Overview

Name: Davan Joshua Shaw
Species: Human
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Pansexual
Role: Mostly submissive (note that this reflects what I'm interested in RPing and not how he 'reads' though; non dom/sub relationships will be considered)
Position: Switch
Age: 38 (can be played as young as 19 for "what if?" story purposes)
Apparent Age: Early 40s
Height: 6'5''
Weight: 265 lbs.
Home: Suburban America
Occupation: Foreman & Spokesman for Housing Helps Charities, occasional handyman
F-List: Here

Life wasn't meant to be so complex for him. It had started out promising, a clear path and a lady love. He rebelled here and there, enough to feel like an individual, but he'd been eager to be a family man. Life had other ideas when it so viciously took his young wife from him. He'd spent more than a decade on the road taking vengeance on the wicked, until he no longer recognized himself as a man. He had a resolve greater than most hunters, plugging his ears to the siren call of violent rambling. He took instead to the contracted labor he was meant to do, raising and repairing. After some time, he became involved in the Housing Helps charity, a suitably rugged face to appear in their pamphlets. He still performed honest labor, unable to keep from it despite the toll on his stubbornly aging body. It helped to ground him in a world less complicated than that he'd left behind. That is to say, he still works as a handyman, but on personal recommendation only. Considering he's built a lot of contacts through various means, this isn't all so difficult to obtain!

This was not the family business. Far as his family was concerned, it was no one's business but the cops'. Some sick bastard had taken her heart out, sure; didn't mean it was anything weirder. They understood his desire to get to the bottom of it, but when he started obsessing over the layers of claw that had torn off on the way through her breast, they tried to dissuade him. It was just some trick of a budding serial killer, a weird signature they wanted to leave. People were sick and desperate for fame, after all, and if this would get true crime books written about them in the future, everything would be worth it. Sleepless nights scouring the internet for answers had finally turned up something that felt like an answer. Werewolves ate hearts. It wasn't a compulsion he recalled from the horror movies he watched as a kid, but when it went on to say they met their end through a silver knife, he knew what he had to do

He'd spent too many nights listening to Delilah cry for want of her mama, cradling her uselessly in his arms and remembering all the articles he'd read during Jacqueline's pregnancy about how children bonded with their parents. At such a young age, the strongest bond the baby had was with her mother. The smell comforted an infant. It was a thing gone from this world, torn out with her heart by that ugly fucking beast. Daddy's arms would never be good enough. Even singing the most delicate lullabies, she'd calm only so long as it took for him to close his own eyes, at which point she'd start in again. With that possibility burning in his blood, determination to make sure this did not become the serial event his family claimed, he knew fatherhood had been taken from him, too. He couldn't hack it, wouldn't be so irresponsible as to take a tiny baby out on the road. She was dropped off at her aunt's, ostensibly for just a few days, while he got his head screwed on straight

Instead, he drove off and never returned. Sometimes, he thought maybe he'd overreacted, that what some hunters said about it being a calling was bullshit. He'd left behind what could've been a good life, even with that heartbreak. He'd stood to inherit his father's contracting business and had already been at worksites for years, helping out, learning the ins and outs of the work. Chances were he wouldn't have been ready to take over the position til about now, as it happened, but his portion of the work made a fine enough wage. If he hadn't felt so sure in that month of mourning, he might have bloomed into a fine father, maybe even found some other girl to marry, act as a mother to Delilah. He knew too many families who'd been torn apart somehow than to think doing so would be a betrayal to Jackie's memory. Sometimes, life happened and it happened hard and people did what they had to do to get by; nothing wrong with that. If she was looking down from Heaven, it was knowing that she was not on Earth; she would understand. She'd been a practical woman.

Mostly, though, there was the righteousness. He sniffed out countless werewolves, moon-bound to do the same thing to some other family as their brethren had done to his. He found countless ghosts, snuffing the lives of teenagers just for being teenaged enough to make good on dares, never given the chance to age and wise up. Vampires turning sleepy villages into monsters' nests. It wasn't vengeance that continued to motivate him, for he was lucky enough that his first kill was precisely what he wanted, far as he could tell, considering there were no witnesses. No, he'd just pointed his car toward home and thought of all the other families that thing might have ruined, all the heartache and nightmares and uncertainty, and couldn't bring himself to go. He looped around down the highway instead; he was going to need more guns

Unlike most hunters, Davan had sectioned out only a part of his life to the hunt. Months at a stretch were spent working as a contractor, until the cry of the road became too loud to ignore. He made little lives for himself in this time and did well in social environments. At times, when the money ran out before a hunt is done with, he'd stolen from dead monsters, pawned off their strange belongings for a fraction of what they'd be worth to the right buyer. He wasn't without sympathy for monsters in general, seeking out only the killers. He doesn't immediately trust the more monstrous among the population, but treats them with some degree of respect all the same.

Presently, Davan has quit hunting. It's been about five years, at this point. Being trained as a handyman with an electrician's certification made it easy for him to find work. Once he became settled in his current home, he began to volunteer with a housing charity called Housing Helps. At first, he simply helped them remodel dilapidated houses and raise new ones. Being ruggedly handsome as he was, though, he soon found himself roped into spokesman work, as well. He's in their internet advertisements, on their TV advertisements, and is sent to fancy parties to help fundraise for the charity.