when: early evening
where: eve’s place
who: @pucksanders
x.
The stale taste of desperation hung thick in the air, a tar in the lungs as men and women gathered around the stages like half starved dogs begging for scraps. With a gentle salute of his half empty glass to the girls on stage he continued nursing his glass against the crook of his arm. The day had felt long, at the end of a long week, in the middle of a long month somewhere in the middle of a long life. He was tired, but would never admit it. No, Julian Connor was the type to hide behind a mask of raised voices and the promise of violence.
“Really. Puck? You couldn’t think of a better name Dylan?!” A whispered snarl rolling off his lips at the use of the ridiculous cover identity Dylan had crafted for himself. Running a hand across his face he begged for the strength to go on. While he might not be the sort to guide and teach others, those that had the misfortune of having him as their mentor had left a lasting impression on him. There were times in prison when he found himself anxiously hoping they were still alive, only to remember that he was the one that helped train them. Of course they would be fine. Well most of them, those more like Micah and Puck had a tendency to lean into the wilder side. “Name aside, it is good to see ya here kid.”
It didn’t matter how many years passed, the man would never really leave those confined walls. Trapped. As long as he’s been free. Concrete surrounding, suffocating- not much unlike Skulls. He knew the restlessness of being alone for too long, of the echo of silence when there’s nothing but your own thoughts. Despite him never admitting it, Nolan still needed that constant white noise. Which means the man find himself at the company of local bars most nights. But it’s easy to say that was always where the man was found, even before then.
What he wasn’t expecting to find at his local bar, in a middle of nowhere town, in the middle of nowhere America- was a familiar stature sat up at the bar. A man who should have been long forgotten by now, faint to the taste of blood in his mouth and early hours whispered against dark, buried nights.
A smile stretching wide against Nolan’s features, an unknown life bubbling into his tone as he places an empty glass on the bar besides the man and slaps a hand against his shoulder. “What, there’s no room for old friends?”
x.
Pushing himself from the stool, a balance shaky for the benefit of others, a tired sigh weighing down his shoulders as he turned to leave, what was it with small towns and everyone getting into each others business. He’d already had a welcome basket of bread and jams and meats dropped at his apartment door, one which he’d stared at for far too long, half expecting it to grow another head. Barely a step had been taken when his past came crashing into the present.
Turning too quickly for the picture of the drunk he’d been a moment ago, all facades washed away, leaving the sharpened version of himself he missed, before he was Connor the firefighter. “Well I’ll be damned!” Closing the distance between them, which should be whole states rather than a few feet, he wrapped his arms around Nolan’s shoulders and clapped him on the back excitedly.
Withdrawing just enough to see Nolan’s face, Connor was half worried that this was some cruel trick, an apparition, or perhaps he really had to much to drink. His hands remained on the others shoulders so he couldn’t simply disappear back into the memories of his past, as a look of sheer joy and disbelief mixed on his own face.
“Same as most, I suppose. It’s easy enough to drink alone back in the comfort of my trailer, but to be out among others?” Javi shrugged as the rest of his answer quieted back down when he caught the attention of the bartender and ordered a beer. Being back there alone and with nothing but a drink in hand didn’t appeal to him, but at least at the bar then he was able to not feel so alone in moving to a new town once again. It felt too often like he lived on repeat, doing the same thing over and over again without any real change as he chased something he couldn’t name. “What about you?”
x.
“To be out among others is overrated, take it from this old timer.” Running a hand down his tired face, his fingers grazed his beard, an old debate crossing his mind, should he shave it off? Tipping the glass back he watched the bartender through the warped base of his bourbon. “So where else is good, besides the bar?” The downside to being new in any town, was having to get the lay of the land, weed out the crappy tourist traps from the local haunts. Although he very much doubted this town had any sort of tourism appeal.
“Given that I didn’t even know it was evening, I’m doing rather well wouldn’t you agree?” Nodding for another from the bartender he slid across enough cash to cover both his drink and the drink of the stranger beside him. “Connor.” It was all he said by way of introduction, no handshake, no asking of who he was, Connor just sort of expected it would come.
when: early morning
where: mel’s eggs n’ waffles
who: @chronicxwanderlust
There weren’t many things that still surprised Connor, especially in this dust covered, cursed town. But of all the places to run into an old friend this was the last place either of them should have been. Even more confusing had been the revelation that Nolan might very well have a daughter. Not that he would ever admit it, but he was a little incensed when he found out. Despite their rocky start in prison, the two had grown close and shared far more than had ever shared with anyone.
Climbing off his bike, he carried his helmet inside before spotting Marley sitting in a booth at the back of Mel’s. The corner of his mouth pulled up in a lopsided smile as Nolan's warning about messing with Marley echoed in his head. And yes while he might want to get under Nolan's skin and make the man squirm, after getting to know the girl woman, Connor had come to understand why someone would be so protective. She was far too good for him.
when: early evening
where: midtown apartments lobby
who: @crimsxns
Crinkled bags and the faint clink of beer bottles shifting in his arms threw him back into a world of memories he long thought forgotten. Fingers wrapped tightly around the key, pausing with the key already in the lock. With a tired groan he shifted his weight, swapping the bag of groceries and booze into his other arm before prying open the mailbox. One of many tucked into the wall of the lobby. It was only when he head the metal creak of another mailbox opening.
Glancing across briefly he gave a small nod before returning his attention back to own mailbox, locking it up as his brows furrowed. There was a familiarity of the woman beside him, about as familiar as his persistent memories, like remembering a face from a dream after you awaken. Voice rough and gravely with disuse, he interrupted the peace, “Have we met?” While he hadn’t made any effort to get to know anyone in the building, he had seen one or two in passing. He liked it better this way, it reminded him greatly of prison, the long hallways with everyone sticking to their rooms, much like cells.
“Shit, sorry.” Javi hadn’t been paying attention to how close his seat was to the other’s by his side, moving it slightly enough to give them both a bit more breathing room even though there wasn’t much give on the other side of him either. He glanced back around again, trying to see if there were any other open spots before he sighed with a shake of his head. “Nah man, it looks like this place is packed tonight. It must be something in the air that brings everyone out for a drink at the same time,” he replied with a shrug, trying to play off the fact that there wasn’t any other spots than this one as he settled back down again.
x.
He’d been in the bar for what he thought had only been maybe thirty minutes, but the bar was indeed packed now. When had that happened? Glancing around, the more people he saw the longer his sigh dragged on. Maybe he was just getting to old for this, every face in the bar held the shape of youth. Retirement had never been a thought to him, this was the kind of lifestyle, the kind of job that you did till the end, or until it ended you. “Full moon drives everyone a bit crazy. What brings you out on this fine ...” Checking his watch his brow ticked up in mild surprise at how much later it was, “... this fine evening?”
Nothing but the humming and thumping sounds of a few dryer machines in the background. The stack of magazines are all outdated, but she lazily thumbs through them anyway. Desperate to remain busy, desperate to appear at ease and confident. It’d been a month since she moved here, the town where her blood seemed to pool - albeit bitterly, resentfully. Tommy didn’t know of her presence and she was determined to keep it that way. The bell chimes above the door, a blink as she gazes up, smile hesitant. ‘ Should be a free one in the corner there. ‘
x.
A tired expression seemed to remain on his face regardless of what time of day, but it certainly looked worse in the morning. Clinging to a large cup of coffee Connor trudged into the laundromat, seeing another body in there he groaned, very much so debating if he could just leave when he heard a voice clearly aimed at him as there was no one else stupid enough to be up this early.
“Uh thanks. Starting your day or finishing?” Small talk was grating on his soul, but she seemed nice enough and hadn’t completely ignored him as he walked in. Moving over to the corner machine he began unloading his clothes, some containing red stains that he didn’t even care to try and hide from her.
where: the drunken cactus
when: middle of the afternoon
The crisp fizz off the top of his beer settled against edge of his fingers as they sat wrapped around the neck of the chilled glass, the ghost of a bruise dusting his knuckles beneath the many well worn scars that told a thousand stories. Despite the noise in the bar, even in the middle of the day, he was still struggling with how quiet he found it. Prisons were noisy places, and with their penchant for timetables and activities, Connor found himself with far too much time on his hands.
After a punishing workout and finally unpacking the last of his things he’d ambled down to the bar, only to hesitate at the door, although it wasn’t hesitation. He’d grown used to waiting for doors to be opened with the electronic buzz that released the lock. It took him a moment to remember that he was out, clear, free! This lapse had left him in a sour mood so when he felt someone disturb the space beside him he sighed, and not all that quietly. “What? No other seats?”
☽ [ timothy olyphant, he/him, cis-male ] ☾ [ connor briggs ] has lived in [ main street apartments ] for [ a month ] now. the [ 50 ] year old [ human ] is the [ secretary ] for the [ reapers ]. but they also make an honest earning as a [ firefighter ] for [ the fire station ]. truthfully, they remind me of [ a temper that destroys everything in its path; bruised and bloody knuckles; a box full of memories rather forgotten ]. whenever it’s their turn to be the getaway driver, they blast [ chainsmoking by jacob banks ] on full volume. ☼☼
full bio can be found here.
tl;dr:
he has been a reaper as long as he can remember.
was married, but put his wife in harms way and it accidentally triggered her werewolf curse, which neither of them knew about.
he tried to kill her, but couldn’t bring himself to do so, instead telling her to run and never come back.
still wears his wedding ring and just tells people his wife is dead.
went to jail and was in lock up while the reapers fled california. joined up with them after being released.
the idea of retirement has been thrown around, but he believes there is still far too much to be done, and doesn’t trust the next generation to do it properly.
Born Julian Morrow, he grew up in the reapers from a young age. His formative years spent learning how to build a bike and pull it apart, how to look for useful parts on other bikes and cars to sell, how to hunt and how to kill. This was a life perfectly suited to him, or perhaps he was perfectly suited to it. He spent six months in juvie and was released on his eighteenth birthday, where he picked up right where he left off. Once he turned twenty-one he was able to begin working his way up the ranks of the reapers. His goal was not to “rank up” but rather be useful, do his job, follow his purpose.
He met his wife, who at first did not know of his job/lifestyle, but eventually he trusted her enough to share that very dangerous and secretive part of his life. Initially there was some friction, possibly due to her not trusting him, or thinking him a monster, but they overcame this. He thought his life fulfilled. He was working with the reapers to take our the creatures that hunted humans, and his wife now knew and accepted it.
One fateful evening he foolishly decided to use himself as bait and his wife got caught in the crossfire. Having to defend herself and kill the supernatural that attacked her, which unbeknownst to both of them, triggered her werewolf curse. This shattered his entire world, he became more angry at the world, at himself. He didn’t tell a soul what had really happened, instead telling those that knew them that she had died in the attack. He had tried to do his duty and kill her, but he could only see the woman he had loved. With a gun pointed at her head, he told her to never come back, otherwise he would not hesitate again.
LOCKED UP:
Julian was arrested for a felony manslaughter charge. A drunken bar fight, that he had not started, but he certainly did finish, ended up with one of the other participants succumbing to his injuries. Julian just thought him weak. Thankfully his lawyer had argued him down from a Murder charge to just manslaughter, meaning he only had to spend a short while in prison. Unfortunately this got a little extended, and extra year added on, due to some more fighting that took place between him and another cell mate.
Whilst locked up he did mellow out a little bit, a little, but found that he had more time to reflect on himself, everything really. This is what often led to those cell mate fights, someone would interrupt or say the wrong thing and it would just set him off.
ENCORE:
Fresh out of prison, Julian changed his name, gave himself a new identity and followed the rest of the reapers to a town called Skull. Slipping back into his old role as Secretary, he found that perhaps this quiet town was not so quiet as he had believed. The only two things that hadn’t changed, his temper, and his wedding ring firmly back on his finger after spending his years in jail without it. It was his reminder, his burden, his purpose, and his guilt. A constant reminder of what the werewolves had taken from him, but also what he had lost due to his own hubris.
His wife. Originally an untriggered werewolf (neither of them knew) that was turned because he accidentally put her in danger and she triggered the curse as self defence. He has always blamed himself and behaves as if she were truly dead. Last thing said to her, “If I see you again, I won’t hesitate.”
Open to any werewolf between 40 - 55.
DO AS I SAY, NOT AS I DO:
Someone within the reapers he is guiding, helping, training ... someone he is lowkey responsible for.
Open to any reaper.
THORN IN THE SIDE:
This is someone who antagonises him to no end. Constantly getting under his skin (could be mutual), fist fights, verbal sparring, possibly knows something they shouldn’t about Julian Connor.
Taken by Nolan.
BLOW OFF SOME STEAM:
This can be anyone NOT supernatural. Nothing romantic, purely physical, stress relief even. Possibly someone he starts to rely on to confide in when he gets frustrated.
Open to any human.
BURN BABY BURN:
Firehouse buddies. Everyone needs friends at work, while he would exactly classify anyone as a friend, this is someone he gets on with at the firehouse.
Open to anyone.
