𝐀 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄. Repost with the information of your muse, including headcanons, etc. if you fail to achieve some of the facts, add some other of your own!
NAME: jasper iverson
NICKNAME(S): jas, princess, idiot, bby
TITLE(S): /
AGE: 27
SPECIES: human with supernatural abilities
SEX: male
NATIONALITY: us-american
PARENTS: allison iverson / richard iverson
SIBLINGS: karli iverson (†), erik iverson (†)
INTERESTS: alcohol or anything else that numbs, music, his cat bubba
PROFESSION: bartender
BODY TYPE: skinny but toned muscles, tall
EYES: brown
HAIR: black dyed mullet
SKIN: light covered with tattoos
FACE: very boyish, sometimes even feminine face with full lips and big eyes. has two dimples on each cheek and also wears a nose ring
POSTURE: slouched posture with his shoulders hunched slightly over and his head tilted downwards. seems a bit unsteady on his feet and has the tendency to bump or trip over things due to lack of awareness of his surroundings
HEIGHT: 6' (1,83m)
VOICE: very deep voice, often even raspy from smoking too much
SIGNATURE OUTFIT: some cut off band shirt with wide cargo pants and worn out chucks
SIGNIFICANT OTHER: /
COMPANIONS: his cat bubba and his roommate jamie
STRENGTHS: free spirited, quick-witted (depending on the situation), humorous, loyal, rebellious
WEAKNESSES: insecure, impulsive, prone to taking unnecessary risks, struggles with trust and opening up to others (at least in a serious manner)
FRUITS: strawberries
COLORS: black
SMOKES: yes
DRUGS: tried a lot, regularly consumes just weed
DRINKS: beer, coke
DRIVER'S LICENSE: no, doesn’t stop him from driving tho
tagged by: @concreete-jungle (thanks bitch)
tagging: @t-hevessel @cursemouthed @ghculism @inscmnis @summer-sons @discsters
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WEIRDLY SPECIFIC BUT HELPFUL CHARACTER BUILDING QUESTIONS:
Omitted a few of the original questions; full list here.
What’s the lie your character says most often? ~ 'I'm perfectly good.'
What’s a hobby they used to have that they miss? ~ Photography, even though I picked it up again because of my husband.
How loose is their use of the phrase ‘I love you’? ~ Not at all. If I say it, I mean it.
When do they fake a smile? How often? ~ In my past, almost all the time. But by now, most of my smiles are genuine. Though I do hide my true feelings behind a smile still from time to time.
What kinds of people do they have arguments with in their head? ~ Literally all kinds of people. Playing devil's advocate is one of my favorite things to do.
Who do they love truly, 100% unconditionally (if anyone)? ~ @concreete-jungle
When they make a mistake and feel bad, does the guilt differ when it’s personal versus when it’s professional? ~ Absolutely. Personal guilt eats me up, is constantly on my mind. Professionally I'm way more chill, can put it to the side.
What’s something unimportant / frivolous that they hate passionately? ~ bad movies (like twilight...)!
Are they a listener or a talker? If they’re a listener, what makes them talk? If they’re a talker, what makes them listen? ~ definitely a listener. Even though alcohol and/or a personal connection can get me to talk.
Who would they say ‘yes’ to if invited to do something they abhorred / strongly didn’t want to do? ~ my husband and my friends. Even though I would be complaining about it the whole time. If I have to suffer, they do too.
Who would / do they believe without question? ~ again, my husband and my friends.
What’s their instinct in a fight / flight / freeze / fawn situation? ~ It depends on the situation. But in 95% of the time it's fight.
tagged by: @pistolmadeofroses
tagging: @concreete-jungle - @godpyre - @narcoleptic-sleep - @discsters - @alescurw
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go to pinterest, enter your character name + core and post nine associated images.
tagged by: @fluchtanz tagging: I’m super late to the party, can’t tell who already did it but @shadowpunk + @schwarzpulverherz + @discsters
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@discsters ‘i promise you i’ll be better. i promise you i’ll try.’ / easton + victoria
“you’re doing just fine, kid.” he rests his hand against her shoulder and squeezes it lightly. “we all fuck up, right? you’re back, that’s all that matters. we can deal with the other shit later. for now, just... try and keep your head down maybe. don’t stress so fucking much. you’ll give me a headache,” he teases, hand lifting to cup her cheek before he wraps his arms around her and pulls her in for a cuddle. “you ain’t gotta be better, vic. you just gotta be safe, darlin’. i know you’ll try, even though i just said don’t. shit’s been fucked up around here for a real and we all know that, don’t we?” a light kiss is pressed to the top of her head and he rubs along her back slowly. truth be told, she was like his little sister and not knowing where she was or if she was safe, it fucked with him for a little while there. but she was back and that was all that mattered. anything else was trivial now.
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⚡ & ⚠️ / for lu & camilla !
⚡ an angry text.
‘ i saw you riding without your helmet on!!!! im gonna kill you if the dangers of riding without a helmet hasn’t already missy!!!!!!! ’
⚠️ a text meant for someone else.
‘ okay but how much weed is too much??? like what’s comatose levels of marijuana?????? ’
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♦
Send me a “♦” for the first word my muse thinks of when I mention your muse.
Camilla: Powerful
Victoria: Soldier
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guess who's back, back again ! victoria will be here !
FOLLOW ! welcome to ridefm, please make sure to track all the tags and follow everyone !
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😞 & ✨ !
😞 finding an orphaned child, would your muse opt to take them in, find someone more qualified, or just leave them?
100% take them in! he’d definitely not be qualified or even old enough, really, but if he found someone that vulnerable who needed help he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he just palmed them off or find someone else. he’d definitely seek help from the diablos, but he’d be sure enough of himself to feel like he’d be up to taking care of them alright enough - he might not know exactly what to do at this point in time, but it’s not like waiting longer would just grant him proper parenting knowledge, and that wouldn’t even be an option. take them in.
✨ how important is family to your muse?
the idea of family’s always been first and foremost priority to elijah, alongside his friends - but his actual biological family hasn’t been. while he does still miss the cousins he had to cut contact with when his father moved them down to texas, it took him apparently no time at all to be alright with leaving his parents behind a decade apart from one another - but they don’t count as his family anymore. the diablos are his family now - and they’re all that matter. he’d do anything for them.
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A VERY DESCRIPTIVE PROFILE OF YOUR MUSE. Repost with the information of your muse, including headcanons, etc. if you fail to achieve some of the facts, add some other of your own!
(let's do this again and see how much has changed)
NAME: yelena nikolaevna kuznetsova hayes
NICKNAME(S): y, nik, принцесса
TITLE(S): /
AGE: twenty-three
SPECIES: human
SEX: cis female
NATIONALITY: us american / russian
PARENTS: nikolai alexandrovich kuznetsov (father) & rebecca harrington (mother)
SIBLINGS: aleksei nikolaevich kuznetsov, levi nikolaevich kuznetsov & nikolai nikolaevich kuznetsov (brothers)
INTERESTS: astrology & crystals, music, books & movies, knifes, hand-to-hand combat, photography, true crime, mythology
PROFESSION: operating manager for the hotel chain of her family (yeah, fuck you to my father)
BODY TYPE: slim, rather small, slightly toned muscles
EYES: hazel with green specks
HAIR: long honey blonde hair with lighter streaks, mostly in soft waves
SKIN: slightly tanned skin, a few smaller tattoos gracing her skin alongside of some scars
FACE: soft round features, with full lips, occasionally wears make-up (and when she does she usually goes all in)
POSTURE: casual, has an insane balance due to her training
HEIGHT: 5‘5“ (166cm)
VOICE: depending on the situation (and person in front of her) either very soft and gentle or rather cold and piercing; sometimes has a slight russian accent when she’s angry, excited or not thinking much, switches frequently between English and Russian when she's upset or drunk; can have a very mothering sound to her voice
SIGNATURE OUTFIT: a formfitting black dress with fishnet thighs and a black leather jacket, and either black converse or high heels
SIGNIFICANT OTHER: mr. elijah hayes @concreete-jungle (husband)
COMPANIONS: her brothers and her friends
STRENGTHS: very manipulative, good at reading people and collecting information to use against them, hand-to-hand combat, organised
WEAKNESSES: impulsive and contradicting behaviorism, has a hard time opening up to people, big overthinker
FRUITS: cherries
COLORS: black, burgundy, dark blue and dark green
SMOKES: yes, mostly when stressed or drunk
DRUGS: tried weed and e
DRINKS: coffee, red wine, vodka, sprite, energy drinks
DRIVER’S LICENSE: yes, owns a shiny jet black Aston Martin (loves to drive)
tagged by: @concreete-jungle (you just wanted to see that with your name and husband next to it, huh?)
tagging: @pistolmadeofroses @narcoleptic-sleep @deadlygamemaster @discsters
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sadness was the only home he really knew after the move. it was the most familiar thing he had, other than recounting the way that his scars would still sting under the touch if you caught them just right. the one thing that did feel like foundation was this, but it wasn’t his alone. they’d spent countless nights here, wrapped under blankets, getting drunk on stolen liquor, whispering secrets that meant more then, than they were supposed to now. he didn’t even know what they were supposed to mean now, considering things had ended due to differences that were supposed to be irreconcilable. apparently he didn’t get his memories in the make believe divorce, or at least not the sanctity of them. regardless, he had whatever this was, the silence in the night interrupted by footsteps he knew could only belong to a single person. the audacity of her to show up here on the night he needed it the most, on the night, years ago - he would have needed her the most. a heavy sigh pushed passed busted lip, comforted by the pain, before he began to sit up. it was the anniversary of the accident, and he was still searching for something that numbed the pain, anything that didn’t make it feel like it was still yesterday. “you’ve got really shitty timing.” he commented, dusting off knees of denim as boots met with ground, every intention on leaving, avoiding whatever this was, and whatever it could turn into. @discsters
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“ do i have to pour shots down your throat for you to talk to me ? why are you sulking, there’s no sulking allowed here, babycakes. i will pour whiskey down your throat but just know that i’ll be a whole show; me, on the bar, dancing, probably turn on that super old song . . .what is it . . . pour some sugar on me? oh yeah. totally something that’ll put those deseo lovergirls to shame. “ it’s said nearly all in one breath as he walks over and stands in front of her from his side of the bar. “ so, your choice; whiskey, beer . . . either way, i’m getting more than that pout from you. “ / @discsters.
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@discsters ‘i could try to calm you down, but i know you won’t.’ / oliver + camilla
he scoffs at her statement and folds his arms over his chest. “i hardly think that’s a fair thing to say after the shit you pulled, cam.” the nickname falls so easily from his mouth and he realises he has missed it. he’s missed saying her name because he thought she was gone but here she stood in front of him like nothing had happened. “how am i meant to calm down when somebody i was told was dead is standing in front of me? like, you know, please tell me how that’s meant to go. because i actually want to know what your idea is here.” he cocks an eyebrow and leans against his desk, watching her closely. it hasn’t even crossed his mind that his desk used to be hers or that he sits where she used to. not now, anyway. he’s thought about it before and it was always painted with guilt and sorrow. but now, he just feels anger towards her because it had been fake. sure, he would let her explain herself because that was only fair, but until such a time, oliver was livid.
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🕰️ & 🚀 / for dom & victoria !
🕰️ an early morning text.
‘ just bc the sun is up does not mean i am. i will reply to you at a decent hour like two pm ’
🚀 a goodbye text.
‘ i’ll be back in like a week. do not get yourself or daisy killed in the meantime. im serious. it’d be a real bummer to get back and y’all are gone. ’
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location: lou pine’s
for: inez diaz // @discsters
Derek thanked the owner of the bar and stood from the chair, exiting the office. It was still uncertain whether the lead was concrete, but now the wolf at least had a name, someone who'd met with Laura two days before her death. Professor Adrian Harris. It was a start, the wolf planning to speak to the man that very evening. But before Derek could leave, he was stopped by the owner's wife, reluctantly accepting her embrace. He'd known her since he was a child, so it was difficult to avoid such familiarity. She insisted he sit at the bar, telling him she had some food she wanted him to take, letting the bartender know that his drink was on the house. Derek sighed, but he did as he was asked, instantly regretting it when he realized the person behind the bar was yet another familiar face.
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❛ Oh please don’t let me down ❜ @discsters
Kal laughed, his hands finding their way to his hips as he eyed his partner. They had a natural chemistry that had been evident ever since they had accidentally been partnered years ago and a trust that had been cultivated over just as long and so the brisk request didn’t do much more than make him lunge performatively, his fingers wiggling as he prepared for the lift once more.
“When have I ever let you down?” He asked, his brow furrowing in concentration, “Now quit thinking and trust me.” He huffed in exertion, lifting her above his head and into the complicated lift, his mouth quirking into a smug grin once he felt that she was secure, the deep satisfaction of a perfectly executed lift filling his stomach as he set her back down gently.
“I don’t know why you ever doubt me, really.”
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closed starter for @discsters
where →dance class
They are surrounded by too many small children running and dancing around in glittering tutus and tights. Matthieu of four years ago would never be caught dead in a place like this, and now this is where they feel comfortable, even in a custom made three-piece suit, amongst dance moms and dads alike, they stand out a bit sure, but this isn’t about him at all. Two four-year-olds are currently spinning around. Class is over, but there’s music still on and the kids are hyped up and full of energy that their teacher is letting them get out. Matthieu is thankful for that since this is their night with Elodie and Eliza.
Speaking of teachers.
Matthieu stops to talk to one of the mothers that has spent too much of the class looking at him rather than their kid, hoping to ward her off somehow but also keep himself from becoming some suburban murder victim. He’s able to finally slip away though to find Greer, planting themself next to her, Mattie sticks their hands into their pockets and rocks on his heels “you know they really love you and this class? It’s all they talk about,” they lead with because it’s true that, the twins never shut up about ballet. But there are more pressing matters, like a dull society party that he’s only showing face for because it’s good for business.
“The Convington party is this weekend. Can I expect you’ll be there?”
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