#* ÁNGEL MOLINERO / identity .

[someotherdog]

al. am. ám. af. ak. afh.

[playmebackwards]

&.  【  sh, do you hear  EVERY 1’S A WINNER  by  HOT CHOCOLATE  playing ? that must mean  ÁNGEL MOLINERO   is coming, the 20/63 year old  CISMALE  that goes by  HE/HIM,  currently employed as a  BOUNCER AT DEVIL’S BITE.  they’re a  VAMPIRE  in oldgate for eh, i’d say about  SEVEN MONTHS.  tough luck, huh ? least they got their  ASTUTE,  DISCREET,  CONDEMNATORY and  INSOLENT  stuff to fall back on. anyway, it’s best to get out of here. their  (  brown hair that curls into spirals, a sneer paired with an eyeroll at the very idea of authority, glimpses of a young boy in the background of famous pictures taken in studio 54, a fashion sense that seems to have died along with disco—and himself  )  vibe gives me the creeps !

trigger warnings: drug use/cocaine, gendered slur

born in 1956 in madrid, spain, as ángel jorge cola molinero, the cola family moved to america during the height of the projected american dream. they lived in the neighborhood of little spain in manhattan, a family of six, ángel being the second youngest. growing up a regular poor kid life in the late 50s/early 60s, ángel’s childhood was largely uneventful. his family struggled, they stuck together, they lived their lives. ángel doesn’t think upon his family or childhood overly fondly, it was just something he endured.

he graduated high school without much of a plan, intending to just work in his father’s tailor shop until he found something better to do. as he was just entering his twenties, a little music movement started gaining popularity called disco. many in his neighborhood were into the scene, so it wasn’t hard for ángel to get into it, too. and boy, he got into it. leisure suits, long hair with a mustache (well, as much of a mustache as he could grow), platform shoes, and a whole fuckton of cocaine.

in 1976, the heart of the disco era, ángel was spending more time in clubs than working at his father’s shop, coming home late in the morning and sleeping all day long. (fun fact? his disco name was ángel cola, but don’t you dare call him that now.)  it was on one rather bland night, dancing and rubbing against nameless people and snorting anything he could get up his nose, ángel died on that bland night. he doesn’t remember much about that night, only that he was making out with someone when suddenly, they bit his neck (he didn’t mind, he could get kinky!) and then they didn’t stop biting his neck and then it was just black.

it was just black until he suddenly woke up in the ground. someone put him in there, then dug him out again, but ángel never got a look at their face. they killed him, they created him, they abandoned him. that maker-progeny bond, he learned what it was called much later, didn’t exist to him. vampires didn’t exist to him, he was left in utter confusion about his new life, only knowing that he was hungry.

he wandered home in a daze, even able to stay with them for a day or so, before that overwhelming need to feed took over. he left his family unharmed, returning to the clubs he frequented, when his new animal nature took over and he fed like a newborn mammal. on his own, ángel had to figure out the ways of his new species by trial and error. he virtually forgot about his human family, instead spending his nights on the streets, hunting for prey and dancing the night away.

as a vampire, as he quickly figured out what he was after remembering all those hammer horror dracula movies his older brother would drag him to watch just a few years ago, he learned just a few years ago can be anywhere from two years ago to thirty. 1976 quickly turned into 1979, and disco had died. ángel kept it alive, hanging on until the very last days. then, 1979 turned into a new decade, and the newborn status (while he’s still young, at 63 in human years, in the vampire community) started to shed away, he was becoming more mature. and with maturity came boredom.

the years blended together, ángel lurking in the night to feed himself and entertain himself, he seldom came into contact with other vampires. for a long time, he believed he was the only other vampire in the city, besides the one that made him, until he met others in their own hunt. they explained to him the ways of their life, the laws and the government and all that other shit, but he thought of it all as bullshit. he lived for two decades undetected, he wasn’t going to make some grand entrance into vampire society and have to live by rules. 

living in relative peace, doing whatever he wanted for years on top of years, things changed when vampires came out of the coffin. ángel didn’t like this. he liked living in secrecy, he liked operating in the shadows, hunting for food, hunting for sport. now that vampires were common knowledge? there was no feeding for the sake of it. people knew about them, people wanted to protect themselves from vampires; his hunting pool got much, much smaller.

now that they were integrating into society, ángel couldn’t operate like he wanted to anymore, killing people from enjoying their blood too much brought attention and vampires didn’t want people to fear them anymore, or whatever the bitch from that council said. a nomad, he barely paid attention to what area he was in, but the sheriff in the area he was hanging around at the time basically said knock it off with the bites or die a true death. so, with no other purpose in life, ángel had to find one.

ángel never really thought much about his maker, only sometimes wondering who they were and why they decided to turn him instead of let him die, but with nothing much else to do, he began a search for his maker. that’s what brought him to oldgate seven months ago, gaining a bit of intel from another vampire that a maker known for abandoning their progeny like to float around the swamp lands. it’s a secret mission, ángel really does love secrets, slinking about and gathering information. at the very least, it passes the time.

he’s picked up a job at the devil’s bite as a bouncer to keep an eye on the vampire community, staying close to them without getting to know them, hoping someone says something that will give him a clue to the identity of his maker. it’s really the only thing that keeps him going; being close to his brethren, if he can deign to call them that, keeps the government close to him, too. he has to be on his best behavior, but ángel has never responded to authority well, even when he was human.

connections:

fellow vampires! since he works at a vampire bar and you basically can’t throw a rock without hitting another vamp in oldgate, ángel is closer to vampire society than ever before. give me vampires he hates, give me vampires he thinks are funny, give me vampires that might turn his thoughts on his fellow undead creatures. most of all, give me vampires in the government that ángel can roll his eyes at.

witches, werewolves, banshees, any other creature! because ángel is so isolated from most of the world, he’s rather unaware of other supernaturals. let him be surprised at someone changing form or doing something magic-y.

humans! ángel only thinks of people as sustenance, but since synthetic blood was created and vampires are supposed to be on their best behavior nowadays, and now that he’s living in an actual town with an actual job and residence, he’s closer to humans than he has been in forty something years. give him humans that nice to him even when he doesn’t deserve it, humans that intrigue him, humans that he wishes he can tear right into without the authority getting on his ass.

vampires or humans that recognize him from his little hellion days! he might’ve even killed someone’s family member? maybe they want to take revenge?

that’s just a few ideas but we can come up with something great together!