"Four. Or so everyone says. I also don't eat my green veggies, if you're curious." Briggs retorted with a wide, shit-eating grin. It was a lie, he was capable of eating all vegetables, but for the purposes of entertaining her and this conversation, he was going to act like he didn't. One thing about him, he loved to annoy people. "Just how old do you really think I am? I was joking, I am not four. I'm closer to mid-age than I am to twenty. I just have really great genes." His grin only grew at her answer. "Got other plans after the set, obviously. Something more private, but still very loud." He turned his head to gesture to the bartender to come over and then looked back at the stranger. "I'll see what I can do. What should I order for you?"
"Jesus," Cherry muttered then tipped back a sip of her negroni. "How old are you?" Cerulean eyes cut over to the musician clocking that he looked young and virile enough to her. Even though she'd enjoyed his music and sat through most of his set (the bartender had mentioned he'd been a song deep when she'd sat down) the raven haired woman sat impassive. To the untrained eye she'd appear bored. "What're you going to do when you're actually a middle aged man? Or worse, over the hill?" A slight smile turned up a corner of her mouth. "Only perform for the early bird crowd?" Slight acknowledgment came in her giving him partial attention, a barely measured turn of her head in his direction. "Be bold. Order the coffee. The rebel of the hour."
"Oh? That sounds like a you problem, babes. None of my business, y'know." Briggs retorted, his face brightening at the sight of her, despite their usual banter. Ronnie was family, even if they were just constantly butting heads all over the place. "What do you know about musicians? If you knew anything you'd know it's not redbull, it's just a lot of coke. The fun type, not the drink, that keeps us going." He smirked back at her. "No free drink for you, by the way. Since you decided to be a hater."
She didn't clap, the last thing the club needed was Briggs getting a bigger head than he already had. "Oh if it were me, I'd fucking hate you." she grinned before taking a sip of her own beer. "But then again, I always hate you." she tossed a shrug his way. "Seriously, just drink 5 redbulls like any other musician worth their salt, don't be a pussy." She wasn't normally this abrasive, but there was just something she loved about annoying the ever-loving-shit out of Briggs. It brought her an immense amount of joy. Briggs being annoyed with her meant all was right with the world.
closed for @alibeksozeri
location: fire & ice gala
"Oh. Watch out. I'm pretty sure that waiter has been drinking the champagne he's been serving all night and has ruined like three different dresses already." Briggs joked lightly, though it wasn't a lie, he was getting maybe too close for comfort. He offered her one of the champagne flutes in his hand. "I'll get another later, I'm choosing to be nice for once tonight."
"Those are fighting words where I'm from, Ronnie. Are you trying to start a fight?" Briggs retorted easily, not missing a beat. He wasn't always the most forthcoming or social person; often lost in his own head, really. But when it came to people that he was close to, he did what he could. "Energy drinks? Who the fuck died and made you the energy drink police, huh? Jesus." He scoffed, all in good nature and then laughed. "Old? Old?! I'm not that much older than you, you're so trying to pick a fight here. It's rude, actually." He smiled as he got his drink and shook his head. "You're a firefighter? I had no idea."
"And what are you going to do about it, Briggs?" She looked at him, blinking expectantly. She would admit, it was something she loved about her last name. It wasn't a privilege she made use of often (or at least not anymore), but the name 'Throne' gave her a lot of leeway. What was someone going to do, complain to the MC president that his only daughter was pulling shit? "They all taste like piss and we as a society just need to accept and admit that. I just drink whichever the cheapest is." She said with a shrug before chugging the remaining gulps of her beer. "God you're such an old man. What was world war two like, Briggs? Do you still get nightmares? --- I'm a firefighter, not a nun. I did have a life before random drug tests, you know."
STATS:
Nicknames: B, Iggy, Briggster
Character Age: 38
Neighborhood: North Side
Occupation: Musician and Secretary for the Sons of Mayhem MC
Birthday: February 20th, 1987
Faceclaim: Henry Golding
Hometown: Sarawak, Malaysia
Years of Residence: More than half of his life
Pinterest Board / WANTED CONNECTIONS (coming soon)
Character Inspiration: Spike (Buffy The Vampire Slayer), Spencer Reid (Criminal Minds), Jordan Catalano (My So Called Life), Squidward Tentacles (Sponge Bob Squarepants),
tldr;
– BRIGGS MELDABA is 38 years old and lives in North Side, Reno. Orphaned at a young age, Briggs moved in with his uncle and his family, who ended up spending all his trust fund while betting and overspending. Eventually befriended the wrong crowd and got into trouble but also led him to meet a member of the SOM, which made him join. A musician at heart, Briggs plays bars, parties and festivals all the time while handling his job as the Secretary of the SOM MC. After the downfall of the club, he found himself not as in love with Reno as he did back in the day, but continues to call it home despite all the negative feelings surrounding his heart.
READ BELOW for fun facts, biography, possible connections.
random facts
the most careful plant dad that you'll ever meet
wears earphones everywhere he goes
not much of a people person unless he loves said people
hates living by himself so he will take in anyone that needs a roommate at any moment in time
a certified serial dater tm
boygenius' #1 fan
loves a good gothic novel and is currently reading Mexican Gothic
spends his money like a rockstar, with no rockstar money
claims to hate hugs (loves hugs)
feeds stray cats and dogs all the time
biography
Born into a wealthy family in Sarawak, Malaysia. His father, an acclaimed British writer and his mother, a teacher that came from a very notorious family in their hometown.
The couple moved to the United States when Briggs was just five years old and settled down in Vegas. That was until a terrible car accident took their lives away.
Briggs was seven when he was placed into foster care, eventually, a distant relative, his father’s uncle stepped up and welcomed him at home with his incredibly large family of ten kids.
Uncle Vernon had always had money problems, and what Briggs was unaware about was that whoever adopted him would receive his entire trust fund.Suddenly the family was moving into a bigger house, going on lavish vacations, riding luxurious cars. It wasn’t spent on what they needed but exploited in so many ways
Kids had music classes, horseback riding, tennis. Briggs, he excelled at music. Learned multiple instruments and poetry.
Their home wasn’t a sad one by any means, it was simply cold. There was no warmth towards anything but the money that they all suddenly had.
By the time that Briggs was a teenager and began to understand what was happening, the money was gone. Disappearing into the abyss that was his uncle’s betting addiction, and so this way not only Briggs, but the entire family was left on the streets. Briggs and the other kids around his age began working, his uncle’s depression taking over him in a way that made everyone else have to work.
It was when he began working delivering pizzas in the busy streets of Vegas that he finally found himself; his expensive music classes turned into sneaking into friends’ garages and rehearsing with a small band. It felt more like home than living with his uncle and his family ever had.
To go from having everything to having nothing wasn’t something new for Briggs but all the ups and downs had slowly made him despondent, and the only thing that seemed to help was writing and singing his feelings out.
The garage band became a little popular and with this came a bad crowd, other young people that always wanted to challenge them. Briggs ended up detained by the police a few times when he was under eighteen; vandalism, bar fights, underage drinking
One of the times behind bars is when Briggs met a member of the Sons of Mayhem; Ryan Brooks. They were both freshly eighteen and the two hit it off. Turns out Ryan’s father had been a member of the MC for years.
Always on the lookout for a new place to call home, the last one, hopefully, Briggs joined Ryan in the initiation journey to become a part of the Sons of Mayhem.
In this journey, Briggs moved with the Brooks’ to Reno, leaving his uncle behind once and for all. Only a guitar, his favorite books and a handful of notebooks, a few changes of clothes.
The Brooks’ lived in a trailer park, but there was an abundance of love and understanding.With their support, and the MC, Briggs finally started feeling like he could make his dreams come true or, at least, try.
He did everything that the Sons of Mayhem asked for, truly becoming a part of their family as well. On the side though, he would continue to write his songs and music.
He began playing in different bars and venues, as well as festivals in Reno. He wasn’t selling albums or going on tour, but for the first time ever, he felt like he was living the life he always wanted.
Then, the entire city was struck by the tragedy of the murder of Melody Davis and if it was a tough time for Reno, imagine being a part of the motorcycle club that obviously stood behind Axel through it all.
Supporting Axel and the MC came at a high price for Briggs, whose image was closely tied to the club. No one hired him anymore, he was shunned like the rest of the club had been.
He buried himself deep in SOM business all over again, slowly moving up ranks until he became the Secretary of the club, a position that he loves. As he is able to perform it but still gives time to his music despite it not being a career anymore.
Upon Axel’s release and all the new discoveries, Briggs can’t say he sees Reno as the lovely city he once had seen it as. He’s almost bitter that they would turn their back on the club after all the things they’d done for the city and has become less trusting of outsiders in a lot of ways.
He did recently start playing in some bars though, especially places that didn’t turn their backs on the Sons of Mayhem and can also be found performing on parks or busy streets, his passion for music never dying down. He just hopes that whatever is happening with the Davis’ investigation doesn’t turn their entire lives upside down all over again.
possible connections
best friends: he considers the MC his family, but there's room for more friends in his heart for sure
music / poetry friends: he is passionate about his likes, having this in common is a straight way to his heart
party friends, etc: plays sets everywhere? whether your muse met him while he was singing on stage and knows who he is or perhaps they met at a bar, party, etc.
found family: SOM more than anything but if for some reason someone outside of the MC connected with him, i can see him being incredibly loyal to them
flings/hook ups/exes: past and present tense, let's go crazyyy
enemies: he can be a lil crazy about loyalty and anyone that ever doubted axel's innocence or the club, he would not like at all. especially now after names were cleared.
"Alright, well, shut up, dude. This isn't fun if you take it this well." Briggs admitted, clearly weirded out, but a small smirk still on his face. Truthfully, it unnerved him that very few things got to AP, but it kind of made it better. He could be a bit more brutal than he was to other people whenever the other man was around. "I always get free drinks, happens when you're in a band." Briggs chuckled, shaking his head. "We have originals, but for this type of event we do a lot of covers. Romantic movie classics, you know, like I Want You to Want Me and shit, very fun but silly stuff."
Wouldn’t a comment like that make a man cringe? Normally, usually, most times–absolutely. But for a man like Andres who couldn’t stand the sight of his father—anyone else would be better suited for his mother’s bedroom. “Yeah? Well, congratulations. I had no idea you made it to mama Torres’ tax bracket.” Finishing off his drink in one rapid gulp, Andres let a hint of a smile crack onto his lips as he canted his head to finally meet Briggs’ eye. “No need to appease me, I simply thought you were here for the free drinks. Glad to know you’ve got more standards than such. Now, you gotta answer this, all your songs are originals?”
"The rich giving out advice for free now? Fucking imagine that." Briggs tilted his head to the side, a wide grin taking over his face. Dean was unknown to him, very unknown, but also felt like someone that he should know everything about. Briggs knew the type. Rich, cocky, out of touch with reality. Still, he couldn't help but annoy him every time they saw each other, and he also couldn't help but try to ignore that one time they had gotten along far too well. When they didn't know who the other one was. "In my opinion, their displays were way more interesting when they had those male greeters waving at you right outside." he joked, clearly in a better mood than usual. "So just to be clear, you don't have a personal shopper? Silly as fuck. What else are you supposed to spend all your money on? The fuck?"
The roll of his eyes had started even before Briggs had come out with that ridiculous quip, but it was fitting nonetheless. "Ha-ha. Maybe you should invest in your own personal shopper if you're going to keep going out wearing clothes like that. You do know that just because you can by second-hand whenever you want, it doesn't mean you have to. Or should. Right?" Truth be told, there was nothing wrong with the look -- in fact, Dean would be lying if he tried to say that the other male didn't usually look pretty damn good (even despite the outfits he had opinions no). Thankfully, he didn't need to say another thing. "So, what's your deal then? Come to stare at the Abercrombie & Fitch displays?" Dean tossed back, unable to help the slight smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips.
Madness. That was the only way to describe how it felt to be on stage and see everyone rushing around the large venue where the party was taking place. Briggs had froze in place upon the incredibly scary announcement, then had found a way to come down the stage. Not a lot of things were traumatic to Briggs but everything that involved the Melody Davis' case never failed to send him spiraling a bit, add all the substances in his body and the buzz that had been generated by his earlier interaction with Dean and that almost made him feel on edge. As he found himself right in front of the very same man, Briggs finally snapped out of it. "I--fuck, I think I do, I don't know." His eyes focused on Dean's as he placed his hands on the other's shoulders, trying to center himself. "Okay. Let's go. But you need to breathe, I can't carry you anywhere, you have to properly function, Dean." He began pulling him backstage, clearly on a mission.
"Mmh, takes a lot more than a pretty voice to get my underwear off. Nice try, though -- I'm sure I can borrow a pair from one of your little groupies though?" Dean grinned smugly, swaying slightly as his balance began to betray him. "Dunno. Considering I had a few drinks to get through it..." He mused, eyes flickering towards the bartender momentarily. "A few more wouldn't hurt, though. Might make the rest of your sets more bearable. What do you think?"
TIME SKIP
He was far too drunk for this -- well, even if he wasn't drunk, this would have sent him over the edge. He felt like vomiting, his skin on fire with abject panic that far superseded any anxiety that normally coursed through his veins like a fright train. So much so that he didn't have time to hold himself back as he spotted Briggs in the crowd, only having parted momentarily before everything went down. "Please tell me you know a fucking way out of here," Dean practically hissed, instinctively grabbing onto the sleeve of Brigg's shirt as he practically barreled into him. "I've got no cell service down here -- do you? Can you -- didn't you and your Nickelback cover band have to load in from somewhere? Oh god, I think we're running out of air down here..."