#he's so punchy GOD he's gonna accidentally stick his hand in my eye one of these days. and then what | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hvckleberried · 5 years

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yeah, he’s smoking inside. fucking sue him. miles leans back against the countertop and watches these idiots actually work. he takes a long drag. blinks. are you gonna, like, help at all, man? his exhale’s elongated; he watches his own breath fade into the rafters.

“ oh, does this bother you ? ” he asks, feigning concern. even cocks his head to the side for good measure. he lifts the cigarette in question to confirm their distaste. the other boy nods. miles’s forefinger taps against the cig and flicks ash onto his stupid west ham high shirt. and there it is. the smirk.

“ my. bad. ”

or, alternatively : ‘tis i, linc, with *dj khaled voice* anotha one !! greetings & salutations to huckleberry jeremiah vernon. call him MILES or he actually might kill you.

[ m i l e s v e r n o n –– OPEN FLAME .

✔ oc + wc┊❝ ( aria shahghasemi. he/him &. cismale ) eighteen year old huckleberry jeremiah vernon was listening to "paint it, black” by the rolling stones when the field trip buses turned around. rumor has it he spent two years in juvie & is the unbeknownst father of becca’s child, but who knows if that’s true? what we do know is that their friends describe them as alluring & deft, even if they’re known to be a little anarchic & noxious from time to time.

( &&. general information )

full name: huckleberry jeremiah miles vernon

nickname(s) or alias: miles, vernon, fuckleberry finn ( west ham football team, freshman year ), that asshole, the scary one, the kid ( his foster parents )

preferred name: miles. call him anything else and it’s your funeral, fuckface.

current age: eighteen

astrological sign: scorpio

gender: cismale

preferred pronouns: he/him

sexual preference: bisexual

romantic preference: biromantic

home environment: the kiersney household. a manor-like three-story at the edge of west ham’s easternmost woods. it looks like ikea ate pier 1 imports and fucking barfed up its bones the next day. statement walls. matching furniture. modern art on the walls. his foster parents have a motherfucking sculpture in the front foyer. it’s sickening. suburban. tame. tidy.

current occupation: student. delinquent.

language(s) spoken: english. i’ll-wring-your-neck-with-just-my-eyes. spanish, barely.

native language: english.

current relationship status: his knuckles kissing your face.

( &&. background )

reason behind name: huckleberry jeremiah vernon won his name in the lottery of misfortune: at least, that’s what his aunt used to say to the young boy. he doesn’t know a lot about his parents. enough to know they were royal fuck-ups, crackheads with nothing better to do than fuck and get high and have an accidental kid. they thought it’d be a hilarious form of payback: this monster takes nine months of their precious time, so they’d make his life hell. simple. so when his parents died when he was just an infant, his aunt had the opportunity to change his name. shift the tide. but she couldn’t bring herself to go against her dead sister’s wishes, however fucking twisted up she got because of her bad-news boyfriend. she took huckleberry in and insisted on calling him by his birth name until, at three years old, he was sent home from school with a drawing of his aunt with x’s for eyes. “ my auntie if she keeps saying it ”. from that day forward, he was jeremiah. then miles. only miles.

birth order: first and only for his biological family. the second-youngest of his cousins, when he lived with his aunt. they had a massive falling out after he returned from juvie. she chucked him out like he was rotten meat. the oldest ( or perhaps same age ) as his current foster brother.

ethnicity: what’s it to you. iranian-american

nationality: american.

religion ( tw: death, acts of violence ): fuck that shit. there’s no god. if there were a god, it’d be fucking him. this wasn’t always miles’s view; it started when he was 4, and accidentally killed his aunt’s cat in front of his cousins. they always hit people when they were doing something wrong in cartons! the cat was trying to steal his cheese stick. so... he hit it with a book. his aunt she made him go to bible camp that summer, where he was vilified for his name. “huckleberry’s a dingleberry! hahaha! where’s tom sawyer, huh?” whatever god there was wouldn’t let him have this name. or this life. he wouldn’t have let his parents die: huckleberry would later find the news clipping. “ bronx couple found shot dead in stolen vehicle, ruled double-suicide. ” religion’s the opiate of the masses. it’s how pansy people sleep at night. young huckleberry wasn’t allowed back at church after he dropped one of those big candles and watched the altar go up in flames. fine by him. he started playing with fire. messing with the wrong people. getting wrapped up in sketchy city boy shit. any shred of faith left in his body was torn away when he and his older buds planned to rob a bank: miles was 12; his cohorts ( ty & presley ) were 18. miles did most of the electronic work: hacking the cloud, derailing the security system. they stormed the fucking bank of america. one of them whipped out a gun. miles... stabbed somebody in the shoulder, to get them off of ty. he watched that security guard die, that day. but not before his bullet ripped through ty’s head. juvie happened. two years. aggravated manslaughter. he got off easy, as a minor. presley’s still behind bars. so, yeah. there’s no motherfuckin’ god out there. and if there is? he can kindly suck miles’s dick.

political views: politics. are. bullshit. go cry to somebody else about your opinions. there’s 7 fuckin’ billion people on this planet and you think your thoughts on zoning laws and gun control matter? cry him a fucking river.

financial status: he’s secure, because of his foster parents. he keeps testing ‘em, to see if they’ll fuckin’ send him back. broken merchandise; we want a refund. but they don’t, so he... just keeps taking. stealing money from their wallets. selling expensive shit from the house to buy good shit. pocket knives. lighters. alcohol. a gun.

hometown: bronx, new york city, new york. now it’s west ham. fuck that.

level of education: high school junior. because of his time in juvie, he entered school in west ham as a freshman at 15. he’ll turn nineteen before his senior year. not that it matters. he’s already planning his escape. he’s lifted enough money to skip town soon, go back to new york. avenge ty’s death. he’s got the other security guard’s details, from that day. it pays to be skilled with a keyboard. he’s brilliant, when he wants to be. sharp-witted. his idea of a prank last year was sending an anonymous tip in to the school saying the whole place might blow. hacking the database to make it look like it was sent from a real address. he’s still surprised people aren’t more fucking grateful. he secured them a stupid day off. he’s also known to hack into the cloud to get test answers, and sell ‘em to people that don’t completely make him want to punch them.

( &&. physical appearance )

looks like (or face claim, if applicable): aria shahghasemi. he’s got these midnight black curls. piercing gray eyes.

height: 5′10. but don’t let that get your guard down.

figure/build: lean and muscular. won’t be caught dead in west ham’s stupid gym, but he’s fit. his foster parents put in a whole boxing studio in their basement just for him. he’s been known to get into fights, throw punches. it was their way to kind of, like... get his anger out. joke’s on them; he’s not giving it up. that shit’s his.

hair colour: black.

hair length: mid-length. curly, so it looks shorter than it actually is.

eye colour: gray.

glasses?: no. just shades.

skin tone: olive. smooth.

tattoos: he got one in juvie, on the side of his right wrist. a cross. makes him laugh. irony. he’s in the process of self-tattooing fuck between his left forefinger and thumb, but only the jagged f is there right now. it’s a process. he can’t stomach the needle.

piercings: one diamond stud in his left ear. it’s about the side of a pencil eraser. stolen.

birthmarks/scars/distinguishing marks: a few faded cross-hatches near his hairline, from fights that resulted in stitches. a six-inch line across his chest. knife. a few patches of scar tissue from burns on his palms. all juvie.

dominant hand: left-handed. you can tell because that’s the hand he always uses to flick his lighter on and off, on and off. he’s always playing with that damned thing.

if painted, what color are their nails?: who do you think he is, fuckin’ bowie? jesus.

usual style of clothing: black on black on black. did i mention black? black t-shirts, leather jackets, denim jackets, dark jeans, boots. wouldn’t be caught dead in fuckin’ sneakers. failed gym because he wasn’t about to put on dowdy shorts and t-shirts just to run around a glorified prison for 30 minutes every day. oh, there’s a pep rally? we’re supposed to wear centurion colors? fuck you.

frequently worn jewelry: he wears a thin gold chain around his neck every day. sometimes he’s got rings.

describe their voice, what accent?: his voice is very punchy, low. cat-like. glimmers of some new york peppered in here and there.

what is their speaking style (fast, monotone, loquacious)?: clipped. acidic.

describe their scent: amber. tobacco. smoky.

describe their posture: he stands tall, defiant, aloof. chin always tipped up in the face of oncoming threats. his whole body’s a proverbial middle finger to the world: yeah, i’m here. bite me.

( &&. legal information )

any speeding tickets?: yep. went 80 in a 25 zone.

have they ever been arrested?: yes. at this point, the west ham police force is really tired of his shit.

do they have a criminal record?: absolutely. various misdemeanors. cybercrimes. property damage, breaking & entering. shoplifting. aggravated assault.

have they committed any violent crimes?: hAs He CoMiTtEd AnY vIoLeNt cRiMeS ??? ( he’s laughing. )

property crimes?: affirmative.

traffic crimes?: should be the least of your concern.

other crimes?: don’t even get me started. the moral compass on this kid is... nonexistent. the answer to the world’s problems is fuck ‘em. anarchy.

( &&. medical information )

blood type: o negative.

date/time of birth: december 3rd. 3:32am. witching hour. ha.

place of birth: shitty hole-in-the-wall crackhouse. his parents dropped him at his aunt’s before freewheeling.

vaginal birth or cesauren section?: vaginal birth.

sex: male.

smoker? / drinker? / drug user?: yes / yes / yes. what can he say? he’s an equal-opportunity employer.

allergies: grizz visser. fuckin’ ass. nosy people. pop music.

ever broken a bone?: his nose in second grade: the other kid got it worse. his hand in fifth grade. worth it. couple ribs in juvie. his arm, when he was a baby. his parents wanted to see if gravity was, like. real.

any physical ailments/illnesses/disabilities: nah. not that he’d tell you anyway.

any medication regularly taken: nyquil, sometimes. helps him sleep.

( &&. personality )

direct quote from them: *blinks at you like you’re speaking swahili*

positive traits: alluring, deft, crafty with computers. sly.

negative traits: anarchic, acerbic, explosive. heedless. noxious.

likes: the flick of the flame. beat poetry. darkroom photography. scared glances. messing with the system. sidestepping boundaries. wintergreen lifesavers. blueberry slushies. ac/dc, the stones, lynyrd skynyrd, sting, the offspring, kansas. buttered toast. milk duds. history. cigarettes: he’s always got one tucked behind his ear.

dislikes: fucking football team. working on yearbook ( detention punishment ). catch him taking photos of those morons with his middle finger in frame. his roots. his aunt, for casting him out. his foster family, for giving him so many chances. he doesn’t deserve them. his name. bright sunlight, hurts his eyes. pistachios. remembering. weak alcohol. fraternizing with the idiots of west ham.

strengths: he’ll figure out your nervous ticks within two minutes of talking to you. he can go hours watching someone ramble and not say a thing, and not break his expression. making others feel small. digging his fingers into your dirt. finding back doors, loopholes, and getting through cybersecurity like a hot knife through butter. baking – but tell anybody and he’ll end you. tying cherry stems with his tongue. making sense of ginsberg. remembering stupid historical facts. pope gregory ix executed cats and that allowed rats to spread the bubonic plague in masses. still fuckin’ like your religion, asshole?

weaknesses: vengeful. his definition of justice is very much based in vigilante action; an eye for an eye. he’s got an aloof disposition, but his past wounds are still seething. empathy. expressing emotions other than anger. patience. impulse control. he can’t hide that you’re pissing him the hell off. swears in front of kids, often. probably slept with your aunt two towns over. can’t lose an argument, ever. even with authority figures.

insecurities: what if he... caused ty’s death? what if that’s on him? is he worth shit? he’ll make himself worth something. he’ll get them back. all of ‘em. he’ll make ‘em pay.

fears/phobias: hates needles. but fucks with ‘em anyway. fears oblivion, but puts up a front like he’s chill with it. fears he’ll never muster up... a purpose. or whatever the fuck people call it. fears this is all he’ll ever be: an eighteen-year-old fuckup with a record, hands that itch to fight, to crush, to destroy.

habits: playing with his lighter. chewing on toothpicks. popping milk duds like pills. glaring at everyone, no one, nothing. everything. laughing in the face of authority. making unprecedented digs at people, just because he can. propping his feet up on the desk in front of him when his teachers ask him to answer questions, twirling a pencil in his hands like he’s god. grabbing a slushie from 7/11 just to have something to do with his hands. messing with the popular kids’ social medias, just for fun. hacking the online lunch menu to see his classmates get fuckin’ pissed when mozzarella sticks are served on friday, not today, sorry. driving to neighboring towns’ parties and hooking up with chicks there. masquerading as a man with a reason. hitting up college parties often. lingering in shadow. living in gray areas. writing his own notes in the front of library books, on the title page, in sharpie. “ fuck you ten thousand ” on the school’s copy of pride & prejudice. “ kindly die, thanks ” in gone with the wind. “ congrats, you’re literate ” in the front of catcher in the rye.

quirks: always sits in the back left corner of the room, near the window. he literally jumped out, sophomore year, when the school security officer tried to bust him for selling pills to a freshman in the hall earlier that day. popping his earbuds in during lectures. maintaining unbroken eye contact with teachers as he does so. getting ~very close~ and speaking ~very low~. purring threats. can never drink lightly. skipping school often, fabricating online attendance to avoid suspension. barely eating the food his foster parents prepare. leaving the table early, unexcused. digging into the leftovers after everyone’s gone to bed. severing ties. if he’s lucky, never makin’ ‘em in the first place. his new yorkisms come out when he’s drunk, or high, or tired.

hobbies: darkroom photography. reading poetry. burning shit. smoking. walking around the mini mart like he’s a hunter in the wild, just to make the clerks uncomfortable.

guilty pleasure: he listens to “lore” and “my favorite murder”. but he disguises that shit, saving the album covers of the podcasts as seether.

desires: to avenge ty’s death. get the fuck outta west ham. to find a reason to be here. a reason why.

wishes: his parents didn’t kill themselves. cowards. they deserved to deal with him. they deserved to be tortured, for doing this to him. he wishes he hadn’t pulled that knife on his aunt. then at least he’d still be in new york city, instead of here, with this stupid fuckin’ foster family that just won’t let him go.

secrets: killed a guy. the reason for his juvie sentence is redacted on his public record. he’s lonely, a lot of the time. and, oh yeah: he’s becca’s baby daddy.

turn ons: no bullshit. sarcasm. intellect. no strings.

turn offs: sentimentality. smileyness. too much perfume. caring.

lucky number: 1. he’s all he’s got.

pet peeves: chewing gum: fucking pellegrino and his damned bubbles. bubbly people. cassandra pressman and the tree-sized stick up her ass. foot tapping. prying. school involvement. slow drivers. slow walkers. slow thinkers.

their motto: “ fuck you very much. ”

( &&. favourites )

food: falafel. shut up.

drink: he brought vodka to school in a water bottle once. diet coke.

fast food restaurant: wendy’s. he likes the chocolate frosties.

flavour: chocolate.

word: fuck. for a vast array of reasons.

colour: black.

clothing: his most worn leather jacket. touch it and he’ll end you.

accessory: the gold chain ‘round his neck. it was ty’s.

candle scent: smoke. tobacco. whatever that shit is, patchouli.

game: fuck games. fuck fugitive. leave him alone.

animal: he has such a soft spot for caterpillars.

holiday: christmas. he likes baking shit. but if that ever gets out, he’ll flip.

weather: pouring rain, with patches of sun in between. it’s rare, but damn. it’s kind of beautiful.

season: summer. fast drives, windows down. no school. no bullshit.

book: on the road, jack kerouac.

artist: aerosmith.

band/group: ac/dc, kiss, guns ‘n roses, van halen, def leppard.

song: we’re not gonna take it, twisted sister.

movie/film: star wars. fuck off, it’s good.

tv show: history docs. he likes those decade pieces on the history channel.

sport: boxing.

possession: his lighter.

number: 1.

person: that’s the dumbest question he’s ever heard. himself. he’s lying.

( &&. skills )

talents: hacking. lying. breaking rules. testing limits. photography. playing people.

ability to drive a car?: yes. recklessly.

can they ride a bike?: yes, chooses not to.

do they play any sports?: tonsil hockey. heartbreaking. boxing.

anything they’re bad at?: empathizing. serenity.

do they have any combat training? why?: yep. his friends in grade school. juvie.

( &&. firsts )

childhood memory: crushing a handful of cheerios in his tiny hands and feeling... powerful.

crush: ava watson. she said she liked his eyes.

email address: [email protected]

job: reception at a local gym in west ham. lasted a day; he punched a guy.

phone: flip-phone. now he’s got an iphone.

kiss: hanna parler. 6th grade. said she’d miss him before he left for juvie.

love: HA. nice try, dick.

sexual experience: josie thwaites. 6th grade. they didn’t know what the fuck they were doing.

( &&. childhood )

best childhood memory?: try again.

worst childhood memory?: seeing ty’s eyes go dim.

what were they like as a child?: angry. electric. not easily tamed.

any crushes growing up?: some. he doesn’t do that now. crushing.

( &&. this or that )

expensive or inexpensive tastes?: expensive.

hygienic or unhygienic?: hygienic.

open-minded or close-minded?: close-minded. his way or bust.

introvert or extrovert?: introvert. buzz off.

optimistic or pessimistic?: pessimistic. optimism’s dead.

daredevil or cautious?: daredevil. caution’s an early grave.

logical or emotional?: emotional.

generous or stingy?: stingy.

polite or rude?: rude. so rude.

book smart or street smart?: both.

popular or loner?: loner. notorious, though. everyone knows who he is. wonders what his deal is. he’s got this... dark magnetism. if you’re smart, you’ll stay away.

leader or follower?: leader. follows his own path. likes disrupting order.

day or night person?: night.

cat or dog person?: cat. despite what his childhood mistakes might lead you to believe.

closet door open or closed while sleeping?: open. come get him.

( &&. social media )

do they have a facebook? twitter? instagram? vine? snapchat? tinder/grindr? tumblr? youtube? yes to facebook and instagram. no twitter, no vine. has a snapchat, rarely uses it. yes to tinder.

if so; name on facebook: miles vernon.

instagram user: milesvernon.

snapchat user: milesvernon.

( &&. musical tastes )

theme song: paint it, black –– the rolling stones.

makes them sad: anything by the beatles. makes him think of his aunt’s apartment. and then he gets angry.

makes them dance: nope. he wouldn’t be caught dead dancing in front of the likes of you. when he’s drunk, anything with a decent beat will make him sway his hips a little.

( &&. miscellaneous )

do they have a fake i.d.?: hell yeah. a couple.

are they a virgin?: ha. no.

describe their signature: chaos. barely legible.

how long would they survive in a zombie apocalypse?: he’d bite a zombie’s fuckin’ head off, if that answers your question.

do they travel?: nah.

one place they would like to live: anywhere but here.

one place they would like to visit: anywhere but here.

celebrity crush: camila mendes. tell anybody and he’ll hunt you down.

what can you find in their pockets/wallet/purse: cigs. lighter. some form of tic tac.

place(s) your character can always be found: in the shadows. on rooftops. places he shouldn’t be.

when does your character like to wake up?: 7:03am. he doesn’t like rounded numbers.

how does your character spend their free days?: reading. burning some stuff. driving out to other towns to do reckless shit.

what’s your character’s bedtime routine?: read some poems. have a cigarette. knock out.

what does your character wear to bed?: boxers, no shirt.

if your character can’t fall asleep, what are they thinking about?: ty’s brains. that knife. juvie. getting back. making them pay.

what is their idea of perfect happiness?: revenge.

on what occasions do they lie?: on what occasions don’t they lie ?

most marked characteristic: his ghost-gray eyes. his smirk. his hair.

what is one thing they’d most like to change about themselves?: only one?

how would they like to die?: in a blaze of fucking glory.

do they snore? no.

can they curl their tongue?: yes.

can they whistle?: yep. he likes doing that yoo-hoo kind of whistle. makes people uncomfortable.

do they believe in the supernatural?: nope. bullshit.

has anyone ever broken their heart?: no.

have they ever broken anyone’s heart?: yes. on purpose.

are they squeamish?: not at all.

have they ever seen anyone die? what happened?: see above: ty. that security guard. he’s sure they won’t be the last.

are they a lightweight?: not at all.

#newhamhq: intro

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