Coyotito
𝓈𝒶𝒹 𝒹ℴℊ, 𝓈𝒶𝒹 𝓈ℴ𝓃ℊ𝓈
Hi I'm Salty (ze/hir)! I'm a full time artist with an affinity for life and death which I often explore in my work! I enjoy making costumes and watercolor painting. I can't stop watching clay cracking ASMR videos (its embarrassing really) and love GMM. I'm an ideological Queer punk, with a love for music and human rights. Currently I've been going to lots of concerts, getting tattooed and trying to get back into painting again! Am I working on a portfolio? Maybe. It seems like I get caught up watching old cartoons. 80's vibes are extra special. Did I mention I'm autistic? Ooops! My special interest is toys, too bad I wasn't a science person! Either way, I spend way, way too much time educating myself on random things on reddit (woo insomnia), but I promise I'll have fun facts to share every morning. I could ramble further, but you're here to write yeah? Well, let's get to it.
I'm a advanced novella style RPer, that being said I am dyslexic and do make typos. Please be kind, but feel free to ask for clarification. Regardless, I prefer to write/receive at least 1000 words, I believe in quality and quantity, porque no los dos?! I want to fall in love with your OCs, so I greatly value three dimensional believable characters. Playing more than one character is required. A diverse multi OC cast is essential (gender, sexuality, cultural upbringings, religions/faiths etc). I bore shockingly fast playing only one character. Usually I write one character per scene/post, but my cast sizes vary from 3-8 characters. I adore weaving intricate stories with a clear trajectory. Sub plots or individual character arcs which merge into larger concepts are so lovely. I also enjoy planning on the fly. I'm not much of a point A to point B RPer, but I do appreciate concise writing with a sense of direction.That doesn't mean I don't love surprises. Throw me your best curve ball, seriously! I live for the twists and turns of a well written story. For long term / complex stories I love using Google Docs to help keep ideas straight.
It's a must for us to share in plotting together! I don't want to be the only person driving the story, nor do I want my partners to feel as if they're solely leading - Collaboration is key! Plots can be made on the go but I want to share in that labor, please! Not everything has to be predetermined. However, I greatly appreciate planning. Some OOC is a must as I love to get to know my partners outside of RP. I find I struggle to write with folks who I do not share a social relationship with. If we don't jive as people I find it unlikely we will write well together. But, first and foremost I want to craft a story which is fulfilling and fun for the both of us.
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Expectations:
- Must be 23+ (I just turned 30 and honestly older is better!)
- Expect to be RPing LONG term. Most of my RPs have lasted a year or more, I've had multiple stories with over 1k responses
- NOT Ghost Friendly (And I won't ghost you either!)
- I love fantasy elements, truly! But I enjoy writing realistic fantasy / supernatural stories. I like RPs grounded in reality even if in a fantasy scape.
- Doubling, tripling, etc. I want a whole world of OCs ♡ Usually this ends up with a 2-4 pairs of 'mains' as well as sides, and NPCS!
- Queer OCs. If you have an issue with this, hard pass! Strict mxm, fxf, etc is not my jive.
- M/M, F/F, F/NB, NB/NB, Really the options are endless, I just don't do cishet (unless someone is trans)
- I'm also not interested in hetero-normative or binary stereotypes. (Unless its relevant to an OCs development).
- Must be okay with topics which touch upon Societal Deconstruction, Race, Class, Gender, Sexuality and Trauma (not a focus), Etc.
- I want to discuss potential triggers BEFORE we RP.
- I will not tolerate bigotry, and scenes which require nuance will be treated so.
- Consistency with posts - once a day, twice a week, once a week etc. (Min x1/week). I CANNOT jive with RPs that are less then once a week. I can commit to posting at least 2-3 times a week, likely daily. I'd love someone to rapid fire with on weeknights! (:
- ACAB, even your uncle who is a cop - there are no good apples
- Fuck Israel, Free Palestine
If you want to take a break or are done with the RP please just tell me. I would rather you communicate over ghosting. It's purely a matter of respect. It really bothers me when folks don't communicate, so please do!
That being said - real life happens! If you need to take a break / pause and want to come back to the RP later just let me know!
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I'm interested in topics of :
ORIGINAL OCS, Queer Romance, Joy and Adoration, Gender/Identity,
Music Careers, Bars / Club Scenes, Violence / Tension,
Mafia/Gangs, Organized Crime, Addiction, Contrasting Grit and Softness,
Platonic Relations, Coming to terms /w self etc., Growth, and Interpersonal relationships.
I am NOT interested in : School / Academic Settings, Cishet pairings. Fandom RP or Suicidal / Depression* based RP.
*Characters HAVING those thoughts and feelings is okay. I just don't want it to be the focus of an RP.
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Plots / Concepts of Interest:
(That doesn't mean I will ONLY do these. These are just some vague topics of interest. This is NOT an exhaustive list, I'm open to RPing most genres / styles. I just prefer to come up with a fun story / world that suits both our wants. Have an idea? Pitch!)
That being said - real life happens! If you need to take a break / pause and want to come back to the RP later just let me know!
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I'm interested in topics of :
ORIGINAL OCS, Queer Romance, Joy and Adoration, Gender/Identity,
Music Careers, Bars / Club Scenes, Violence / Tension,
Mafia/Gangs, Organized Crime, Addiction, Contrasting Grit and Softness,
Platonic Relations, Coming to terms /w self etc., Growth, and Interpersonal relationships.
I am NOT interested in : School / Academic Settings, Cishet pairings. Fandom RP or Suicidal / Depression* based RP.
*Characters HAVING those thoughts and feelings is okay. I just don't want it to be the focus of an RP.
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Plots / Concepts of Interest:
(That doesn't mean I will ONLY do these. These are just some vague topics of interest. This is NOT an exhaustive list, I'm open to RPing most genres / styles. I just prefer to come up with a fun story / world that suits both our wants. Have an idea? Pitch!)
(My OC (V) is a hacker / smarty smart who is happy to do someone's bidding in exchange for protection, housing, safety etc. I also think there is a lot of possibility in forming alliances with other gang members / folks on the street. This has a chance for romance or not as well) I have a gang boss I am happy to play (he's nasty and a great time to write). So I'm open to however you want to interact with him and V. Being in the gang, being on an opposing side. Hunting V down, tricking him into a friendship. I'm open to talking!
(My OC's (Lance and V) are BOTH band members, one is a bassist the other a vocalist. There is a lot of possibilities for plots with this. Rising to fame, getting lost in fame, drug use / party life, perpetual drama within the band / with one another, romance etc. Road trip??? Interested in having them interact with other gang members / fans or managers. I'm just a sucker for rock and roll, what can I say? Would love to write / play with relationships with other band members / possibly fans! Would love to add a 'dark spin' on this RP - as just writing a music isn't quite enough to keep my interest.
(My OC (V) is sometimes smart while fighting for his survival sometimes not. But what he is always lacking is companionship and a sense of belonging. It could be interesting for he and another OC to find themselves and explore the world and themselves together. There is a lot of possibility for platonic / romantic stuff. Likely will loop this into a mafia style RP - V just can't escape from his bad attachments.
An emotionally constipated, emotionless (not really) bassist begins their discovery of self. From grappling with their origins to dissecting what it means to be a man, a woman, and everything between and outside of those terms. Thick skinned and tough this up and coming artist (and hair stylist) surely doesn't need a friend at their side. Nope, nope! Would love a slow burn romance looped into this idea of discovering self - bonus points if your character is figuring themselves out too. *Please be nuanced in your understanding of sexuality / gender. Lance is a gem, but they never get quite enough attention. I'm itching to do an RP focused with them as a main. They're my fave!
I have an OC (Lance) who is a raging addict and like many other people struggling they turn to whatever vice they can find to feel better. Whether that is smoking a joint, using in a bathroom stall or picking up a lover at the club they have no shortage of vices. I'd love to do an RP to pull them out of their shell and to show them that they are worth loving, just as they are. Despite their crappy attitude they'll do the same for your OC too. They are a person with a rough and tough attitude but they have heart made of gold. I COULD go romantic with this RP but would honestly prefer something platonic (they can still cuddle / kiss just maybe not a formal relationship). They can be persuaded into romance but a special type of person is needed to catch their eye. T4T vibes. Would love to match them up with another Queer OC.
Honestly just want to RP something that feels like this video - Most likely with V. The RP will probably have some sort of relation to houselessness / being in a gang and possibly in a band too? Ride or dies - enemies to lovers etc. I want our OCs to grow together / be inseparable - toppling insurmountable tasks together. Would love a caring, soft little relationship in the middle of a tumultuous situation.
I've got an absolutely lovely 'modern day cowboy' OC I'd love to RP. Their name is Amani and they are the sweetest bundle of joy. They're got their own idea of what justice looks like and they aren't afraid to clean up the world as they see fit. For the right sum of money their services can be bought, bonus points if you want them to hunt down some rich asshole! Would be a little bit of a 'road trippy' RP. I think it would be really, really fun if this RP was Target x Bounty Hunter . Or Heck, even bounty hunter x bounty hunter - as Amani has a hefty price on their head for all the lucrative people they've taken out. At the ripe age of twenty six they've made quite the name for themselves. But, that doesn't stop them from smelling the flowers now and again. 
Think Cowboy Bebop vibes, kinda post apocalyptic - Earth is probably dead / dying. I've got an absolutely lovely 'modern day cowboy' OC I'd love to RP. Their name is Amani and they are the sweetest bundle of joy. They're got their own idea of what justice looks like and they aren't afraid to clean up the world as they see fit. For the right sum of money their services can be bought, bonus points if you want them to hunt down some rich asshole! Would be a little bit of a 'road trippy' RP. I think it would be really, really fun if this RP was Target x Bounty Hunter . Or Heck, even bounty hunter x bounty hunter - as Amani has a hefty price on their head for all the lucrative people they've taken out. At the ripe age of twenty six they've made quite the name for themselves. But, that doesn't stop them from smelling the flowers now and again.
Info Here
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Sorry for the really vague descriptions, these kids are hard to summarize in a few lines. They're a lot.
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Things I am weak for :
I have so many characters I write at this point. I honestly can't put them all on this thread. You'll just have to trust. I've got an expansive cast. However, I really should add to this list lol.
V - Is an upcoming vocalist in his band. He is a self described tough boy (he's not) with a soft heart (don't tell him I told you). He spends time making music, drawing, and selling drugs all while hacking for hire. If you can offer him security and protection he'll do anything for you~
Lance - My favorite OC with a never-ending craving for intimacy. Emotionally distant but highly intelligent this enigmatic fool is sure to keep everyone guessing. They're a grade A asshole but they'll throw hands for those they care about.
Amani - Wonderful ray of golden sunshine! Self appointed cowboy and server of justice. Sure to wow those they meet, but equally likely to piss them off. Forever craving closeness, but always on the move. At least they leave a lasting impression!
I think its worth saying here - Lance and V are TYPICALLY partners. If you are looking for romance I /am/ absolutely willing to split them. I write them solo plenty. Also expect some level of drama should Lance and V be in an RP at the same time as both of these OCs tend to have a hard time letting one another go when they're in other relationships. I DO love to do romance RPs with these OCs, the romance just needs to fit. I don't like cramming my OCs into situations / relationships that I don't feel are true to their characters. I DO have other OCs too - so don't shy away from RPing with me based on Lance and V being a couple in some cases.
I've got an expansive cast. However, I really should add to this list lol.V - Is an upcoming vocalist in his band. He is a self described tough boy (he's not) with a soft heart (don't tell him I told you). He spends time making music, drawing, and selling drugs all while hacking for hire. If you can offer him security and protection he'll do anything for you~
Lance - My favorite OC with a never-ending craving for intimacy. Emotionally distant but highly intelligent this enigmatic fool is sure to keep everyone guessing. They're a grade A asshole but they'll throw hands for those they care about.
Amani - Wonderful ray of golden sunshine! Self appointed cowboy and server of justice. Sure to wow those they meet, but equally likely to piss them off. Forever craving closeness, but always on the move. At least they leave a lasting impression!
I think its worth saying here - Lance and V are TYPICALLY partners. If you are looking for romance I /am/ absolutely willing to split them. I write them solo plenty. Also expect some level of drama should Lance and V be in an RP at the same time as both of these OCs tend to have a hard time letting one another go when they're in other relationships. I DO love to do romance RPs with these OCs, the romance just needs to fit. I don't like cramming my OCs into situations / relationships that I don't feel are true to their characters. I DO have other OCs too - so don't shy away from RPing with me based on Lance and V being a couple in some cases.
Sorry for the really vague descriptions, these kids are hard to summarize in a few lines. They're a lot.
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Things I am weak for :
- Pining for other OCS. Yes. Please.
- NATURAL ROMANCE. I do not like forced romance, but when our characters have a genuine spark its so special
- Relationship drama (love triangles / loose relationships / boundaries)
- Affirmation, tenderness, softness and care. Bonus points if your character tries to pretend they aren't gay
- Being completely and utterly in love (platonically or romantically) and not wanting to admit it
- Characters coming to terms with themselves and their pasts / past selves (Gender Identity, Sexuality, Trauma, Abuse etc.)
- Growing up together - I want to see our OCs grow and change with one another (For better or for worse)
- Overcoming obstacles / bad qualities - I want our OCs to teach one another and to help them IMPROVE
- Characters building trust with one another - A progression of OCs getting to know each other
- Old stories / secrets / histories that come into the open in the RP (I want to KNOW your characters!!)
- SOFT TOUCHES. Holding hands, stroking hair, cuddling, gentle kisses etc.
- VALIDATION - Please. I want my characters to love on yours and support them and vice versa (assuming this is applicable to the RP)
- Basically, I love it when everything is absolute chaos but there are these moments when time stops and characters can just /be/ with one another. I like 'dark' topics with touches of softness that remind us of humanity.
- 65% Angst, 35% Tender
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Pairings / Tropes:
Demon x Mortal
Vampire x Mortal
Werewolf x Mortal
Vampire x Werewolf
☆Vampire x Supernatural Hunter
☆Werewolf x Supernatural Hunter
☆Mortal x Ghost
☆Dealer x User
Dealer x Sober
Drug user x Drug user
☆Open x Closeted
☆☆High-ranking Individual x Bounty hunter
Experiment x Scientist
Experiment x Experiment
Artist x Muse
☆Model x Photographer
Hunter x Hunted
Assassin x Target
☆Enemies to Lovers
Revenge x Romance - Sought revenge, fell in love
☆Leader x Guard
Fugitive x Knight
Random Species/Ideas/Abilities That I like:
Humans
Vampires
Demons
Werewolves (/w nuance)
Gargoyles
Shapeshifters
Necromancers
Angels
Dragons / Dragon Riders
Space
Wilderness / Survival
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If you are interested in RPing with my OCs you can totally shoot me a PM or drop a comment!
For a television star on the up and up, Sin often found themselves alone. This however did not mean the adventurous twenty seven year old was left with nothing to do. In fact, it most often meant they were up to no good and they had been for quite some time. Their opinions and hot takes had earned them a seat in the limelight, a common feature on late night talk shows and radio specials alike. Truthfully, they cared little for all of that, though they couldn’t deny the benefits of the inevitable cash flow. Their work was nothing new, not to them. When did they begin all of this? Somewhere around the age of sixteen or so, at least that was what they told the press. The truth was that they had been doing this ‘work’ since the day they’d been born. A sixth sense was their greatest asset, though perhaps one day their luck would run out. Yes, it seemed as soon as this one could walk they saw things which no else could see.
Little did they know how soon they’d find themselves on a downward slope. With a cigarette dangling between their lips they adjusted the beanie on their head, headphones in place with a massive camera over one shoulder. A comedic sight given just how small they were. The beastly piece of equipment looked like enough to topple them by the blessing of the slightest breeze. Their arms had fortunately grown strong, far more capable than they looked beneath their baggy double layered top. Though they often dressed bold, they kept it simple tonight. There was no point in getting busted by the cops if they could avoid it. Star or not, trespassing was trespassing. Not that they agreed in the faintest with all that posted signage. If an abandoned building was abandoned it was just that, abandoned!
The best sorts were those reclaimed by the foliage. Chipping paint, mold and splintering wood. Though the presence of small animals did make it that much harder to validate their footage, the company of a raccoon kept them light on their feet. Though they from time to time moved with a team, they had decided to take this trip alone. Something told them that was how it was meant to be. So what if they’d been having some odd dreams of late? Sin wasn’t a fearful sort, even if superstitious at times they came armed with all they needed. A small leather pouch worn upon their neck, better known as a gris-gris was enough to ward off the worst of demons. Hundreds of years of practice resided in that pouch, even following their families inevitable forced move to the states. Its magick persisted, a fingertip set to the small pouch before they began their descent.
A once grand theater sat on these grounds, ravaged by fire and buried by earth which had slid decades ago. There were a number of entrances, and even more collapsed exits. That did not deter them, not one bit. As they lit the first of many flashlights they began their quest. Eyes and ears on alert, seeking the factual rather than the theoretical. Their eyes were most often found looking through the lens of their camera for verification of any ‘activity’. For how many souls had been doomed in this venue they had expected more. What they found was a run down skeleton of what had once been. Though there were rooms which were shockingly well preserved. Hidden beneath a layer of thickened soot were rich tones of red and gold. The architecture of what remained suggested the place was 1900’s or so. They’d do their research first, for Sin preferred to go in ‘blind’ and to confirm what they had learned later.
They could practically see it now, a mindful eye they had. Rows and rows of seating, wood frames, vibrant velvet and golden numbers upon each seat. It was at this point they had closed their eyes, drawing in a deep breath. The air felt cooler here. Stilling their motions, their striking, though gentle eyes sliding closed. Brows furrowing. They swore they could hear a voice. Distant. Dissolved? Distorted. Any number of words could have described the low grumble they heard. Whether or not the voice was human or not they couldn’t place but as their feet began to propel them forward they found certainty. Human. This being, this entity was human. Peering through the lens on their camera they documented what they were nigh certain could be described as ‘shadow figures’. These beings danced upon walls, floors and ceilings alike. Sin couldn’t help but to wonder if their old ancestors had performed here once, hidden away as stage hands. It was possible.
Soon, they would stray from their journey, beckoned by a mirror covered in cloth.
“Hello?” They asked, voice echoing into the open though disheveled theater. Who were they talking to? No sooner than a few seconds they had turned their back to the drawn curtains, placing their camera on the floor before them with a groan. “Damn that shit heavy.” They complained, rubbing at their collar with a grumble. Shining the light into the audience once more as they took a few long strides towards center stage. It was with one all too faithful step that they’d found an old trap door collapsing beneath their red converse sneakers. Landing on their ass with a moan. Shit. Their camera!!! Feeling around for their flashlight, breathing a sigh of relief once they had flipped it on again, looking to the hole above. “There’s no going back up that way.” They lamented. Damn, now if they found anything it’d all be hearsay!
Getting to their feet they spun around, getting a feeling for their surroundings, that powerful heirloom still safe and sound against their chest. As the soles of their shoes crushed decaying wood panels they couldn’t deny their curiosity. This place smelled terrible. It took them some time to place this, but it was a smell akin to death. A bandanna soon drawn over their nose as they suppressed the urge to gage. Though Sin was a fearless sort their nerves grew frayed, that fight or flight response was kicking into overdrive but they couldn’t stop themselves. It was here they would be met with a new challenge unlike any other they had faced before.
Beneath a cloth was a mirror. Heavy and old. Brass was it? Or was it a lavish gold? They’d not have been able to identify it, not given their upbringing. Running their fingers over the intricately forged metal. That voice they heard earlier was louder here. But as soon as they’d approached it vanished, all that built up activity around them ceasing in an instant. Though their heart was still racing from the excitement of it all. Breathless, they wiped dust from the shimmery surface. This mirror, unlike the rest of the place, looked new. Untouched by the decay which surrounded it. Despite all of their knowledge, and despite having been shown this exact mirror as a part of their ‘training’ in years prior they didn’t recognize it now. Had it morphed in shape? Or had the perception of it merely changed by its own accord?
“I’m in over my head.” They murmured, gazing upon the mirror thoughtfully as they shook their head. The battery from their flashlight having suddenly gone dead, leaving them in the dark, alone. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” They murmured, batting at the back of their flashlight in the dark to no avail. Were the batteries in their pack any good or had those gone dead too? Was their camera all that would remain of them? Would that scream into nothingness be the lost sound they emitted?
Amani had been out on one of their nightly strolls, a new regular at some shithole bar. Yet, despite their nightly visits they did not come to drink. Few if any could have ever guessed that the five foot two or so person was an expert hitman. Bright and cheery as they were, it was unlikely any would suspect little ol' Amani! They were dressed comfortably in a pair of black overalls coupled with a nice mustard button up and a shiny little jacket. Ooo they were looking damn cute! Worthy of a stare or two, but not by the likes of men! Few, if any gained such proximity, in part due to the nature of their job, and their apprehensiveness elsewise. Still, despite their 'distance' they were anything but unkind.
The 'Cowboy' or so they were called was clearly Queer, their dressing style and aesthetics said so! A wonderfully ambiguous human they were, in looks and tone. They held characteristics of man and woman, and whatever lay between and outside of those standards. The status quo was about the last thing on their mind as they scratched at the back of their head, thick, dark curls adorning their head. Their skin was darker in tone, speaking to their African ancestors, but they held a nearer history. The slightest of 'western' influences, from the spurs on their boots to a shiny silver buckle on their belt. It was a wonder their hair wasn't filled with straw! They'd grown up on a ranch, many moons ago. They were nearing their late twenties now, but they didn't look a day over twenty, their features youthful. Black don't crack, or so their mama said.
They unlike most of their 'kind' hunted not only 'targets' but evil men too. The rich were an especially fond target. It was their own personal duty to cleanse the streets of all the vermin. Perverts were never spared, nor dealers preying on the poor. Not a second glance. Wham, bam done. Either way, it was one of their 'nights off', as in they hadn't expected anything exceptional to occur. A drink or two was in order, or perhaps a meal at the local diner? Either way what came next was all but welcome. Rolling their eyes far back into their skull before spitting on the ground. Who did these dudes think they were hm?
Well, they weren't worthy of a response that was for certain. Amani paid little mind to them. Should either of them attempt to mess with them they'd be paying dearly. A hand placed on their shoulder was enough for them to spin around on their thick heeled boots. Swiftly knocking him onto his ass.
"Ooops. Did I do that?" They replied, cheerily as ever. Oh. But what was this? Someone was approaching. Someone... big? Their warm dark eyes lifted, framed with curiosity. They had not seen this one before. Ah but they were here to help? Interesting, that was new, in the faceless city of a million men out only for themselves. But this one was different. Just because they'd approached to 'assist' them did not mean they'd instantaneously trust another. Far, far from it.
Whoever this individual was, they wished to make it resoundingly clear that they were not in need of their help. Their expression saying so, half lidded, shoulders squared despite their small stature. See? Not a scratch on them! Amani was well capable of taking care of themselves. Shrugging their shoulders. "Nothing I can't handle myself." All honorifics ignored for the moment, though a sir or ma'am lie upon the tip of their tongue. "Appreciate the concern though." Turning to face the other's as they uttered further stupidities. "I was just about to take care of things." Sighing as they shrugged their shoulders. Damn. "I hate getting my hands dirty, especially for the likes of men." Glancing back at the other. "Don't suppose you wouldn't mind helping me out would you?" Amani could play innocent. Besides, it would give them a good vantage point. Observation first and foremost. "I'll even treat you to a drink after." Cracking their knuckles as they set to square up with the group of gangsters, without so much as a care in the world. It was unlikely they'd need to fire a single bullet, they were just as good in hand to hand combat at they were a marksman. "Heard some popular band is playing tonight..." Tripping yet another man who'd attempted to come at them. Whoops, that had to hurt! Chuckling as the man hit the pavement.
Oh were the two big boys getting scared? A sweet smile upon Amani's lips. "Oh, y'all too shy to speak now?" Their accent thick, something of a southern flare. Fiddling with the ends of their hair, twirling their curls along their fingers. "Boring." They were just like the rest. No wonder they were all alone. "Go on, see yourselves off." They didn't want to get any more involved with them. Besides, they had company now! Even if only for an evening. Amani, opted to keep their distance more often than not, but this stranger had earned a drink. Just as promised. "So, what will you be having?" they asked, brows rising as the pair walked side by side. The bar was but a block or two away. "I've always been a whiskey person."
Damn this city.
No. Fuck this city! Fuck this place that had nothing left to give. Well, shit, V didn’t either. A union made of a holy sort, since when had he agreed to marriage? Yet the band shimmered upon his finger in stark contrast to the worn converse shoes he wore. New to him. Stolen, and recently too! Just his side a quick switch n’ swap and his kicks were looking good as ever! Few if any would have guessed the boy was houseless.
With the multitude of tattoos and shiny piercings to boot? Yeah, if he got caught panhandling most anyone would have thought he was simply some failed rock star. In some ways he was, but in other ways not. He’d been destined for this hadn’t he? Born out of wedlock. That’s what began the perfect nuclear family wasn’t it? Or was he doomed because he’d been raised by a single mother? Until he was kicked out that was, for being gay no less. One dirty magazine and it was over.
“You’re dead to me.” She’d said, and to him? She was dead too.
Was that what kept him going all these days? Weeks? Months. No, it’d been years. He’d been kicked loose at the ripe age of sixteen and he was nearly twenty three. Old enough to drink, old enough to do most anything. Other than get himself out of a shit situation as it were. The boy was often found kicking his feet, fingers looped into his disheveled hair as he bickered to himself. Most assumed him crazy, but he’d always been outward like that. The best and worst of him was worn upon his sleeve.
He had an okay reputation amongst the other houseless folks. V was the last guy to kick another dude when he was down, or to steal the pack from his back. If anything he made for a ripe target, for it wasn’t as if houseless folks were always kind to other houseless folks. Today had been one of those particularly unlucky days where he found himself at a loss. Unwilling to go on. Yet, he must. The act wasn’t over yet.
Was that all this was? Some show? At least he looked the part. Scraping his dirtied nails through his hair with a groan. At least the guy who’d jumped him hadn’t been smart enough to check his underwear. He’d at least a hundred bucks worth of dope to sell to the next guy. Parsing it out bit by bit in the back of some dimly lit alleyway. Pinching pennies, which was more than he had in his pockets.
V had gotten wiser over the years. One had to keep their community close, but never… too close. People turned on one another all the time and it wasn’t because anyone was inherently evil or anything like that. Most of them were just looking out for themselves, or even loved ones. In light of this, V could hardly hold any malice against them. He’d rather take out his anger on the ‘machine’, but sometimes a fellow human was the closest victim.
Was V really any different? So what if it was just weed? Was he not preying upon another? Yes, this was wrong too. But money in itself was flawed, what was he to do about that? It was a must. Pocketing what remained of his assets, the goods destined to be sold that night. There was some half decent band playing tonight wasn’t there? If he was lucky he could get in without paying the cover charge. The truth was the best sales were often found in places like this, tipsy college kids wished for nothing more than to get stoned while listening to their favorite band. This was something he shared in common with his clients, packing a small black pipe which was shaped like a cigarette. Scooby snacks were a given, as he’d inhaled a little too sharply. But it was worth it. Always worth it. This was the one thing that kept the boy sane.
Just as he’d hoped, he’d managed to weasel his way into the all too familiar venue. He’d played on that stage before. Freshly painted. Pushing through the crowd, making his way towards the front of the crowd. Since he’d made it this far he may as well enjoy the music for a moment no? Closing his eyes, easily lost in the instrumentals, uncaring as he bumped into folks who looked an awful lot like he did. Another nameless face in the crowd, rocking a dingy band tee which had to have looked original. Slim fit jeans and of course, those bright blue converse which he’d stolen the week prior. V looked anything but out of place, grinning big for the first time in a long, long while. Little did he know what the night would have in store, lost in the moment. He’d get to work, eventually. V had always been a slacker, this much had never changed.
Once he got to it he’d be in and out with the breeze. But not until the show was over of course, he’d gone through all the trouble of getting in! What if he could chill with the band after? What a lovely night it could be! If only he had the cash to buy the front man a drink, he’d win him over for sure. A keen glimmer in his eye which spoke to mischief as he neared the head of the stage. Hell yeah, frowning when one of the staff had given him a look. Fine, fine, no arms on the stage. Sticking out his tongue, but ultimately abiding by their rules else he’d really ruin any chance at turning today around. Unbeknownst to him that blue bandanna which stuck out of his back pocket was what would fuck him over. But could he have five minutes first? Was that really too much to ask?
Lance wasn't used to getting up at seven am, but the buzzing of their phone across the nightstand was enough to rouse them from their half asleep state. Typically the bassist slept like the dead and hardly anything could wake them, but the night before they had hardly slept. It was hard not to be nervous, who knew what today had in store. This would be the first time they and V had the opportunity to talk with a record company about being branded. Branding. That was something neither of them had ever thought they would seek out, but the longer the pair had made the music the more they found it was essential to get representation. The Rockstar life wasn't all it was cracked up to be and at the end of the day they didn't have the cash power to keep going as they had been.
Sighing loudly the bassist turned onto their side to face the smaller man at their side. His skin was pale against the dark covers, there were dark lines under his eyes making him look years older then he was. Offering the other a sad smile they raised a hand to run their digits along the long hair that hung over the other's ear. V's hair was clipped short on both sides and he wore a lazy mohawk of sorts but when they were in the morning hours like this his hair was just a mess. It had only taken a few minutes for Lance to half straighten their partners hair as he slept. Getting to their feet they opted to let the other get some extra sleep, it looked like he had slept about as well as they had. Normally V got very little sleep as it was, so when something big was coming up every minute of sleep mattered to the singer, and more so his partner. They'd let him sleep as long as possible.
The rest of the morning ritual was completed in relative silence. Lance had taken a shower, brushed their hair and done their makeup in just under an hour. Today they wore black dress slacks and shiny leather boots. Unlike usual their stomach wasn't showing, they wore a dark burgundy button up shirt with the top most button left undone. It was an atypical look for them but today wasn't the day to play around with their gender expression, they didn't know what kind of person they would be meeting and if being a little uncomfortable meant they'd get signed then they'd put up with the stiff clothing. Despite their lack of interest in masculine clothing they easily tied a tie around their neck, cinching it loosely around their throat before they were making their way back to the bedside. Over one arm hung a pair of black dress pants, a cobalt shirt and tie.
Bending downwards Lance pressed their lips to V's forehead, their free hand coming to run along his bare shoulder for a few moments until the other had stirred half awake. He complained and lamented about getting up but eventually he had sat up and propped his forehead against his partner's collar. His voice was still husky from disuse as he continued to whine about the hour and the way the light had spilt into the room through the half drawn blinds. "You'll be alright babe, you act like I'm trying to kill ya." Lance hummed jokingly as they ran they swept his hair off to one side once again. "C'mon, I let you sleep in, you can't make us late now." they urged him to get little response. V was stubborn as all get up and if you told him to go left he'd go right even if it meant certain peril.
The longer Lance attempted to wake V the more aware they became of the minutes ticking by. They had to be in the car in about fifteen minutes or they would be late, no doubt. Hell they'd already probably have to speed to get there in time. Lifting V's arm into the sleeve they tugged the shirt along his back as he slipped his arm into the other sleeve only being half helpful as broad fingers worked to button his shirt. A tie was effortlessly looped around his neck and carefully tightened. At least he looked dressed on top. Returning to their full height Lance dropped the pants and underwear onto the bed with a smirk. "I'm not gonna change your underwear for you today." they remarked with a playful sharpness as they went to the stand to grab their phone and keys.
V was still groggy as he stripped out of his old underwear and slipped into a pair of simple spandex boxers and then his pants. These sort of clothes weren't his thing either, but he couldn't deny that he looked damn good in them. It had taken the pair ages at the store the night before to find a shirt that was slim enough cut to fit his body and not make him look like a drowned rat, but they did it. Dragging his feet he trudged into the bathroom to find Lance standing with an open makeup palette. "C'mere." they demanded catching his chin in their fingers as he angled his head upwards and began to mask the darkness that hung heavy under his eyes. "You gotta start going to sleep at night, or at least trying, we aren't sixteen anymore." they said with a sigh setting the brush down as V propped his cheek against their shoulder. V was a useless heap against them this morning and it seemed like his mood was weighing him down today. He was going to have to get some pep in his step if they were gonna land a deal. "Here, here. Lemme get your hair in a tie or something, you look like a punk." they joked lightly pecking his cheek as they grabbed a band from the cup on the counter and tied his hair into a 'man bun' at the back of his scalp. "Handsomeeee." they purred looping their fingers around the tie to tug him closer. Their gaze lingered on half lidded icy blue eyes expectantly, eventually he planted a half hearted kiss on their lips before speaking. "Sorry, I just don't feel well this morning." he said flatly.
"You're all good." Lance said with a shrug. "Lets get a move on, I'll pick us both up a latte or something. That'll make you feel better." they said wrapping an arm around his waist as they guided him through the doorway and shortly after out of the house. They knew a latte wouldn't make him feel better, but it couldn't hurt. Once V got to see the other bandmates he'd perk up like he always did. He had just been a rut as of late and it seemed no matter how hard they worked they just kept hitting dead ends, to say he was feeling discouraged was an understatement.
The drive had been uneventful, but the espresso did help the pair. By the time they arrived at the office building V's fingers were shaking as he ran his fingers up and down the length of buttons at his stomach. There was a pit of anxiety in his stomach now and he certainly wasn't feeling tired anymore. Raking a hand along the side of his head his fingers stopped to play with the blue glass that was nestled into his earlobe. "Here we go huh?" he asked his voice wavering as he moved to interlock his fingers into Lance's. "I guess so." they responded with more certainty. Passing through the sliding glass doors the pair ogled at the much too expensive space. This sort of lavishness was nothing either of them had ever known and it led to both of them cramming their hands into their pockets, neither of them could afford to break anything.
Lance was the first to approach the receptionist at the desk to let her know that they had arrived for a meeting. She seemed disinterested in their attendance but fulfilled her duty notifying the agent on duty as to their arrival. She instructed the two to take a seat in the waiting area while they waited for the rest of the group as well as for their potential manager to arrive. V and Lance moved silently, seating themselves out of the way from the hustle and bustle of the busy office. It was painfully obvious how out of place they looked from the looks they had been getting. Nice clothes could only cover up so much 'weirdness'. Both of them still had streaks of color in their hair and several piercings that set them apart from the 'norm'. V looked uneasy, his fingers were looped tightly together, his thumbs endlessly circling one another underneath his palms. A large hand came to rest along his back, out of sight from others as Lance ran their thumb along his spine attempting to soothe him. "...ugh... where are they???" Lance muttered softly under their breath to no one in particular but V shrugged, he was worried too. They were one band member short but if it was just the two of them they'd figure it out one way or another.
PLEASE DO NOT STEAL / USE MY MOOD BOARDS OR ARTWORK.
They are commissioned and or I made them. Thank you!
Pairings / Tropes:
Demon x Mortal
Vampire x Mortal
Werewolf x Mortal
Vampire x Werewolf
☆Vampire x Supernatural Hunter
☆Werewolf x Supernatural Hunter
☆Mortal x Ghost
☆Dealer x User
Dealer x Sober
Drug user x Drug user
☆Open x Closeted
☆☆High-ranking Individual x Bounty hunter
Experiment x Scientist
Experiment x Experiment
Artist x Muse
☆Model x Photographer
Hunter x Hunted
Assassin x Target
☆Enemies to Lovers
Revenge x Romance - Sought revenge, fell in love
☆Leader x Guard
Fugitive x Knight
Random Species/Ideas/Abilities That I like:
Humans
Vampires
Demons
Werewolves (/w nuance)
Gargoyles
Shapeshifters
Necromancers
Angels
Dragons / Dragon Riders
Space
Wilderness / Survival
★・★・★・★・★・★・★・★・★・★・★・★・★・★・★・★
If you are interested in RPing with my OCs you can totally shoot me a PM or drop a comment!
For a television star on the up and up, Sin often found themselves alone. This however did not mean the adventurous twenty seven year old was left with nothing to do. In fact, it most often meant they were up to no good and they had been for quite some time. Their opinions and hot takes had earned them a seat in the limelight, a common feature on late night talk shows and radio specials alike. Truthfully, they cared little for all of that, though they couldn’t deny the benefits of the inevitable cash flow. Their work was nothing new, not to them. When did they begin all of this? Somewhere around the age of sixteen or so, at least that was what they told the press. The truth was that they had been doing this ‘work’ since the day they’d been born. A sixth sense was their greatest asset, though perhaps one day their luck would run out. Yes, it seemed as soon as this one could walk they saw things which no else could see.
Little did they know how soon they’d find themselves on a downward slope. With a cigarette dangling between their lips they adjusted the beanie on their head, headphones in place with a massive camera over one shoulder. A comedic sight given just how small they were. The beastly piece of equipment looked like enough to topple them by the blessing of the slightest breeze. Their arms had fortunately grown strong, far more capable than they looked beneath their baggy double layered top. Though they often dressed bold, they kept it simple tonight. There was no point in getting busted by the cops if they could avoid it. Star or not, trespassing was trespassing. Not that they agreed in the faintest with all that posted signage. If an abandoned building was abandoned it was just that, abandoned!
The best sorts were those reclaimed by the foliage. Chipping paint, mold and splintering wood. Though the presence of small animals did make it that much harder to validate their footage, the company of a raccoon kept them light on their feet. Though they from time to time moved with a team, they had decided to take this trip alone. Something told them that was how it was meant to be. So what if they’d been having some odd dreams of late? Sin wasn’t a fearful sort, even if superstitious at times they came armed with all they needed. A small leather pouch worn upon their neck, better known as a gris-gris was enough to ward off the worst of demons. Hundreds of years of practice resided in that pouch, even following their families inevitable forced move to the states. Its magick persisted, a fingertip set to the small pouch before they began their descent.
A once grand theater sat on these grounds, ravaged by fire and buried by earth which had slid decades ago. There were a number of entrances, and even more collapsed exits. That did not deter them, not one bit. As they lit the first of many flashlights they began their quest. Eyes and ears on alert, seeking the factual rather than the theoretical. Their eyes were most often found looking through the lens of their camera for verification of any ‘activity’. For how many souls had been doomed in this venue they had expected more. What they found was a run down skeleton of what had once been. Though there were rooms which were shockingly well preserved. Hidden beneath a layer of thickened soot were rich tones of red and gold. The architecture of what remained suggested the place was 1900’s or so. They’d do their research first, for Sin preferred to go in ‘blind’ and to confirm what they had learned later.
They could practically see it now, a mindful eye they had. Rows and rows of seating, wood frames, vibrant velvet and golden numbers upon each seat. It was at this point they had closed their eyes, drawing in a deep breath. The air felt cooler here. Stilling their motions, their striking, though gentle eyes sliding closed. Brows furrowing. They swore they could hear a voice. Distant. Dissolved? Distorted. Any number of words could have described the low grumble they heard. Whether or not the voice was human or not they couldn’t place but as their feet began to propel them forward they found certainty. Human. This being, this entity was human. Peering through the lens on their camera they documented what they were nigh certain could be described as ‘shadow figures’. These beings danced upon walls, floors and ceilings alike. Sin couldn’t help but to wonder if their old ancestors had performed here once, hidden away as stage hands. It was possible.
Soon, they would stray from their journey, beckoned by a mirror covered in cloth.
“Hello?” They asked, voice echoing into the open though disheveled theater. Who were they talking to? No sooner than a few seconds they had turned their back to the drawn curtains, placing their camera on the floor before them with a groan. “Damn that shit heavy.” They complained, rubbing at their collar with a grumble. Shining the light into the audience once more as they took a few long strides towards center stage. It was with one all too faithful step that they’d found an old trap door collapsing beneath their red converse sneakers. Landing on their ass with a moan. Shit. Their camera!!! Feeling around for their flashlight, breathing a sigh of relief once they had flipped it on again, looking to the hole above. “There’s no going back up that way.” They lamented. Damn, now if they found anything it’d all be hearsay!
Getting to their feet they spun around, getting a feeling for their surroundings, that powerful heirloom still safe and sound against their chest. As the soles of their shoes crushed decaying wood panels they couldn’t deny their curiosity. This place smelled terrible. It took them some time to place this, but it was a smell akin to death. A bandanna soon drawn over their nose as they suppressed the urge to gage. Though Sin was a fearless sort their nerves grew frayed, that fight or flight response was kicking into overdrive but they couldn’t stop themselves. It was here they would be met with a new challenge unlike any other they had faced before.
Beneath a cloth was a mirror. Heavy and old. Brass was it? Or was it a lavish gold? They’d not have been able to identify it, not given their upbringing. Running their fingers over the intricately forged metal. That voice they heard earlier was louder here. But as soon as they’d approached it vanished, all that built up activity around them ceasing in an instant. Though their heart was still racing from the excitement of it all. Breathless, they wiped dust from the shimmery surface. This mirror, unlike the rest of the place, looked new. Untouched by the decay which surrounded it. Despite all of their knowledge, and despite having been shown this exact mirror as a part of their ‘training’ in years prior they didn’t recognize it now. Had it morphed in shape? Or had the perception of it merely changed by its own accord?
“I’m in over my head.” They murmured, gazing upon the mirror thoughtfully as they shook their head. The battery from their flashlight having suddenly gone dead, leaving them in the dark, alone. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” They murmured, batting at the back of their flashlight in the dark to no avail. Were the batteries in their pack any good or had those gone dead too? Was their camera all that would remain of them? Would that scream into nothingness be the lost sound they emitted?
Amani had been out on one of their nightly strolls, a new regular at some shithole bar. Yet, despite their nightly visits they did not come to drink. Few if any could have ever guessed that the five foot two or so person was an expert hitman. Bright and cheery as they were, it was unlikely any would suspect little ol' Amani! They were dressed comfortably in a pair of black overalls coupled with a nice mustard button up and a shiny little jacket. Ooo they were looking damn cute! Worthy of a stare or two, but not by the likes of men! Few, if any gained such proximity, in part due to the nature of their job, and their apprehensiveness elsewise. Still, despite their 'distance' they were anything but unkind.
The 'Cowboy' or so they were called was clearly Queer, their dressing style and aesthetics said so! A wonderfully ambiguous human they were, in looks and tone. They held characteristics of man and woman, and whatever lay between and outside of those standards. The status quo was about the last thing on their mind as they scratched at the back of their head, thick, dark curls adorning their head. Their skin was darker in tone, speaking to their African ancestors, but they held a nearer history. The slightest of 'western' influences, from the spurs on their boots to a shiny silver buckle on their belt. It was a wonder their hair wasn't filled with straw! They'd grown up on a ranch, many moons ago. They were nearing their late twenties now, but they didn't look a day over twenty, their features youthful. Black don't crack, or so their mama said.
They unlike most of their 'kind' hunted not only 'targets' but evil men too. The rich were an especially fond target. It was their own personal duty to cleanse the streets of all the vermin. Perverts were never spared, nor dealers preying on the poor. Not a second glance. Wham, bam done. Either way, it was one of their 'nights off', as in they hadn't expected anything exceptional to occur. A drink or two was in order, or perhaps a meal at the local diner? Either way what came next was all but welcome. Rolling their eyes far back into their skull before spitting on the ground. Who did these dudes think they were hm?
Well, they weren't worthy of a response that was for certain. Amani paid little mind to them. Should either of them attempt to mess with them they'd be paying dearly. A hand placed on their shoulder was enough for them to spin around on their thick heeled boots. Swiftly knocking him onto his ass.
"Ooops. Did I do that?" They replied, cheerily as ever. Oh. But what was this? Someone was approaching. Someone... big? Their warm dark eyes lifted, framed with curiosity. They had not seen this one before. Ah but they were here to help? Interesting, that was new, in the faceless city of a million men out only for themselves. But this one was different. Just because they'd approached to 'assist' them did not mean they'd instantaneously trust another. Far, far from it.
Whoever this individual was, they wished to make it resoundingly clear that they were not in need of their help. Their expression saying so, half lidded, shoulders squared despite their small stature. See? Not a scratch on them! Amani was well capable of taking care of themselves. Shrugging their shoulders. "Nothing I can't handle myself." All honorifics ignored for the moment, though a sir or ma'am lie upon the tip of their tongue. "Appreciate the concern though." Turning to face the other's as they uttered further stupidities. "I was just about to take care of things." Sighing as they shrugged their shoulders. Damn. "I hate getting my hands dirty, especially for the likes of men." Glancing back at the other. "Don't suppose you wouldn't mind helping me out would you?" Amani could play innocent. Besides, it would give them a good vantage point. Observation first and foremost. "I'll even treat you to a drink after." Cracking their knuckles as they set to square up with the group of gangsters, without so much as a care in the world. It was unlikely they'd need to fire a single bullet, they were just as good in hand to hand combat at they were a marksman. "Heard some popular band is playing tonight..." Tripping yet another man who'd attempted to come at them. Whoops, that had to hurt! Chuckling as the man hit the pavement.
Oh were the two big boys getting scared? A sweet smile upon Amani's lips. "Oh, y'all too shy to speak now?" Their accent thick, something of a southern flare. Fiddling with the ends of their hair, twirling their curls along their fingers. "Boring." They were just like the rest. No wonder they were all alone. "Go on, see yourselves off." They didn't want to get any more involved with them. Besides, they had company now! Even if only for an evening. Amani, opted to keep their distance more often than not, but this stranger had earned a drink. Just as promised. "So, what will you be having?" they asked, brows rising as the pair walked side by side. The bar was but a block or two away. "I've always been a whiskey person."
Damn this city.
No. Fuck this city! Fuck this place that had nothing left to give. Well, shit, V didn’t either. A union made of a holy sort, since when had he agreed to marriage? Yet the band shimmered upon his finger in stark contrast to the worn converse shoes he wore. New to him. Stolen, and recently too! Just his side a quick switch n’ swap and his kicks were looking good as ever! Few if any would have guessed the boy was houseless.
With the multitude of tattoos and shiny piercings to boot? Yeah, if he got caught panhandling most anyone would have thought he was simply some failed rock star. In some ways he was, but in other ways not. He’d been destined for this hadn’t he? Born out of wedlock. That’s what began the perfect nuclear family wasn’t it? Or was he doomed because he’d been raised by a single mother? Until he was kicked out that was, for being gay no less. One dirty magazine and it was over.
“You’re dead to me.” She’d said, and to him? She was dead too.
Was that what kept him going all these days? Weeks? Months. No, it’d been years. He’d been kicked loose at the ripe age of sixteen and he was nearly twenty three. Old enough to drink, old enough to do most anything. Other than get himself out of a shit situation as it were. The boy was often found kicking his feet, fingers looped into his disheveled hair as he bickered to himself. Most assumed him crazy, but he’d always been outward like that. The best and worst of him was worn upon his sleeve.
He had an okay reputation amongst the other houseless folks. V was the last guy to kick another dude when he was down, or to steal the pack from his back. If anything he made for a ripe target, for it wasn’t as if houseless folks were always kind to other houseless folks. Today had been one of those particularly unlucky days where he found himself at a loss. Unwilling to go on. Yet, he must. The act wasn’t over yet.
Was that all this was? Some show? At least he looked the part. Scraping his dirtied nails through his hair with a groan. At least the guy who’d jumped him hadn’t been smart enough to check his underwear. He’d at least a hundred bucks worth of dope to sell to the next guy. Parsing it out bit by bit in the back of some dimly lit alleyway. Pinching pennies, which was more than he had in his pockets.
V had gotten wiser over the years. One had to keep their community close, but never… too close. People turned on one another all the time and it wasn’t because anyone was inherently evil or anything like that. Most of them were just looking out for themselves, or even loved ones. In light of this, V could hardly hold any malice against them. He’d rather take out his anger on the ‘machine’, but sometimes a fellow human was the closest victim.
Was V really any different? So what if it was just weed? Was he not preying upon another? Yes, this was wrong too. But money in itself was flawed, what was he to do about that? It was a must. Pocketing what remained of his assets, the goods destined to be sold that night. There was some half decent band playing tonight wasn’t there? If he was lucky he could get in without paying the cover charge. The truth was the best sales were often found in places like this, tipsy college kids wished for nothing more than to get stoned while listening to their favorite band. This was something he shared in common with his clients, packing a small black pipe which was shaped like a cigarette. Scooby snacks were a given, as he’d inhaled a little too sharply. But it was worth it. Always worth it. This was the one thing that kept the boy sane.
Just as he’d hoped, he’d managed to weasel his way into the all too familiar venue. He’d played on that stage before. Freshly painted. Pushing through the crowd, making his way towards the front of the crowd. Since he’d made it this far he may as well enjoy the music for a moment no? Closing his eyes, easily lost in the instrumentals, uncaring as he bumped into folks who looked an awful lot like he did. Another nameless face in the crowd, rocking a dingy band tee which had to have looked original. Slim fit jeans and of course, those bright blue converse which he’d stolen the week prior. V looked anything but out of place, grinning big for the first time in a long, long while. Little did he know what the night would have in store, lost in the moment. He’d get to work, eventually. V had always been a slacker, this much had never changed.
Once he got to it he’d be in and out with the breeze. But not until the show was over of course, he’d gone through all the trouble of getting in! What if he could chill with the band after? What a lovely night it could be! If only he had the cash to buy the front man a drink, he’d win him over for sure. A keen glimmer in his eye which spoke to mischief as he neared the head of the stage. Hell yeah, frowning when one of the staff had given him a look. Fine, fine, no arms on the stage. Sticking out his tongue, but ultimately abiding by their rules else he’d really ruin any chance at turning today around. Unbeknownst to him that blue bandanna which stuck out of his back pocket was what would fuck him over. But could he have five minutes first? Was that really too much to ask?
Lance wasn't used to getting up at seven am, but the buzzing of their phone across the nightstand was enough to rouse them from their half asleep state. Typically the bassist slept like the dead and hardly anything could wake them, but the night before they had hardly slept. It was hard not to be nervous, who knew what today had in store. This would be the first time they and V had the opportunity to talk with a record company about being branded. Branding. That was something neither of them had ever thought they would seek out, but the longer the pair had made the music the more they found it was essential to get representation. The Rockstar life wasn't all it was cracked up to be and at the end of the day they didn't have the cash power to keep going as they had been.
Sighing loudly the bassist turned onto their side to face the smaller man at their side. His skin was pale against the dark covers, there were dark lines under his eyes making him look years older then he was. Offering the other a sad smile they raised a hand to run their digits along the long hair that hung over the other's ear. V's hair was clipped short on both sides and he wore a lazy mohawk of sorts but when they were in the morning hours like this his hair was just a mess. It had only taken a few minutes for Lance to half straighten their partners hair as he slept. Getting to their feet they opted to let the other get some extra sleep, it looked like he had slept about as well as they had. Normally V got very little sleep as it was, so when something big was coming up every minute of sleep mattered to the singer, and more so his partner. They'd let him sleep as long as possible.
The rest of the morning ritual was completed in relative silence. Lance had taken a shower, brushed their hair and done their makeup in just under an hour. Today they wore black dress slacks and shiny leather boots. Unlike usual their stomach wasn't showing, they wore a dark burgundy button up shirt with the top most button left undone. It was an atypical look for them but today wasn't the day to play around with their gender expression, they didn't know what kind of person they would be meeting and if being a little uncomfortable meant they'd get signed then they'd put up with the stiff clothing. Despite their lack of interest in masculine clothing they easily tied a tie around their neck, cinching it loosely around their throat before they were making their way back to the bedside. Over one arm hung a pair of black dress pants, a cobalt shirt and tie.
Bending downwards Lance pressed their lips to V's forehead, their free hand coming to run along his bare shoulder for a few moments until the other had stirred half awake. He complained and lamented about getting up but eventually he had sat up and propped his forehead against his partner's collar. His voice was still husky from disuse as he continued to whine about the hour and the way the light had spilt into the room through the half drawn blinds. "You'll be alright babe, you act like I'm trying to kill ya." Lance hummed jokingly as they ran they swept his hair off to one side once again. "C'mon, I let you sleep in, you can't make us late now." they urged him to get little response. V was stubborn as all get up and if you told him to go left he'd go right even if it meant certain peril.
The longer Lance attempted to wake V the more aware they became of the minutes ticking by. They had to be in the car in about fifteen minutes or they would be late, no doubt. Hell they'd already probably have to speed to get there in time. Lifting V's arm into the sleeve they tugged the shirt along his back as he slipped his arm into the other sleeve only being half helpful as broad fingers worked to button his shirt. A tie was effortlessly looped around his neck and carefully tightened. At least he looked dressed on top. Returning to their full height Lance dropped the pants and underwear onto the bed with a smirk. "I'm not gonna change your underwear for you today." they remarked with a playful sharpness as they went to the stand to grab their phone and keys.
V was still groggy as he stripped out of his old underwear and slipped into a pair of simple spandex boxers and then his pants. These sort of clothes weren't his thing either, but he couldn't deny that he looked damn good in them. It had taken the pair ages at the store the night before to find a shirt that was slim enough cut to fit his body and not make him look like a drowned rat, but they did it. Dragging his feet he trudged into the bathroom to find Lance standing with an open makeup palette. "C'mere." they demanded catching his chin in their fingers as he angled his head upwards and began to mask the darkness that hung heavy under his eyes. "You gotta start going to sleep at night, or at least trying, we aren't sixteen anymore." they said with a sigh setting the brush down as V propped his cheek against their shoulder. V was a useless heap against them this morning and it seemed like his mood was weighing him down today. He was going to have to get some pep in his step if they were gonna land a deal. "Here, here. Lemme get your hair in a tie or something, you look like a punk." they joked lightly pecking his cheek as they grabbed a band from the cup on the counter and tied his hair into a 'man bun' at the back of his scalp. "Handsomeeee." they purred looping their fingers around the tie to tug him closer. Their gaze lingered on half lidded icy blue eyes expectantly, eventually he planted a half hearted kiss on their lips before speaking. "Sorry, I just don't feel well this morning." he said flatly.
"You're all good." Lance said with a shrug. "Lets get a move on, I'll pick us both up a latte or something. That'll make you feel better." they said wrapping an arm around his waist as they guided him through the doorway and shortly after out of the house. They knew a latte wouldn't make him feel better, but it couldn't hurt. Once V got to see the other bandmates he'd perk up like he always did. He had just been a rut as of late and it seemed no matter how hard they worked they just kept hitting dead ends, to say he was feeling discouraged was an understatement.
The drive had been uneventful, but the espresso did help the pair. By the time they arrived at the office building V's fingers were shaking as he ran his fingers up and down the length of buttons at his stomach. There was a pit of anxiety in his stomach now and he certainly wasn't feeling tired anymore. Raking a hand along the side of his head his fingers stopped to play with the blue glass that was nestled into his earlobe. "Here we go huh?" he asked his voice wavering as he moved to interlock his fingers into Lance's. "I guess so." they responded with more certainty. Passing through the sliding glass doors the pair ogled at the much too expensive space. This sort of lavishness was nothing either of them had ever known and it led to both of them cramming their hands into their pockets, neither of them could afford to break anything.
Lance was the first to approach the receptionist at the desk to let her know that they had arrived for a meeting. She seemed disinterested in their attendance but fulfilled her duty notifying the agent on duty as to their arrival. She instructed the two to take a seat in the waiting area while they waited for the rest of the group as well as for their potential manager to arrive. V and Lance moved silently, seating themselves out of the way from the hustle and bustle of the busy office. It was painfully obvious how out of place they looked from the looks they had been getting. Nice clothes could only cover up so much 'weirdness'. Both of them still had streaks of color in their hair and several piercings that set them apart from the 'norm'. V looked uneasy, his fingers were looped tightly together, his thumbs endlessly circling one another underneath his palms. A large hand came to rest along his back, out of sight from others as Lance ran their thumb along his spine attempting to soothe him. "...ugh... where are they???" Lance muttered softly under their breath to no one in particular but V shrugged, he was worried too. They were one band member short but if it was just the two of them they'd figure it out one way or another.
PLEASE DO NOT STEAL / USE MY MOOD BOARDS OR ARTWORK.
They are commissioned and or I made them. Thank you!
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