[Age] Immortal (Twenty-three)

[D.O.B] 13th of October 

[Height] 6''0

[Hair] Brown

[Eyes] Blue

[Species] Incompletely- turned vampire

[Sire] Valentine Grimm

[Adoptive Sire] Carmilla Karenstein

[Residency] New York, New York

[Relationship] Single, pursued by Shamus

[Sexuality] Pansexual

(Not limited in sexual choice with regard to biological sex, gender, or gender identity)





       Formally Christopher Adams, Taylor Connor remembers nothing of his life prior to 2014. An injury sustained to the head would have taken his life had he been human. Rather than his life, a bullet took all of Taylor's memory in an instant. He is medically diagnosed with Retrograde Amnesia, a condition most commonly caused by injury and characterized by a loss of memory-access, or information that was learned. It does not affect Taylor's ability to form new memories after the onset of the condition. To this day he has a scar on his right temple, hidden by his hairline.

      Prior to the accident, Taylor lived a different life under another identity. 





Studies keep me busy. My replies may be inconsistent and slow.


World Time Zone: NZST 

Usually, I am free Wednesday, Saturday and Sunday (but I also use this time to study/be social).

I am trying to be online as much as I can, unfortunately, many things in my life take priority over writing.

If you want to stay in contact with me, ask for my Skype. For the most part, I am on there every day.

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  • “A living reminder is often not a welcome thing. I take it this is not the case, if my presence does not cause you further alarm.” What he’s seen and heard is far more to digest than it should be to the average man with no stake in his every waking moment, but Steinholtz takes his second leash on life with the utmost gravity. Perhaps this is better called the third. His brief stint in the service of hell culminated in a literal explosion, from which it took him years to piece himself back together enough to hold a corporeal form once more. After that, it seems, his debt had been paid off. There’s no disguised devil pointing him towards his next target, but his thirst for vengeance has not eased up at all. It is a conundrum, and one which he had to quickly fix or risk losing himself entirely.

    “I am far older than the company you surely wish to keep, ja? But this I would welcome. I have much to learn about this country, still, all these years later. I would welcome your perspective, for whatever good it may bring.” The gentle rumble here and there in his words, the halting pauses, and the occasionally present harmless, but misplaced, stresses make him the very picture of innocent humor.

    “Enough of my prattling. I am not so good with the phone. But I have one.”

  • "I'm just givin' ye the stereotypes about my people," He quirks a brow at Taylor.  Obviously communication was going to be something of a challenge, considering Finn prefered to speak behind a curtain of wit and sarcasm. "no more, no less." A dark shoulder is lifted and dropped in a shrug that has him grimacing.  The whiskey could only numb his pain so much, apparently. 

    It does something to his self control though; grinning boyishly, he flicks the edge of the man's glass after he's poured more alcohol into it.  He didn't know if people like Taylor could even get drunk.. but apparently, he was going to find out.

    "Well, I can't lift as much as ye no doubt, weren't I enhanchin' my physical strength.." but he's much too exhaused to even think about showing off right now.  So he takes a large drink from his glass and swishes the whiskey around his mouth before swallowing it down. "surely ye feel somethin?" Finn's brow pinches doubtfully, could Taylor even feel such a change in his body, or would he have to try flexing his muscles?  The academic in him is curious.

    By the time Taylor is done with his story, the Irishman's glass is empty and his expression is as placid as a still pond. "Why?" he wonders, outloud. "what'd ye do to those guys to make 'em hate ye so much that they'd try and murder ye with vampire blood--which, I if I might-- is completely mental." Far be it for Finn to back away from a dare, even the unspoken kind.  He reaches out to grip the man's wrist, feeling for a pulse with the pad of his thumb.  


    "I need some air, let's go outside." he says after a minute.


  • Sam does not answer that, his expression changing to suprise and then irritation. Yes, he dislikes Taylor. There is something there that seems to want Taylor and Jack to be together, but for his own selfish reasons. He misses his place in Jack’s life despite continuing to deny it. As his nephew, some kid who plays video games all day and occasionally mouths off Jackson.

    He remains tense and angry, courtesy of Shamus messing with him, and grudgingly takes the bill he had been giving. “Thanks. I guess.” He said, tone just shy of a mumble before he is collecting that insolated sleeve used to keep the food warm and tucking it under his arm. He must have dropped it when he landed on the floor.

    “So... who is he?” He asked, his head gesturing towards Shamus who... has one slice of pizza, pulling at the end so that the cheese stretches out as long as his arm. Well, if you can’t eat it, might as well amuse yourself with it.

  • He finds it a little funny that Taylor seems so worried about a little bit of whiskey on his counter when there was what probably looked like a murder scene upstairs in the hallway.  He figures he should probably work on a little spell to wash his blood away when he's feeling a little less buzzed and a lot less drained, both physically and spiritually.  Tonight's been a good wake up call, a reminder he can never be too careful.  And who knew what kind of friends this leechy lad had hanging around.

    Finn takes another drink from his glass, not reacting physically to burn. "Well, it's what the old kine shite claims.  'The druids were peceable wise men, scholars and wizards..'  n' they pranced about in white robes, casting spells wit' their wands and taking part in ritualistic orgies and bloody sacrifice of livestock.." he chuckles, taking another drink. "Well, I s'pose some of it's true, then.  But it's mostly kine shite."

    Lugh's massive balls, I'm sloshed.  The realization is a startling one.  It's been a while since he's been drunk of just one glass of anything.  Must have something to do with all the blood he's lost.

    "Fuck mate, I dunno'.  There's people out there doin' all sortsa weird shite.  Waterin' down the guest's drinks is white picket compared to suckin' their blood, eh?"

    He sniggers, refilling Taylor's glass without spilling a drop this time around, and topping off his own.  Then he shakes his bottle at the man, blue eyes peering past the neck of it at the other man's healed face.  He's tempted to lie, but decides against it. "Naaah," Finn waves his hand once in a dismissive gesture. "Bet ye could bench more than normal, though." smell sharper and see further, maybe even feel the earth's smothered presence depending on how much he's ingested.  He keeps this to himself, though.

    "Pardon my bluntness, but ye ain't a pure blooded vampire, are ye?"

  • { Seeing as you are back, I wanted to say welcome back. I hope you're doing alright and what not with life. That's all really. }

  • ''Excellent!'' Aza beams, lunging towards Taylor and planting a long, loud smacking smooch on the vampire's cheek. It's amazing how affectionate and not that unplesant fellow to be around the demon can be when he feels like it. After that, he picks up his box with the cheesacake in it, with the intention of leaving it for Roman to find later. He gives Taylor a total of five seconds to recover from the sudden display of affection, before teleporting the both of them away. Before doing so, Aza makes sure to hold onto Taylor's wrist with one hand, so the vampire won't get lost on the way. 

    Everything around them changes in the blink of an eye. The catacomb is gone and then they're inside a living room; candles are placed on every flat surface available, perfuming the air with the fragance of lavender. Other than the soft glow of the candles, the room is dark. There's a flat tv screen on a corner, with a game console attached to it. Even a technophobe like Aza couldn't resist the appeal of a good Mario Kart game. Perhaps he should challenge Taylor to a round or two of the game soon. To the left of the room there's a small kitchen. Roman always make sure they're never out of groceries. To the right, there's a bead curtain, separating the bedroom from the living room. ''Welcome home, Tay.'' He gestures at their surroundings with a sweeping, dramatic gesture of his arm. ''Welcome to residence Valeska.'' They aren't married yet. He doubts Roman is going to change his last name for his, but he still gets a kick out of referring to his future husband, if only to make him all flustered and blushy and goddmaned adorable.

    Aza places the box with the cheesecake over the kitche isle. Because he's in love and men in love do silly things, he uses a pink marker to write something on a sticking note, attaching it to the box.


    He also draws a unicorn.

    Then he's heading outside by pushing the flap at the entrance to the side, revealing that they are not inside a house or an apartment. They actually live on a circus tent, with the all the accomodations they need. He breathes in the cool air and grins, happy to be back home. But then again, anywhere his fiance is he calls home. He leaves the entrance open for Taylor, lights up a cigarette and puffs out a small cloud of clove-scented smoke.

    Time to give the vampire the tour of his life.

  • He looks around for something to dry his hands on and bind the wound on his wrist with afterwards.  Then he tips some whiskey into each of the glasses.  He very nearly hands one over to the man--but thinks twice about getting that close--and slides it across the counter to him instead, causing the whiskey within to slosh side to side, a bit spilling over the rim.

    "Not a big fan of literature, I take it." he's hardly surprised, if anything he's a bit relieved.  Pre-conceived notions are at best amusing and at worst another symbol of his religion's degradation.  Another reminder that he's the last of the last, and if he's not - the others are damn good at keeping themselves hidden from him and the whole of the world.  He shrugs, then flinches with regret and pain almost immediately.

    Taylor's next question has him pausing, mouth open to respond but the words shriveled on his tongue. "Errr.." his blue eyes rotate around the room before finally landing on Taylor, thoughtful. "No..? Well, kinda yeah? It's a bitch of a long story, and me head's poundin'." Finn picks up his own glass and starts drinking from it, and he tips his head back to drain it to the last drop.  Then, he pours himself another. "Although not for long if yer bottle aint watered down," he shakes it at the man, then slumps back against the counter as if all the strength has gone out of him.

    "Bleedin' grand, really." He'd heal, anyway.  He just needed a good rest and maybe an arm wrestling match with one of the numerous trees outfront.  "..ye don't feel like yer gonna' explode or nothin', now, do ye?" Finn asks, his eyebrows knitted together with concern.  There wasn't the slightest possibility of someone exploding after drinking his blood-- unless it had something to do with a totally unrelated but quality timed incident.  However, the feeling that one could take on the world and still have enough energy to fly to Jupiter and build a bridge back was almost universal, not that many have gotten the chance.  These are things he just knows.


  • He squints against the light, scanning the contents of the refrigerator with the methodical gusto of a starving wolf.  His stomach groans at him-- and he closes the door roughly. "In the name of the Dagda.." he murmurs under his breath, turning halfway to look at Taylor sideways. "I knew that," the corner of his mouth quirks slightly.

    Turning back, he pulls open the cupboard doors and peers at the selection, if any at all.  He's not picky- he's not partial to whiskey in any case, he reaches in and snags something brown, dragging it out along with a single glass.  He sets both on the counter, then he casts a brief and thoughtful look at Taylor.  

    Then he grabs a second glass.

    He limps to the sink, rinses out the glasses, then shakes them somewhat dry.  "For the record, I'm somethin' of a magician.  The technichal term is Druid, and no.  Before ye ask I don't have long white robes and I've never had a beard, and no, I don't have a wand." slowly but surely, he's healing.  His headache is fading away, but his ribs are being stubborn- and he's not bleeding quite as much, but he's still gushing all over the place.

    Finn uncaps the whiskey, then tips the bottle back to his mouth without touching his lips.  He swishes it around his mouth, then he sticks his hand into the sink and spits the whiskey onto his wound. "Ah!" he growls out three curses in Old Irish in the span of a second, smacking his fist into the bottom of the sink because he can't think of any other way to aleviate the pain. "Shite, hah.." keeping his arm where it is, he turns the sink on warm and lets the water run down his forearm, turning pink and nasty.  Cutting lines through the layer of dirt and salt that clung to probably every inch of him.


  • Shamus enjoyed this position of power over the kid - towering over him and giving the slightest grind to the boys back before all that is ended when Taylor comes in. A palm against his chest and a push that gets a reluctant and moody as usual snort from Shamus. He stepped off and walked towards the kitchen with his pride still intact. The pizza is plopped down and opened and given an investigative whiff by the elder. Course, he has seen pizza before... but one can understand the curiosity that follows someone living primarily on blood.

    It is probably expected, Sam refuses the help and gets up on his own. He is fixing his clothes some and readjusting that company hat he had been given for his delivery runs. “Who the hell is that guy?! You sure move on fast.” He has a habit of using venomous words, and a tone to match. Sam is trying to approach Shamus once more, this time with every intent on giving the elder a piece of his mind. “You gunna’ pay for that before you touch it, fag?!” Oof. Same ol’ kid.

  • Finn reigns in his anger as best as he can, spitting out one last nasty "Fuck," before he sets his jaw and sticks a bloody hand against the wall, dragging himself to a knee and then to his feet.  Bleeding all the while, making him consider that Taylor might attack him again.

    Though, he'll be ready this time.  He'd been so disoriented before that he could lean on that as an excuse, and he sure as hell wasn't expecting to run into a vampire of all things--which he's still not entirely sure how to fight, and he can't exactly hurl around fireballs--but he's confident in his miniscule arsenal.

    "Totally tossed, for one.  Hungry and near desperate for that finger of whiskey, mate," Finn murmurs, his dark blue eyes following the trail of his own blood that runs down Taylor's chin.  Then he sighs, "I'm tired." And turns on his heel to stalk back down the hall the way he'd come.

    Aye, he's totally aware of the fact that wasn't what Taylor meant when he'd asked what are you? But he was hardly in a mood to answer silly questions sober while he bled out all over the place.  

    He reaches the kitchen and then suddenly topples forward as his legs turn to rubber, just barely stopping himself from smacking his head off the counter.  For a moment he just leans there, staring at the backs of his hands against the counter-top, wishing he had access to a larger energy reservoir.  He'd give his left leg to lay out on the grass- but so far, American soil hasn't been kind to him.

    "Aye, aye.  What's passed is past, just know that if ye try n' bite me without my permission again I'll fry ye inside n' out." Finn makes his way to the fridge, pulling it open. "where's the bloody whiskey?"

This reply was deleted.

Blog Posts


Taylor Connor is now friends with Кирилл and Malory Grace-Spiderwick
May 11
Taylor Connor liked Obergeist [Dr. J. Steinholtz]'s blog post Beauty in Brevity. (55)
May 6
Taylor Connor and Finn O'Connell are now friends
May 5
Taylor Connor left a comment for Kiet Thailah (The Muses)
"Taylor has not a single clue how he should think of Kaia. Those damp curls of hair framing Kaia's face beckon Taylor closer, enticing him to wrap his large hands around the man's Rubixcube-like mind and fumble with the coloured squares. Puzzles allu…"
May 3
Taylor Connor left a comment for Kiet Thailah (The Muses)
"One moment of clouded judgement - only ten seconds of becoming just a little too comfortable in his surroundings. Taylor, less than half dressed and somewhat still dripping with warm water, suddenly sits directly next to a total stranger on the sofa…"
Mar 22
Taylor Connor and Uɲǚṩʉⱥʟ Ȼʀɘɕȶựʀə are now friends
Mar 22
Taylor Connor liked James Harris's blog post Sometimes Affection Can Be Nice
Mar 22
Taylor Connor left a comment for Kiet Thailah (The Muses)
"One nonchalant hand gesture is made toward the unusual items found haphazardly placed around the room. If this were a personal garage space, such things would not have looked so suspicious. But to find a need to collect tanks of gasoline not too far…"
Mar 21
Taylor Connor updated their profile
Mar 21
Taylor Connor updated their profile photo
Mar 20
Taylor Connor updated their profile photo
Mar 20
Taylor Connor left a comment for Cheryl Blossom
"Beneath the prosperous city reeks a stench so foul that a vampire almost gags on his late lunch. Biochemically, he's made up differently from standard vampires who've been turned right from the fang and hand-held their way through the adjustment per…"
Mar 20
Taylor Connor left a comment for Kiet Thailah (The Muses)
"Well adjusted to life in New York, Taylor is not fazed by the driver of a car's hot temper. He side-eyes his new male companion with a hidden smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. That amused him. Taylor is even feeling brave enough to mumble a che…"
Mar 14