forum Wait, You're Gay? (CLOSED)

Started June 01, 2020 by @Desvelarse pets

tune

Name: Thatcher Wain.
Age: 813 years old, though in human years would be considered about 20-21.
Gender: Male.
Sexuality: Bisexual, leaning heavily towards being attracted to males.
Race: Caucasian, appears to be of French descent.
Species: Reaper (planning on revealing more about this throughout the RP, but some basics are that he has a tattoo of a scythe that forms into an actual one in a ribbon/shadow like manner. He cannot kill anyone he likes, only those who are deemed sever sinners whos names appear on a small piece of paper. He is not immortal, and can be injured by any normal means though death would require drowning or by the same material that his weapon is made of. They are also able to morph into a group of birds to allow them to travel fast to get to targets, but that makes them much more vulnerable and susceptible to any forms of harm and death).
Appearance: (based off of https://www.instagram.com/shane.emmerson/ during the period of when he had his hair dyed white/platinum blonde). Has a scythe tattoo on his upper and inner right forearm, various scars across his skin from past injuries, and most notably, a large group of burn scars on almost his entire back and parts of his sides/ribcage. He stands at around 6'2 with a toned and slender build. Clothing wise, he is usually dressed professionally (as all Reapers are required to do) with a black button down top, black slacks, black dress shoes, and a black trench coat. On a more casual note, he would usually wear any color of sweatshirts and joggers with a pair of sneakers. with both of those outfits, he usually wears various silver rings, silver necklaces/chains, and different earrings. Bird wise, he is able to morph into a murder of crows.
Personality: More on the ambiverted sided of the spectrum. He is easy to talk to when first meeting, and while it takes a bit for him to open up and get deep, after doing so, he can freely be chatty and honest. He tends to be polite to most (except those he is sent to kill) and can almost seem motherly at times, He appears to be intimidating, but it is much more of an act, as he is really a kind hearted and tender individual under the façade he puts up. He tends to be more dominant with most, taking lead of conversation and other things, but under the right circumstances, he is comfortable being more relaxed and submissive with others. He is protective and clingy with his loved ones, and when his loyalty and trust is gained, he tends to be a 'ride or die' type of individual.
Likes: Nature, birds, Nike (more on her below), silver items, close friendships and other relationships, and listening to other's stories.
Dislikes: Deep water, sinners, his 'job', large flames, and car rides.
Hobbies: Running, going on hikes, and reading about history.
Bio: Thatcher first came into existence around 800 years ago. Around 500 years ago, he was caught up in the Salem Witch trials, and because people believed him to be a witch, those people caught him and tried to burn him at the stake (causing the burn wounds on his body). When that didn't work, they attempted to drown him, but he escaped and left to heal from his wounds and trauma. During that time (around 400 years ago), he came across an abandoned, runt of the litter hell hound. He took in the starving pup and raised her until the present. He gave her the name Nike. He found that she could morph into a person (seeming normal and human instead of the hound with three heads). Currently she is considered to be around 13 in human years, and he considers her to be almost a daughter to him. In current times, he resides in the area he was assigned to find and dispose of those who have committed horrifying sins against others around them (ex: mass murders, sex trafficking, and child molesting).
Other: He isn't easily identified by those around him, and seems to be close to human by appearance. On a different note, when Nike is in her hound state, those who would be considered human cannot see her with the naked eye, but she can be seen by all in her human state.

Name: Matteo Sedlow
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Questioning
Race: Caucasian, Italian/English descent
Species: Human with Siren blood
Appearance: (Reference)Matteo's roughly 5'5", and has a lean "swimmer's build". He's got pale skin and green-blue eyes. He takes a lot of pride in his skin, which he works hard on to keep clear and nice looking. Matteo's hair is shoulder-length, brown, and slightly wavy. His fashion sense is pretty (androgynous) and (relaxed). Matteo doesn't have any piercings other than his ears. He only have one tattoo, and it's a simple eye on his ribcage.
Personality: Matteo has a deep sense of community. Instead of directly showing how much he loves his friends and family, he shows he cares through different ways: cooking, running errands, and going off on days-long fishing trips to stock up on food. He's disgusted by those with infernal bloodlines, ironically enough, given that he isn't even fully human himself. He's lenient to the point where he hasn't quite learned how to put his foot down. Matteo is incredibly loyal, quick-witted, and quick to trust. If nobody stopped him, he could talk forever.
Likes: Swimming, cooking, live music, swapping stories with people
Dislikes: Holding babies, thunderstorms, horses (they are huge, and heavy, and fast, and all around terrifying), being bossed around, minimalism (in all forms)
Hobbies: Painting (he's really not good, but he has a lot of fun doing it), playing guitar & singing, and catching frogs (and bugs, and lizards)
Bio: Matteo was born in Vicenza, Italy. He moved to the city with his family when he was 7, and thus did the most of his schooling there. Overall, he's lived a fairly normal life, save for the fact that he's not fully human. When he graduated, Matteo applied to art school, had no backup schools, got rejected, and now works as a fairly successful musician (thanks to his Siren blood)
Other:

• He's got a pet dog named Little Man he took in from the streets. It's a xoloitzcuintli breed.
• He knows basic Italian, enough to scrape by in conversation with family, but that's about it.

(sorry he took so long, I'll get more of his backstory as we go!)

It was a cool day for the beginning of June. That's what Thatcher enjoyed about being placed in the certain sector. It was better that a place where it never fell below 80 degrees. That was torture, in his opinion. On his off time, he was strolling through the new area, exploring the town and all the people in it. Which ones were good and bad? Which would he never see again and which would he come face to face with in their final moments of life?

A tug on his sleeve pulled him from his trance. "Thatcher! Come on, I'm starving, can we please go get something to eat now?" asked the short, dark skinned girl that skipped along side of him. Nike was always hungry and ready for her next meal. While he didn't experience hunger or thirst, she definitely ate more than enough for the both of them. She was a growing girl, after all.

Matteo sat on a stool on a small cafe's porch, his rose-tinted sunglasses perched atop his nose as he sang along to the guitarist beside him. A friend of his. Today's song lineup was mostly acoustic covers, with the occasional original song thrown in. Lots of Bowie, stuff like that. The guitar case below him was full of tips, both bills and change. That was one of the perks of having Siren blood. People couldn't wait to just throw money at you just for your voice.

That little cafe-restaurant was a regular spot for him. The owners liked him well enough, and the people there were always eager to tip. Little Man, Matteo's (hairless) dog, laid beside the stool he was perched upon, taking a quick nap in the cool June weather. It was a nice day.

Thatcher, nodding to Nike's pressing words, caught a small café out the corner of his eye. He held the girl's hand and led her over to it, pushing the door open to go inside. The air conditioning hit him and he exhaled deeply, pleased to be in the cold. After buying Nike a few different sweets and a coffee for himself, Nike tugged him outside, talking about wanting to listen to the music. Leave it to her and her stellar ears to pick out the noisiest area of the café for them to go to.

They stepped outside, taking a table close enough to where Thatcher could people watch and Nike could also have a good view of the small live show. Thatcher found himself continuously looking towards the singing male. Squinting his pale blue eyes, he eyed the set. Something inside him was being tugged to keep listening and watching. It was a strange sort of trance, one that almost startled him in a way.

The song at the moment was a softer cover of Bowie's Diamond Dogs. He didn't verbally acknowledge any of his tippers, only a friendly nod. He watched the people come out to the porch, eyeing them all like they were all prospective business opportunities. Of course- business opportunities meaning cash cows in this situation. Matteo's eyes drifted to the new pair- a girl, maybe 10, 12 (he wasn't great at telling ages), and another man. Similar to his age, he guessed, and dressed nice. Matteo could practically smell the money on him.

Matteo crossed his knees, slowly drawing the song to a close. He finally spoke up- honey dripped from his voice as his words came out. "I'd just like to take a second to thank everyone here who's dropped some money in here. Helps feed some starving artists" There was a slight laugh to that last bit. He uncrossed his legs so he could nudge the guitar case with his foot.

Thatcher heard a snicker from Nike, and he looked down to see her devilish, toothy smile. "I see you google-eyeing that guy!" she teased quite loudly. He shot her a look, quickly shaking his head as heat raised up the back of his neck intensely. The male was attractive, but it was that voice that pulled him in. "Am not. He's just a good singer. Good music and all," he said in a level toned. Nike laughed and shook her head, poking at him and humming more teasing words. She could be a little pest sometimes.

When the set seemed to end, Nike huffed. "He's leaving, we should give him a tip!" She chirped, and before Thatcher could tell her not to talk to strangers, she was already digging into his pockets and snatching away his wallet. She skipped away to where the musicians were, a surprised expression on Thatcher's face at how bold she could be. It was nothing new, but always a surprise. With a huff, he sipped his coffee and collected their things, striding over to where she had slipped off to so she wouldn't give away all of their money.

Matteo perked up at Nike's words. He couldn't quite place who said them for a fact, but something told him they came from the mischievous girl and the seemingly embarrassed man beside her. He watched the girl come up, watched her drop money into the case, watched the other male coming up from the corner of his eye. He decided to talk anyway. "You're bold." He laughed a little bit. "Is that your.. brother? Dad?" Matteo pointed to Thatcher as he came up. "Thanks for the money, by the way." He winked at Thatcher, clicking his tongue. "It helps."

Nike had run up to begin pulling out valued bills and drop them in the case. Thatcher was quickly by her side, chuckling nervously and softly apologizing for her behavior as he quickly took the wallet back from the grabby girl. "He's not my brother! More like a dad, right, Thatchy?" Nike hummed cheerfully, looking up at Thatcher approvingly.

"Something like that," He murmured in reply before looking at the male who had been singing. He shifted on the balls of his heels at the wink, quickly adverting his gaze. What were the intentions of that little gesture. "It's not a problem," he replied, clearing his throat softly as he fidgeted with his button up collar for a short moment.

"Ah." Matteo hopped off of his stool, tugging on the sleeves of his overshirt. "'Something like that.'" He echoed back. That was a curious answer. He wouldn't pry, of course- Matteo didn't even know these people's names. His eyes flicked to watch Thatcher's hand on his collar. He looked nervous. Maybe uncomfortable.

He reached down to pet his dog. Matteo turned to the guitar player, nudging the guitar case of money over to him with a nod. "Thanks for your help, man." He nodded to the other musician before turning back to the small family in front of him. "So.. are you two here often?"

Nike noticed the dog and her head tilted a little bit. She tended to not do good with other animals due to her more aggressive nature, and if she had dog ears, Thatcher knew they would be pinned back.

Thatcher looked down at the male, who was quite a bit shorter than him. “No, this is our first time. We are new in town for business,” he explained. He would most likely be there for the next 100 years or so before being assigned to a different sector.

Matteo tilted his head curiously. "Really. Business, huh? Interesting. Whaddya do?" He looked down at his dog– who was looking pretty leery of Nike at the moment. He hooked a finger around the dog's collar just in case.

Matteo rocked on his heels slightly as he waited for an answer. His free hand traveled to his hair, tucking it behind his ear.

(Sorry for the delayed replies! I’ve been at the blm protests most of the day!)

“It’s an independent business thing.. Contracting,” Thatcher came up with. He couldn’t blurt out to a stranger that he was a Reaper. Nike snorted softly at the excuse before speaking again.

“What’s your name? Do you always play here?” the bubbly girl asked.

(that's totally okay, thank you for getting out there!)

"Contracting. Alright." Matteo nodded. He noted the girl's snort, but said nothing about it. He cocked his head at the question. "My name is Matteo." His eyes flicked between the two. "And sometimes. I play here and at a little hipster bar further downtown." Matteo let go of his dog's collar. "And this is Little Man." His arms crossed loosely over his chest. "What about you two? What are your names?"

(thanks, it was a really great time!)

Nike was nodding her head in interest, already seeming to mentally plan on getting them to meet up another time to listen to the music and talk.

"I'm Thatcher, and that's Nike," Thatcher spoke, tilting his head to nod it towards Nike. The girl smiled toothily and nodded her head with a delighted sort of hum. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his dark trench coat, licking his lips to wet them as he eyed Matteo.

(sorry, i'm not gonna be massively active tonight!)

"Thatcher and Nike." Matteo parroted. He shifted his weight from foot to foot. He saw Thatcher's eyes rolling over him, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't like it. But he also recognized that Nike was there. And she was a child. Even if he wanted to make some sort of move (and he wasn't sure if he did), it would be ridiculously inappropriate. Matteo worried his bottom lip between his teeth. "You two should come back sometime. I play here every other day, afternoons and late mornings."