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.
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"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..."
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.
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?”
"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."
"I don't know half of these losers are." Bec said as she looked around and squinted, trying to recognize faces but for all she knew, they'd just gotten old and she couldn't recognize them. "I love a leather jacket bar— but you're right, I think we need to start scaring some people out of town or at least making it harder for people to move here." Which was funny coming from someone who didn't even live here anymore, either. But it didn't matter because this would always, and forever, be home, no matter where she was.
"Like who are they? When did they get here?" Briggs joked lightly, he wasn't really bothered by their presence in town, it was probably all the different substances in his system, making him just a bit paranoid. "You'd think all the murders and kidnappings would keep them away but such is not our luck."
closed starter: @briggster
location: main stage, underground fire party, scorpion.
The crowd roared into an eruption, cheering on Briggs and his band after they'd finished their latest set. Peyton raised her glass toward the stage, catching her friend's eye and letting out a triumphant, "Woohoo!" The formalities of the Ice Gala had long since passed and Scorpion's underground was welcoming guests into its fiery abode. The entertainment for the evening was of course, the best band in all of Reno, something that Peyton made sure to let Briggs know when she approached him shortly after he left the stage. "If you didn't already have a Valentine before tonight, you do now. I guarantee you just made the majority of this crowd fall in love with you tonight! That was incredible!" She beamed, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing him into her excited embrace. "C'mon, let's go to the bar. I'm buying. What're you drinking?"
Briggs was nearing the end of all sets by now, but tonight was hands down one of the best nights of his life and that much was evident as he almost jumped down the stage clapping for his bandmates as he did so. His grin only widened at the sight of Peyton, a nice surprise that had turned into a friend fairly quickly. "We both better walk out of here with a date, actually!" He exclaimed as he hugged her tightly. "That dress probably has everyone doing double takes every time that they see you." Briggs said excitedly and then began leading her to the bar at her request. "I'll have whatever you're having, I can't even remember what I've been drinking all night."
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The last band on stage had finished their set, followed by the soft applause from the crowd. However, Andrés had found his hand instinctively reaching for his drink that was slid towards him from the bartender. "I think I liked the first band better," he said casually, leaning a forearm onto the marble counter. Despite his gaze trailing forward on the stage to watch as the artists replaced positions, he was acutely aware of who was standing beside him. "You performing tonight? Or is that talent reserved for dive bars?" The tone of his words seemed warm, but there would be no missing the edge that clipped them at the end.
Briggs downed two shots of vodka, one after another effortlessly and then gestured the bartender over to ask him to take several of those to the band wherever they were sitting. A small smirk played on his lips at AP's words and he turned his head to look back at him. "It's reserved for dive bars and your mom's bedroom, actually. I'm pretty exclusive." He retorted, though there was no bite to his words. Really, this was something that he would even tell his friends from the MC anyway. "I'm going up there shortly, hence all the shots and the reason why I have been in this seat, sorry to disappoint and not say I just liked the company. I do agree with the first band being better. Their song choices did that."
where: fire & ice gala
who: @briggster & dean hart
Shots. Apparently some liquid courage was the only thing that ever got Dean out of his own head and into the fire, so to speak. What did it say about him that he needed to be under the influence to loosen up a bit, to untense his shoulders and, generally, not devolve into a literal panic attack from the sheer amount of tackiness alone? Probably a lot, but he wasn't one to think too far into things. The crowd started cheering as the band finished up their set, and Dean would be lying if he said he hadn't been eyeing the group -- and their front man -- from his place at the bar. Some liquid courage apparently went a decently long way, so the moment he saw Briggs descend the stage and head in his general direction, he found himself offering a smug grin. "Tell me, does getting pelted in the face with underwear make you want to give it your all? Does it help loosen those pipes?"
In order to survive a very long night of performing, Briggs had done what any great musician and front man of a band does; drugs. He was on cloud nine as the band performed their rendition of I Want You to Want Me at the end of their second set and thanked the crowd by blowing kisses and high fiving the DJ as she took over the stage for her set. He had already caught a glimpse of Dean from the stage, a few times. Maybe too many times. But that was almost normal when the other man was around. His smirk grew as Dean immediately approached him though, Briggs stepped closer to him an eyebrow raised. "Why so curious? You trying to figure out your next move or what?" He teased, his eyes moving up and down his figure as he let all the substances in his body take over like they normally did. "You know, if I didn't know any better I'd say you're enjoying the show."
"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."
"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."
"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."
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"Okay, but...do you know any of these people?" Briggs asked out loud to no one in particular, but also to anyone that was around him and willing to talk about nonsense. "I've lived here almost my entire life and I don't know where they came from. No wonder they hate us. I'd rather stick to my leather jacket and my loud bar with people I know, you know?"
"Excuse me, princess. I was here before." Briggs said loudly as the blonde that had just stood next to him in line at the bar managed to get the bartender's attention before him. This, in Briggs' mind, was like declaring war. Unacceptable, really. His attention turned back to the bartender. "Can we focus and not get lost in her blue eyes? I gotta be on stage in like ten minutes, my guy. A scotch and three double shots of rum, please." Briggs then turned to look back at the stranger, a smirk on his face. "You know, it's rude to cut the line."
“You don’t know the half of it.” Taylor downed another mouthful of drink, full of regret for even asking. “Believe it or not, there are rideshares for that too.” She knew that too well, the amount of money she’d given to Ubers after her first tour was probably enough to put a down payment on a car of her own. “Just so you know, covering my drink doesn’t mean I will judge you any less for even considering ordering coffee.”
"Listen, do you think I am made of money? Be serious, look at our equipment." Briggs joked lightly, although it wasn't a lie. He wasn't a rockstar by any means, he just had a band and loved music. He smirked though, shrugging. "I don't care about you being a hater, that's kind of my thing though. I try to be nice and this is how I get treated, you see my dilemma?"
"Hey, don't ask the question if you're not ready to hear the answer." she said with a shrug, turning to lean back against the bar. "I dated a drummer once---Okay, well dated is a nice way of putting it, but you know what I mean. And you're only hurting your case here, Meldaba, if I thought you were a pussy before for not drinking redbull, now I really think you're one for not shoving your face into a line of coke Scarface style. --- And you deign to call yourself a biker and musician," she tutted, as if disappointed.
"You know, I understood you being a little shit when you were younger but now? Now you're just pushing it, Little Throne." It simply wasn't Ronnie and Briggs if they weren't fighting like cats and dogs, in a good way though. Briggs sometimes didn't understand why she had decided to go with being a firefighter instead of joining the family business, but he figured she had her reasons. And she stayed loyal, which was what mattered. "Redbull? Okay, gym bro. What's next, you gonna ask how much I lift? Everyone knew Monster Energy is better by the way." He sipped from his water bottle, smirking back at her. "I've never needed that type of stimulants, actually. Did them a few times, it got boring very quickly. As a firefighter aren't you supposed to be a rule follower and shit, by the way?"
"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."
"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?"
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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.
"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?"
