has suddenly sprained an ankle and can’t walk.

My muse has suddenly sprained an ankle and can’t walk.

Your muse has blackmail over mine.

My muse has blackmail over yours.

Your muse catches mine naked.

My muse catches yours naked.

Mun chooses.

[dreamymiina]

Mina swallowed the liquid. It was too late to spit it out. Besides, she would rather not clean the table, the floor or her sweater afterwards. She grimaced, sticking her tongue out as if that would get rid of the horrible taste.

“What in Merlin’s name did you just give me?”

[fcnrirgreyback-blog]

Fenrir watched with amusement as the woman in front of he tossed back the drink he’d offered her, dared her into drinking. He saw the way her face scrunched up and barely contained his laughter.

“It’s called Fernet. It’s Italian -- some even say it’s the worst drink in the world, but clearly they’ve never had kumis.”

[fcnrirgreyback-blog]

“That was nosier than I thought it would be.”

“Oh, did I hurt your precious eardrums? My apologies ma’am.”

[ems-vance-deactivated20181031]

Emmeline’s eyes lit up a bit as Fenrir began to describe the fairy tales. They sounded interesting- more interesting than any story she’d been read in her youth. “Well that does sound interesting. I’ll definitely have to ask Lily to read me some of the more gruesome ones then… unless you’d rather?”

[fcnrirgreyback-blog]

“They’re quite interesting,” he said, a lascivious grin spreading across his lips. “I’d be more than happy to share them with such a beautiful woman.”