seen from China
seen from Argentina
seen from United States
seen from United Arab Emirates
seen from United Arab Emirates
seen from China
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from United Arab Emirates
seen from Argentina
seen from Canada
seen from France
seen from Singapore
seen from Canada
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from Singapore
seen from Italy
seen from United Kingdom
WHAT’S IN MY CAR(s)
Camaro & Escape (because that fj cruiser is ugly af)
Extra set of clothes
Work out clothes
A towel
Tennis Shoes
Bag of mountain ash
Waterbottle
Basketball
CD case - all handmade mix CD’s by Laura and Connor’s sisters
Laura’s old ipod
AUX chord
Three different books
A GPS
Two over-stocked first aid kits
Three books
Leather jacket
Baseball cap
Sunglasses
Car jack
Small tool kit
Two travel coffee mugs
Hair ties
various times left by pack members
TASK 006.
What’s in your bag?
Share with us what your character has with them in their purse, backpack, gym bag, or even their locker at school or their car. Describe the contents, post pictures of what they keep with them, or anything else that you would like to do!
If you do this task, don’t forget to tag it as #wolfouttask!
Lovelovelove,
Ally A
TASK 005.
Create an aesthetic post for your character(s)!
If you do this task, don’t forget to tag it as wolfouttask!
HAVE FUN!
lovelovelove,
Ally A
Task 004. Post a picture, a gif, photoset, collage, or combination showing us what your character currently looks like!
TASK 004.
The reaction gifs and pictures that we use while playing often depict our faceclaims at a variety of ages, with different hairstyles, different looks, and different just about everything! But what do the characters look like right now? That is what this week’s task is all about!
Post a picture, a gif, photoset, collage, or combination showing us what your character currently looks like! This will give us all a better mental image of what everyone’s characters look like, which will be a lot of fun to know, too!
Please note: Don’t worry about posting a picture of your characters faceclaim as they were at the actual age of your character. (Unless, of course, you think that is how they look in the Wolf Out universe!) Just post a picture of what your character looks like to you! And don’t worry about posting fashion or aesthetics in this task either-- those tasks are yet to come!
If you do this task, don’t forget to tag it as wolfouttask!
HAVE FUN!
Lovelovelove,
Ally A
P.S. Thank you to Bria for inspiring this task! If you have any ideas or suggestions, please let us know! We would love to hear from you!
Task 003.
Interact with someone new! If you have already interacted with everybody, interact with someone you have had the least amount of interactions with.
If you do this task, don’t forget to tag it #wolfouttask
this isn’t control.
( backdated to: december 07, 2015. )
“--------You’ve got to get this shit under control.”
Liam doesn’t even have the strength to argue anymore. He and Brett have been fighting — not the easy-going, make-up-in-two-hours, forgotten by the next day kind of fighting they’ve been doing. it’s the kind where skin bleeds black and blue, someone’s nose releases a heavy crunch under the weight of a fist, backed by more hatred than power, resulting in blood-stained shirts and swollen eyes — for more time than he has it in him to remember, and it’s worn them both down.
Their dorm room doesn’t look too different from the scene of a kamikaze attack, papers and clothes and bags strewn about, kicked and flung around at some time between Liam entering the room and Brett breaking his nose. Something lies shattered by the door. He thinks it’s the snowglobe Brett’s friend got him for an early Christmas present, but doesn’t know for sure. They sit on opposite sides of the room, backs pressed against walls and knees drawn to chests. Rumpled clothes and specks of blood cover their bodies, but neither of them move to fix themselves as they try to catch their breath.
He wants to tell Brett to mind his own goddamn business, but he’s exhausted and his entire body aches. The anger has drained out of him, the effects of the attack leaving him without any sort of energy at all. Thinking back on it, he feels himself getting angry again, just because he was so angry. How could he have been so stupid? He’s already in deep shit because of how much he fights, but to start fighting Brett? In their room? He’ll be lucky if he isn’t fucking expelled on the spot, fucking idiot—
Something soft but fast collides with his face. Liam rips it off, nose crinkling in disgust. It’s just a shirt, but he’s pretty sure it’s the one Brett changed out of, like, twenty minutes ago. The one he was just playing lacrosse in. Gross motherfucking—
“Calm the fuck down,” his roommate sneers. He shifts in his position, wincing as he aggravates one of his many bruises — Liam feels a smug twisting of his lips. bastard deserved it — and rests his arms over his knees. “I’m too tired to punch you again, and if you get expelled, I’m the one who has to get a new roommate.”
A twitch of Liam’s lips — almost a smirk, but not quite. “Miss me too much?”
Brett’s eyes have a way of going completely blank when he wants them to. He does it now, if for no other reason than to make Liam uncomfortable. There’s nothing to be found in his expression, other than the blood dripping from his lip, and the bruise blossoming on his cheek. “Getting used to you was hard enough. The hell I’m getting used to someone else.” There’s an underlying... something there. Something Brett isn’t saying, will never say. About him, about this, about...
Fuck if Liam knows.
Tense silence covers the room, save for their harsh inhales and exhales. Every breath Liam drags in hurts — he thinks Brett bruised one of his ribs; wouldn’t be surprised — but he breathes anyway, if only to piss the taller boy off. Not that he really needs to try. That’s the thing about Liam Dunbar: making everyone hate him is an effortless endeavor. He’s too scrappy, too irrational, too—
Too explosive.
( he clearly remembers being in middle school with mason and hayden, not too long after the nose incident, back when he and hayden refused to be mature about things and avoid each other. back in those days, they used to go out of their way to fight each other. one day, it’d gotten really bad, and not even mason’s anchoring presence had been enough to stop liam from losing control. something was thrown, he thinks, almost hitting her in the head. he was so angry, he wanted it to.
mason stood between them, speaking in a calming tone, holding hayden back as she screamed, WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU SO ANGRY ALL THE TIME? he’d felt the words deep, as if she’d etched them into his skin, leaving them there for the entire world to see and echo, with that same disgusted, judgmental expression she wore right then.
it was only natural that he wanted to scream back, I. DON’T. KNOW. ( quieter: i don’t know. i’m asking the same thing. ) but he didn’t. what would that have solved? )
“You can’t keep doing this,” Brett pants. Liam’s eyes snap to him as the boy pulls himself off the ground. It’s a slow, painful process that Liam takes entirely too much pleasure in watching. ( their friendship — if it can even be called that — is nothing short of toxic, built on them setting fires and smiling coldly as the other one burns. if it doesn’t end in his expulsion, it’ll more than likely end in one of them broken beyond repair, mentally or physically — that’s still in the air. ) “Stop giving them reasons to kick you out, dumbass. At least wait until finals are over before doing something you’ll regret.”
“Fuck you,” is Liam’s response, rather than what he knows he should say, like, You’re right, or I know. It’ll be a cold day in hell when he ever admits to Brett being right about something. Fuck you is much more their style.
Brett rolls his eyes, and staggers towards the bathroom. Liam vaguely remembers him twisting his ankle when he went down after a particularly hard punch. Liam might be sorry for that one day, but it’s unlikely. “Just get up,” the blonde says over his shoulder. The bathroom door slams shut behind him, and Liam is left alone in the wake of his destruction.
“Gotta get it under the control,” he mutters beneath his breath, pushing himself up from the floor. “Like I don’t fucking know that.”
( backdated to: december 08, 2015. )
Campus rules forbid him from leaving after curfew on weekdays, but Liam is getting kicked out anyway, thanks to that fight with Brett. ( apparently, they were loud enough to have garnered the attention of the entire floor, including their ra. brett’s suspended for three days. ) He doesn’t care about the rules or regulations anymore.
He shoves his hands into his pockets, acutely aware of the fact that he’s the only one on this street. Well, no. There’s a blonde girl in front of him, too far ahead for him to even consider speaking to, but close enough for him to easily make out her shape. Seeing her, he feels a frown tugging his lips down. Is she out of her mind? She shouldn’t be alone this late at night. With all of those animal attacks happening, she shouldn’t be out at all this late.
He’s about to just dismiss the girl entirely — ‘s none of his business — when his eyes catch onto something creeping up on her. Someone — someone he hadn’t noticed before, where the fuck did he come from? — is following close behind her. Liam is about to call out to her — danger danger DANGER DANGER DANGER — when the man lunges at her. The girl screams and Liam takes off running towards her.
The next few seconds are a blur. The man turns his sights on Liam and then charges at him. Liam doesn’t even have the time to prepare for a fight before the man is on top of him, sharp teeth piercing the skin of Liam’s neck. He screams, loud and unheard, and feels fire swimming in his veins. It seems like years pass before the man pulls away and disappears, and Liam is left breathless and in agony when he does.
What that hell just happened? What kind of asshole attacks two kids and bites th—
Fuck. The girl.
Liam fights through the pain coursing through his body, and pushes up on his elbows. Once he’s that far, it’s fairly easy to get to his feet. He stumbles to the girl, falling onto his knees beside her. “Hey, are you okay?” He questions the girl, making sure she’s okay, helps her to her feet. All the while, his mind is racing.
For once, he feels something other than anger. Something cold and unpleasant, pooling in the pits of his stomach and taking his heart in a vice-like grip. It takes a while, but he eventually identifies it as fear.
Fuck what Brett has to say; he prefers to be angry.
there’s lightning in your smile.
( backdated to: february 27, 2016. )
Lydia has known Jackson and Danny her entire life. She doesn’t have very many memories that don’t involve one or both of them. Just as they’ve been there for every important moment of her life, she’s been there for theirs.
They held her hands during her grandmother’s funeral. And when she cried later that night, ugly tears of sadness and pain, they put on her favorite movies, holding her and staying with her until the tears stopped flowing. (Though that was probably just because they all falling asleep on her couch.)
They had a sleepover when Danny told them he was gay, just to show that neither of them thought any less of him for it. (Sleepovers are one of their many things. They have them when things are hard and irritating, when things are going better than usual, and they have them just because. Her mom thinks they’re all too old to still be having sleepovers, but Lydia finds no logic in that statement.)
They hid out in the treehouse when Jackson found out he was adopted. (It was one of the very few times she went up there. It’s one of those Jackson-and-Danny things that she has no business inserting herself in. She only ever goes up in case of emergencies, when all three of them need to hide somewhere that no one will ever look for them.)
Even before she and Jackson started dating, the three of them were inseparable best friends. And as their best friend and personal cheerleader, she’s never missed a single lacrosse game, even back when they were just starting out.
Tonight, for the first time, she considers not going. Things with her and Jackson have been scarily different lately. He’s been known to be a pompous asshole to everyone lower than them, but he’s never been one to her. Even Danny — who is never afraid to call Jackson out when he’s being unreasonably rude — was baffled by the change in character. Now, they both understand why’s been so different, but it doesn’t make this any better.
In the end, she sucks it up and drives to the school. Even if she doesn’t know the Jackson that’s going to be on that field tonight, she isn’t going to miss Danny in that goal, doing what he does best. She isn’t going to miss Scott and Stiles, either. This new relationship she’s trying to build with them is experimental, at best, and she isn’t sure it’s going to work out. Even though Stiles has some strange crush on her, and Scott is willing to befriend anyone who looks at him, they’ve grown up in two different worlds. She doesn’t see how the two worlds will mesh, doesn’t know if it’ll turn into anything beautiful or worthwhile. But she wants to give it a try. Strangely enough, she wants it to work.
She takes a seat next to Ms. McCall and the sheriff, smiling politely at them. Though they greet her kindly, she thinks they’re surprised to see her. Queen Bee Lydia Martin rarely walks around in anything other than high heels, perfect makeup. and a holier than thou attitude. But she’s not feeling like Queen Bee Lydia Martin right now. Today, she just wants to be Lydia.
She watches the game with the same fascination as usual, her eyes tracking her boys on reflex. They’re working as flawlessly as possible, and she feels smug as their team makes another point.
She’ll admit to being surprised when Stiles gets the ball. He’s rarely ever put in games, and while she doesn’t want to say it’s because he sucks — it’s because he sucks. She realizes the unfair judgement for what it is, especially since he’s contending against werewolves, Jackson, Brian, and Danny, but it is what it is. Stiles isn’t as good of a player as most of the other members on the team. But he had to have made it on the team somehow, right?
She sits on the edge of her seat, watching with baited breath as Stiles sprints the ball down the field — pass the ball, Stiles, pass the ball, no, shoot it, shoot it, Stiles, you can do it — and jumps up when he makes the shot. Scott’s mom and Stiles’ dad hug joyfully, and Lydia feels something warm and affectionate swell in her chest.
Pride. What she feels right now, clapping happily and locking eyes with Stiles, is nothing less than absolute pride. And when he smiles, wide and ecstatic, something else wiggles its way past her defenses. Something Stiles-shaped and uninvited, but not unwelcome:
Hope. Maybe everything really can work out.
