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// A day at the beach.

Coming Soon.

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// Snapshot; A Night With Anna.

The night was a blur; Annabelle didn’t know what she was doing, where she was at, or who she was with – but damn the couch that she’d all but fallen down into was comfortable. One day she’d not drink so much or so hard but no matter how much the person she had followed home tugged on that liquor bottle, she wasn’t letting go.

“Shhhhhh… This is my girlfriend! You can’t separate us! We’re forever.” The ramblings of a woman who loved her liquor was followed with a kiss to the cool bottle’s neck. “Me’n’Queen Anne are here to shtay.”

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A picture is worth a thousand words.

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A Chance Meeting // Part 2

"You," Her reply came just as smooth as silk as her right hand slid further over his shoulder so that the tips of her fingers could spread wide across the aligning pectoral muscle of his body, "Are such an angel, pumpkin." 

Lips found the comfort of his cheek as seemingly long legs wound among themselves so that she could slide the presence of her body from his back to his side; nestling the curve of his biceps against the fabric binding her breasts and dividing the fleshy mounds slightly as she rose up on the toes of those bright red stiletto's. It was little more than a passing blush of skin to skin, but the score of red lipstick would linger on his flesh even as her feet continued to dance across the old, tattered hard wood floor. 

The woman seemed perpetually undisturbed by the tugging at her existence, almost as if it had never really occurred or slipped into her conscious thought as something wholly formed and registered. The unfortunate truth of it, as there was always something quite like it somewhere in Annabelle's mind, was that it just felt like a wave of being sober and unaligned with a douse of static electricity that sent those nerve endings on alert where contact had been made. A portion of the kiss' purpose had been a simple exploration to see if the feeling of it would spur once more. The other? Well. Annabelle was always a bit too appreciative of something that was physically attractive and never made any quarrels about expressing such a thing. His back was strong, sturdy in it's right. And the curve of his jaw was equally enticing, if the momentarily impish shewolf were being particularly honest. So the affections came in their dual purpose, all before she was rolling away from him with the continued spry footwork within a pair of heels that most woman found too complex to move in unless they were raised in those four inch stilts. 

Either way, it took her only seconds to reach the counter top that had kept her separate from the dusky skin toned man on the other side; her forearms easily finding the glass counter top as her upper body took to the sort of lean that had the phenomenal curve of her backside on display. The only thing to enhance or mar the vision had been those long strands of inky colored hair that had draped around the curve of her face and splayed along her spine. 

"Evening, sweetpea," She was quickly greeting the man behind the counter as those stocking colored legs rubbed together. "Can you get me four Johnny's? And his two besties, if you so please: Jose and Jack." Her smile was light and good natured -- not that the man she had just laid her lips on could see anything more than the presence of those black garter straps which had climbed down from beneath the slight bell of her skirt and latched on to the thigh high black hosiery that kept a majority of that creamy skin tone from being visible -- save for an inch or two where the two pieces of fabric had not touched; though the added bonus of her black cat tattoo perched on the center of the back of her right thigh. The man she faced, however, seemed less inclined to look at that smile than the swell of her cleavage before he was turning away to fetch the bottles she requested. 

unknown (tale of tails)

It was the soft, warm, slightly moist combination of sensations that seemed to flip a switch in him. Mental restrictions faltered, again. Again! A tug, like the undertow of the ocean when one stood in water at chest-level at the beach, pulled on every pleasure receptor in her body for just the split second that there was that kind of contact. 

God, damn it. Like a locked-up motor from a wrench thrown between gears, he was stuck in a stall, but he was the one with the wrench and there was some loosening on some bolts that was badly needed. The sounds of grinding in the inner-most components as the struggle for continued function began, the inaudible tires squealing as they attempted to recover traction and keep to the same path as predetermined by a suddenly very surprised driver. How hard it was for him to not suddenly and simply turn his head to catch a taste of those sinful lips and taste the devil in them! 

"Nothing even close to an angel, darling." He managed to release, half-breathing half-whispering, hardly certain she could even hear it. It wasn't just the contact of her mouth to his cheek in a less-than-first-base move or the sublime feeling of her curves against his, or her voice that laced his blood with a fire he was already quite keen to, or even the splendid view of her ass as she passed him to find the counter as she'd requested. The scent of his hunger littered the air like a cologne, unconsciously released while dark-green portals remained transfixed on that gorgeous rear and higher to the ink on her flesh that he suddenly felt his mouth aching for the sake of kissing. 

A quick shake of the head. No eighty-proof has ever got me buzzing like this.. It was at this point that he loosened his grasp on the plastic neck of the bottle in his hand out of concern that he might cause it to erupt from the top--what had caused such a stir in him wasn't only the air of lust that radiated from her, to him, but the second sampling of the essence she so unwittingly and yet so willingly gave him; she may as well be pressing the rim of a bottle to the lip of a reformed alcoholic, because what she gave him was better than anything from any agave plant. Releasing a breath held for longer than realized, it was traded for an intake as the beauty placed her request to the man behind the counter. 

Yeah. Not letting it end like this. Steps, three in total, closed the space between them until he was found to be relocated at her side. Like this, from this angle, he could almost take in the same torturous view as the cashier he almost envied. 

"I'm new here, but I remember faces, love. I've never seen your's." Lift of a hand of right, the one holding the Irish whiskey ironically, for a pressure of the pad of index to the smear of red to cheek. "This and--" Gaze shifted from shade-shielded eyes to the source of the smeared lipstick, own pink oral muscle sliding out to coat his lips in hunger. "--this." Down, his eyes dropped, washing over her like a wave from the same ocean which she might have felt the tug of the undertow from  with which might have hinted to sucking her in if she stayed in the water for too long..but this ocean wanted to swallow her. "--and this--" Back up to her, lips curving and spreading slightly to expose a flash of perfect pearl-white teeth. "--is plenty to remember you by, but I'm a hungry, hungry animal, and I need a name to go with the incredible package. Will you give me that?"

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History.

   It is an amazing thing how the events of a childhood could effect a person's future so severely. For Annabelle Barrons, her family was everything. They were a cookie cutter sort of normal, they were together, and most of all: they were safe. For years after her birth, she knew only the bright and shiny things in life: a sister who was kind to her, a mother who had worked to raise her daughters good and proper, and a father that had spoiled them at each and every turn while trying to shield them from the pain that adulthood tried to force on the young.

    All of it seemed to fall apart the day that Annabelle's mother was diagnosed with cancer. At the time, she was too young to understand the how's or why's that it had happened. For her, she knew only that her mother could die and then the rest of them would be left alone without the softness of her touch or the warmth of her smile to chase all of their woes away. While her mother eventually overcame the disease and had fallen into remission, years had passed. Her sister, Juliet, had moved forward in a positive fashion; seeking to help rid the world of it's ailments and bring health and happiness to all those around her, while Annabelle became an enigma to the normalcy that their family once held.

    It started out as something simple, her aversion to remaining on a safe path and without trouble slowly began to fade away as she pushed herself from safety into excess. Smoking, drinking, dancing, never holding back her tongue or resisting the temptation to try something at least once - Annabelle lived on the edge and she found it intoxicating. Even as she grew older, she held on to these ways. Working just enough to pay for her habits, sleeping well into the evening, driving countless hours to go to a hot new club or a concert that was known to be wild and unorthodox.

   Despite all of this, a kindness still lingered within her. Friendship came easily. Trust given wholly and rewarded completely. For someone who lived happily on the edge of her seat, she did not waste her time worrying about the ulterior motives a person might have had. She lived her life openly and freely - expecting the same from any other who chose to call her friend. She wasted no time on those who had proven otherwise, effectively cutting them out of her life without so much as a glance behind her.

   But then there was a change.

   It wasn't easy being human in a world where other things existed. From the time that Annabelle learned of her sister, Juliet, becoming infected by some form of virus that forced her to change from human to wolf each month, she became obsessed that there was more than one thing that went bump in the night. The only time she had ever picked up a book was to read some romanticized version of what could be out there. She knew them to be tales instead of fables, but she had hoped to gain some variance of insight into the world that her sister had stepped into.

  Obsession, however, seemed to come with a price. Whether it was a twist of fate or a brush of something more - Annabelle found herself captive by one of those who seemed to carry the virus within them. A friendship that had twisted into anything but the casual laughter and warm supportive words that were often offered between friends. Caged, victimized. Yet still she found herself unable to hate or understand the anger that came when obsession stared back at her.

   It was at that point that Annabelle's story began it's twist ...

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Stats.

Full Name : Annabelle Olivia Barrons Age : Twenty-Three. Height : Five feet, three inches. Hair Color : Dark, dark brown. Eye Color : Blue, flakes of green. Identifying Marks : Tattoo (black cat, hidden), scar (left thigh)

​​Living Style : Country; An old four bedroom farm house on 32 acres. Hometown : Dallas, Texas. ​Family : Juliet Barrons; Sister (Lnkedscars)

Personality : Humor-based. Living in the moment. Filterless (mostly). Free spirited. Best Known For : Alcoholism. Being fancy free and flirty. Weakness : Cute things. Accents. Strengths : Supportive, open.

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Out of Character Guidelines

Out of Character Guidelines

For AOL/AIM Users

Drama, violence, romance, mystery. They are my desire. I am a profound lover of plot. Don’t smut me all the time, give me a beautiful story with beautiful characters to destroy. That being said: I will put my character in the worst position possible at any given opportunity. I love the damn turmoil. Emotional, physical. Those are the things that make a story great and I will utilize them. Heavily. If you cannot handle it, well. Let’s just say I’m not the person to play or socialize with. That being said, she’s new to the other scene. The chances of her deducing what a supernatural being is, is pretty slim.

For tumblr Users

I am a transplant from a different roleplaying facility and have just recently attempted to dabble into the tumblr scene. So, in many ways, I’m a total newb to this but not to roleplaying as a whole.

So … chances are I have no idea what your abbreviations are in application to if they’re not a common form outside of the tumblr world. Not to say that I will not learn .. I just have no idea wtf you’re saying right now. <3

For everyone

I like cursing. It makes me feel good. <3

Mun is 21+

I will rp themes such as urban fantasy, modern fantasy, drama, romance, action.

Themes or plots I really want to play focus around the drunk scene, the lycan scene, or the party girl aspect.

This blog and writer are always happy to have new partners.

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Midnight Rendezvous.

Anastasia / Zero (abhorrentaipha)

The time of the night was indeed random, but around the time Annabelle liked to party. Why would she come by now? It was peek party time at one in the morning. This was the time Zero had set up the meeting. Knew that those assholes wouldn’t be a minute late so she was sure to get there early. No traps set up. Wouldn’t do her any good. Wearing the white sneak suit under the hunter green cloak she just waited. Exactly one mile south of the house. It would take a pretty decent hunter to track her, but not impossible since the trail was not covered.

Arms across her chest. Wouldn’t admit it, but a slight nervous thud beat in her chest. Hood up over the blonde hair to attempt some shroud from the harsh fallen snow. Zero’s eyes were then blinded. A bright light beamed down on her body. “Ugh!” Hand up to cover those eyes. Digits splayed to attempt and give some sort of visual on what the hell was going on. Teeth grit. Zero finally heard the otherwise silent roar of the engines. Those MUVs rolling through the snow and taking down a few trees in their efforts to both surround Zero and to get rid of any pesky traps she may have set.

Eyes swirled around her to take in all the men that surrounded her. No weapons trained on her, but the silver loaded guns certainly slung along their shoulders. “Tch!” Sound of annoyance mostly at the light still in her eyes. Finally down moved the beam. A man walked towards her. He wore a suit of black. Neatly pressed fine Italian threads and a matching black tie. His hair short and black. Styled to nearly a point. It was rather tantalizing against the back drop of snow white flakes. Something whispered and Zero tossed her hood back.

“Why are you here?"

To which the man replied with snark. "You’ve not been living up to your end of the deal wolf. Technically I’m here for whatever I want."

Then it was like that. The man closed in on Zero. There was a visual twitch of her muscles to react but did no such thing. His hand wrapped around her throat and lifted her up off the ground. "Are you going to comply or not?"

Zero wasn’t going to fight; hand just gripped the man’s out of instinct when fingers closed around her throat. "URK!” Face twisting up in pain. Zero was strong, but apparently he was stronger. That or the lack of fight in the wolf. That grip on neck kept Zero from responding.

There were times when Annabelle left the bar earlier – rarity that it was. She couldn’t help it that she loved the taste of liquor on her tongue, craved the feeling of music coursing through her body and invigorating it to move, and was wholly enamored by the company which she typically kept at all times of the night. It was who the woman was and there was little that anyone could do to change it.

But there were times when she craved that of touch and comfort, and it would be this that had motivated her to slip away from the bar two hours earlier than normal; all so that she could climb into the cab of that rusty 1986 C1500 with it’s two brown tone paint job and half bald tires. Anytime someone saw her climbing into the rust bucket, a double take was often performed – how a woman dressed in the softest of material, sporting a set of pearls, and a pair of blood red stiletto’s fit with the expected theme of the truck was a mystery, but she pulled it off.

Regardless, by the time she got herself situated in the truck (there was most likely a twenty minute break in the process so that she could drain a bottle of beer or three) and headed down those familiar roads towards where Anastasia and Trey lived, an hour had passed. Good old Hank Williams Junior had cooed her along, singing his not-so-sweet or warmhearted tunes while blue eyes tinged in flakes of emerald had focused on the road ahead of her. A yawn pressing at her lips here and there while she sought out the familiar shape of the sprawling home that belonged to the Jones.

Headlights had caught her off guard; forcing those dark lashes and heavily painted lids to fall as she sought to peer through the murky atmosphere (caused by excessive drinking, no doubt) so that she could see the familiar sight of a woman she had adored. Of course, she hadn’t expected to see Zero’s feet dangling in the air and a man holding her up by a throat she had kissed, licked, and caressed a hundred times.

It wasn’t the smartest of reactions - but liquor tended to toss intelligence out the window - but that wouldn’t prevent that bright red stiletto from pushing down on the accelerator while that old ass truck began to barrel towards whomever was assaulting her lover. She figured Zero could get free; the woman was strong and alpha! A few cuts and bruises would mean nothing, she hoped.