( SANTIAGO CABRERA. FORTY FOUR. CIS MAN. HE/HIS. ) in texas, ISAÍAS LÁZARO is known to most as CAZADOR/CAZ. they have been riding with the diablos for THIRTY YEARS. they’re originally from SAN JOSE and the ENFORCER is known to be very ABRUPT & STRICT but the other club members will tell you they are OUTSPOKEN & RESPECTFUL. as the years go by, they’ve gained a lot of respect in the club and around town. they’re usually at HOTEL CÁRDENAS, working as a BLACKJACK DEALER. they rarely ever drive a car but when they do DON'T LET ME BE MISUNDERSTOOD by SANTA ESMERALDA is usually heard blasting. ( tattoos covering fingers a neck & any spare bit of flesh visible to the eye, a raspy smoker's laugh echoing down dark alleyways, being smart enough to count cards for the house but smart enough to hide it. )
— quick stats. —
birth name: unknown.
alias: isaías lázaro, among others.
nickname(s): caz, cazador.
title(s): enforcer for the diablos.
age / d.o.b.: 44, may 08.
gender, pronouns & sexuality: cis man, he/his, heteromantic/sexual.
hometown: san jose, california.
current residence: straton, texas.
occupation: blackjack dealer (hotel cárdenas) (current). enforcer for the diablos (current). unknown other (current).
education: unknown.
relationship status: unknown.
children: none?
positive traits: capable, efficient, humorous, intuitive, objective, outspoken, respectful, secure, tolerant, witty.
negative traits: abrupt, aloof, boyish, crafty, dogmatic, impersonal, meddlesome, opportunistic, private, strict.
— quick bio. —
i. not much is known about caz before his life with the club - the fourteen short years he lived it before the diablos. from san jose initially (supposedly) he drifted into straton one day and began hanging around hell's gate looking for under the table work. he served as a bus boy for some time, dodging legal responsibilities, and caught a mentor when he hit eighteen. he patched at twenty and did odd jobs for his brothers whenever requested.
ii. his record was markless, and he worked fairly. at 22 he requested to go nomad for a period of time, citing personal issues, and for thirteen years he wandered around in that status ---working whatever odd jobs he had lined up. he never speaks about it, keeps his business to himself, and when he returned at 35 it was with a sum of money he cut into the club upon swearing back into their chapter.
iii. always a little too smart for what little people know of him, caz took a job as a blackjack dealer at hotel cárdenas, mostly legitimately. he counts cards every so often, taking a little extra from the tables and using his work to quietly wash money. some of it comes from the card counting, some of it comes from ... who knows where? or where he even got the money in the first place? and when he came back it was with more tattoos than he left with, until there was barely a patch of skin on him that wasn't covered - save for his face. even his fingers are marked ... what they mean, if anything, is another mystery about him.
iv. it's something of a game among his fellow patches to guess where he's been, what he's done, where he comes from. nobody really ever calls him by his "name" - just caz, and he only ever answers with a chuckle or a grin. a few years after he returned he gained the position of enforcer - because apparently he'd come home with a little aggression that needed working out - and he upholds that pretty well.
v. he still takes off from time to time, but never far. he's at every temple meeting when requested, every run when needed - but something is up. the only answers he gives are his throaty chuckles behind a haze of cigarette smoke. one thing is certain - his loyalty is diehard for the diablos, if not a little for himself, too.
( olivia cooke. twenty-nine. cis woman. she/her. ) in texas, sloane fagan is more commonly known as sloane. they’ve been living in stratford for half her life, been back three weeks and currently work as a lawyer. some say they are obsessive & flighty but i’m more inclined to believe those that say they’re outgoing & charming. if you walk by their house, you can sometimes hear after midnight by chappell roan playing from their window. ( legally binding contracts signed in glitter gel pens; this house is not haunted—you are; intimacy like a drug; the rustle of a turning page in a silent library; your father was the worst man alive, you are his favorite daughter . )
bio below the cut - tw age gap relationship, violence, death
ORIGINS & FAMILY:
Name: Sloane Catherine Fagan
Nickname: Sloaney ( by her father/family )
Birthday: December 3, 1995
Place of Birth: Stratford, Texas
Places Lived Since: Stratford, Texas; New York, New York; Durham, North Carolina; Washington, DC
Current Residence: Fagan family compound in Stratford, Texas ( unfortunately )
Notable Family Members: Alice Fagan ( daughter, 5 years old ); Colton Fagan ( older brother, deceased ); Caden Fagan ( older brother ); Aylin Tokaş ( sister-in-law ); Keith “Buzz” Fagan ( father, deceased ); Amy Fagan ( mother )
PHYSICAL:
Faceclaim: Olivia Cooke
Height: 5’4
Build: slim
Hair Color: dark red
Eye Color: brown
Jewelry? Tattoos? Piercings?: always wearing multiple rings, several piercings in both ears, a few tattoos ( will be expanded upon )
Unique Mannerisms/Physical Habits: twisting her rings when anxious, drumming her nails, running when things get messy
PERSONALITY:
Occupation: lawyer
Education: Undergraduate degree from Columbia University, JD Duke Law School
Languages Spoken: English, Spanish, Latin because she’s annoying
Likes: a crisp diet coke, glitter gel pens, the oxford comma, a particularly tricky legal argument, early 2000s chick flicks, singing chappell roan after three espresso martinis at karaoke
Dislikes: sloppy writing, never ending highways to hopeless small towns, birds kept as pets, losing at anything, being lied to
Aesthetic: perfectly crafted citations; legally binding contracts signed in glitter gel pens; this house is not haunted – you are; intimacy as a drug; a turning page in a silent library; your father was the worst man alive, you are his favorite daughter
HISTORY:
This is not a happy home, but you have a mostly happy childhood - the youngest child of a founding member of the Reapers and his increasingly cynical and desperate wife. He was older, and she liked the taste of danger and whirlwind danger found on the back of his bike. Your brothers lead to a shotgun wedding, and by the time you’re born the relationship is fracturing. But you are bright and charming and from a young age knew you were meant for so much more than this small town.
Your mother thinks so too, and watches in growing fear as your brothers get drawn further into the world of violence and crime surrounding your father. She loves you the most, you think at the wise old age of nine, having given up Colt and Cade as lost causes. At least, she says she wants to take you to the beach, somewhere close but also far, because you have to leave in the middle of the night to make it by morning. But then there’s yelling, you’re nine years old so it's nothing new – but there’s something sharper, an electric violence and fear you do not yet have the words for. She’s yelling at him and pointing to you and quite possibly begging when he turns and commands your brothers. Colt picks you up roughly, all wiry muscles and teenage lankiness, and this is when you begin to cry and scream and struggle with all the strength you can muster as he drags you away from you mother and locks you in the back bedroom. The look in her eyes as you leave haunts you for a lifetime.
She’s gone and something shatters – a rough edge left where there’d once been smooth lines. You grow up in this house surrounded by violent men who you cannot help but adore, damaged as you are from that initial betrayal. You’ve always been so bright and charming – the sun, but not warmth; a burning, blazing pursuit of power or escape; anger and armor in a pretty little package. At school you are the Queen Bee – gaining power and influence through a combination of charm, manipulation, and other, crueler accusations that never manage to stick. You’re not just cheer captain and prom queen – you’re obsessive to a fault, a perfectionist who absolutely cannot accept failure. Naturally clever, of course, but not everything comes so easily – you just make it look that way. Sleepless nights full of self-loathing and relentless dedication to whatever subject troubles you result in near perfect grades—and a lifelong tendency to dance right on the edge of self-destruction.
Grades like yours and you can go anywhere – you know this because you apply everywhere. He wants you to stay close, as do your brothers. You love them, but they seem so hopelessly deluded, stuck in the gravity well that is this godforsaken county. Help comes from an unexpected source, Colten’s partner is far too good for him – beautiful and clever and worldly—Aylin helps you apply to Columbia, helps you secure financial aid and housing and everything you need to finally, finally, leave this all behind.
Colton dies in the spring of your freshman year and with him any hope of smoothing down those jagged torn away parts of what might have once been good and kind in you. You come back for the funeral and your father is drunk – so much so that he mistakes you for her at least twice, speaking to you with such malice reserved for the wife who ran, not his beloved daughter. You sob in the bathroom of your childhood home and max out a credit card for the first flight out.
Otherwise, Columbia is a dream – everything you’ve dared hope and then some. You were made for something far greater than this life – and you’ve always loved a challenge, so you go on to study the law and all those intricacies and various loopholes that craft something so particularly clever and weighty.
It's one night, or maybe a sparkling weekend you spend at home. But you return to school and weeks later learn of the tiny consequence now growing inside you. The very first think you do is call your mother. She left you once, and that girl resented and hated her so much that you ignored the many times she reached out upon you moving to the east coast. But there’s a positive test on the bathroom sink and you’ve never needed your mother more, so you call her sobbing. She’s there the following day, slipping into your life and your apartment as if she never left, as if you were never that fearful, screaming child dragged away from her mother by a loved one.
Alice is born and suddenly everything shifts – your daughter is perfect, so lovely and wonderful and utterly free from the violence and taint of your history. Everything shifts, your mother stays with you and your baby whilst you finish law school – Alice’s first years are full of joy and laughter and whatever she might want. Upon graduation you take a job in DC, finding a lovely sunny apartment for her and her child; her mother staying close enough to be a constant positive force in these early years of Alice’s life.
Your brother’s been dead nearly ten years – but something drags you back to the endless highways and limitless pastures of Texas and your hometown. You still have that wonderful job and the lease in Dupont, but you were born in this town and know all too well how easy it is to get sucked in and trapped forever.
EXTRAS:
Living back in her childhood home with her five year old daughter and her dead brother’s wife upon the Fagan family compound that Aylin owns ( Colt was a goddamn idiot and if Sloane’d been his lawyer then…. )
Chaotic bisexual, clearly
Sloane is/was the queen bee/ popular girl of her high school class – and her going off to Columbia only made her arrogance worse. However, she gained initial popularity though careful manipulation and studied compliments and insults – babygirl knows how to play the game, if only in the mean girl kind of way.
Her daughter is the best thing that happened to her – reconnected her to her mother and gave her a purpose and reason to keep going on.
( RAFAEL SILVA. TWENTY FOUR. CIS MALE. HE/HIM. ) in texas, MATEO HERRERA is more commonly known as TEO. they’ve been living in newton for SIX MONTHS and currently DOCUMENTARY FILM MAKER. some say they are RECKLESS & INDULGENT but i’m more inclined to believe those that say they’re DETERMINED & INQUISITIVE. if you walk by their house, you can sometimes hear SGL by NOW, NOW playing from their window. ( polaroid photos developing in a dark room, acoustic guitar playing from the balcony of cheap apartments & midnight stakeouts. )
Mateos mother was always tight lipped about where his father actually was. When they were younger, the story was constantly changing. He doesn’t remember them all, but most of them ended in a man who didn’t care, dying for what karma deemed necessary. It wasn’t until he got older that he realized the tall tales changing seemed to indicate there was a lie hiding underneath, but maybe part of him didn’t want to believe it. After all, who wanted to confront their mother about lies they didn’t even know were really lies to begin with? So he let them live, in all their disjointed glory, until the man he did call his father finally began to knock on deaths door as well.
As his step father, the only father he’d ever known, began to suffer, so did Mateo. He watched the man give way to his ailment, piece by piece letting go of secrets he’d been carrying around for the entire time Mateo had been living. This same man was the one who had given him his first car, the man who had taught him to drive, the man who had made a father out of himself when he never truly had to. That man though, by blood? That man was nothing to him, and all the whole had been giving foundation to his mothers misguided lies. It wasn’t until the day that he passed that he told the truth, that he left Mateo with the trail to his own truth.
Before the lies started to unravel, his life had been...well, his own version of normal. Mateo had fallen in love first with 8mm film. His thirteenth birthday present had been a dark room to develop his own masterpieces. Sixteen? Sixteen was the beginning of the end, the first camera to hide behind, the first camera to chase his own recklessness, pretending fear didn’t exist if he was hidden safely behind the lens. By twenty one, he had made so many small films he couldn’t keep count, but the raw reality of the world was what really called to him. It was then he started to make documentaries, putting himself in harms way without a second thought: all for the story.
Someone asked him once why he did it, and the answer kept him silent. It still does, unsure if it’s the adrenaline rush, or some dedication to the truth, to move people through pictures, through experience that can only be given once caution is thrown to the wind. There is some honor in it, surely. Some part of him that takes on the most difficult outlets because the world isn’t always rainbows and sunshine, because people need to understand that privilege is abundant and there is still struggle outside of the world they’d painted. That struggle was inspiration, but at what cost?
His first film to make noise was a documentary about the underbelly of Vegas, the definition of why they didn’t take about what happened there. It wasn’t just that sex sells, it was an expose on what else did. Rumor has it that the tape is currently being picked apart by the FBI, using every inch of film to build a case they wouldn’t have dreamed of if it wasn’t for him risking his life to get it. Perhaps that was why he did it, to force these people into action, to tie their hands so no one else suffered. But, whatever it was, his next target was a little closer to home.
A notepad detailed every drop of information that ever came from his so called father was analyzed to the teeth. Finally, he put together where he needed to be, and it led him to the reapers and diablos. The small towns that surround them. It was a story in and of itself, one he would process the same way he did everything else: with camera in hand. So he’d set off to make his next film, a story centered on the clubs, their influence on the surrounding areas, and other dirty little secrets that could easily have killed him before this all is over.
The fear of death was comforting this time around, as the life he knew was only a life, or maybe he had just done away with fear all together, allowing for recklessness to take the wheel. Whatever it was, he surely was going to do whatever he needed, to find out every secret, both his own, and the ones that would move his audience. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.
( INBAR LAVI. TWENTY EIGHT. FEMALE. SHE/HER. ) in texas, CALANTHE SCOTT is known to most as CALLA. they have been riding with the diablos for FOUR YEARS. they originally from DEPOE BAY, OREGON and the GROUPIE is known to be very ELUSIVE & GUARDED but the other club members will tell you they are CREATIVE & HELPFUL. as the years go by, they’ve gained a lot of respect in the club and around town. they rarely ever drive a car but when they do ROMAN HOLIDAY by HALSEY is usually heard blasting. ( paint stained and hole ridden blue jeans, perfectly messy buns, ripped photographs in books on shelves, dancing while scrambling eggs, long forgotten cold cups of coffee in her wake )
BASICS
Full Name: Calanthe Dove Scott
Nickname(s): Calla
Age: 28
Date of Birth: July 4, 1991
Zodiac Sign: Cancer
Place of Birth: Depoe Bay, Oregon
Nationality: American
Gender: Female
Sexual Orientation: Bisexual
Romantic Orientation: Heteromantic
Religion: Christian raised, but more spiritual than religious as an adult.
Goals/Desires: At the current moment, she’s trying to ignore the fact that she ran away from her life by filling her days with drinking or smoking or lines of cocaine and sprinkling her involvement with the Diablos on top. My eventual goal for her, though, is for someone to notice she’s actually talented, and then starts her long climb out of the hole she’s built.
Fears: Darkness, Grasshoppers, Anyone yelling at her.
Hobbies: Painting, singing, making flower chains, partying
Quirks: Whistles or hums constantly, gets attached to animals instantly, makes fifty cups of coffee a day, drinks two.
BIOGRAPHY
Calanthe was the only child of two very loving hippies, which went about as you can imagine. They lived on the coast of Oregon. Her mother was a sexual therapist and her father created an organic line of hair products that were a huge hit on the west coast. She was home schooled until junior high, something her parents never really saw eye to eye on, but when Calla begged to have the chance to be around kids her own age, her father made sure it happened. Little did the young girl know how much she would regret that decision at the time. Used to the bubble her parents’ provided, she wasn’t prepared to deal with the vicious and petty nature of children in schools, but because she had made such a big deal about attending, she couldn’t exactly back out.
In order to fit in, Calanthe slowly started to adapt to the life of her peers, and by the time she graduated, she had a healthy party life that was carefully hidden from her parents at home. College was much the same. Unable to pick an avenue she would be willing to do for the rest of her life, Calla went with something she knew she was good at. The arts. She received a major in Art and a minor in English, avoided all questions about plans after she left university, because the truth was she didn’t know. Moving home seemed impossible. She couldn’t hide who she had become from her parents. Three weeks before graduation, her anxiety got so bad she climbed from her college dorm bed, left campus, bought enough of a fix to get her to Texas, and she hasn’t looked back since.
She started off bar tending, but after becoming friendly with a few Diablos who were regulars, it wasn’t long before she was following them home like a puppy. Calla desperately needed to feel needed, and though becoming a groupie wasn’t exactly what she had in mind, it was all she had. She’s a good time with a soft place to land, a role that plays up to her giving personality and helps her not talk about the life she abandoned four years prior.
TIDBITS
She’s constantly covered in paint bc if she isn’t busy partying or doing her part, she’s painting something or other.
Because she and her mother watched cooking videos together growing up, Calla knows how to make so many different foods.
She uses that knowledge to cook for anyone and everyone.
Calla talks about coffee like wine connoisseurs talk about wine.
She’s CONSTANTLY trying to bring animals home.
Barefoot like 75% of the time.
Still climbs trees.
Brings fresh flowers into the clubhouse just because.
Is somehow inebriated like 90% of her waking time.
in texas, elijah mori is known to most as eli or lije. they have been riding with the diablos for just over a year. they’re originally from seattle and the prospect is known to be very impulsive & overly curious but the other club members will tell you they are dedicated & optimistic. as the years go by, they’ve gained a lot of respect in the club and around town. they rarely ever drive a car but when they do talk too much by coin is usually heard blasting. ( obsessing over a first bloody lip, trying not to break out laughing when you catch someone’s eye in a meeting, moonlit picnics on rooftops and abandoned cars, a favoured jacket lent to a friend, childlike energy that comes with a yet unbroken spirit )
( ryan potter. nineteen. male. he/him. )
story
he was a surprise, little elijah mori. not a mistake, his mother would always assure him - but even though they’d already gotten engaged and done enough renovations to their little place in seattle for it to be a sheer waste of money for it to not be their home for the foreseeable future, his parents hadn’t been planning to have kids until at least a few years into their marriage, and at the point when they found out they were expecting they honestly hadn’t even known if they were going to have any at all. nonetheless, when they heard the news, the pairs whole attention seemed to solely be on him. what his name would be, what his room would look like, who he would become - for nine months, he was all that mattered, so much so they were willing to cut the funds for what was supposed to be a grandiose wedding down to a fifth of what it once was so they could be sure they were ready to bring their baby into the world in comfort and style.
well, actually, it was more like eight and a half months until he was actually born - but on the 6th of april, 2000, elijah made his way into the world.
suddenly, it seemed that the excitement of a new baby was starting to dwindle for his father. when it came to taking care of him, though, that wasn’t a huge deal - a college law professor, he hadn’t expected to be around much anyway, and his mother was apparently perfectly happy spending most of her time with him. it wasn’t that his father was regretting anything, mind, and he did still love him and try his best when he could, but there wasn’t the same energy there had been.
eli was always a social, happy kid - almost walking before he tried his hand at talking, he was insanely curious about the world around him, always wandering somewhere new or another. he wasn’t exactly a prodigy, and would never grow into someone especially known for their intelligence at that, but when he did start kinder he was always the first to go over to someone new and say hi, be the ringleader of some game or another, and offer comfort and defence to anyone who needed it as best a four-year-old could. this nature carried on into his elementary school years - he was more a class clown than anything else, and soon his life became nothing more than just running around his neighbourhood with his friends on some adventure or another.
by the time he was eight, it looked like the novelty was starting to wear off for his mother, too - and unlike his father, she didn’t keep trying as hard as she could to take care of him. even though he gave her all the love a son could, she just seemed bored by what he had to say, always making an excuse to go to the next room or send him out with his friends or to go grab something from the corner store up the street. that was just how she seemed towards eli - to her husband, she was cold, snappy, and would only appear to be the same kind woman she once was when she wanted something from him. when a job offer from houston university showed up for him, she only begged him to stay for a good five minutes before practically just telling him to get going.
the semester his father was in texas for was tough for elijah. they didn’t spend much time together as it was, but the house felt suddenly emptier without him there - sometimes he’d wake up in the middle of the night and swear he could hear his mother talking to someone, and he’d run to the window to see if his car was in the drive - but it never was. it was only when he returned for summer break that the truth came out - the whole time he’d been gone, his mother had been having an affair, possibly even beginning before he left, and elijah had had no idea. the same night he came home, he told his son to pack his things. they were going.
he’d been staying in a hotel in houston for his first semester of teaching, but his father knew they’d have to settle somewhere with cheaper real estate - and the small, relatively nearby of newton was the first name to come up in his search for somewhere more affordable for him and his son, so newton was where they went.
it was a lonely adjustment. elijah hadn’t even had a chance to say goodbye to any of his neighbourhood or school friends, let alone get any of their numbers from his mother’s phone book he’d been so dependent on his whole life, and his new house was empty, the light that streamed through the window was different - and, so far as he could tell, there was practically noone his age in the direct vicinity. with his father back in washington half the time to deal with the divorce and tie up loose ends with custody and his son’s schooling and medical arrangements, he was left practically to his own devices. regrettably, this would end up how things were once he was back in newton proper, as he had to spend most of his time at the university.
one of the only highlights of his new home was seeing the bikers - not only would they stream past his front window at unpredictable times of the day, but after a while he noticed that a lot of them would stop by the house next door to his, and his neighbour would go out on his own bike with them whenever they came. whenever he heard them coming down the street, he’d run out to the front porch to wave, and after a while some of them would start waving back. one evening after some of them left, his neighbour came to speak to him - and, being a sociable nine-year-old who’d had noone to talk to properly for weeks on end, elijah basically told them the whole story of what had happened and why his dad was hardly home. while they was there, he also pelted him with questions about the bikers and expressed his sheer admiration, and took away four important facts - he could come over if he ever needed anything, the club’s name was the diablos, he could try out to join when he was 18, and until that day came, he’d be perfectly happy to give him riding lessons - once he was old enough, anyway.
school started for him not long after that, and soon enough he did manage to rack up a decent amount of friends and reestablish himself as a class clown, but if he ever needed to go somewhere he’d go straight next door so long as the front light was on. he and his dad were still on decent enough terms, but with how early he had to leave and how late he’d get home, spending all his weekends working on things for his students, they didn’t have much of a chance to really hang out like father and son. as the years went on, he grew only closer to his diablo neighbour and some of his friends, starting his promised riding lessons when he was fourteen, and started to gravitate away from his father.
after turning 18, a few months before he was due to graduate, his father came to him with news - once the semester ended, he was moving back to seattle and trying things again with his mother. even though it hadn’t really been a yes/no sort of choice whether or not elijah would be going with him - he said no. he had friends, he was finishing school, and, unbeknownst to him, he was going to be a diablo, his dream - but his father wasn’t up to budging. it was only after he saw him riding home on his neighbour’s bike while packing his belongings that he saw what his son had been getting up to for the years they were there when he wasn’t with his school friends - the following fight lasted hours. the plus, though - eli was getting what he wanted. when his father left a week later, he skipped over to stay next door until he could find a tiny place of his own. he saw out the rest of the school year, graduated with decent enough grades - not that that mattered, not really.
after taking a few months to travel with some of his school friends and get some money doing few-week jobs around the country, he returned to newton and went straight to the diablos. he spent a short while just doing work for them, odd chores here and there, but after a couple weeks he was finally allowed to become a prospect and ride with the club - since then, he’s just been trying to prove himself to those around him.
tldr: (very fair, btw) elijah mori was born in seattle, lived there for 9 years, dad got a job in houston as a college professor at the university, mum had an affair, he moved to newton with his dad, pretty lonely, met a diablo, wanted to become one more than anything else, now prospecting.
personality
despite everything eli’s gone through with his parents, he’s still a remarkably optimistic and generally upbeat kid, especially for someone who also happens to dream of being a part of the diablos. he tried doing the stoic thing that a lot of the members of the club put on, but he just couldn’t do it save for serious meetings and confrontations with the reapers (save for catching someone’s eye or getting confused by whatever’s going on respectively.) he just always seems to have a hint of a smile, a glimmer in his eye - if he does stay a diablo there’s no chance it’ll stay, but for now, he’s just living the dream, and it’s obvious.
he is charismatic, and he does like to joke around with other diablos, even if it can get annoying to some - he’s not explicitly trying to spread cheer joy or anything, but he just has fun with a lot of things. he was always a class clown in school, and that’s carried over to his time in the club.
he can be pretty naive, especially when it comes to stuff with the club - he’s been semi-involved for a decade, but he can easily miss when things are important and does sometimes struggle to follow what’s going on or make the right calls. he struggles to focus a lot and can easily miss information that could be vital to whatever he needs to do. that being said, he finds it easy to read a room, and he will try and change his tone if he gets an explanation fast.
he tries to put on a tough face around the reapers, but it’ll immediately get thrown off if he’s confused or finds something funny. that being said, he is incredibly proud of his club and his place in it, and won’t take kindly to any sort of insult towards it.
as already said, he’s more than dedicated to the club. when he first moved to newton, some of it’s members were more there for him than his own father, and since then he’s been absolutely enamoured with it, hell, he was basically pseudo-raised by it. even if he does have fun with things, he takes his role incredibly seriously and does really want to prove himself to the other members.
he doesn’t seem to get upset or angry easily, but when he does, it’s obvious. he’ll try to stay subtle and only keep crying and such to the privacy of his own home (or the closest wall he can hide behind) but if he’s in the middle of an argument, he won’t bother pausing to take care of any tears. when he’s hurt, he’ll try and brush it off - but when it’s serious, he’ll just go quiet. he rarely gets stern when talking to someone - but when he does, it’s jarring to say the least. it takes a lot for him to start to hold a grudge, but when he does, he’ll just fully shut off whoever it’s towards - as evidenced by both of his own parents.
he is incredibly curious, and will sometimes pry where he shouldn’t, pushing questions even if whoever he’s with doesn’t want to answer.
he has a tendency to not think too hard, or at all before making decisions - some of them he will put more time towards, but it’s rare. he just goes for whatever feels right in the moment more often than not.
he’s very talkative, very energetic. it’s clear he’s living his dream, basically.
miscellaneous
elijah has so many nicknames. el, eli, lije, lijey, lijah - the kid’s happy with all of them, but the most common are eli (ee-lie) and lije (like large but. with an i). actually hearing the full thing is a massive rarity.
his harley’s nickname is rudolph - her paint’s fully black, save for a large splash of red just on top of the headlight. he got her second hand with the money he saved travelling before joining the diablos, but he absolutely adores her.
he hasn’t spoken to either his mother or his father since he last saw them, and has no desire to see them or talk about them to anyone else. he brushes off his history with them with a laugh before quickly changing the subject.
though he can get heated and overdramatic at times about small things happening in the moment, he’s an avoidant griever when it comes to big changes - his mother’s affair and having to pick up and move to texas, for example, though he was hurt and betrayed, barely seemed to affect his attitude or how he went about his day. no doubt it does still get to him when he’s not trying to think about it, but he just keeps on pushing it back.
his place is absolutely tiny, and he rarely spends any time in it. that being said, he has enough of his old cds and dvds to last a lifetime, and he keeps it neat and cozy enough that it wouldn’t be an embarassment if anyone came over.
even though he took care of himself for a lot of his adolescence while his dad was teaching, he’s hardly able to cook and just settles for things which are easy to make.
wanted connections
the one who got him into the diablos! would’ve been his next door neighbour when he’d just moved to newton and acted more like family to him than his actual dad - their age doesn’t massively matter so long as they are older than him, they could’ve been a kid of a diablo or something, just someone who got him interested. they’d still definitely/probably be close, and he’d still see them as family, and they’re the only one to know the full story about his parents.
diablo friends/mentors! he may be pretty lively and jokey compared to some of his clubmates, but he massively respects everyone else in the diablos - just anyone who’d be able to help show him the ropes and hang out with him, pretty much. he’s still a kid trying to get used to the whole club thing, even if he’s wanted it so long!
people he annoys! probably includes a fair couple of diablos or people he was in a class with in school - honestly, his attitude definitely wouldn’t be to everyone’s tastes, and i can definitely see him getting on people’s nerves.
school/outside friends! he would’ve made a fair few friends in school i feel, and he’d still definitely be close to them even though he’s with the diablos. also just friends he’d make around town or in stratford!
best friend/s! probably people pretty close to his age, diablo or not - he just needs best buddies to mess around with.
"this isnt 911 level serious but still please help” friend! he’s capable, but he is still pretty much just a kid - just someone he’d be able to ring up if he needs help at the last minute, whether it be injury, bike damage, just sort of bored.
some kind of romantic interest?? i mean he’s super young so compared to most of the characters here it’s unlikely but just someone he’d be interested in! he might be friends with them, might see them from a distance, they might be a reaper, who knows - he’d not be great about showing it, but he’d try! he’d try
enemies/grudges! just cause he tries to be optimistic and just sort of nice doesn’t mean he wouldn’t have plenty - could’ve been from school, could’ve been from a conflict in the clubs, just someone he definitely doesn’t like.
highkey id be super happy with any connection so if you have any ideas you reckon would fit with him and your character go ahead and suggest it i stg these are only a couple of ideas
other pages
pinterest (coming soon!)
spotify playlist (coming soon!)
ooc
hello! my name’s jase, nice to meet you, i use he/him pronouns and i’m from melbourne, australia (timezone’s aedt/australian eastern daylight time!)
i just realised i’ve been saying it’s aest even though daylight savings started like weeks ago so. oops. i’ll go around and fix it later it’s fine.
i don’t have a hell of a lot to say here, if i’m honest, but please if you want to plot either like this and i’ll come say hey or hmu either through dms or over on discord (jasonshmason#4065) and we can chat!
(ALICIA VIKANDER. TWENTY-EIGHT. CIS FEMALE. SHE/HER. ) in texas, AVERY MAVERICK is known to most as MAVERICK. they have been riding with the reapers for FIVE YEARS. they originally from SHINER, TEXAS and the RIDER is known to be very BRASH & STUBBORN but the other club members will tell you they are DEDICATED & DIRECT. as the years go by, they’ve gained a lot of respect in the club and around town. they rarely ever drive a car but when they do DEVIL LIKE ME by RAINBOW KITTEN SURPRISE is usually heard blasting. ( worn leather, whiskey-scented breath, restlessly drumming fingers, ripped t-shirts, questionable tattoos. )
She’s a Shiner, Texas native, grew up in a dysfunctional and generally terrible household.
Emancipated when she was 17, gtfo as soon as she graduated high school. Went on to get her MBA from Arizona State.
Her mother died shortly after graduation, leaving her with a ton of guilt for running off. She briefly returned to Texas to get her affairs in order, but realized she couldn’t in Shiner.
She spent so much of her life trying to prove that she was better than what she came from, only to completely lose her motivation to try once her mother passed. She decided to let go of the reins, give into her impulses, and take it day by day.
She joined up with the Reapers a few years after living in town, and hasn’t looked back since. She’s slow to trust people, but once she does she’s incredibly loyal. There’s nothing she wouldn’t do for people she cares about.
She believes life is too short to not do exactly what you want to do when you want to do it. That philosophy has resulted in approximately four broken bones, several reprehensible tattoos, and more one-night stands than she cares to count.
She’s a headstrong competitive thing who borders on reckless in most of her choices, but for now she’s all in for a good time.
Tends to be a bit rough and tumble, will solve disputes with a chugging contest or an arm-wrestling much.
I’ve got her full page here, lemme know if any of you wanna plot & i’d love to love you down.
( jessica chastain. forty. cis female. she/her. ) in stratford, dawn wright is more commonly known as red. they’ve been living in stratford for thirty years and currently work as a nurse. some say they are malapert & rancorous but i’m more inclined to believe those that say they’re ballsy & dependable. if you walk by their house, you can sometimes hear cloudbusting by kate bush playing from their window. ( the sting of comments better left unsaid, driving with the windows down, subjecting oneself to the unknown, and never knowing when to stop. )
hello, all! i’m dee, your local goblin whose hands are shaking as they type this! :-) i hope everyone’s having a good evening / morning / day. here’s to writing some good shit together!
disclaimer: i have dawn’s stats here, which hopefully gives you all the need-to-know info at a glance. the second section has death & suicide mentions, so please steer clear of that if need be.
if dawn is anything, it’s restless. she’s always felt like a bird about to take flight, or like she’s looming on the edge of some great cliff. it’s like some current flowing through her bones, or some itch that can’t be scratched. she yearns for more & hates that nothing is ever wholly enough for her.
dawn grew up trailer trash & she still was trailer trash when she moved to stratford after the death of her mother. her dad, nathaniel, was a drunken tradesman who'd never known what to do with the life he’d been given. he was hardly a father when diane was around & even less so after her passing. despite their blood relation, however, he & dawn were more akin to roommates than anything else. nathaniel provided the “essentials” [ bits of clothes every couple of months, piss-poor cooking, a place to sleep ] and little else. he wasn’t warm or particularly kind--not like he was to the girlfriends that’d come in and out of their lives. he didn’t know how to speak to children or how to be the mentor that dawn needed. he’d tried, but it wasn’t like dawn knew how to be the daughter he’d wanted either. she wasn’t diane. she wasn’t warm, obedient, and kind. she was gritty & spoke back, even when it wasn’t smart to.
growing up, dawn was hardly ever home. a majority of her adolescence was spent being a wild cat. as a kid, she’d get up to shenanigans with other kids from school or the neighborhood. she was a tomboy through-and-through, covered in various scars and bruises from climbing & doing things she shouldn’t have. she was an okay student, but her report cards always made a note to mention attention + behavioral issues.
as a teenager, she was even worse. it was then that she learned the careful craft of chasing cheap thrills. always slipping from crowd to crowd, dawn was a social butterfly. she’d slip her way into any group that would have her, reveling in any and all attention cast her way.
dawn was poor-poor. like, having frequent sleepovers at friends houses, because you want an actual real meal levels of poor.
above all, dawn’s childhood taught her how to be hungry & that feeling’s never left her.
it was a particularly persistent set of teachers that really pushed dawn to be more than what she was setting herself up for. her chemistry teacher really made a point to speak to her in frank terms + helped her fill out college application forms when that time of year came around. at the time, dawn had brushed it off, as she did with most things, but she’s always been grateful. it was nice to feel seen for once. she kept in touch & got their recommendation when admissions opened up for nursing school.
going to college & being in a new environment really forced dawn to get it together. she couldn’t just be a little shithead anymore--she had actual responsibilities & appearances now. she mellowed out some afterward, doing everything that she thought people were supposed to do. she got her own place, paid her bills, & worked like she actually cared about what she was doing--which she did, for once.
somewhere along the way, getting stuck in that grind & facing the fears that rose from losing her father started to really get to her. that restlessness had come back in full force, & dawn didn’t know how to handle it. she fell into a bit of a destructive rut that resembled that of her teenage years, and sought help only when her boss gave her an ultimatum. she’s better now, but not quite how she was.
dawn is unflinching. it’s extremely hard to unsettle her. are your guts falling out? is someone throwing shit + breaking chairs? is there a literal fire happening? well, you wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at dawn. she loves fixing things & finds it really easy to keep a cool head when shit hits the fan. she’s focused & nonjudgemental. she won’t question why you look like shit or why she has to stitch up a stab wound.
dawn yearns to feel needed & is uncomfortable when she isn’t. that want is what fuels her friendliness. she wants to be in a group, she wants to be something to someone. she goes out of her way for others not out of an innate altruism, but as a result of her deliberate choice to be good. she wants people to feel that she cares for them, so they may in turn care for her, too.
that being said, dawn’s decision-making isn’t immaculate. she has a blinding rage that’s a blight on her progress. it’s regressive & ugly & irresistible. dawn takes things too far sometimes & keeps pushing. she digs her fingers into wounds she knows are fresh & always keeps her knives close. she’s capable of a lot of good and love, but she’s also capable of a very white-hot rage.
some random bits are that dawn is a karaoke queen. she’s a heavy-weight, but doesn’t like alcohol. she’s an excellent hugger. she has an excellent memory & remembers the little things that people tell her. terrible at accepting gifts. she takes life one day at a time. total chatterbox. thinks she has a great pokerface, but her eyes are a straight window to that which lies behind. she’s definitely not a very good driver. writes notes on her hands and wrists.
some songs that make me think of her are
rock city
i bet on losing dogs
disorder
hounds of love
some wanted connection ideas !
a childhood memory -- maybe these two were a couple of ragtag misfits up to no good. maybe your muse’s parents felt bad for dawn, and would invite her over for dinner, regardless of how your muse felt about it. maybe they grew up in the same trailer park. maybe your muse’s mom dated her dad at one point. idk!!
teenage escapades -- did they used to drive around without a care in the world, swearing they were gonna live forever? did they try to use their fake id’s to buy cheap liquor & then haul ass after the cashier wasn’t having it? did dawn manage to weasel her way into your muse’s life & fuck it up somehow?
it’s a sibling thing -- are they related? no. does that stop them from acting like actual siblings? also no. dawn would do anything for this person, including, but not limited to, annoying them to death. silly, serious, and self-less.
frenemies -- they say you should keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. either way, these two are relatively close. do they even remember why they sometimes-kind-of-but-not-really-but-also-kind-of hate each other? maybe, maybe not.
best buds -- everyone needs a best friend &, believe it or not, dawn has a lot of love to give. being her best friend includes unlimited venting sessions, on-call assistance, & free snacks. truly a once in a lifetime deal.
playing doctor -- listen, dawn doesn’t wear those scrubs because she thinks they’re sexy. she knows her shit & who else are you going to call at ass o’clock because you’re bleeding all over your carpet floor? besides, at least when you call her, you don’t get reamed with a 2k bill after.
we don’t talk about that -- sometimes, dawn is off being a lovey-dovey bitch, which is embarrassing, but when she’s not? well.. she wouldn’t be opposed to a rebound, or one night stands that maybe never should have happened to begin with.
BUT REALLY I’M DOWN FOR ANYTHING AND THIS IS ALREADY SO DANG LONG SO IM GONNA END IT HERE AND SAY THAT ILY AND WANT TO DO ALL OF THE PLOTS WITH EVERYONE THANK U BYE SMOOCHES
ello i’m mae!! thx for putting up with buddy he is literally the worst. come luv him!
[ TW; violence, implied murder ]
( TARON EGERTON. TWENTY-SEVEN. CISMALE. HE/HIM. ) in texas, BUDDY FRANCIS is more commonly known as MARY. they’ve been living in newton for TWO MONTHS and are currently a PRIEST-IN-TRAINING. some say they are ERRATIC & SADISTIC but i’m more inclined to believe those that say they’re CAPTIVATING & COQUETTISH. if you walk by their house, you can sometimes hear POACHER’S PRIDE by NICOLE DOLLANGANGER playing from their window. ( bitten crosses, horrid giggles, hands in pockets not his own )
☆ maniacal, volatile, saccharine; often found behind the church with a cigarette between teeth a little too sharp, giggling a giggle a little too feral; answers to buddy, bud, mary, sweetheart; ☆
BUDDY FRANCIS was born into hardship in east end london; his father was prone to violence, his mother was an escapist, who would take buddy down to the most expensive streets to stare in at shop windows they could barely afford to touch; they taught him the importance of money and extravagance and the inevitability of violence.
he learnt to be very manipulative from a very young age. he could (and still can) cry on command and would often tug on his mother’s heartstrings to get what he wanted, be it at her expense or not. he couldn’t, and can’t, understand the concept of remorse or really distinguish between right and wrong, which is why the family’s weekly visits to their local catholic church inspired a feverish obsession with religion and the answers he thought it held
his adolescence was spent half in the city, street fighting and learning the swing of his infamous charm, half within the walls of the church, studying scripture; he believes in god, he believes in violence, he holds them hand in hand as equals. he’s all for excess hedonism, the gold gilded cross and the thick layer of dust settled atop; he loves grit and glamour
when his parents went missing, so did buddy, under the guise of a mission to ask the lord for answers in their disappearance. ask him about it and he has a script at hand all about the grief he knows he should feel - in reality, he had a far bigger role to play than he lets on
since, he has hopped community to community, country to country, wreaking havoc whilst appearing holier than thou; underground, his reputation is no secret. an unnerving creature with a knack for sleight of hand and a dimpled pout to get him anywhere, he’s a weasel for hire
now he’s a catholic-priest-in-training, without allegiances or enemies, starting afresh once more
buddy is incredibly flirtatious and has never been ashamed of his attraction to men. his blue eyes and always perfectly rollered hair means he can appear like a doe-eyed and naive church boy whenever he wants to
he’s got a highly obsessive and addictive personality, but gets bored easily- people are like playthings to him and he has no problems with betrayal
he loves to read; he can often be found with a paperback stuffed in his pocket next to knuckledusters and a lighter. in many ways he reads fiction to try and understand other people, since he can’t quite figure out emotion on his own
he can be much more violent than those who dismiss him and his docile façade, and seems to be devoid of empathy. he’s known for his laugh, loud and musical but manic and mad - everything is a game, everything is for him
carries a knife beneath neatly buttoned shirts and suspenders
but also has a soft spot for knitted sweaters ? idk him
☆ will update with wc/aesthetics etc cos i cannot help myself but hmu to plot !! he is bearable i promise
