Howling Wolf

[Sideblog to LoneCaboose] [Agent maine RP Blog.] A wolf, alone Weak of the heart, Strong of the bone. Lost to chaos, The ocean, the seas A howling beast They all could see. [ Chaos is nature for which we atone. ]

[captainwavsy]

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The Charlie Daniels Band - The Devil Went Down To Georgia

[deactivated56778990-deactivated]

Forget about prince charming. Go for the wolf. He can see you better, hear you better and eat you better.

Wolf’s angel (via but-you-promisedx)

[weremagnus]

tonight was a scary dog kind of night

[lilaira]

Minions by =LiLaiRa

[riidaroku]

high kick…..NOPE!

[rpxmusings]

                  I  can’t  drown   my              D  E  M  O  N  S                  they know  how  to              S     W     I     M       

[thequeerwithoutfear-deactivated]

pick your battles. pick… pick fewer battles than that. put some battles back. that’s too many 

[ivoryfenrir-blog]

indxetime:

{    He sees the incoming punch, somehow already knows the power      stored behind it. Can feel it in his own arms, the might and      adrenaline, heart BEAT BEAT BEATING right along with the blows      to his helmet. And god, he can already feel the beginnings of a      splitting headache, fuck. Those are the worst, he thinks. Can’t      fight them with simple medicines and sleep doesn’t come easy.

     There’s a crack in his visor. He can see it. A large spiderweb      fracture, large enough that, for one brief moment, he wondered      if the glass would shatter. Voice, sight, what next? Shoved      aside that concern and pushed on; he’s got a fight to win, a      point to prove.

     One hand still latched onto the other’s armor, stubborn, refusing      to let go. The other pressing against the cool metal of his pistol      and he raised it up to the other’s shoulder, on the right, non lethal.      Pulled the trigger thrice, rapid fire, BAM BAM BAM. Felt the      power ricochet in his chest and SNARLED, shoving hard at the      other man both with pistol and hand, backing him up against the      wall. Pushed down on his shoulders, aiming to force him to his      knees. He can take this fucker down from there, the deep reverb      of his growls almost as powerful as the gunshots, sharp and loud.      He’s done playing around.    }

You’re surprised and yet not by the sudden ringing of gunshot. By the feeling of white-hot liquid pain radiating out from your arm. The teeth of wolves gnawing away at your flesh, compounding and pounding against you.

(     It’s bad, but not the worst you’ve felt.)

What doesn’t surprise you is the meeting of your white armored back against the wall. Are you afraid? Is it buried beneath the anger? This is it, beast. you can die here like a dog, or keep fighting. (     Like you always do.)

But, Agent Maine, we have unfinished business. You can’t die here.

Fall silent and grab for the other’s gun with your uninjured arm. Push up, against the downward force, resist like bedrock against a river. Hold the barrel and twist it. (Up, away from you, bending back the thumb.) Wade through the anger and pain, as is normal for you, and come out on top.

[wickedwitchgreen]

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Hold my hand Ooh, baby, it’s a long way down to the bottom of the river Hold my hand, Ooh, baby, it’s a long way down, a long way down

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

—Yes. And violently? —Violently.

William Brewer, from Voices As Of Lions Coming Down (via fairywasteland)

[byrackaa]

[bitesizedpoetry]

this time it was the girl i found, not the wolf, staring down at me when i woke drenched in sweat. she’s not as little anymore and her cloak’s less freshly-drawn-blood red, more like dried blood under chipped fingernails. somehow she still looks innocent. but her eyes were glazed with this thin film of memory that plays itself again and again like a song you couldn’t get off your head. but this memory - it’s not a nice song. because it’s the same song that played during your grandmother’s funeral and it’s sad because there wasn’t even anything left for you to bury. it’s sad because the wolf’s still out there but somehow he’s also inside you and he’s howling at the moon again and again. you ask: how do i protect the thing that could swallow me whole?

MJL, Ridinghood: Remember Her? (via mimickingmaelstroms)

[diegokisses]

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Mystery Skulls-Ghost

[ivoryfenrir-blog]

indxetime:

{    The growls intensify, double back on themselves and surge onward sounding      ferocious. A warning, a threat, turned to an active display of aggression.      Changed his posture with this intruder, hackles rising, preparing for a fight.

                     ( THIS PLACE IS NOT HIS. YOU HAVE LAID                        CLAIM TO THIS ROOM, TAKE IT BACK. RIP                        IT FROM HIS THIEVING CLAWS AND PUT                        AN END TO THIS CHARADE. )

     The other soldier is close enough now. He abandons his pistol and lashes      out with a snarl, fingers digging in under the top of the other’s chest plate      and yanked hard. Twisted out of the way, aiming to drag him out of the lion’s      den, the place that OBVIOUSLY didn’t belong to this IMPOSTER.    }

It became physical more quickly than you’d thought it would. You’re suddenly moved out, into the hallway, contact made to your chestplate-- One of those fists you made grabs the other by the wrist. The other pulls back. Oh well. We both know you’d fight anyone, even yourself. Your fist is trained like a hydraulic piston, and feels like how one would feel making contact. Three quick punches to the other’s golden dome of a helmet, not completely aiming to smash it in; but that would be satisfying. Wonder how the fake’s face will look when he realizes he’s messing with the wrong freelancer...

No, the wrong SPARTAN.

Each time your fist makes contact, snarl. A lone wolf doesn’t live this long without protecting his. Without being on the offensive. Without being brutal.

[ivoryfenrir-blog]

yeah, shes just gonna curl up on him. its not like he's doing anything important right now, right? and after that hellish mission, she kinda wants to not focus on anything but her friend.

Ah, You accept her into your arms, wrapping them around her. Gently, now; she’s had a long day. Let loose a low rumble, and run your fingers distractedly through her hair.

You’re glad she’s open with affection, it counteracts your inability to- to understand how it works. It’s good to have non-SPARTAN friends. it’s easier to learn how to act human.    (     And in your case, Maine, it really is all acting.)

[lettersto-savemyself]

[naturalpalettes]

Photos by David Yoo