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adonis makes his way around the lounge, not having expected himself to attend the event at all if he's being completely honest. it just isn't really up his alley… but hey, why say no to a mechanical bull, right? he's totally gonna end up falling off, but it'll be one hell of a time at least.
as he's walking, he spots her.
he remembers briefly meeting her at a convenience store not too long ago, thinking she was cute, and regretting not getting her number after the whole encounter. at the time, he'd just convinced himself that she was just being polite and wasn't really interested in getting to know him, even if it was just as friends.
still, he finds himself being drawn in.
so, approaching her, adonis greets her with a grin. “hey,” he says coolly. “long time no see, eh?” he chuckles, as if they really know each other beyond meeting literally once. “what made you come out tonight?”
being from arkansas, kiara had seen her fair share of rodeos. her brother had taken her to a community one once or twice, and she remembered it fondly. the fair foods, the hog wrestling, her brother falling in the mud once or twice ( or four times, let’s be real.)
she remembers him instantly. the boy who offered to show her around town. that was a long time ago. and sure, she does have some regret that she didn’t follow up, but where would they have found each other? outside the store again? maybe that could be their meeting spot. when she catches sight of him, a sly grin appears on her face. she could give him a hard time for not following up. rib on him a bit. “hey, you. yeah, you could say that, 'specially since you didn't get my number. ” she lets out a laugh. talking with him felt familiar, despite them only meeting once. it was like he was a friend she always had. in a way, he was. adonis was one of the first people she met in vegas, and he clearly made an impression. “i like rodeos. what can i say?” kiara gestures to her outfit, a pink cowgirl ensemble that made of pieces she thrifted from a few different costume shops in vegas and arkansas. “what about you? didn’t think this was your scene.”
To be honest, this sort of hoax wasn't usually Dahlia's MO. More often than not, she stuck to stalking the streets like the black cat she was, lurking behind her prey and catching them off guard. She wasn't really sure how she'd been able to swing this country getup but here she was in jeans, cowboy boots, and a plaid shirt complete with a cowboy hat. The only thing was she didn't...look like herself, not exactly. Over the years, she'd learned the art of deception and she'd taken the form not of a southern belle but instead, of a good ol' boy--you know, one that holds doors open for people and loves his mama and all the rest of that shit. She looked handsome and suave and once the show had gotten started and she'd sung through a couple of songs, she felt silly in her realization that she was actually sort of...having fun. But this ruse wasn't for nothing, of course. Per usual, she was hunting. And she'd found her prey.
She was gorgeous--dark curly hair and gorgeous eyes, she caught Dahlia's attention almost immediately. She didn't recognize her and honestly, she couldn't tell if she was actually interested in her or if she was just hungry, not that it really mattered either way. She had a plan and she was going to stick to it. The only issue is that someone was getting in the way. He was a pretty boy and he looked familiar to her, though she couldn't quite place him. As she continued to sing, still disguised as a handsome cowboy of course, she continued to eye the dark-haired girl but she kept catching the young man's eye instead. She felt a little frustrated but then again, food was food. She could tell she'd captured the stranger's attention because he kept moving closer and closer to the barricade. And as he moved closer to the barricade, little by little, with each verse and chorus, she simultaneously got closer to the front of the stage. She could feel her hunger grow. She supposed that at the very least, she'd get a good meal out of it--though as she kept moving closer, she could see the beautiful girl follow behind him. Maybe this would work out in her favor after all.
Now in retrospect, was performing in front of a large audience in order to hunt risky? Sure. But half these people were probably drunk anyways and most likely wouldn't be able to tell the difference from a stunt and a real-life murder--or at least, by the time they did, it'd be too late and she would already be long gone from the Doll House. Besides, she was in disguise after all.
She could feel the heat as she approached the gentleman, descending the steps of the stage one cowboy boot at a time, reaching out to him, still singing. Her mouth was smiling but as she prepared to go in for the kill, her razor-sharp teeth began to reveal themselves and she could feel the anticipation grow. This was it. She could only imagine that she was a terrifying sight to see but that didn't matter because the one person that she needed to fool was right in front of her--or at least he was, until the beautiful stranger fucking intervened. Fuck.
if you had asked her, lauryn would say she wasn't a fan of the rodeo. that's ignoring the fact that she’d never been to one before. she was normally game for parties — they were typical for the business she was in, both music and vampire hunting — but the rodeo was debauchery at its finest. it was too loud, too messy, too everything. but for the first time, she wasn’t the designated driver. which meant, she could let loose. lauryn had done her best to get into the rodeo spirit. she donned her best denim ensemble, a cute denim vest with sparkles, jeans, and a sparkly cowboy hat. she was ready for anything the night brought her. she was only one drink in, and swaying side by side to someone she could only recognize as a vitelli, spencer, was it? he was having a good ol’ time, and lauryn thought she would too.
the singer was a typical country boy, the type who lauryn thought would bring back chivalry, even if she wasn’t interested in guys. he wasn’t all that special, with a kind of voice that lauryn had heard on star search as a kid, but it was in the way he worked the crowd and the stage. as a fellow performer, she could appreciate that. but there was something incredibly off. she noticed his eyes first — blood red, much like the blood that ran through her body, which, the vampire probably wanted. but the worst part? his eyes were unfortunately staring straight at spencer, and her. she had to intervene, what kind of slayer would she be if she didn’t? wasn't that the whole point of a slayer? to stop vampires? instantly, she starts looking around for the closest exit to get everyone, but mostly spencer, out of the venue.
her eyes drift back and forth between spencer and the country singer. he was approaching fast, and lauryn could swear she saw fanged teeth beginning to emerge from his mouth. she had to act, and fast. otherwise spencer vitelli would be vampire chow, and the city could not handle losing another vitelli so soon. what would the headlines say this time? that the vitelli's were marked for death? her blood runs cold in her body, and she aggressively tugs on spencer’s arm, trying to get him to look at her. could she get him out the door in time? she wasn’t so sure, so she hits him on the shoulder in an attempt to get his attention “spencer, we gotta go, now. i know you barely know me, but just trust me, we need to get the absolute fuck outta here.”
Open starter (@boneyardstarters)
Where: Glitter Goulch Lounge
When: May 30 late evening
"Betcha' I can stay on the mechanical bull longer than you," Ace said with a grin, a taunt if it was anything else. "Twenty bucks to see which one of us can ride it longer? Although I think I already know the outcome, but you can try."
In all honesty, Ace doesn't even know if he's going to win. But, it was always fun to make these kinds of bets. He likes the thrill of things and adding money to it doesn't hurt. It's also to make the stakes higher or just plain entice the other person to take up his challenge.
Ace is a local, has been going to this event for a majority of his life. He's had his fair share of riding that bull and has definitely lasted in riding it for at least eight seconds. He's going to try and break his record and having someone go against him is getting him excited.
"Would you prefer a higher amount? I don't mind it." he says before looking over to the mechanical bull. The person who was riding it is barely three seconds in and they're already slipping, then falls off of it. Ace laughs, amused at the person who fell and couldn't last a mere three-seconds on it.
There's a pretty long line for the mechanical bull so he gestures with his head towards the line to his companion, "You coming or not? Not a coward are you?" he taunts again with a grin.
diego was no stranger to competition, having grown up in constant competition with his sister, even when he hadn’t wanted to be. that in turn lead to someone who couldn’t back down from a challenge, even though he should. at ace’s bet, diego s pretty sure that this stranger’ll win. he’s never ridden a mechanical bull before, and he’s only seen stunt people do it. he remembers when he was an extra in some corny western before he got his break, watching the stunt people stay on the bull for as long as it was needed for the shot. as a kid, he thought he could do it. hell, he thought he could do anything. diego looks at the stranger and raises his eyebrow, in a “you really want to do this?” it was all talk, though, he probably won’t last three seconds. he fishes around in his pocket for a twenty, and finds one crumpled up, which he sets down on the table in front of them. “twenty’s good enough for me!” he gives ace a grin. this was going to be fun. “lead the way.”
"that clown is fucking with me," kenny thought aloud in between bites of a heavily dusted funnel cake. she hadn't even been paying close attention to who was standing beside her; her hazel-set gaze was scrutinizing the mime standing off in the distance, her whole face souring as she watched them perform a pratfall before effortlessly assuming an exaggerated frown. shudder. she forced herself to look away just so she wouldn't vomit at the idea of them coming any closer. "i bet they can smell fear like cats smell death," she said as she made generous side steps further from the clown. "i kind of want to hurl after seeing that, should we find the mechanical bull so i can spew over people and ruin everyone's day like mine has been?" what with alessandro now entrusted with the family name and titles, kenny was reasonably a bit sick over it. but the conflict she felt wasn't rooted in her desire to harness the power of the vitelli fortune. it was more so concern for alessandro, who, while she did think was a nincompoop ( and had told him this ad nauseum ), was still her brother—and the last thing she wanted was to lose another vitelli. maybe they weren't the good guys, but neither were those shit-eating weiss'. was anyone in las vegas truly good? to a girl like kenny, someone who was born and raised in such an entropic environment, there were no heroes. pale imitations of them existed, but none of it compared to the kind of bravery and martyrdom she read about in her comic books. she stopped expecting the world to be like those kinds a long time ago. and yes, it royally sucked. when she realized how pessimistic she was acting as opposed to her normal, which was painfully indifferent and couldn't have given half a shit about her family's hierarchy or the enemies they forged generations ago, she cleared her throat. "... or we can do something else. whatever you want."
a burst of laughter erupted from mac’s mouth as they let out a puff of powdered sugar from the matching funnel cake they just bit into. people had a way of being unintentionally funny, and with kineret vitelli, it happened more often than not. since meeting them, mckayla thought that kenny vitelli was one of the good vitellis. if there was such a thing as a good vitelli. if you had asked mac previously, they would have said they weren’t sure. they had only interacted with the rest of the vitelli clan a handful of times, and they weren’t under the … best of circumstances. but kenny was different. if good different was actually something that existed in vegas. las vegas was the city of sin, after all, and mac was no stranger to sin themselves. was there some catholic guilt there? oh, of course there was, that was to be expected. wiping their mouth of powdered sugar, they let out a snort as they look at the clown. “i bet they’re actively sensing every bit of fear in your body, just waiting for the time to strike…” were they being a tad bit dramatic? sure, but they were a writer. it was their job to be dramatic. they put a hand on kenny’s shoulder. “relax, ken. if the bull of torture is what you want, it’s what we’ll do. even if they'll get lambasted with powdered sugar flavored mess.”
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marisol + dailsay : may 30, evening @ doll house bulesque
@starstckrs
despite only being here for a brief time, marisol was already loving the rodeo. she and say say had brought tulip earlier, and now marisol and say say were finally having a proper alone time date. marisol was buzzing with excitement as they swayed to the music together, just being them. marisol found herself getting a flower from the flower stand to pin in say say’s hair. she’d look gorgeous with one of those. magical, like she already was, just a bit more. every single moment she spent with dalisay adler were the best moments of her life. when they were together, marisol could be free. her grief, while still there, was less of a weight sitting on her chest, and more like a gentle pressure. her cracks were healing slightly, and it was all thanks to say say and tulip. marisol never thought she would be a parent. growing up, she had only seen parenting from the parents at the apartment complex, and let’s be real, most of them weren’t taking home parent of the year. she did have her grandmother, and despite all her faults and flaws, she raised marisol the best she could. now, raising tulip, she tried to be the best parts of herself, her parents, and her grandmother. but the second say say was around, she would be in awe of how good a mom she was to tulip, who was one of the cutest kids of all time. say say was the best parts of the world and humanity, bottled up and placed into one person. she held the flower behind her back as she walked. “say say,” she sing-songed, going over to where her roommate was waiting, “i got you something!”
lauryn + ??? : may 30, day @ the doll house burlesque club
@boneyardstarters
rodeos weren’t a thing lauryn attended. in fact, she’d never been to a rodeo before, but it reminded her of the times when she would go to coney island. or just to central park to spend a day there. sure, it was a big city like vegas, but it felt like a small town, seeing these businesses come together and make something unique and fun. she was dressed her very best for the occasion, an all denim ensemble with cowboy boots and the hat to match. but something she knew, was dancing. sunday morning clean ups in the nears home made for a family bonding that always seemed to end up in dancing around the living room and singing into brooms. she had music in her life again, but in a different way. cosmix was something she loved, let's be real. she loved coming up with melodies and figuring out slant rhymes that would make jay-z proud. but at times, she missed just singing and dancing for the fun of it. she had those moments with the girls, but they were few and far between. she found herself in the burlesque club, sipping on a homemade lemonade and watching the dancers, trying to maneuver her feet the same way the more competent dancers did. these cowboy, west coast line dances were something that lauryn wasn’t used to. sure, it had been a few years since she properly danced, but she wasn’t afraid to try. settling down her lemonade, she turns to a person sitting at a nearby table. “join me for a dance? or are you one of the ones with two left feet who can’t keep a tune?” her tone is playful as she tips her hat towards them and extends a hand.
lauryn + valentina : may 30, day @ cupid's arrow drag club @deatthtouched
lauryn was always one for trying new things. most of the time. she often tried new foods that other people were afraid of trying, going above and beyond to prove her adventurousness. but a good funnel cake and a slushie always put a smile on her face. she decided to get proper cowboy boots for the occasion. in truth, they were from the local thrift shop, not that she didn’t have the money, she just wanted to see what was out there. the dunk tank seemed like the perfect place to start their rodeo journey, and after buying a quick cocktail, she was ready to see someone get dunked. lauryn had only been able to drink for a few years now, and she was savouring every moment of it, trying drinks that were completely out of her comfort zone, or trying to make her own. waiting for the dunk tank to actually dunk someone, she looks around the room, and makes eye contact with the clown, wandering around the room. the mime was eerily doing the mime-in-a-box routine, and he makes a gesture towards lauryn. what the actual fuck? was this an omen for something dangerous? she wasn’t supersitious, but it was still unnerving. tapping valentina on her shoulder, she pointed to the mime. “val, i swear that creepy ass clown looked me in the eye. am i gonna die?” she wasn’t being facetious, the clown really did seem like an omen of death.
mud wrestling was one of the few experiences in life wylder was a thousand percent certain she needn't endure. and yet, one of her rowdier friends had suckered her into it, not that it was a very difficult task—even years later, she was still learning that 'no' was a complete sentence. by the time they had versed one another and wylder was proclaimed the champion of the mud pit, she was made unrecognizable from the amount of grime lathered on her short stature. she wiped her face off with her dress, cowboying up beside the overseer so she could collect her reward, then immediately slipped inside in pursuit of a sweet treat. she perused the selection, her elbow inadvertently winding up in the ribs of the people beside her before she leaned in and selected a lemon square, then another just for good measure. she shoved half in her mouth and enjoyed the icing melting on her tongue, side-shuffling her way through the crowds to make it back outside where she could sit in the open air and decompress. but the block was packed, leaving little seating available for her. she spotted a bench at some point, which relieved her as she came up to sit on the empty half. "sorry. this isn't taken, is it?" she asked, offering a mud-covered smile that begged sympathy. "just wanna find somewhere quiet i can eat this lemon square. did you—want one?" awkwardly, she held the second lemon square she snagged from the display out toward them.
finally, an event kiara didn’t have to bake for. that sounded harsh, but it was true. she’d been catering so many events lately that it started to take a toll on her. her wrists would hurt like hell after every batch of dough she kneaded, hand cramps from overmixing a batter that she had o redo. kiara loved what she did, but sometimes a gal needed a moment. she just wanted to sit, maybe have a lemon square or two ( not that they would be better than her own ), and watch the festivities. she practically scarfed down two servings of fried oreos from cupid’s arrow, which, were fucking fantastic in her eyes and was looking for more excitement. in a minute. she needed time to debrief and collect her thoughts. Sitting on an empty bench, a small container for the oreos next to her, kiara welcomed the disturbance. “no, it ain’t taken. you can sit.” five seconds back at a rodeo and she could feel her accent getting stronger. it hadn’t gone away, it never would, but the southerner in her came back with a vengeance. she gingerly takes the lemon square from wylder, trying not to drop it on the floor. “thanks. lemme guess, mud wrestling?” she does a once over of the mud-covered girl. what did the other guy look like? Instinctively, she scooted a small bit away, as to not get any mud on her cowgirl-chic attire. “how was that?”
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while diego had wanted for nothing except their reunification, gwen couldn't say she had mentally prepared for the day they were fated to see one another again. which just so happened to take place at her work. that meant she couldn't scream and shout and shake him by his shoulders without risking her own reputation among her employers and subordinates. so, all she did was squeeze her fists tight, more blood threatening to leak through the thickly bound gauze covering her fingers and palm of her hand. as he spoke, she found herself momentarily speechless. what was there to say, really? she didn't think she had a single fair or kind thing she could speak to him in that blazing instance where she felt more contempt than relief in seeing him again. but that was wrong, wasn't it? he was still her brother, and yet there she was, still toiling over what was long left in the past. "how have i been?" she echoed, almost in disbelief. "how do you think i've been, diego? actually, don't answer that," she waved her hand, the one constantly injured, around dismissively. "... i know i am. this place treats me well, least i can do is make a good show for the patrons. didn't think you'd ever be one of them. were you gonna leave me a tip too or something, or is that what this conversation is?" her tone was steeped in bitterness as her gaze continuously looked diego up and down. it was almost surreal, his presence. she still wasn't sure if this was a bad fever dream or not.
judging by his sister’s reaction, diego could tell that he picked the worst possible place to reunite. or would any place be the worst place? in gwen’s eyes, this wouldn’t be happening at all. they would just be going their merry ways, not acknowledging each other at any point. but this was inevitable in diego’s eyes. he felt like he had to atone for what he did a few years ago. her tone was scathing, and he felt like he was being scalded with hot water at her words. he begun to answer, but when she cut him off, he quickly shut his mouth. probably shitty, is what he wanted to say, but there was no time to be a jokester. “i’m glad they treat you well. i would have been here even if…” he trails off. if i hadn’t ruined your career and burnt a bridge between us, lingers on his tongue. “i’m not giving you a tip, or anything like that. i just wanted to reach out, which, now was probably not the best time for that. should have picked someplace more private. are you off for the night? we could talk? get a drink? or you could beat me up and tell me to fuck off, whatever you want.”
kansas + ??? : may 4, early morning @ jeff's joe
@boneyardstarters
there was no rest for the wicked—or, at least, that's what kansas was always preached. it wasn't so rare to find them occupying a space in vegas' smaller owned establishments at ungodly hours, whether it be light or dark out. oftentimes, they were crouched in a corner over their notebook and laptop, their pager on standby beside a tall black coffee which disgusted them as much as it supplied them an ample amount of energy to continue working. that morning, now occupying the bar so they could more easily get refills on their coffee, kansas was adamant on solving the mystery of one man's infidelity. they were hired by a housewife who was oftentimes dismissed as histrionic, though, kansas could tell by the desperation glinting in her eyes that she had a suspicion found on real clues she couldn't decipher herself. those kinds of cases may not have been as exhilarating as the missing person ones, but they still found a rush of adrenaline in upending bad men's lives regardless of the capacity. besides, they'd found more scandalous secrets hiding from the wife; like the money embezzled from his work to pay for the mistress' cartier necklace and bracelet purchased on the thirtieth of april mere days ago. juicy. while dancing their nimble digits over the keyboard, they eventually dug up the man's bank information and slammed a fist on the countertop. "got you, bitch!" they exclaimed, only snapping out of it when they noticed someone that'd come to sit beside them now staring instead of approaching more. "... uh, my bad. just... got an email?" they guessed to say. clearing their throat, they swept away all their notes from where they overlapped. "you can still sit. i'll, um, use my inside voice. want a coffee? i've still got some spare change for another cup."
inspiration can strike anywhere, at any time — that’s what lauryn told herself anyway. it was a statement constantly parroted by ms. santiago whenever lauryn was having an inspiration block. frankly, ever since they dropped their album, her writing bug has been as dry as the sahara desert, or her personal love life. there was some refusal from lauryn, but it was quickly silenced by the promise of going by pirate’s cove for a round of mini golf, just to take her mind off things. jeff’s joe seemed like a perfect place to get inspiration, or at least better than her room. she wasn’t having any luck looking up at the waxy glowing green stars, so the coffee shop would have to do. it wasn’t all her doing, however. amidst the constant creation burnout, and the looming deadlines for new songs, valentina had convinced her to get out for a cup of coffee. the request was met with some hesitation, but she eventually gave way, given the promise of a croissant and a round of mini golf. clutching her star sticker covered composition book in one hand, with a messenger bag slung over her shoulder, lauryn made her way to the counter, when she was abruptly startled by an excited yell. lauryn knew a eureka moment when she saw one, it was something she loved. all the pieces finally clicking into place, finding the perfect rhyme. it’s euphoric. “must be a pretty important email,” she laughs, watching kansas clean up their section of the bar. sitting down, lauryn gives them a smile, “don’t worry, you’ll hear me yelling like that soon. as for coffee, i’d love a cup, kinda pulled an all nighter watching kenan and kel reruns.” she pushes back a section of her hair that’s fallen into her face. lauryn opens up her songwriting notebook to a bookmarked page. she taps her pen against the countertop instinctively, taptaptap. a second goes by. taptaptap. she looks over at kansas, “what’s a good rhyme for labyrinth? i’m coming up blank.”
HEY, i think i just saw LAURYN NEARS walking down the strip. stop by to catch up and you’ll learn the TWENTY THREE YEAR OLD is working as a VAMPIRE SLAYER IN TRAINING + RADIO HOST AT KILLER FREQUENCY + SINGER/SONGWRITER IN COSMIX and lives in MANOR SUITES. Given they are FERVENT but SOLICITOUS, it’s likely that they ARE NOT a vampire. i bet you can find them tearing up the dance floor to LADY LADY BY OLIVIA DEAN and you’ll know why they’re called THE ALL-LOVING HERO. ☾ .⭒˚ whitney peak. genderfae + she/they. homosexual homoromantic + leo.
╰➜ STATS. ╰➜ PINTEREST. ╰➜ PLAYLIST.
TW: death, fire, premature labor, brain injury
AUGUST 8TH, 1973: lauryn assata nears is born via c-section to her mother and father, zahara and james. she’s born three months early, at 1lb 9oz, and spends 50 days in the NICU. her sibling doesn’t visit due to restrictions. she doesn’t know it yet, but she’s far more resilient than the doctors say she will be.
OCTOBER 7TH, 1974: against all odds, lauryn takes her first steps. the doctors had told her mother that she wouldn’t be able to walk or talk, but lauryn’s on track to be a normal child. her walking is off kilter, and lauryn is diagnosed with mild cerebral palsy. she begins to wear a custom leg brace on her left leg, from her knee to her foot, and parts of her left side are paralyzed. when she’s 6, she decides that she wants to help kids like her.
JANUARY 3RD, 1977: james sets out a telescope on the deck of their house. he shows lauryn the stars for the first time. She becomes enamored at once and begs him to set up the telescope each day. they end up looking at the stars every friday together. it becomes one of her favorite things, and she anticipates every friday just to look at the stars.
MAY 23RD, 1979: lauryn meets a family friend of her parents for the first time. she comes over to discuss business often. lauryn is instantly curious. she watches from the top of the stairs, and is curious about what goes on in the kitchen at night. all her questioning is redirected by her parents, telling her not to worry, and to go back to sleep. they rarely meet during the day, and when they do, lauryn is ushered into her room with a book or a toy.
MAY 16TH, 1984: lauryn sings her first solo in the children’s choir at church. she’s ecstatic, it’s what she’s wanted since she joined the choir. after that solo, she sometimes sings leads, but she fades back into the general choir. she doesn’t mind it. it’s nice to be part of something.
SEPTEMBER 18TH, 1985: a house fire breaks out in the nears home. lauryn is staying at a friend’s house when it happens. she comes home to caution tape, and ashes where her home used to be. her future foster mother ushers her away from the burning home. there’s no word on her sibling, and lauryn’s taken to live with their family friend.
NOVEMBER 28TH, 1985: following the death of her parents, lauryn becomes bitter and sardonic. there’s still no word on her sibling, but lauryn is holding out hope that they’re okay. ms. santiago, her family’s friend and new foster mom, is giving her space, but her daughter? not so much. she’s invasive and persistent during a time where lauryn just wants to shut down. they end up butting heads more often than not, and ms. santiago steps in.. occasionally, but choosing to let them fight their own battles.
JANUARY 2ND, 1986: one night, after a particularly rough nightmare about her parents, lauryn seeks comfort in valentina. they talk for a bit in their shared bedroom, and lauryn ends up crying herself to sleep in valentina’s arms. they end up fighting a lot less after that, but still butt heads, as sisters always seem to do.
AUGUST 12TH, 1986: the santiago women are interesting. they speak in hushed whispers around her, not unlike her parents used to do. valentina leaves almost every night around 12 am, and is back in their shared room before they have to catch the bus in the morning. lauryn pretends not to notice, but she’s curious.
JULY 19TH, 1987: lauryn’s finally let in on the secret the santiago women were holding close to their chest. they’re vampire slayers, so were her parents, but they stopped before lauryn and her older sibling were born. the nearses had wanted to pass it down to their children when they felt the time was right, but they died before they were given the chance. lauryn’s encouraged to join them in training sessions, with ms. santiago saying that “this is what your parents would have wanted.” so, she trains with them from the crack of dawn, until the girls have to leave for school.
MAY 10TH, 1988: shortly before her 15th birthday, lauryn and the santiago family move to las vegas. it’s “in search of better opportunities”, ms. santiago says, but lauryn’s just excited to see a different part of the country, and to chart the stars from her new bedroom window. she’s sad to leave her friend behind, but knows that they’ll reunite one day.
JUNE 5TH, 1989: another girl joins their small family. their condo is big enough to hold up to 8 people, and by the time lauryn is 16, two more girls have joined the fold. she has four sisters now. they clash, as sisters often do, but over time, they become a well oiled vampire slaying machine, even if lauryn’s a bit slow to pick up the pace, and would rather be helping them with medical intervention instead of slaying. but she manages.
JUNE 12TH, 1992: lauryn’s life is pretty uneventful at this point, or at least she thinks so. she wakes up at the asscrack of dawn, trains for a few hours, goes to school, and patrols at night. she decides that she needs a change, and gets EMT certified in las vegas. she explains it to her foster mother by saying that she wanted to help more in the field.
JANUARY 3RD, 1994: her foster mother is always looking for the next big thing, and one day, she comes to her and the other girls and strongly suggests they should become a band. after all, each of them is creative in their own ways, and it would be a good cover for vampire slaying.
MARCH 26, 1994: after some development, and music training, cosmix, is formed. they’re a pop punk/pop rock group with a space aesthetic. after being inspired by jem and the holograms, ms. santiago says they should have their own stage personas. lauryn adopts the stage name astra, and becomes the group’s songwriter & primary vocalist.
SPRINGTIME, 1997: it’s been a minute, but they’re actually something, now. cosmix cut a small demo, and they play gigs around vegas at local venues. lauryn’s still training as a vampire slayer, and her emt training comes in handy. she’s a radio host at killer frequency, all while trying to prep for a full album release.
🔭 tidbits !!
main color is green, she loves a good leafy green.
hopeless romantic lesbian, in love with a new girl each week. (potential connection, mayhaps?)
has a bit of an affinity for space, her bedroom ceiling is covered in glowy stars.
loves her sisters a lot, and often feels like she’s not as good as them when it comes to slaying
does not want to let ANYONE down, very worried regarding rejection
scribbles song lyrics on any and everything she can
knows the lyrics to every single song by michael jackson, destiny's child and mary j. blige
kenny brushed them off with a nonchalant wave. "why wouldn't i? it's the perfect abbreviation," she remarked, a slight grin pulling on the corner of her chapped lips. it seemed like las vegas was ruthless, even when it came to the mundane. she licked around her mouth, uncaring if it was a little gross, and eyed the menu for a drink choice. she was currently stuck between a soda advertised as dirty due to the use of cream and syrup, and a milkshake that was sure to kick off the morning well for their attention deficit. "you think about me?" she playfully nudged mac's leg underneath the table. "i get it. i mean, not really, because i've never been in a relationship or had a kid, but - i see how it's hard. still, it's inevitable. there's only so many times you guys can coincidentally run into each other before you have to talk it out. for the kid's sake, at least," she didn't know much about shelby jane, as her communication with jones was subpar at best, but from what she'd heard so far, she was a solid kid. kenny thought she deserved two loving, attentive parents. like any kid would. like she did, before her father was slaughtered. "thank god. because i secretly like them better. waffles are too crunchy - i'm all for the softness of pancakes," only kenny and mac could conjure up conversation about breakfast foods. "a couple months. maybe longer, my memory's always been shot to shit. but i'll see him soon, trust. before i keel over and die at random. if that were to happen, though, you get my atari, n64, all my games and my comic book collection."
mac lets out another laugh, it seems like laughter was one of the only things mac could really do around kenny vitelli. “if perfect’s a stand in for horrid, then they’re perfect alright,” they say, looking down at the menu. while they could recite the breakfast options at the waffle cottage as easily as they could recite the periodic table thank you jones, they were in the mood for something a little off the beaten path. there were milkshakes that had accoutrements stacking up to the heavens, with things like cookie cakes and full cake slices on top of them. who would even order something like this? let alone make it? just looking up at the pictures sent a shiver up their spine. “sometimes,” they lightly punch kenny on the shoulder. “you’re not the only girl on my mind,” they joke. “exactly. every time i see him, i want to freeze up and run away. it’s actually my biggest regret coming back to haunt me.” there were three things in mckayla’s life that they regretted: leaving sj being the one at the top of the list. they often wondered what would happen if they never left the house that day, but then, would they have the life they have now? with a pseudo-friend in a vitelli, while trying to uncover the various sprawling mysteries of las vegas. “i disagree on the too crunchy part,” they say, waving a fork in the air, “the crunch is the best part. but i do love the softness of pancakes.” listening to kenny talk about her health, mac leaned in, as if they were getting a scoop. “ken.” they chide, pointing the fork at the youngest vitelli, “i’ll take really good care of everything. they’ll act like my child that i didn’t abandon.”
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"Tiramisu! That's it," Sunny said, smiling brightly. Then his smile faded a little. No, probably not. He'd just get applie pie. "Well, they should add it, I know for a fact it has alcohol and in a city like Vegas, alcohol is and should be high on the menu." He laughed. "I believe you," he said. She was outstandingly beautiful, and Sunny would always fall for beautiful people. He was naive like that, even if he got disappointed time and time again. He couldn't be bothered to think that way. She seemed trustworthy, thus he trusted.
"Okay okay, strawberry milkshake it is," he exclaimed, and threw a hand up to get the attention of the waitress. "Would you like another one too?"
He also loved people who shared. At times he wasn't capable to do so, he felt guarded of the live he had and not like he had much that could be shared with strangers. But people who had actual lives those were sacred. He wanted that... down the line. One day.
"That sounds so wonderful," he said, face smoothing into a genuine smile. "Not the wrangling part, though. But that getting her a milkshake. How old is she?"
at his smile, marisol lets out a laugh of her own. “i rarely, if ever, drink, but i do enjoy a good tiramisu.” she grins at him, her smile as radiant as a thousand suns, “you should believe me. i’m right. not always, but i am right this time.” he was handsome, in sort of a boy charming way. she didn’t think she’d go for him if she didn’t have say in her life. but, she had to admit, the man had some sort of charm.
“trust. me,” she waves a figure to accentuate each word, grinning as she does so. "best strawberry shake i've had since leaving new york, and that's a high bar. new york has a damn good shake, no matter where you go. that's a fact." when he asks if she wants another, marisol grins. “uh, fuck yeah. you never say no to free milkshakes.” the curse might have come off as a bit out of place, but she felt comfortable with this guy, he had good taste in desserts.
when he commented on tully, marisol lets out a giggle. she thinks back to the past few months, and she lets out a contented him. “it is,” she beams back at him. “she’s wonderful. she’s five. going on six. her mom and i are roommates, she’s one of my best friends.”
Gemma facked a relieved sigh too, though she had really hoped for something, anything really, to be missing. Chasing thieves was fun. If she were to catch them. "Thankfully," she agreed, nodding and watching the other close her purse. Then was surprised she was taken up for small-talk. She didn't think she looked the part for it, but had the other not been absolutely stunning, she might've laughed in her face and moved on. Now, instead, she smiled as if the kindness had caught her off guard and impressed her at the same time. "Towards the centre," she said, pointing in its general direction. "I have a business meeting in say... ah," she looked at her watch. Rollex, latest model, beautiful and any thief should try to steal it off her. So she could kick their ass. "About an hour. Plenty of time for another coffee run. And you?"
kiara watches the other woman, trying to feel her out. to kiara, she reminds her of the people back home — as tough as cast-iron, forged in a furnace. kiara wouldn't doubt that the other was like that. her curls were stunning, and if she didn't have her own regimented beauty routine, kiara would have asked for hair tips. "were you hoping that something was stolen? you wanna play hero, or somethin'?" she asks, raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow. when she smiled, kiara almost instantly responded with one of her own. that's the thing about people forged in a furnace, they always cool down eventually. "i see, i see." she follows the arc of gemma's pointing finger. "well, what are your plans til then? i run a bakery, and i was on my way there. it's not too far from here, actually."