X | Bodyguard | Dragon | UNB

Mentions: Aster (ind.) then (dir.)

X's eyes shot open when he felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket, causing him to shuffle in place to wake himself up more. He ties his hair into a messy bun, then reaches into his back pocket to pull out his cellular device. His eyes turn to the cracked phone screen of the various aggressive tapping (and throwing) he did to his poor device. He trails his tongue over his dried lips, reading the name on his screen. "Aster." He mumbled, thinning his lips, then pressed the answer button. X brings the phone to his ear, not bothering to say anything, knowing Aster always speaks first. He mentally lists the items the witch asked for. X knows that when Aster asks for those items, he's in a terrible mood. "Yeah." Was the only words he said before hanging up with a rough tap of his thumb, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

X left the building, walking along the sidewalk to Pinky's. He shoves his way through the crowd, glaring at anyone that dares to speak up against him. He wasn't in the mood to be interrupted. It's visible with how he's carrying himself: that upright posture that radiates prowess, that dominant glimmer in his eyes that demands your submission, and his choking aura. Not to mention the sinister gleam of murderous rage in his hues was enough to keep him out of a fight. Much to his dismay. His body had been itching for a good battle, missing the taste of blood on his tongue. A flash of disappointment crossed his mind, believing that he had gone too soft for his liking. Being around people for so long was strong enough to lower his aggressiveness. . .and he hates it.

His eyes surveyed the area, searching for the bakery that held those red velvet cupcakes. A hiss in his throat when he noticed the bakery was crowded through the windows, but he still went over there anyways for Aster's sake. X always Pinky's doorframe considering how small it was in height, making have to lean forward to enter and exit this cursed building. It was embarrassing in his eyes, making him feel that he was submitting to the weaklings in the room. When he approached the line, one of the cashiers recognized him and smiled. "Aster?" "Aster," he replied curtly, wanting to finish the conversation quickly. The cashier turned to the small window frame that showed a clear view of the kitchen, then called out loudly, "We need Aster cakes!" The bakers in the back called back and got to work, with X shuffling to the waiting line. He was almost impressed with how fast they were, making him hum in pleasure when he didn't have to wait in line for so long.

With bagged cupcakes in his custody, he left the bakery and walked up the road to a Chinese fast-food joint. Again he had to duck to enter the place, causing his teeth to grind together. The same thing happened again with a brief interaction between the cashier and X, with the people recognizing his face and already making Aster's order. As swiftly as he was entering, he left with haste. He placed the two bags on the bench and removed his cloak, tying the piece of clothing around his waist using the sleeves. His back started to become covered with black scales as 15feet wings sprouted from his back. H held the bags firmly in his grip before taking off to the skies, flying over to Aster's place. His eyes shifted downwards to the people below, a cocky smirk forming on his lips. It sucks for those that can't fly, stuck walking and brushing against strangers.

Finding his destination, Aster's home, he lands outside his bedroom window and opens it. "Aster, it's me." X climbs through his newfound entryway, struggling a bit due to his size. He placed the bags on the witch's bed once he was close enough, going into the kitchen to fix Aster something to drink. He starts brewing Chamomile tea, a skill he learned from watching Aster's parents making tea through their kitchen window. X leans against the counter, with his back pressed against it while tucking his wings. X yawns, still tired despite doing much of anything today. Once the tea was made, he put it in a cup and walked back to the witch's room. The dragon placed the cup of tea on the nightstand, then climbed into Aster's bed. His wings disappeared, and he tossed his coat to the side. "Want me to stay for a few days?" Already knowing that riled his nerves, his focus on the startled man beside him. "He's causing you all these issues, and you still won't let me eat him." His faced shriveled in anger, smoke pouring out his nostrils.

Astrophil | Roadie | Star-Child | TBR

Mentions: Avenoir (dir.)

Astrophil kept his head down, their eyes twitching as he could feel the eyes of others upon them. In reality, no eyes were fixated on them-no one was paying attention to their presence. It was all in their head, an instilled fear that someone was always watching them. Being under the spotlight while so young was damaging-an experienced no child should endure. It started perfect, as a child who craved fame would've expected. The eyes of a child always perceive things as innocent. Those fans who desire to be near you were pride-boosting, making you feel special. Many are willing to take pictures with you, cameras in your face, and you smile perfectly as much as you can to show gratitude for your time. Those first arriving in the fame spotlight believe it was glamorous and what they dreamed of experiencing.

To the eyes of a child, it was that one thing you dreamt of.

The more they endured such actions throughout the years and their brain started to develop, they realized that none of those experiences was terrible. Their vision of a life of fame has become visible. The older Astrophil got and was allowed access to the internet, the more they were exposed to the darker side of celebrities. When their contract was expiring with his former agency, they didn't bother to renew it for another go. They left without hesitation. For once, they felt a sense of relief, but their mind had been tarnished by those many sufferable years. Still, their heart loved the musical arts, so they demoted themselves and joined the Black Roses agency to experience it without the insufferable stress. The spotlight was no longer on them; however, they were worried about their bandmates.

Each time they gaze upon them, they feel a sensation of dread and a strong sense of protectiveness overflowing them. Those people would become props to a cruel system and might be tossed away once their talent ran dry or the people's desires them no longer. Their mind was in a state of dilemma, dragging them back into their dark place, away from the real world. Their fingers intuitively went to their mask, checking to see if it was still covering the lower half of their face. This mask was their shield, a form of comfort that aids them with keeping what little sanity. That was until a voice called out to them, one they were all too familiar with.

Their unknowingly dimmed eyes of misery brightened, and their gaze settled on the person beside him. Avenoir. The glow in their eyes returned, and an amused smile formulated on their lips, hidden by their masks. They sheepishly waved hello in the singer's direction, grateful the face covering concealed the blush on their cheeks. "Hey, Songbird." Their tone was soft and full of friendliness, and their entire behavior was relaxed and unbothered. They zoned out the people other than Avenoir around them. Astrophil, for once, doesn't feel unsettled being the presence of the public. They felt calm, with their mind steady. "Coffee, as usual?" They brushed their hair bang back when they felt their hair in their eye, yet their hair bounced back into place. They inspected Avenoir's face when they sensed that they were disturbed about something, and concern instantly swelled in their mind. "Are you-" Before they have the chance to finish, their name has been called for their order. "Excuse me," they shyly replied and went to the counter to retrieve their beverage.

They revisit Avenoir, clearing their throat. "What I was originally going to say, are you okay?" Worry crept into their tone, their brows furrowing, and the grip of their cup tightened. "You appear stressed about something. . .we can talk about it someplace more. . .reserved." Astrophil offered, giving a slight tilt of their head.

Ray stood by the doorway, listening to the chatter inside the room. He tapped his foot to a random rhythm that had been stuck in his head for days . It was one that wasn't even in one of the band's songs. He cracked his knuckles against a wall and then smoothed down his wavy black hair but still to his despair sprung up at random points. He rummaged through his pocket and squealed in delight not caring what anyone around him thought. He opened the lollipop with the same excitement as a child on Christmas Day nught open a present . He popped it into his mouth and hummed happily . He was in clothes that he would describe as work clothes. Smart black jeans that were ripped more than they were whole. He wore his comfy black jacket with a white t shirt underneath. He had his spiky black collar on as he always did and had these weird black boot things he had found outside his apartment. So he took them obviously and snazz Ed them up with tipex. Obviously. He awaited for orders to do something or go somewhere , at lleast he got paid. A little but at least money.
Ray straighten himself up into a serious bodyguard pose as he thought he had heard there manager, Latil Pastille. Their name always reminded Ray of an exotic fruit pastel, he didn't know why . His brain just thought it. He rummaged through his pockets as he slumped against the wall . Maybe he should move? He was right where someone could fling the door open and hit him But then he couldn't care so he stayed there looking like a guy who was just there and the one who was just the antisocial band member and was just there for the money the gigs and concerts could bring. After finding no more lollipops he saddened but then set on tracing his scar over snd over again as he drifted away into his thinking place . He hoped no one would get murdered whilst he had zoned out. Paperwork was annoying.

(sorry had to rush because didn't have much time )

Lily Dakota Quinn|Known as Dakota to most|25yrs ish| Female|Unamed Band| Mentions: Open

Dakota zoomed in the streets collecting food with her guitar strapped to the back of her wheelchair securely. Strangers stared and mothers pulled their children close , all things that were normalized to her by now. She didn't care , it didn't affect her that much. Dakota nearly zoomed into another person as she collected the selection of sweet fresh pastries she collected and waited for , she smiled as the baker brought it out the back door for her as she couldn't reach the high order table that was for people that could stand up with their own two feet. The baker was used to her , many of the band came here for snack. Zooming away and adjusting her speed so she didn't go bumping around, she trudged to the supermarket where she bought a selection of food. She didn't know why she brought food days early to the meet up in a room and also to discuss the plans . Dakota loved the band , they even had a bodyguard and crew to help them along their tour. She just hoped she wouldn't be left if there wasn't any accessible places for her to go . If they did that would be fine , she would just browse the cats available at the nearest animal shelter . As long she could be included in the band and play for the band she would be fine. That was spiny. They did need to decided on a name. A flipping proper band name. The Misfits. No. Hmm maybe. Racking her brain , she found no other name suggestions. Dakota was taken back into reality harshly and rapidly by a sharp voice of the cashier "Excuse me , are you going to pay for the items or do you need me to put them on hold?" Looking up , she saw the cold grey eyes of the cashier stare back . Their eyes matched their hair , the uniform and the shoes . As she began relating herself like Dakota couldn't communicate, Dakota tapped her aces and smiled bitterly sweet st her. She rolled away with a "Have a brilliant day". Waves of anxiousness hit her and she just wanted to go back a apologize and then go sit in a dark room. "Well I guess it can't hurt to be ridiculously early I guess" muttering told herself Dakota dashed imagining herself in a race car . The sleek black frame of the wheelchair gleamed as she whizzed back to her appartement . She frowned as she entered the apartment lobby , noticing the clock was wonky just by a tiny bit but annoyed her and made her feel uncomfortable and anxious so she slowly made her way to the reception desk and said quietly "The clocks wonky by the way" and then dashed the other way. As the lift clunked upwards towards her appartement. She jangled her keys back and forth , back and forth thinking about nothing but the band . There was the lead singer,Aster Morningstar, the back up vocals and the bassist Mosi Kana'ti, joining them was another bassist Illaloshal Cyranlene. There was then the drummer Stace Meire, her fellow guitarist Miyaki Doa and of course her Dakota Quinn. There was everyone's fancy names then there is just her with her first name being a flower , her middle snek which goes by as an American state and Quinn is just a surname no one has heard from for centuries. A loud ping interrupted her thoughts and she exited the lift , cursed at it and entered her appartement . And then locked it after her. She wished she could have a cat maybe have a therapy cat some day when she could care for it . Her appartement was wheelchair accessible , pet friendly only if you don't make a mess, and also mostly eco friendly except for the cranky old boiler that blast everyone with hot stinky air . She sighed and lowered herself into a rocking chair which was by a window that overlooked most of the city. She couldn't wait for the meet - up

Emery | Non-Binary | 22 | Human |Soundcrew | UNB

M: Mosi (dir.) + X (ind.)

Their reflection did not seem real.

Dark bags under their eyes, scratches and scars beside nails whose black paint was slowly being chipped away, and cracked lips so dry that they bled, it all did not look real. The water was running in the sink so the neighbors thought they were showering and would not hear whatever sounds they made again; though their mirror, their reflection, said nothing but starred back. The figure before them looked sick, paler with the gold freckles not only seeming inhuman but dull and pointless. There was a sick smell in the bathroom and their teeth tingled from the remainder of puke still lingered in both smell and taste in their mouth.

What was wrong with them? Collapsing into the sink counter for support, they laughed at themself, at their foolish reflection. Something had to be wrong with them for this all to make sense? Their knuckles turned pale as they gripped the counter before their laughter finally died down. A pitiful dying of their false laughter.

The reflection’s red eyes judged them, of course they did. But what did the reflection know or care? The reflection could have done anything else with its life but it chose to be a sound crew of a band that did not even have a name and for what? What were they going to do when the band broke up, realizing they did not need them anymore, or when life happened and they needed to move on? Was it okay for this simple minded reflection to drain their father’s money to go to an online college with a degree that is worthless?

Was anything they were doing even worth it?

They rinsed out their mouth and shut off the tap. The other physical attributes that afflicted the reflection could be fixed with make-up.

~~~~~

Emery had their hair tied back for once which made it easier for them to see what they were actually typing, strands of ebony dyed hair still drifting into their face occasionally which Emery fought to push pack behind their pierced ears only to have the hair face back into their face later. Perhaps this was karma for having such bad posture and practically curling over their laptop. Though it was hard not to relax this much when their maroon sweater draped over them like a warm blanket that could fold over Emery ten times over.

Pausing for a moment, Emery starred at the words on the document that reflected blue lighting into their eyes as they mindlessly played with the gold necklace around their neck. The sentence they wrote just did not sound right and the music blaring into their ears from their headphones made fixing it near impossible. Leaning back against the cushions, Emery scratched the black nail polish off their thumb with their sharp teeth while running their fingers over the smooth edges of the four-corner star at the end of their gold chained necklace as the words for properly phrasing the sentence were clogged and stopping the flow they had previously gotten through. Sighing, Emery accepted their defeat as they closed their laptop that groaned closed like an ancient door in a haunted house.

Suddenly, an Eldritch horror of tentacles and eyes approached Emery. With yellow eyes and fish-like skin, the creature smelled of the wretched stench of unkempt clothes and a corpse who had not showered in ages. It had bumpy skin, stained teeth, and disguised himself like a waiter and in a wavering tone, it screeched—

“Your order is ready, ya wannabe manic pixie dream person.”

Sighing, Emery looked up at him with seething hatred towards the teenager. “Thanks, Todd.” Todd adjusted his glasses with a scoff and Emery flipped him off the moment he turned his back.

Was it rude to be disrespecting a waiter like this, even if it was Todd? Yes. Was Emery being over dramatic in their vile description of this nasally voiced teen? Yes. Would they forgive him for giving them the utmost sass at every possible juncture while still acting, looking, and smelling like he did? Yes, absolutely.

Emery stood and exited the booth after placing their laptop in their satchel and stretching their back until they heard a sickening pop, causing a nearby skele-person to cringe. Passing a small werewolf family of four while making their way to the front, Emery nearly tumbled over a small werewolf child who ran right in front of them. The werewolf’s mother quickly apologized as Emery waved off the apology with a smile and made their way to grabbing their order. As Emery got to the front of the small cafe, Mrs. Kimling was helping a customer with large black and white wings that shed feathers onto the floor and so Emery decided to wait until Mrs. Kimling was done speaking with them to grab their order.

Mrs. Kimling was the nice old woman who had owned this little cafe named “Morning Market” for nearly 22, as long as Emery had been alive. She made drinks and pastries from so many different cultures, countries, and species. Foods and drinks from their mother’s culture, treats that Emery believed they might never experience again after their mother’s passing, were recreated splendidly and this sweet old woman was behind everything. Mrs. Kimling and her wonderful staff— and Todd— always delivered on anything they were asked of which was perfect for when Emery needed to order things for their bandmates who all had very different tastes.

“Emery, Emery!” Mrs. Kimling called out with great delight as she had finished up with her customer. Mrs. Kimling’s wrinkled but warm face showed nothing but brightness as Emery smiled back as they approached the desk. “How are you my dear? How is your father? You are looking very skinny so he better be giving you his good keema when you visit him!”

“He has given me more than enough leftovers, Mrs. Kimling,” Emery chuckled softly as they leaned their forearms on the counter. “How about you Mrs. K? Is the wife alright? Does she miss me?~”

“Oh very much dear!” The old woman laughed, bending down beneath the counter with a groan as Emery’s eyes widened with concern. “You know how much that woman likes to play those— ow—

“Careful with your knees!” Emery begged, but their pleas fell on deaf ears as Mrs. Kimling continued her rambling.

“—dumb, silly little games with you. I could never beat her in anything we played together.” The woman scoffed playfully and shook her head as she placed two trays of cups, four cups in each tray, on the counter. “Almost sixty years of marriage and the woman never even gave me a pity win! I love that woman with all my heart—” Mrs. Kimling lowered her voice and cupped a hand to her mouth, causing Emery to instinctively lean closer— “but she is such a sore loser.”

Emery chuckled and shook her head as she pulled away to grab the drink trays. “I could have told you that after I beat her at Go for the first time. Or chess. Or, God, Uno. She will never forgive me for Uno!”

Emery looked over all of the cups before nodding and confirming every order was squared away and safely in the tray before grabbing a plastic straw and jamming it into their drink. While most of the others preferred tea or coffee or, in X’s case, apple juice, Emery’s favorite drink was a specialty of Mrs. Kimling: the sunset milk tea with brown sugar boba. It was orange and vibrant on top with purple shades on the bottom with bouncy, chewy boba to top it off. The drink was sweet and flavorful and perfect. It tasted like how a sunset looked.

“Is the drink good? You have drinks for everyone including that one cutie?”

“Yes, they are all here,” Emery chuckled, waving to the woman with a beaming smile before picking up the two trays. “Thanks Mrs. Kimling!~”

“Goodbye! And stay out of trouble will you??”

Emery was definitely going to get into trouble so… sorry Mrs. Kimling?

~~~~~

“Helloooooo?~” Emery called out as they entered the music studio, surprised to hear not a single sound in one of the band’s meet-up spots as they cautiously hung up their satchel on the coat rack and shifted the cup trays in their hands. “Anyone here?” As Emery walked further into the studio to the main room, Emery nearly jumped as they spotted someone before chuckling in relief that it was just Mosi. Mosi was the bassist of the group and also served as the back-up vocalist, but Emery was surprised that Mosi, of everything in the group, was the only one here yet.

“Hey Mosi, you scared me for a second!” Emery mused as they placed the two cup trays down on the table before picking up their own and Mosi’s drinks. “I got everyone all their favorite drinks— here’s your caramel and vanilla cold brew by the way—” Emery handed Mosi her drink with cinnamon and cold foam on top before sitting down on the couch beside her— “and for what? No, one is even here yet!” Narrowing their eyes, Emery sipped from their drink before shaking their head. “Hold on, let me text them to tell them to hurry up and then we can talk.”

“umm hello?? where is everyone???” Emery sent this text at lightning speed, their fingers dashing across the phone screen before pressing send, pausing, and thinking of something else to add. “if you guys don’t show up in the next ten minutes, I am writing our group name down as the Puss Punchers or Hag Hecklers or something shitty like that!” Emery paused before sighing and texting a final message. “I also got you guys drinks so hurry please <3” Emery waited a moment for someone to respond but quickly grew impatient and threw their phone down on the couch beside them before turning to Mosi.

“So how you holding up Mossy Moss?” Emery asked with a beaming grin before taking a sip from their drink.

After like half an hour , he checked his phone . Weird he thought they just be late . Ray wondered around the room , cracked mirrors on the far left side seem to be in need of repair and when your tried to switch on the lights it would be deathwsh, the wires hanging out the wall buzzing faintly showing that they were active . Immediately he wanted to touch it , but he would know he would probably be fired not to mention in hospital which he couldn't afford right now time wise or maybe money wise. He looked down and shuddered and swore loud and clear multiple times. The caretaker came in , an old man that should be in retirement. Plastered onto his nearly all bald shiny head was the remains of his grey hair clinging to the scalp . His skin was like aged and crinkled paper and as he looked at Ray it was like the caretaker just stared right past Ray and into his soul. He nervously licked his lollipop as the caretaker shuffled backwards which was some skill. He looked back at the carpet , a dull green carpets that looked like it had been from the 70's so it had funny patterns etched into the green. He looked at the walls. The classical crème walls. Great. He felt like screaming now. Then he was worried . Were his friends okay? Friends was at a stretch . He didn't know what they thought of him. He was just probably another nameless shadow who guarded them with their life. The old man entered again this time muttering and shuffling closer and closer. That's when Ray noticed he had a broom with him and a ....baseball bat? He gulped and said "So Ima just going to -" Before he said run he bolted out the open door and skidded down the corridors. Ray burst out the entrance doors panting and looked at the date. "Holy shit J am stupid "