[ti]6[/ti] ( she was struck down !

IT WAS HER DOOM

S

omewhere deep in the woods, a monster lurks. In the sleepy town right off the corner of an exit ramp, nothing too exciting happens. Joe marries Lana just like everyone expected. Carla moved to the big city; no one expected her to survive in a place so small and void. 

It's the sudden snarling in the middle of the night that has everyone so confused. 

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[attr="class","lost1"]never did i think that i

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[attr="class","dying1"]

[attr="class","mouths1"]RIP ILL BRB

AHHHhHh

[attr="class","lying1"]COULD BE CAUGHT IN THE WAY YOU CAUGHT ME

ulla

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Dylan white

29 / biker / werewolf / het / huge black wolf w/ green eyes


Dylan was born to a Native American mother and a Caucasian father. His father left when he was three, forcing his mother to fend for herself. When he was old enough to own his first motorcycle, Dylan got swept up in more than he bargained for. He became a Wolf - a member of the most notorious, dangerous biker crew in the nation. They became family to him and his mother. They provided the two of them with more than he could have ever hoped. But their loyalty and their money come with a price. The Wolves are not just a gang, but a pack of shapeshifters able to take the form of a beast. In order to pass initiation, Dylan had to became one of those beasts. Since that night, he has risen the ranks and now he leads his pack with tooth and claw. No one is faster or stronger. No one has more blood on his hands than Dylan White. And to this day, he has told not a single soul about what happened the night of his initiation. If he did, they would run from him and never look back.

TEMPLATE BY ELIZA @ BOTE & THQ

WE'VE BEEN THIS FAR
WHY NOT A LITTLE FURTHER

He loved the stars. The way they glittered across the midnight sky and flickered like billions of candle flames. Stars were smart, too. They stayed far, far away from this wretched world. Humanity slaughtered, maimed, and destroyed everything beautiful. If it had the chance, it would capture the stars and murder them just as surely as it does its own mother earth. There was just one problem that the russet-skinned man faced when it came to the distance lights.

Never could he find the Big Dipper constellation. It eluded him like a dream, always within reach yet too slippery to be captured. He would spend hours on the roof of his house with his hands behind his head and his ankles crossed. His eyes remained trained on the sky above while one hand poised over the cooler of beer he sometimes brought. The roof was still warm from the heat of the passing day, but the night wind was cool. It prevented him from sweating the patches off the leather cut that he donned each morning. It toyed with the dark locks of his unruly hair and carried the scents of his hometown on its back.

"Yo, Dylan!"

Interrupted. Again.

With a grumble, Dylan lifted himself to his feet. He walked to the edge of the roof and peered down at the man that had summoned him. He didn't fear tumbling over into the roses his mother had insisted on planting beneath his windows. Only a human had reason to be afraid of losing their balance.

"What do you want?" he demanded. His voice was low and deep. It resonated in the bones of all that heard it.

The man jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, saying, "We're all gonna grab a bite at the bar. Wanna go?"

He opened his mouth to argue, but then his stomach rumbled with hunger. His eyes flashed in the moonlight. The beast within was growling, commanding him to feed it, so who was he to turn down an offer such as this? A greasy cheeseburger sounded heavenly. So he told his subordinate to wait for him at the end of the driveway as he sprang from the roof onto the ground with all the ease of a practiced gymnast. The burly brute sauntered toward his garage where his pride and joy resided. Excitement tingled in his chest as he drew closer to the large metal door. A moment later he'd swung it open to reveal the love of his life - a large Harley Davidson coated in black paint that gleamed even in the shadows.

"Evenin', Delilah," Dylan murmured to her, brushing his fingertips along her handlebars. "Wanna go for a ride?"

He flung one long, muscular leg over the seat, adjusted himself against her tank, and then put the key in the ignition. Delilah revved right up. Vibrations sent chills throughout his body and birthed a broad grin across his lips as Dylan walked her to the end of the drive where his subordinate waited. The two exchanged brief nods before Dylan twisted the throttle and was sent flying onto the road that would take them from his home to the bar across town.

The ride was swift. It always was. He couldn't seem to find a stretch of highway that was long enough to satisfy his hunger for the open road. Before long he was parked and walking into the dive to meet with his pack.

His senses were assaulted by the violent scents and sounds of the bar. Cigarette smoke attacked his nostrils while the blaring neon signs above the taps burned his eyes. As a werewolf, Dylan was particularly sensitive to such things. He did his best to ignore them, however, as he joined his brothers at their usual table. He was greeted with slaps on the back and affectionate swears. As the beer and the burgers were passed around, the alpha leaned back in his chair and smiled.

This was his family. These were his people. He was home.

"So how's Delilah?" one of the older members of the Wolves MC wondered. He had foam on his beard and a shred of pepperoni in his teeth.

"As good as ever," replied Dylan. "She's gonna need a tuneup soon. Mind if I bring her by the shop?"

"It'd be an honor."

"Yeah right. You just wanna charge him for a buncha extra shit and fatten your check," someone else said much to the amusement of the others.

"I'm gonna fatten your lip if you don't shut up, runt," growled the old man.

"Oh, I'm just tinkling in fear."

Uproarious laughter filled the bar. The other patrons either laughed with them, or left the building altogether. No one dared to sneer or snark at the Wolves' antics. Their reputation for bloodshed was legendary in these parts. Only three people could quiet them - the owner of the dive, Dylan himself, and Dylan's mother, Rose, who had virtually adopted the group and called them her children no matter their age.

Dylan took a swig of his beer and got up from the table. He wandered over to the old jukebox the owner had never managed to sell. It was outdated and most of the buttons didn't work, but on good nights sometimes his favorite song would be playable. So he put in a couple of coins and leaned on the button. There was a hiss of static and the whirring of gears before music began to pour through the dusty speakers. The live band had taken a break and there was no DJ, so this was all they had in regards to entertainment for the time being. Dylan smiled again to himself, but it was gone when turned he toward the dance floor.

Several couples got up to dance across the polished hardwood. A few of his guys brought their old ladies for a swing. Dylan took another deep drink of his beer. The familiar fingers of loneliness wrapped around his heart and clouded his mood. He was a wolf, but figuratively and literally. His kind was not meant to be alone, yet here he was - a lonesome alpha male with no alpha female at his side.

Oh well.

He still had Delilah.

MADE BY ★MEULK

so baby come bind me up

& maybe i'll let you on it

If one more man touched her ass that evening, she’d light the whole bar on fire and watch it burn.


It wasn’t an unusual night by any means. Every bar in town had the same grubby men, same grubby words; no matter where she slapped her resume, there was no escaping the dust-mites that liked to flock at her tables. Bella had been a waitress for years – there hadn’t been much else for her to do when her schooling ended at a ripe sixteen years of age. She tried her hand at retail, but one bloody-knuckle and encounter with a Taser later, Isabella Mathias decided she was meant for nothing but scuttling along the rims of drunk bar-goers’ drafts. It was by no means a glamorous job – nor did she fully admit she made her wages solely on her oh-so-innocent job. If her boss (he aging grandfather) didn’t remind her every evening when her shift began how lucky she was that he let her through the doors, she may have had the audacity to believe she deserved more than cigar smoke and the occasional slap on her ass by some stranger with a pedo-stache.


Truth was, Bella would have loved to complain; to find a reason to walk away and never look over her shoulder once. Underneath that truth, however, slept reality. If you made any sudden moves, reality would bite; and Reality’s teeth are sharp.


Her wrist did some phantasmal tricks, bending at awkward angles as she sailed through the thick of the crowded bar. She twisted herself along the drunk men and women groping one another like rabbits in a two inch cage. By some miracle, not a single drop of the beer glasses angled just right on her tray escaped its glass. Her presence was never noticed when she deposited the goods to the five men with jagged teeth and leather jackets that smelled sharply of a drug harder than simple marijuana. Once upon a time the scent may have made her sick – but not anymore. She tucked her tray under her arm and glided through the thick of the grinding beasts, ducking into the steamy pit wreaking of grease and stale bread. Out of habit she ducked beneath an arm that religiously shot outward. The cook wailed in a foreign language at the only other man aiding the production of food clear on the other side of the cluttered space. She’d learned enough from their conversations to know someone was called an asshole (or maybe someone’s mother? Either was just as likely). Bella jerked herself out of the way of the only other waitress as she made a B-line for the cook line, slamming a new order onto a hook. Bella pursed her lips. She’d torn damn near half the paper in her haste. There was no way it would be legible.


“I’m fucking out of here,” the blonde snapped, whirling on the bewildered woman to her right. “You tell your granddaddy right where he can kiss my freckled ass.” Patricia viciously tore her apron free, sending all of her pens and paper pads flying across the slick floor. She started to throw it out, but in a last minute flick of her wrist, the apron was tossed at Bella’s face. She tore it free, revealing a face drenched with a thousand shades of rage and disbelief.


“You’re walking out in the middle of a shift? On a weekend? You can’t keep doing this every time you don’t get tipped more than two bucks, Patricia. People are dicks, but you don’t have to take it out on us.” She approached the blonde, but the way she squared her jaw at Bella’s approach left her at a stand-still. Her shoulders slacked. There would be no changing Patricia’s mind tonight. Maybe she could get through to her later – she was easy to convince when she was plastered. Left to standby in her dismay, Bella took one sidestep in order to clear a path for Patricia while she stormed past and out of the now rather silent kitchen. The dish boy popped his head from around his little corner of hell, one brow raised on his acne riddled face.


“She walk out again?” he squeaked.


She looked at him over her shoulder. “No, Carl. She just told me how much she loved me – in fact, so much so, she wants to take me out to dinner tonight.”


Carl’s face fell faster than a pug down a hill. “But… I thought we were going out sometime.”


Bella’s face grew void of any and all signs she was in fact, a feeling human being. She turned on her heels, marched back outside and collected Patricia’s discarded notepad. She could barely read what any of the orders were – her hand writing was terrible. Still, as Bella made a sweep around, she was able to gather as much as she could by eye sight. The couple in the corner had already gotten their food. They’d be ready for their cheek soon. The man in the far right lusted after the woman dancing by her lonesome in the center of the dance floor; she had a different guy in that corner every other Saturday. Bella felt like she’d seen that one at least three times by now. Persistent bastard, that one. Mr. Lowe, from down the road, waiting patiently for his beer – God only knew how long the poor man had been there. She started off toward him, her fists clenching around the note pad, when a brief flicker of movement caught her attention. She twisted her head around, her eyes landing on the back of a very tall, very burly man. She blinked, cocking her head. Had she served him yet?


She began her approach giving a swift flip through of both of her books. Neither of them had taken his order – but somehow he’d ended up with a glass. Her grandfather must have taken care of it – or yelled at Patricia to do it. Frowning, Bella stepped around the small step that carried into the back of the bar, gliding to a stop in front him. She looked through a curtain of red, not bothering to move her hair out of her way. She’d lost her ponytail hours ago – there was no use in fighting it in such a packed place. It always fell everywhere no matter what she did. She opened her mouth to speak to him, but when he glanced her way, she was caught off-guard.


His eyes were the shade of precious jade, his skin the color of tender kisses from the star they orbited. She leaned back on her heels, breathing in every strand that was this strange man before her. He didn’t belong in such a piss pour town like this. Her eyes were torn away by a flicker of gold and dark – two men, lingering behind this oddity had taken to staring to the both of them. She didn’t like the look on the blonde’s face. Too many men had looked at her that way before. She glared at them, then returned her newly pinched stare to this man peering at her through a cascade of obsidian.


“You doing okay?” She asked him, folding her hands in front of her on the tabletop. “Anything I can get you aside from a hair cut?”

@dylan @luke @quinn

CODED BY REM OF WW

WE'VE BEEN THIS FAR
WHY NOT A LITTLE FURTHER

At first he wasn't aware of the eyes piercing him from the table or the feminine voice that rang clear as day despite the music that floated through the room like a lonely specter. But when it dawned on him that someone had indeed spoken to him, Dylan shifted his attention from the dance floor to the tall woman standing to his right. A shock of red hair fell to frame her face, which was dominated by a pair of irises that burned with a fire he hadn't seen before. It ignited the smallest flame inside of his chest, though he was not yet aware of it. He was struck by her beauty, of course,
but it was something else that rendered him silent. What was it? He could tell by her scent - a generous perfume of cherry blossoms - that she was not wolf kind. However, the expression that lingered behind her gaze could have belonged to a she-wolf.

Her words repeated themselves in his mind and brought out a slow, lopsided grin on his face. The tip of one canine tooth poked out from beneath his upper lip. He could feel the stares of his best friends, Luke Carter and Quinn Martin, and yet he didn't care. They ceased to exist the moment he laid eyes on this alien creature.

"Hey, darlin. As much as I'd like to feel your hands in my hair - or anywhere else for that matter - I'd much rather just have a whiskey and coke," he said as he ran his fingers through the long locks of his mane. He pushed the hair away from his eyes so he could see her better. God she was ravishing.

Meanwhile, the tallest and leanest of the trio was still eyeballing the redhead from over Dylan's shoulder. Luke had a savage reputation with women. When he wasn't bound to one girl, he would go through them like water. His little black book was a six-inch binder filled to the brim with names and numbers. He was the Casanova Wolf - a beast whose heart had no protector. His pupils dilated with lust as he watched the server take his best friend's order. Those roaming eyes worked their way down her body just as slowly as his hands would if he were alone with her. He took his time in mentally undressing her. He envisioned a thousand ways he could take her and make her howl at the moon. If Dylan failed to mark his territory tonight, then Luke certainly would not.

Quinn on the other hand was the sweetest. For a biker and a werewolf, his soul was far kinder. The proof was in his smile. Burlier than Dylan, he was a massive brute that intimidated most men with his sheer size, but underneath it was a man of virtue who only revealed himself in the boyish smile he sometimes flashed. His expression was one of curiosity. Dylan didn't take an interest in human women, or women in general for much more than sexual favors. However, he could tell this was different. He had to admit himself that this newcomer was particularly interesting. When he noticed the look glinting in Luke's eyes, Quinn reached out and smacked him across the back of the head.

"What the shit was that for?" Luke hissed under his breath. He was careful to lower his voice.

"If you keep staring at women like that, you'll never find a mate," Quinn warned.

"Who says I want one?"

Quinn only shook his head in response, ordering two more whiskey and cokes.

Before this woman could leave to get their drinks, however, Dylan stopped her with a light touch to her elbow. When he brushed his fingers against her flesh, it was as if he was being shocked by a bolt of lightning. That tiny flame in his chest roared to life as a giant inferno. He gasped and took a step back. His eyes narrowed down at her. Who was this female that set him aflame? It perplexed him and when Dylan couldn't figure something out he got a bit frustrated.

"Who are you?" he demanded in a hushed voice. "Have we met before?"

MADE BY ★MEULK

so baby come bind me up

& maybe i'll let you on it

He seemed to dance on the edge of uncertainty for only a moment - then all of his caution flew out the window of a speeding freight train. A course, lopsided grin fell over his face and Bella could already feel the snark that was bound to litter his response to her simple question. She drew a long breath, releasing it through her nose with a hiss that would certainly go unheeded by this pompous biker. It was a shame really, how most of the men that flocked in and out of her workplace had the same gross tendencies and ideals - but it was, in the end, just another reason she absolutely hated this gloomy town. She drummed all five of her fingers across the counter top once, before she drew her notepad against her, allowing it to smack with a loud whack! against her chest.

"Sorry, sweetcheeks," she informed with a bitter smile. "I'm fresh out of head-pets. In any area of the body." She backed away, intent to serve this numbskull his drink and be done, but a hand fell to her elbow and she fell still.

Something odd crackled inside of her chest when his fingers brushed her elbow. It was a concoction of fire and ice - blinding and epiphanic in the same brief moment of time. She yanked herself free of his grasp in tune with his retreat, her hand falling over to smooth the afflicted skin this man had set on fire - or, it felt like he had anyway. She pursed her lips, watching as he stood, towering over her with big, looming shoulders that could hold the very weight of all the cruel things God thrust onto his shoulders. Overwhelmed by his very presence alone, Bella took a small step backward, narrowing peregrine eyes.

She had begun to wonder the very same thing. He felt so very familiar - as if she'd walked with him hand in hand, but nothing about this man could be recalled. She shook her head, forcing herself to make some sort of action so as to prevent herself from looking like a deer not only in headlights but struck by the entire fucking bus.

"I don't believe so," she stated in a voice too high to be natural. "I'll be right back with your drink." She turned on her heels, making abrupt, wide, steps to get herself away from this stranger. What the hell had happened there? Sure, he was fine - fine as hell, matter of fact - but something... otherworldly had occured at his touch. It made her uncomfortable; the crawling on your skin kind of uncomfortable. Shaking her head as she made a quick retreat, Bella passed the two boys behind the green-eyed mystery, flashing the blonde a daring look. She rolled to a rocky halt in front of the bar tabs, hastily beginning to fill the man's demands. She shorted him on his whiskey if only in spite. While the glass filled, she looked over her shoulder, sending daggers through the back of his head. A man like that needed more coca-cola than he did whiskey, that was for sure.

@dylan @luke @quinn

CODED BY REM OF WW

WE'VE BEEN THIS FAR
WHY NOT A LITTLE FURTHER

Dylan watched the waitress retreat with her silver eyes wide like she'd seen the wolf hidden beneath his flesh. He ran his tongue over his teeth to be sure they hadn't elongated while he was speaking with her. A nonchalant inspection of his reflection in the glass of his beer revealed no supernatural features had sprouted during their brief encounter. Perhaps she had felt it too, the fire that had raced through his system upon touching her. Had she? It was possible. Unless he had simply frightened her when he had leaned over her like some lumbering giant. He inhaled deeply.

Her fear mingled with the cherry blossom scent. It was delicious.

It didn't take her long to retrieve their drinks. He knew from the smell of them that she'd shorted him some of the alcohol those beverages normally contained. A sly, knowing grin touched his lips when she set the tray down. Luke and Quinn didn't hesitate to inhale theirs. How typical of them. His emerald irises flickered to her and as they did his grin widened.

"You look like you could use a break. My bike seats two," he murmured beneath the throbbing beat of the music that poured through the speakers that surrounded them. He knew he would have to leave soon to go on a run, but he didn't want to leave this stranger whose name he didn't even know. "But something tells me your boyfriend wouldn't like that very much." He nodded toward the acne-riddled teen eyeballing the two of them from the kitchen window. There was no way those two were an item. A woman of her caliber wouldn't find a boy like that attractive. He doubted she was cruel enough to hate him or pick on him, but something told the wolf that this female sought something else - maybe something he could provide for her.

"How long has the pup been sniffing after you?" he wondered as he tipped his drink back. Oh yeah. She'd stiffed him big time. He set the glass down and grinned that crooked smirk once more. His eyes remained trained on her face, but they didn't have to move for him to take her all in. He could see the curve of her neck and the slender frame of her waist. He could feel the warmth radiating from her body. His nostrils were flared with her fragrance. It was like she was consuming him.

"My name is Dylan, by the way. Dylan White. Leader of the pack." Dylan gestured to Luke and Quinn, and then to the rest of his band of dogs that howled around the table a few chairs away.

Luke and Quinn sauntered up to join their friend in that moment. The lean blond flashed a wicked smile in the redhead's direction while Quinn offered a small wave. The contrast in their personalities was floundering. Quinn remained back a ways from the girl in case his size frightened her like it did others. He was the dog that never barked. Luke, meanwhile, didn't hesitate to stand closer. He brushed his shoulder against hers as he offered her his hand. His fingers were long and elegant. When he spoke, silver flashed against his tongue. Multiple piercings of various kinds - pointed, spiked, balled, etc. - dotted the appendage. A choose your own adventure of a whole other nature.

"The name's Luke, sweetheart. Whenever you're done with the whelp feel free to come run with the big dog," he snarked.

Dylan snorted. This was typical as well. Their banter was harsh, but the malice behind it was false. A brotherly sense washed over their area of the bar as the black-haired brute retorted, "The only thing big on you is your imagination for thinking she's gonna wanna talk to you, brace face."

Luke flicked his tongue. "Hey these things are like potato chips - they can't have just one." He winked at the server. "But the good news is I'm only half the calories."

"Oh god I'm sorry," whispered Quinn from where he'd slapped his palm to his face. "If you wanna turn and run the other direction, I wouldn't blame you. I'll even cover for you."

Dylan smacked both of them upside the head, sending them flying toward the table. He turned back to the girl. He half expected her to be thinking of ways to either leave the table or throw holy water on them. But when the moments passed and she didn't leave, his confidence grew. The inferno in his gut roared. The beast inside his skin panted for her in more ways than one.

Maybe Delilah would have a little competition by the time the night was through.

MADE BY ★MEULK