adreamtorise | Entries tagged with what: backstory

She's so much more than you're used to
She knows just how to move to seduce you
She gonna do the right thing and touch the right spot
Dance in your lap till you're ready to pop

=====================

“Anne! You’re up next!”

“I’m coming, hang on!” twenty three year old Anne Forsythe huffed, realizing she’d have to forego rouge for the time being. Pinching her cheeks for color, she decided they’d hold up under three minutes beneath the lights, and the workout would heighten her color. Making sure her jewelry was in place, she carefully trotted to the backstage entrance just as the announcer finished her intro.

“…one of the top acts here at The Body Shop, ready to sizzle is the alluring, the sultry…Wisteria!!”

The soft, percussive beat of Peggy Lee’s “Fever” began, soothing Anne a little as she let one gloved hand appear in the spotlight that shone by the stage entrance, snapping in time to the beat. When she took the stage, she was a vision in black and diamonds, from her five inch heels to the elbow-length opera gloves to the slinky satin gown clinging to her frame.

( ... )

Muse: Anne Forsythe
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 950 (w/lyrics)

Current Mood: accomplished

She should have known better. He was seventeen years old, she was fifteen…but she really should have known better.

( WARNING: Sensitive subject matter beneath the cut... )

Muse: Anne Forsythe
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 455

Current Mood: discontent
Current Location: Boston, Massachusetts

Note: Annabelle and Cadence walker are

themamma_bear and

gunpowder_eyes respectively, and are used without permission but lots of love. Horatio and Carlton are mine to use and abuse as I see fit. :P

“The pickles are staring at me!”

“Cadence Jolene Walker, if you don’t eat your food this instant…”

“But Moooooommaaaaaaaa!...”

Frowning, sixteen year old Anne chewed on her lower lip and reached up to toy with the end of her ponytail as she rearranged the vegetables on her plate with her fork.

“You heard yer momma, Cady. Eat yer food.”

“I *can’t*, Paw Paw! I can’t eats my burger when it stares at me!”

( Anne shifted in her seat and bit the inside of her cheek. It wasn’t her place, it *really* wasn’t her place. Mother would be disappointed in her if she gave these people cause to regret taking her in… )

Muse: Anne Forsythe
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 535

Current Mood: accomplished

Anne loved working Saturday afternoons at The Body Shop because the customers just didn’t come in, and for the few who did show up she had a pretty wide berth to do whatever she felt like.

Or so it was until Saturday afternoons became one of their busiest periods, starting just a couple of weeks after she got hired.

This week was no different than any other as the spotlight hit her, irised onto her face as the music began, a pop ballad that was nothing like the usual bump and grind that accompanied her routines. Animal eyes stared out at the crowd as she moved with the music, but the woman onstage was purely human as the irised spotlight followed her, moving over her body as she slowly stripped off her clothing piece by piece.

The lights never rose. The spotlight lingered over her hands as her gloves peeled away from her arms, as her skirt slid off her hips and to the floor. It followed her fingers as she unlaced her corset and slipped it off her body. She swayed, she gyrated, and moved away from the crowd, backing down the stage runway with every step until she made her exit offstage.

The lights lever came up. All she showed the audience was pieces of the picture, glimpses of bare breast and skin unveiling, looks and glimmers of more than just sex. On these lazy Saturday afternoons where she was free to play, to wander, she told stories and created fantasies the customers came in droves to lose themselves in.

Left to her own devices, she told erotic fairy tales crafted from bare flesh and sensuality, and promised more than pleasure: she promised happily ever after.

She promised love…and for that, her customers would pay any price to take in the beautiful lie obscured by the darkness behind her irised spotlight.

Muse: Anne Forsythe
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 313

Current Mood: content

“Annie? Heyyyyy…”

A warm, heavy weight settled against her back and around her shoulders, wrapping her in comfort and strength. Turning her face away from the tear-stained pillow clutched between her arms, seventeen year old Anne let Harvey lay on top of her and drew comfort from his body sprawled over hers. Her brother, her pack…even after a year, sometimes it still didn’t feel like home except in moments like these, when she was too lonely and too filled with hurt to care.

( “What’s up, Buttercup?” )

Muse: Anne Forsythe
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 590

Current Mood: sad

Us girls we are so magical
Soft skin, red lips, so kissable
Hard to resist, so touchable
Too good to deny it
Ain't no big deal it's innocent

====================

She was twenty two and three sheets to the wind when she first figured out that women appealed to her on more than an aesthetic level…in particular, her best friend Sylvia Morgan.

( WARNING: Adult content beneath the cut... )

Muse: Anne Forsythe
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 536

Current Mood: horny

She doesn’t remember being found by Horatio Walker, not with any sort of coherency. The days before, the days after…there isn’t detail enough to form even a partial memory, but the day she was found is different.

She doesn’t remember anything but the color red.

It’s everywhere, in everything…the fabric of a shirt, the viscous wetness soaking her clothes and skin, the blood singing in her veins and tinting her vision with pure animal fury. There was nothing left of the nice girl from Boston, just a beast running on pure adrenaline.

There were harsh periods of light when she woke and splashes of dark when she slept, noise and confusion in the moment between between. There was food when she was hungry…red and warm, meat that still tasted of fresh blood and a fresh kill…and there was red warmth, safety and comfort in the worn, faded red duvet that she still keeps on her bed to this day.

There are no distinct memories, just knives of sensory assault slicing through her mind whenever she tries to recall that day, stark swatches of light, dark, dizzying shades of red. Before and after the blades grow fuzzy and dim until she gets to her life before the loss of her family and her rebirth into a brand new one.

It doesn’t bother her too much…it’s normal in its own way. After all, nobody really remembers the day that they’re born, and if they do? It’s not much more than light and dark and living, screaming red.

Muse: Anne Forsythe
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 255

Current Mood: nostalgic

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My borrowed face and my third-hand grace only reflect your glory

Form a dream to rise to earthshine

Entries tagged with what: backstory

[mse] 5.2.1 - lyrics prompt (50 cent - ayo technology)

[mse] 1.3.3 - first times

[mad muses] random: "the pickles are staring at me"

[ftm] 15.2 - twisted cinderella

[ftm] the ugly duckling

[ptm] 22.2 - Katy Perry "I Kissed A Girl"

[mad muses] SPECIAL: Color and Light

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