[ B A S I C S ]
Nicknames
Axe
Age
Twenty-Six
Star Sign
Aries
Occupation
Full-time artist/musician. Can't even cut it as a cashier or barista.
Orientation
'Straight'. Gay for pay.
[ this man is gay as hell, he just hasn't accepted it yet ]
Roles
Any kind of bottom, it pays the most.
[ A P P E A R A N C E ]
Height
6'
Hair
Warm brown. Cropped on the sides, longer on top. Wavy. Messy in that way that seems purposeful, but it's not. It's just like that.
Eyes
Grey like the sky when it storms. Almost blue, almost green, but neither one fits quite right.
Body
Muscular, lean. Strong, masculine yet slight in the way that made him catnip for certain clientele. Skin is mostly flawless aside from a long, jagged scar on his hip. Skin pale most of the year, but picks up a bit of a tan during the summer months.
Clothing
Casual. Jeans and a couple of 'nicer' pants for gigs he picks up. Nothing special or out of the ordinary, but not because he doesn't
want to stick out.
[ B A C K S T O R Y ]
Family
Son of Vincent "Vinny" and Anna Mae Hudson. His father passed when he was twenty-six after drinking and gambling his life away. Anna Mae was a fine mother type until Vinny wore her down and forced her into her own addiction of pills and sedatives, all of which never went away even after their separation. Axel found himself disappearing into his music and art more often then not. Being an only child to two parents who were never really there didn't leave him much choice. It quickly became his outlet and then his obsession, able to pick up just about anything he put his hands on. A savant to the craft, specifically music. Play any tune and he can replicate it with the kind of ease.
Growing up in a trailer was not a proud point in his life, not a shame point, either— especially considering the shit-box apartment he finds himself in now. No, it just
is. It's all he's ever known and it's easy for a stranger to look at his life and compare it to his father, a scumbag with no life. No prospects. Throwing his life away. He can't even hold down a job as cashier or barista, much less anything that would require a degree. He dropped out at sixteen and got his GED, called it good enough, and pursued his love of the arts. The thing is, gigs only come by every so often and not everyone is scrounging for his artwork. He lacks a name, connections. The only legacy his father left behind was a skin he'd rather shed than walk through the rest of his life wearing.
When one can't keep a job obviously leaves one wanting for cash, which is where the gay for pay stuff begins in his early adulthood— having moved out the day he turned eighteen with not a cent to his name left him with little other options. Not that he ever thought
that was an option, nor did he know what cruising was until he did. Thus allowing him to do 'live it up' in his shitty studio and get lost doing what he loves the most.
[ P L A Y L I S T ]
Torture by
Harpy
oxygen by
OXFLOYD
[ . . .more to come ]
