#redridgeimp

[axelxmartinez]

(Hi I love to plot, hit me up and let’s chat!)

Introduction @redridgeimp​

FULL NAME:  Axel Jose Diego Martinez

NICKNAMES(S):  Axe, Ax, Diablo

AGE:  33

DATE OF BIRTH:  October 30th, 1986

PLACE OF BIRTH:  Red Ridge, Nevada

CURRENT LOCATION:  Red Ridge, Nevada.

ETHNICITY:  Latino. Mexican primarily and his mother was partially Caucasian (European descent), as well as Mexican and Dominican.

GENDER:  Cis male.

PRONOUNS:  He/him/his.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION:  Bisexual.

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION:  quoiromantic

RELIGION:  Atheist.

OCCUPATION:  Owner of Roberto's and Bone breaker for Valencia.

EDUCATION LEVEL:  he dropped out of high school in the beginning of 11th grade. 

EXTRACURRICULAR:  Boxing, lifting weights, playing video games, occasionally reading

LIVING ARRANGEMENTS:  Owns his parents house, a medium sized single family home with 4 bedrooms, an unfinished basement, nothing to brag about on the south side of redridge

SPEAKING VOICE AND ACCENT:  Deep, smooth voice with a hint of a Spanish accent, especially when he's angry. Normally keeps a steady tone, unless he’s really upset about something.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE, ETC.

FACECLAIM: Manny Montana 

HAIR COLOR AND STYLE:  black, shaved short

COMPLEXION:  Brown on the lighter side with neutral undertones

EYE COLOR:  Brown.

EYESIGHT: 20/30 the last time he checked, he probably could use corrective lenses for driving or reading something but he doesn’t bother with it.

HEIGHT:  6’1” or 185cm

WEIGHT:  169lbs or 77kg

BODY AND BUILD:  Muscular, lean, well-defined muscles. 

TATTOOS: tons, he gets them at random and the only theme to them is that they are black and white. The obvious ones most people see are the skull on his throat and the ones on his fingers and hands. (See his pinterest linked at the bottom for more ideas in this area)

PIERCINGS: none, he fights too much to have piercings.

CLOTHING STYLE:  jeans, hoodies, t-shirts, flannels, button down shirts, primarily black for everything. 

DISTINGUISHING CHARACTERISTICS:  tattoos all over his body, small linear scar on his eyebrow where no hair grows, various scars all over his body - some covered with tattoos and some not. Also wears necklaces and rings, has a few random bracelets made by his nieces and nephews.

HEALTH.

MENTAL DISORDER(S):  ADD is all he’s been diagnosed with, though he likely has an anxiety disorder as well. 

PHYSICAL DISORDER(S):  none

ALLERGIES:  the pollen gets to him in the spring but he just ignores it

SLEEPING HABITS:  insomniac, he sleeps in small shifts between work and whatever he’s doing during the day. 

EATING HABITS:  Axel has a high metabolism so he eats a lot and often, he tends to pick things up while he’s moving around town and keeps protein bars and snacks in his car for in between meals

SOCIABILITY: extroverted introvert, he tends to be around people but doesn’t go out of his way to strike up conversation unless he feels it necessary, knows the person already, or is spoken to first. 

BODY TEMPERATURE:  neutral.

ADDICTIONS:  Nicotine, Caffeine, some would argue he drinks a little too much but he doesn’t think so.

DRUG USE:  Depends on the drug. He smokes marijuana frequently, but anything else is occasionally and he refuses to touch needles or anything made purely from chemicals (i.e. Meth). 

ALCOHOL USE:  Frequently, usually has a drink or two everyday. Sometimes more, sometimes less. He prefers brandy and tequila but also enjoys beer and will always accept a free drink regardless of what it is.

PERSONALITY.

POSITIVE TRAITS:  Hardworking, Efficient, Honest, Strong, Confident, Curious

NEGATIVE TRAITS:  Callous, Insensitive, Secretive, Possessive, Withdrawn, Stubborn

LIKES:  Fighting, good food, drinking, video games, smoking, sex, most things physical, some reading, fire

DISLIKES:  Schools, authority (mainly police), drama, airplanes, inactivity

FEARS: His only fear that he could ever pinpoint was his father.

HABITS: Plays with his fingers, touches his face, staring without talking, smoking, rain

ASTROLOGY:  Scorpio Sun, Sagittarius Rising, Libra Moon

PERSONALITY TYPE:  INTJ

MORAL ALIGNMENT:  Chaotic Neutral

HOGWARTS HOUSE:  Slytherin.

ELEMENT:  Fire

WEATHER: Overcast or Sunny

COLOR:  Black

MUSIC:  Rock, Metal, 90’s hip hop

MOVIE:  Documentaries or Action movies

SPORT:  Baseball and Soccer

BEVERAGE:  Brandy or Tequila

FOOD:  Waffles

ANIMAL: Snake

SEASON:  Summer

FAMILY, RELATIONSHIPS, ETC.

MOTHER: Antonia Martinez (Rodriguez)  

FATHER:  Roberto Martinez, deceased

SIGNIFICANT OTHER:  none

SIBLING(S):  5 younger siblings, names and ages vague for future wc

CHILDREN:  TBD

PET(S): Ball Python named Slinky

PROMPT.

“ROUTINE”: violence tw, death tw

Ever since he was a teenager, Axel has worked at Roberto’s. At his father’s insistence to teach him some responsibility, as the owner, it was common for him to hire his children and other relatives because he didn’t trust anyone. When Roberto, his father, went to prison and was simultaneously killed while there, his business was given to his eldest son. Axel wasn’t very torn up about losing his father, it made his life significantly easier and allowed him to take over the role as head of the Martinez family. Something he’d been well prepared for and while he wasn’t the nicest guy, he wasn’t the psychopath Roberto was. At least, he didn’t think he was. 

With his father gone, his days started with the sun (if he even got to bed the night before). He opened the convenient store, put the money in the till for the starting shift and made sure everything was turned on and stocked from the night before. Once the first shift comes in, he usually heads to the back to double check that everything is locked up and set up for the next shift. After that is usually when he gets word of anything Valencia needs him to do that day. Even though he’s not a soldier anymore, he likes to keep busy so he picks up slack where he can. If not, he starts checking in on his younger siblings and making sure they are doing what they’re supposed to be doing and staying out of trouble. If he doesn’t have anything pressing to get done, he heads to the gym to do his usual workout and possibly some sparring to keep his endurance at peak along with his fighting technique. Afterwards, he hits up Ridge Roasters if he’s going to the North side of town and gets his coffee with a random pastry to go. Otherwise, he heads to Blue Hill Diner for a proper breakfast and chats with the staff there or scrolls through his phone. He heads back to the convenient store if they need him, otherwise he heads home for a nap or just to relax. Most days he can trust his shift supervisors or the manager to finish up the rest of the day at Roberto’s. Only on occasion does he have to cover a shift or go in to change the cash register for a shift. 

By five or six in the evening, Axel crosses the threshold of St. Peters and takes a spot at the bar. If he feels like dinner, he gets something to eat. Otherwise he has a few drinks to pass the time and watches the environment. If he’s lucky, he catches something that isn’t supposed to be happening in Redridge without approval and brings it to a higher up. Otherwise, he wastes some time before Rogue’s opens and he can go watch the fights for the night. By the time it’s his turn to get in the ring, he’s usually itching to start fighting. He’s not one to get excited about much, but once he gets sight of his ‘opponent’ a wide shark-like smile will spread across his face. Axel loves the work he gets to do with Valencia and if he could do more he would. Fighting and getting rid of people was something he specialized in, he was damn good at it, too. If he was lucky, he brought someone home with him at the end of the night. If not, he has another drink and heads back to his house to watch something on the television or, if he’s even luckier, gets a few hours of sleep before he has to wake up and repeat it all the next day. 

“REMINISCENCE”:  violence tw, alcohol tw, blood tw, death tw

“Not everyone gets to just blurt out how the feel about whoever or whatever on a fuckin’ whim, dude.” Axel spoke into his glass, the third brandy making his voice hoarse. Stuck in the reverie that his best friend had pulled from him. That afternoon they’d gotten the news that his father was found dead in the showers that morning. He was out celebrating. That man had never done anything for anyone, nothing good at least and definitely not any of his kids. Axel looked at the brown liquid in his glass and swirled it around. “Remember back in high school, that kid Jake who used to hang around sometimes?” He asked, eyes still on the glass. “We used to mess around or whatever. I was young and stupid.” He shook his head, knowing at twenty-five he wasn’t exactly old but he was a lot older than he was then. “Anyways, it had been a few months and I started talkin’ a big game like I was the boss of my house. My papi didn’t give a shit what I did or who I was with and all that. We stopped at Roberto’s after school to get some snacks or whatever. You know, same shit different day.” Axel paused and let out a slow sigh. The alcohol was getting to his head and loosening his tongue to reveal shit he’d never talked about with anyone. Most people knew his father was a prick that was quick to correct his children with his hands rather than his words, but Axel didn’t ever make it seem like it bothered him. He sure as hell didn’t let on that he harbored a great fear of the man. “We were at the counter paying, right in front of my dad and Jake tried to lean in for a kiss or somethin’ to say thank you or some shit. I just freaked out, I didn’t know what to do because that shit wasn’t goin’ to fly with Roberto Martinez. Not one of his kids. So, I pushed him away and beat his ass bloody right there for all the world to see.” He didn’t want his dad to do it and if he thought for a second that Axel was into guys he would probably shoot him on the spot. Definitely would have gotten rid of him in one way or the other. Even if he still liked girls, too. “My brother had to pull me off of him. I was so fuckin’ scared man, I just kept hittin’ him. He had to go to the hospital and his parents didn’t even press charges, they straight pulled him out of school. I never even saw him again.” Axel finished off his glass and exhaled the burn it left in his throat and chest. “Out of all the people I’ve beat in my lifetime, all the shit I’ve done, man. That’s the only one I regret. But you know the sad part?” He let out a bitter laugh. “If I could go back and do it over, I’d still beat his ass. What the fuck does that say about me?” Axel shut up after that, didn’t even really pay attention to what his friend had to say about any of it. He drowned himself in a bottle and had no idea how he got home at the end of the night. 

BACKGROUND. ( abuse tw, death tw, violence tw)

Born and raised in Redridge, oldest of six children. Some of his siblings still live in Redridge, others have left and spread around the country. He has a large extended family. They live all over the country, Mexico, and South America.

His father was a very strict man and ran his household with an iron fist. He believed his children should be seen and not heard. If one of them were to step out of line, show defiance, or generally make him angry in any way, he normally responded by correcting them physically instead of with words. He owned Roberto’s, which he started before Axel was born. Roberto was also a member of Valencia working up from street rat to lieutenant. He was arrested when Axel was twenty and died in prison when he was twenty-five.

Antonia, his mother, was a reserved woman. She was hard-working and loved her children. However, she listened to her husband and he was the head of the household. When Roberto went to prison, Axel took over the role of head of the household. His mother fell ill in his late twenties and currently lives in an assisted living facility in Redridge. Axel visits her regularly.

As for his siblings, he keeps up with all of them. One attends the community college and he is adamant that they keep up with their grades and continue their education. He keeps in almost daily touch with each and every one of them and adores his nieces and nephews. Whenever he can visit, he makes a point to but hates to fly so it is usually only once or twice a year at most for those who live outside of Nevada. 

School wasn’t Axel’s strong suit. He could never focus and everything just made him feel like he was stupid when he knew he wasn’t stupid. He just wasn’t book smart. So he dropped out right before eleventh grade and worked at Roberto’s. As soon as he was able to, he joined Valencia as a street rat and moved up the ranks to Bone-breaker once he had proven himself. However, he enjoys doing soldier work still so he will pick up any spare jobs if they are available.

As far as romance goes, Axel has never been with anyone long. He enjoys both women and men and their company, but he has a hard time letting anyone past his walls. The few times he has tried, he fucked it up in one way or another. So, he stays single and just holds casual relationships. 

He loves to fight and he is good at making people disappear, getting jobs done efficiently, and intimidation. Axel is very loyal to Valencia.

Currently, he is always on the move. He doesn’t like to be idle for long. So he is either doing work for Valencia or Roberto’s, moving around town, drinking at a bar, eating somewhere, fighting at Rogue’s, at the gym, watching fights, or sleeping in between any of those activities. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

Friends With Benefits/One-night Stands (unlimited): He likes physical activity and touch, he tries to pick people up often and especially after a fight. This could have been happening for a long time or just a night or be brand new. 

Best Friend (0/1): This person knows him better than anyone. They just get him and is likely the only person he’s ever opened up to. 

Close Friends (0/6): These people know him better than most, but he probably has only opened up about one or two things to them. He trusts these people and likes to be around them.

Employees: Anyone who wants to work at Roberto’s

Budding Romance (0/1): could be a fwb that progresses, someone who’s always been around but neither of them made the move to advance it past anything.

Enemies: Self explanatory, but they always butt heads in one way or another. Possibly have fought in the past, but definitely never have anything nice to say about one another.

Past relationships (0/4): People who tried to break through his walls and didn’t get through. Or they just didn’t work out for any multitude of reasons.

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/kitmeowza/c-axel-martinez/

[justxjericho]

BASIC INFORMATION 

Full Name: Jericho Aleksandr Novak

Nickname(s): Jer, J

Age: 29

Date of Birth: March 23, 1991

Hometown: Red Ridge, NV

Current Location: Red Ridge, NV

Gender: cis male

Pronouns: he/him

Sexuality: homosexual, homoromantic

Religion: agnostic

Occupation: security at the Phoenix

Language(s) Spoken: English

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Face Claim: Noel Fisher

Hair Colour: black

Eye Colour: blue

Height: 5’8”

Tattoos: a lot. “F U C K U - U P” across his knuckles, ‘V’ for Valencia on the side of his neck. See pinterest at bottom for more.

Piercings: none

Clothing Style: grungy, cut off shirts, layered flannels over t-shirts, ripped jeans, old sweatpants, torn hoodies, converse, worn boots, etc. 

Distinguishing Characteristics: tattoos on arms, hands, and neck. He also has a lot of scars from past fights and abuse all over his body including self harm burn marks on his legs. the scars are the worst on his back, which he tries to keep covered for the most part. piercing blue eyes and his face is very expressive. 

HEALTH

Physical Ailments: he has screws in one of his legs and a small metal plate in his head.

Neurological Conditions: C-PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, ADD, Migraines, Insomnia

Allergies: none 

Sleeping Habits: rarely, he gets extreme nightmares so he rarely gets a good amount of sleep. There’s only been one person that he’s been able to sleep decently with and it’s complicated. 

Eating Habits: he loves food, he knows what it’s like to go hungry so he eats whenever he feels like it so he doesn’t have to feel that way again

Exercise Habits: nothing regular, he is always on the move though and does a lot of push-ups and pull-ups 

Sociability: he’s a volatile person, but he’ll talk to anyone and hates being alone

Body Temperature: warm

Addictions: nicotine, caffeine, alcohol

Drug Use: weed, occasional cocaine, has tried other things but nothing stuck

Alcohol Use: daily

PERSONALITY

Positive Traits: dependable, energetic, independent, passionate, brave

Negative Traits: stubborn, moody, quick-tempered, aggressive, callous

FAVOURITES

Weather: cloudy or raining, cold

Colour: black

Music: metal and punk

Movies: horror

Sport: boxing or football

Beverage: whiskey

Food: steak

Animal: honey badger

FAMILY

Father: Henryk Novak

Mother: Livia Novak

Sibling(s): Michelle ‘Mitch’ Novak (half-sister), Tommy Novak (deceased half-brother), TBD younger sister

Children: none

Other family: TBD

Pet(s): none, he can barely take care of himself

EXTRA

Zodiac Sign: aries

MBTI: ENFJ

Enneagram: 8 - the challenger

Temperament: choleric

Moral Alignment: chaotic neutral

Pinterest

BACKGROUND

Born to a lower middle class family. His mother had two children from a previous relationship. He was right in the middle, but as a young child he never felt left out. He looked up to his older siblings and protected his younger one.

He was around seven years old when Tommy, his older half-brother, went missing. He didn’t really understand what was going on or the suspicions behind the situation. All he knew was his brother was gone and no one knew where he was. 

About a year later Tommy's body was found. There had already been a shift in the house, his mother was consumed with the media constantly bouncing from television show to public speaking appearances in search of her son. After they found his body and the police did little to nothing, she started her campaign to warn other parents and get real results. His father turned meaner and meaner as time went on. Once Tommy passed he seemed to take that anger and pain out on his remaining children. 

At first, Mitch was there to protect Jericho and Liz. While she couldn't always hide them away she was able to divert his attention away from him and his younger sister for the time she was there. He saw her as his safety and spent many nights asleep on her floor to avoid his father's drunken wrath. An anger he'd never fully understand. But then, all at once, Mitch was gone and Jericho was the main target of his father's rage and mother's neglect.

For years, he endured his household. For a long time, he waited to hear from Mitch. Hoping she would come back and take him and Liz somewhere or at the very least tell him where she went. In the meantime, he focused on protecting Liz and keeping her out of the line of fire. After a few years with not so much of a word and the constant beatings his father delivered to him on a regular basis, he lost hope. 

Around the age of sixteen, he couldn’t stand it anymore. He grabbed what he could and threw it in a backpack. Jer told Liz to do the same and they took off. It was hard, finding food and money and ways to clean themselves and their clothes. They managed, but barely. After a few months of sleeping outside, he ended up bringing Liz to the Redridge women’s center and asked them to help her find a safe place. He explained their home life and left her with a refillable cell phone to contact him if she needed anything at all. It was daunting for him to have to do. The man didn’t have a lot of feelings on the regular, but he hated having to leave her with strangers. She needed the option to go to school, have a bed to sleep in, know when she would get her next meal, and have clean clothes on her back. Some sort of normalcy that he couldn’t offer her surviving out on the streets. At the very least, though, he got her away from the house and to people who could help. He hoped they could and she knew how to get a hold of him if they didn’t. 

After awhile back on the streets, before he had the chance to turn seventeen, he was caught by a member of Valencia when he was trying to get shelter from a storm in one of their warehouses. Instead of tossing him out or killing him on sight, they decided to take him in. From there he became a street rat and eventually a soldier for the organization. Finally he'd found the family and solace he'd always needed. A place to channel all the anger he'd been harboring for years. 

The only thing that changed over the years was his relationships. An on again off again boyfriend he'd known since he was a teenager that knows everything about him. Though he struggles to come out to his fellow soldiers in fear he'd be rejected by them and back on the street. A source of turmoil between him and the other. 

He kept in contact with Liz, though tried to keep her away from Valencia in hopes she'd have a somewhat normal life. Recently, he's heard rumors of a journalist in town with a strong resemblance to Mitch but he'd yet to cross paths with her. He didn't know what he would say if he did or if he'd just turn and walk away like she did to him and Liz. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS

The Savior: this person was affiliated with Valencia and took Jer in when he was just a teenager out on the streets. He sees them as an older sibling or parent like figure. Out of everyone in Valencia they are the person he's most loyal to.

The Complicated Soulmate: See wanted connection for more info

Close/Best Friend: someone who has been with him since his street rat days. They just understood each other and are often seen together creating chaos in town.

Enemy: absolutely hates Jericho and wants to see him dead. The feeling is mutual but somehow, something is preventing them from going through with the job.

Frenemy: their banter is something to go down in the history books, both witty and while they don't hate each other they don't exactly love each other either. They talk a lot of shit to each other but at the end of the day they're there for each other if the other person needs help.

[gwenastor]

her full name is alaia kaplan, but she sometimes goes by n/a. caucasian cisgender female, twenty-seven years of age, with she / her pronouns. she was last seen working at the phoenix as a bartender and a soldier for valencia's street level sector. ( @redridgeimp​ )

❝ I AM FIRE. IF YOU WANT SOMETHING SWEET, WITH NO OPINION, I AM NOT THE WOMAN FOR YOU. I SPIT FLAMES, OFTEN. ❞

⇨  aesthetics ⍮ deft fingers stained with charcoal and oil paint, the melodic chime of piano keys, delicate digits adorned with moonstone gem rings, a coy smile spread across full crimson lips, long chestnut locks blowing in the cool breeze of a summer’s evening, battered books with dog-eared pages, the silvery glint of old scar tissue, ripped leather jackets and worn jeans, & blades concealed inside combat boots.

BONJOURNO. it me, chrissie, back at it again with a second muse. this gal right here is my fiery sassball alaia. she’s been thru some shit n has seen some shit so expect tons of sarcasm and attitude tbh, oop. once again, you know the drill, show this some luv n i’ll come pester you for plots : )

FUNDAMENTALS.

full name. alaia saphira kaplan.

current age. twenty-seven.

birthday. january twenty-seventh.

gender. cisgender female.

pronouns. she / her.

nationality. turkish.

religion. islam.

hometown. sivas, turkey.

past residence. manhattan, new york city, united states.

current residence. red ridge, nevada, united states.

sexual orientation. bisexual.

romantic orientation. demiromantic.

education. high school graduate.

occupation. soldier for valencia, & bartender at the phoenix.

CONNECTIONS.

birth mother. emel kaplan. †

birth father. kamâl kaplan. 

step-mother. cemile kaplan. 

full blood siblings. none.

step-siblings. none.

maternal grandmother. unknown.

maternal grandfather. unknown.

paternal grandmother. esrin kaplan. †

paternal grandfather. omer kaplan. †

maternal aunts. unknown.

maternal uncles. unknown.

paternal aunts. bahar kaplan.

paternal uncles. none.

PROFICIENCIES.

spoken languages. english, & turkish.

negative traits. capricious, ornery, brusque, reckless, & deceptive.

positive traits. ardent, resilient, independent, determined, & courageous.

strengths. etiquette, bold, rational, practical, original, perceptive, direct, & sociable.

weaknesses. dramatic, impulsive, quick-tempered, insensitive, impatient, risk-prone, unstructured, misses the bigger picture, & defiant.

skills. skilled with blades and various knives, hand-to-hand combat, perception, persuasiveness, good judgment, & able to use initiative.

talents. piano, retaining information, memory recall, knife throwing, & quick thinking.

APPEARANCE.

eye colour. light brown with amber flecks.

hair colour. natural, chestnut brown.

height. five feet, eight inches.

weight. 52 kg.

build. she is considered tall for a female and is of slender stature with mild curves.

dress size. uk size eight / us size four.

shoe size. uk size five and a half / us size six.

scars. a long, silvery one running along half her spine.

tattoos. none.

piercings. one on each earlobe.

prominent feature. wide, dark eyes.

MISCELLANEOUS.

zodiac. aquarius.

element. air.

house. ravenclaw.

myers briggs type. estp-t.

alignment. chaotic good.

enneagram. type seven.

temperament. sanguine.

intelligence type. interpersonal.

character label. the orphic.

past mental disorders. depression.

current mental disorders. depressive episodes.

addictions. cocaine.

vices. lust, wrath, & pride.

virtues. temperance, diligence, & patience.

allergies. peanuts.

diet. vegan.

accent. mostly turkish with a slight american twang.

dominant hand. right.

blood type. b negative.

felonies. none.

vehicle. bottle green 2015 volkswagen beetle.

BACKGROUND.

trigger warnings. implied child abuse, implied child neglect, implied alcoholism, implied violence, a brief mention of adultery, a mention of verbal abuse, mention of death, implied depression, & a brief mention of drugs.

[ tw ; implied child abuse, & neglect. ] Born into a world of devastation and loss, Alaia Kaplan's arrival into this universe was far from being a tranquil one. Instead of the welcoming arms and loving smile of her mother, the first sight the innocent girl witnessed was the weeping of her father. It wasn’t long until his tears eventually turned into angry fists and hatred shining in dark eyes. This was the only form of her father that Alaia knew, the only element of him that she could recall. From the instant she was old enough to figure it out, she knew that her father despised her. She knew that he blamed her for the death of his wife. Regardless of her upbringing, Alaia had remained optimistic and bright; both incredibly intelligent and adept. She was able to captivate others with both her appearance and her capabilities. Those in her company hung off her every word, often discovering themselves enthralled by a charming and sincere young girl. Regardless of her father's secured position within their community, she never looked for more than his approval and his affection. Though neither she ever received.

[ tw ; mentions of alcoholism, infidelity / adultery, & verbal abuse. ] Within the span of ten years, Alaia's father had found himself in the clutches of a bitter yet wealthy woman of upper-class. Soon, this woman became Alaia's stepmother and things only plunged further south afterwards. The woman drank copious amounts of liquor, ran around behind her husbands back, verbally abused Alaia and the list went on. She managed to manipulate her husband, able to further demolish any semblance of a relationship Alaia shared with her distant father. During this time, and within the blink of an eye, the girl turned hostile and indifferent. It was as if she had transformed into a polar opposite version of what she’d always been; metamorphosing into an alternate version of her former self. Once an upbeat and positive child, she became cold, less vibrant; void of both emotion and interest. She picked fights with her stepmother for the sheer kick she got out of it, rebelled against her father and found her once soft heart hardening as a result of years of enduring torment at the hands of her legal guardians.

[ tw ; mention of death, & implied depression. ] It wasn't long until Alaia was shipped off to live with her grandmother and aunt in the Turkish countryside. At first, it had taken the girl quite a while to adjust, to slowly convert into a portion of the person she was as a child. Alaia's adolescent years were a stark contrast to her life with her father. She was respected, admired and genuinely loved. Throughout the duration of her time there, Alaia was homeschooled, taught how to play various instruments, and how to speak multiple languages. She attended ballet lessons, joined art classes, held a strong passion for Literature. However, as all good things do, they come to an end. In Alaia's case, those few blissful years reached a rather abrupt cessation, taking a drastic plummet into darkness. She was eighteen when her grandmother passed away. As a result, Alaia lost control of herself and of her path in life. She spent weeks alone and aimless, wavering on her tracks. It wasn't until she and her aunt moved to New York City that Alaia's life began to turn around one more.

Back home, her aunt had been involved in the diamond industry, ensuring the quality and legitimacy of each rock she was handed. She'd allowed Alaia to shadow her, to study her methodology, and to assist under her direction. It was through this outlet that Alaia grasped the concept of gemology. Of how to examine precious stones and how to value them accordingly. It was a field that the brunette became extremely interested in and equally as intrigued by. Ultimately, in the end, the girl opted to pursue a temporary career in the jewellery business. It was during this period that a then twenty-one-year-old Alaia was approached by a member of a wealthy family, the type of wealth one gained by drug smuggling. She was offered the position of a quality assurance technician in their jewellery company. Little did she know, this meeting wasn't by sheer chance. It transpired that her aunt had connections with the syndicate, having brought her niece to the States to enlist her. It was due to this that the syndicate reached out, only too eager to hire Alaia as they had previously hired her aunt many years before.

[ tw ; mention of drugs. ] In the beginning, Alaia's role within the business was as innocent as she'd expected. She'd spend hours in the back, analysing gems and printing her signature on certificates. Obeying by every rule, following each order and never once questioning her superiors. After months upon months of this process, Alaia soon found herself roped into the world of drug dealing. Of smuggling little white pouches through emerald deliveries only to pass these packages through the appropriate channels. It was through this that she crossed paths with a client who, after many weeks, kindly invited her along to spectate an underground fight that he'd placed a hefty wager on. Immediately Alaia bought into the atmosphere of the arena, of the adrenaline pumping through her veins at the sheer vision of it all. It wasn't long until she wondered how exhilarated she could feel if she was the one in the ring, throwing the punches and sidestepping the blows. It was this passing thought that brought the girl back continually, placing bets and soaking in the ambience of it all. It was no surprise that she wound up deeply engrossed it becoming a part of it all. Thus, she trained as hard as she could, fought as hard as she could, made her mark upon the underground world and gained the respect of opponents and spectators alike.

Fast forward a few years and through her aptitude for fighting and her ability to outwit her opponents, Alaia found herself promoted to a regular within the club. For many months she continued to work at the jeweller's while regularly engaging in underground fights, maintaining a semblance on both worlds without permitting them to collide or spill over into her personal life. Finally, having grown tired and with a lust for change, she bid her time until the empire granted her release. Though she was no fool, packing up her belongings and venturing to finally set roots in Red Ridge. Naturally, she found herself drawn to Rogue’s Club where due to her strength, commitment and determination, a member of Valencia approached her. After some time, Alaia found herself promoted to a soldier. The promotion made sense and once it was offered, the girl seized the opportunity with both hands. All her life she had been determined and destined for greatness, even despite the cruelty of her childhood home. Nowadays, although Alaia continues to partake in arena matches every once in a while, her main priority is her duties as a soldier. Admittedly, it had taken Alaia a decent amount of months to adapt to the city of Red Ridge upon her arrival but eventually, she became well acquainted with her environment; never once wishing to go back to where she came from.

Throughout her twenty-seven years of life so far, Alaia has built herself back up time and time again. With every punch swung her way, physically and metaphorically, she has risen to her feet each time. For as clever as she is, she is just as resilient and stubborn. The need to prove people wrong is almost overwhelming but never to her detriment. While she continues to bear the emotional scars of her past, Alaia refuses to write herself off. She allows herself to admire people, history, art, music but she never grows comfortable enough that she is prepared to show even the people closest to her, her innermost, truest self. As a result of her upbringing, fragments of Alaia are broken beyond repair, lost to the depths of her mind yet deep down inside, the faintest sliver of that optimistic little girl remains. Was this the life she had envisioned for herself when she was a child with big dreams and wide eyes? Not exactly. But was it better than any alternative where she hadn't escaped the clutches of her horrid family? Without a shadow of a doubt. Where she is now is precisely where Alaia wants to be and perhaps this is the exact path she needs to take in order to fully emerge from the ashes of her haunting past.

WANTED PLOTS.

give me all of the connections from friends, frenemies, enemies, hookups, exes, rivals and everything else in between. added bonus if there’s angst or drama. if you have anything in mind feel free to throw it at me, i’m open to the majority of things and have zero triggers so come at me bro !! below you can find some connections i’d love for my lil ball of anger :

you’re a ghost from my past, haunting me. i think it would be very interesting to see alaia come face to face with someone who knew her before her arrival in red ridge. it would be even more interesting if this somebody knows her previous affiliation as a drug smuggler. maybe this person decides to blackmail alaia? or maybe they just want to know why she did what she did? maybe they are an ex-lover? either way, it would be exciting to see that kind of connection play out.

guardian by proxy. given her rebel nature and sarcastic outbursts, i feel that this chaotic girl needs some kind of parental figure in her life. lord knows, she needs one as she’s never had one. perhaps there is one particular person who knows her better than the rest? someone who knows her on a personal level and feels protective over her? maybe this person secretly checks up on alaia and keeps an eye on her from afar. really, this connection has endless possibilities but i feel that alaia having someone in her life that wholeheartedly has her back would help tame her wild side a little.

i don’t trust many but i do trust you. although alaia doesn’t make friends as easily as she did before, there would be one person in her life that she would deem worthy enough to confide in. this would be somebody that she could actually stand to be around and not under any false pretences either. it would have to be somebody that she knows she can trust 100% so for that reason, i would say they would have to be valencia affiliated. either way, i can see this person being someone that alaia actually cares for, somebody that she talks to regularly and spends time with.

there’s no friends like the old friends. this would be somebody who would have known alaia back in turkey or nyc. they could have been close friends or just acquaintances but this person might have known alaia’s family and possibly certain elements of her life when her father remarried. maybe they were a family friend or a friend she made when living with her grandmother. or somebody who knew her from her stint working in nyc. whichever, i imagine this person would be one of the rare people who actually knew the old alaia.

[redridgehq]

Happy Friday Red Ridgers!! Starting now (10pm EST) for the next 24 hours you may reblog the three ask memes reblogged onto the @redridgeimp blog.  

A few things: 

Not everyone has to participate, if you want to participate simply reblog the ask memes you’d like to be asked questions from onto ONE character blog 

You can answer memes after the 24 hours is up, we would appreciate them not being sent after.  

You may also send each other Honesty Hour questions, all you have to do is make a post that includes all of your characters’ links on one character blog.

You may only reblog the memes provided to avoid confusion. 

If you’re not sure what to do, please visit @azulevangelista​ as I will be posting her’s shortly after I post this as an example. 

Please be inclusive, this is our first weekend open and this can be a great way to explore characters and dynamics that may not have existed before the meme. 

Members, please like this message once you’ve seen it.

[dustlnds]

part three of rylan’s many idiots, meet your resident manic pixie dream girl natalie cassadaga! + more info, wanted connections. / @redridgeimp​

name: natalie jennifer valentine cassadaga nicknames: nat, nati, tiger (mostly reserved for damien) age: 29 ethnicity: white gender/pronouns: cis female, she/her sexual/romantic orientation: pansexual/panromantic been in red ridge for: seven years occupation: tattoo artist (at home), waitress (blue hill diner) affiliation: valencia, despite her unwillingness to admit it. as they helped her get a life in red ridge after fleeing las vegas through the person of damien kingsley, they’ve been holding this unspoken contract over her head for quite a while, demanding her help in the form of tattoos (she’s responsible for most of the v’s tattooed on the bodies of valencia members), nursing care (often dropping people who need to be stitched up / nursed at her place, since it’s so off the map), or carrying merch/goods across town. (might be, also, that the day after damien told her hey, you’re clean now, she felt the shadow self in her latch onto her vices, her filth, and when she asked someone in valencia for a dose she knew they’d hold it over her head, but she did it anyway. now a small brown bag containing her shame is hidden in a box beneath her bed: and that, like the way valencia shows up at her step every other week, is a reminder that perhaps she can’t ever be free). positive traits:  spontaneous, empathic, selfless, good spirited, kind, protective, creative, resourceful, spiritual. negative traits:  impulsive, naive, resentful, cowardly, self-destructive, insecure, frightened, weak.

BIOGRAPHY —

(WARNINGS for substance abuse, drug abuse, overdosing).

las vegas, nv, 2001. at ten she’s a spark begging to be ignited. a kid with a bright imagination, but her parents aren’t happy. school is hard for the girl who’ll spend hours covering textbooks in flowers — why should two plus two matter, she thinks, when i can make the paper bloom into whole gardens, full of creatures staring back at me, when i can create my own world? her parents have never been the kind to waste their days daydreaming. they look at their youngest daughter and think: where does she take it? all this carefree passion of hers, where does it come from? she lacks her father’s disposition for numbers, how clinically pristine they look when lined up one after the other, and how satisfying they feel when preceded by a plus sign on a bank invoice. she has none of her mother’s backbone, the way she carries herself as if pure, molten gold flew into her veins — staring everyone down, making herself taller. she seems to only have eyes for fleeting things, mundane passions: for her colors, for the music of a guitar, for the way the desert sand blows into her hair at sundown. come a couple years, all she has eyes of is the boy playing his guitar among the wrecks of a car parts graveyard — says his name is elvis and she knows that isn’t true, but in las vegas, somehow, you can make yourself be whoever you want to be. she smiles, and says her name is tiger instead: in another life, perhaps, she was fierce and with a bite.

las vegas, nv, 2008. at seventeen she’s golden spotlights on the vegas strip. atomic bomb waiting to explode, all summer glare and midnight rides into nowhere: it’s her and elvis in his daddy’s car and it feels like they could conquer the world, if they wanted. he sings to her, she dances for him, characters straight out of a ‘50s song, loaded with a naivety that tastes like the american dream. no time for overbearing parents, no attention paid in school: it’s just them, skin on skin, flowers blooming from her fingers in spray paint over abandoned buildings. this could last forever, she thinks, she begs, she prays: a life like this could last forever. (a life like this drains the best of her). elvis was born to be a king like his namesake, and he’s got dreams of fame and glory that don’t contemplate her presence. street artists never become rockstars, and she has time for nothing more than the creatures lunging out of her fingers, onto the paper. she’s skin and bones, ink and notes, like she could live off of music and drawings alone — and him, always him, a golden god, a forbidden hymn. the night he signs his first record deal she grabs her inks and her needles — tattoes a present on his skin, a crown for the king to be. and as she draws, she prays: that their dreams can be true, that this is not a happy chorus in a ballad, but a rock opera, a discography for the ages to come. she prays for him like a beggar at an altar: and maybe there’s magic in that crown she tattoos, there’s truth in the prayer she pours into it. he wins his dreams and leaves her behind: prayers always require sacrifices.

somewhere in nevada, 2013. at twenty-two she’s broken lightbulbs under strangers’ feet. she’s shards of glass she could cut people with, but it’s herself she harms; see, elvis’ gone but there’s tons of friends in his place. there’s mary jane, addy, crystal, lucy and all her diamonds. vegas is a wonderland, a new high hidden ‘round every corner, and kind people willing to hand ‘em out like candy to an hazy, improvised alice — the drawings grow darker now, shadows with caved-in eyes and hollow chests. the colors don’t come the way they used to, and when they do they all look like a shade of nightmares — blood red, nausea green, despair blue. she looks for answers in his songs: on the radio, in her mind, she swears he still sings about her. has to follow him to the middle of the desert, to a festival where he stands on a stage and people swear he looks just like the real thing, the king himself. she doesn’t see him, though, but a hole where all her strength used to be, the us against the world turned into the open jaws of a ravenous monster: us against the world, and then the world collapses. wonderland turns to the land of nightmares, and the needle, it is her salvation — down the rabbit hole, she thinks, and someone must come out on the other side. either her, or the ghost of her. either her, or her evil turned to flesh. there is no rabbit hole but a town called red ridge. there is no white rabbit but a man — a good man, a honest man, with an inclination to fixing broken things. he helps her up to her fit, treats her alike his daughter and his sister, and when he begins asking her to help fix the remains of a broken car, she begins to wonder whether he isn’t trying to fix her, too. sometimes he calls her tiger and she remembers when she fancied herself a wild and untamed thing, escaping cages, just following her instincts. under the heat of the south-west sun, she smiles. maybe all tigers were lost creatures at first.

red ridge, nv, 2020. at twenty-nine she’s neon gas begging to be lit up. there’s a tiger on her forearm, hides the scars of a previous life. there’s always ink under her fingernails, sometimes it seems it shines in the dark. red ridge has become her home; damien, lyla, rowan: her familt. the car she’d begun to fix with the man who helped her now has been colored bright pink and bears the name of flamingo, and she rides it out in the desert letting it add to the spirit in her heart — wild, untamed, free. her family becomes red ridge, becomes the darkenss of it too. she’s made herself a home in the sand: an old garage, turned inside out, now overflowing with flowers and colors, sparkling gems and drawings hanging at every corner — and a canary, otis, that sings her to sleep every night. she’s called it dustland, a sort of mythical place at the edge of red ridge, into the nothing, willing to welcome all the broken, all the wounded and the lost. but she loses herself too, now and then. at times she looks past the profiles of houses and buildings, and knows there’s a den of coyotes hiding among the ranks of valencia, which hold the key to that rabbit hole she once lost herself in. at night, when the desert gets cold and her bones don’t feel anything like a tiger’s — she swears she can hear the coyotes howl, beckoning. one night she caves in, asks them for a dose: she keeps it under her bed, lets it become her shame, and to avoid that secret getting out she helps the coyotes out anytime they ask. sometimes she feels she’s falling apart again. when she does, she turns to the ink to remind herself of how life was drained out of all shades, because of the needles in her arm. sometimes it’s enough to keep her breathing to the night. sometimes.

[hopesiick]

𝐉𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐀𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐃 // vice detective, thirty-three, red ridge native.

— unflinching, grudging, brainy, irreverent, plucky, mulish. loosely inspired by dominique dipierro (mr robot), laurie blake (watchmen hbo), eve polastri (killing eve), wendy byrde (ozark), and allie pressman (the society). this vine, too.

howdy, folks! i’m dev. 🤠 this is my dearest brain babie, jordan. normally, this is where i’d get all mushy-gushy on y’all, but the rest of this introduction is already too long as it is, and i’d rather not add insult to injury hehe. just know i’m happy to be here & even more excited to get to know you all + your brain babies, too! 🥳 @redridgeimp​​

— pinterest, stats + connections page.

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑: bullet points marked with three asterisks (***) feature mentions of domestic abuse and unfit parenting. reader discretion is advised.

the toussards are old money. her mother’s side of the family have made their fortune off of hay farms scattered across the state of nevada, and her father’s side of the family have mostly been cattle and dairy farmers. together, they decided to venture into real estate, too, by buying up farm land plots and selling them at a higher price, along with residential plots, too. 

they’re not showy people, but they definitely make good use of their money. jordan’s childhood home is a plantation-style house on a big ole plot of land situated on the outskirts of town. they had healthy green grass with sprinklers and a full garden. inside, everything was real wood, ivory, and silver. they had a maid and gardeners and the whole nine yards. still, if you hadn’t seen that or recognized their family name, you might have expected them to be any other family belonging to red ridge. 

to many, they gave off the image of a picture-perfect, all-american nuclear family. it’s easy to pretend, seeing as they live so far away from all the glitz and none of them -- no matter how they feel -- are willing to shatter that golden reputation, but it isn’t real. elise, her mother, wanted a doll more than she wanted an actual child, and it was society’s pressure on women to give birth that forced her hand, not any sense of innate desire for expanding the family. joseph, her father, was too caught up in his wife’s every wish and whim to really pay attention to jordan in a deep way. he never turned his back on her, but jordan never felt any deep belonging to him either -- if anything, he felt more like a 2d stand in for the father she wished she’d had. 

*** that meant there was only one adult left to really pick up her parent’s slack, and that was corinne, her aunt. corinne, who had an awful habit of bringing terrible men home. corinne, who was bipolar and unmedicated, and often in charge of taking care of jordan from the moment she was in diapers to the moment she graduated college. corinne, who was manipulated by her own sister. corinne, who was helpless to protect jordan against her mother’s attacks, and unable to shield her from the rage her boyfriends spat. corinne is like a mother to jordan. she was the hand that rubbed her back when she was sick. she was the open arms that held her when one of jordan’s teenage dates went sour. she was the one to cover for her when she snuck out and the one to teach her everything her mother considered too immoral and dirty. corinne is her mother in the way elise never could be, but still .. jordan can’t help but feel anger towards her. 

*** jordan’s known how to use, fire, and clean a gun from the age of eight. she learned how to hunt at the age of ten. she knew and helped her father field dress a handful of animals by the age of twelve. you may think this was just a bit of heavy-handed bonding between a father and daughter, but it wasn’t. elise and joseph used to go away a lot, both for pleasure and business, which left jordan in corinne’s sole care. that wouldn’t be a problem, if it weren’t for the fact that a grand majority of corinne’s relationships were abusive, specifically physically. jordan was a child, but she was a child with a duty -- a duty to protect her caretaker if necessary. at the time, jordan didn’t think much of it. she liked feeling like she had an in with her father, liked feeling important. it was only when she got older that she realized how fucked up everything had been, and how that’s the driving factor behind the feeling of fear she just can’t drop, and the mistrust she has in others. the anger she feels towards corinne is rooted in that. she can’t help but feel like it’s corinne’s fault and she hates that her aunt -- a fully grown adult -- was the center of her childhood, instead of her own self.

skipping forward a bit, jordan went to college right after high school to major in criminal science. her lifelong exposure to such abuse left her with a taste for vengeance. see, jordan wanted to be a police officer to protect her hometown, sure, but she also wanted the badge so that she could finally dish out the punishment that so many of the officers she’d seen were unwilling to. the only way to stop that culture of turning a blind eye was to do it from the inside, and that’s exactly what she did. 

jordan’s been a cop for twelve years now. she started her career doing patrol and eventually working with the gangs and narcotics team for five years. after a lot of pestering and brown-nosing, jordan became a g&n detective. she was mostly in charge of surveillance, carrying out raids, and the planning of both. ( she had an opportunity early in her career to go undercover, but jordan’s too obvious for that. ) eventually, jordan switched departments over to the special victims unit, but that stint really only served as a segue into where she is now: the vice and support department. she used to specialize in community outreach, helping bridge the gap between the community and the precinct. she worked with groups focused on helping those affected by drugs and sex workers who have been abused. when one of the detectives assigned to missing persons cases left, jordan was quick to apply for it. needless to say, she got the job and has been doing that since.

she’s got the nose for it -- all the digging and reviewing and passion for the relentless pursuit. she doesn’t particularly like dealing with the families of those affected, but it’s part of the job. on most days, she genuinely enjoys it, but with the rise in crime and the amount of deaths at their feet, jordan can’t help but rethink her choices. she’s competitive by nature; she can’t handle these losing games. 

jordan’s a very cutthroat cop -- especially in her g&n days, when it was all heat, all pressure, all the time. she’s got an eye for weakness and isn’t afraid to exploit that on the job. she’s not above making threats -- promises, really -- and has always been the type to gather as much evidence as humanly possible, because she wants prosecutors to see justice through. she’s just really efficient. she wouldn’t be where she was at only thirty-three if she wasn’t. most of the time, you can catch her putting in overtime hours. 

that being said... jordan has a big heart. she doesn’t believe in institutions as a whole, but she does believe in people. the law is the law and rules are vital for a functioning society, but .. she may be willing to look the other way sometimes, if you’re close enough. ( i mean, she was married to a valencia member at one point, so. ) she may not agree with what some people do, but she’ll really only go after you if what you’re doing is truly heinous. ( but don’t tell her supervisors! 🥺 and don’t mention the hypocrisy to her face. )

outside of work, though, jordan’s pretty chill. she used to be a loudmouthed firecracker in her youth, but she’s calmed down significantly since then. really, she’s not so bad! maybe it's because she can't handle being alone, but she thrives from being in groups + will strike up a conversation with anyone and everyone. if she likes your shoes, she'll tell you. if you need a ride home then she’ll walk with you because she’s most likely equally as inebriated. kind of the person that you’re hesitant to approach, but when you do she treats you like you’re old friends -- even if you're not. you know that drunk girl in the bathroom that gives you sagely advice or tells you she loves your hair? that’s jordan, except she’s not drunk. 

when jordan makes her mind up on something, it’s almost impossible to get her to budge. it doesn’t matter if she’s in the wrong, she’ll trudge on no matter what. her flippancy in the face of danger – a prized act at this point – has landed her in trouble before, and it most certainly will again. she’s unyielding and unapologetic; not willing to change herself for anyone. getting her to talk about her emotions is like pulling teeth, except even that would probably be easier. she’s incredibly honest about some things as a way to hide behind it; it’s a farce that distracts people into thinking she’s being honest with them, when really she’s not -- not entirely, anyway. 

loves love, but she’s rotten at it. her anxiety gets in the way, tells her that she’ll mess it up somehow until she finally does, like a self-fulfilling prophecy. ( something-something abt the fact that she can’t comprehend someone loving her if not even her own parents could ). she’s a much better friend, and jordan thinks that’s more important anyhow. genuinely, if you’re her friend then she loves you endlessly and earnestly.

𝒇𝒖𝒏 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒓 !

jordan is that friend that gets a little bit too into car karaoke.

she’s also the type to order a screwdriver during an 11a brunch.

it’s a wonder that she doesn’t have tinnitus, considering she always blasts heavy metal music in her car.

makes jokes about getting married and divorced, because if you can’t laugh at your pain then you’re fucked.

if you ever visit her unannounced, you’ll spot her in t-shirts that say “milf in training”, “god looks like me”, and more.

if you’re mean to her she’ll give you a parking ticket.

she plays dirty in fights. used to bite a lot as a child and she still does. all is fair in love and war, babie! enjoy getting that tetanus shot and lovely hospital bill! 💋

pantsuits from monday to friday, and overalls without a bra on the weekend because fuck that shit. also extremely partial to shirts with low plunges. a lil bit of side titty for everyone. 

if you’re leaving a drink behind she’ll finish it for you because daddy didn’t raise no quitters.

has a lot of self-worth issues, but she’d sooner die than ever tell anyone about them or even confront them herself. 

don’t let the pantsuit fool you! there’s pure muscle underneath that two-piece, babie. 

𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒄. 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔:

“i am the shape you made me. filth teaches filth.”

"can i be blamed for my efforts? all men are drawn to the sea, perilous though it may be."

"there is a place, deep in the heart of fear, where you trap yourself and claim that is safety."

"still, a great deal of light falls on everything."

"i hold a stalk in my hand. i am the stalk. my roots go down to the depth of the world."

“i always figured when i got older, god would sorta come into my life somehow. and he didn’t. i don’t blame him. if i was him i would have the same opinion of me that he does.”

“nothing washes off.”

“you cannot be stolen, ransacked, looted like an emptied bank account or a burgled house. you are the tough old tissues, the exquisite scars. you are the thing that would not die.”

𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚, 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒔 ! ( open to any gender ) 

jordan can’t function without a best friend, so.. gimme, please! 🥺🤲

i once read a passage talking about how the friendships you make in your childhood can never be mimicked in your adulthood, and you know what.. #true. where’s jordan’s childhood friends at? do they still keep in touch? did they have a massive fallout as teenagers where jordan told them to get hit by a truck because she was a very dramatic 16 yr old? were they frenemies? do they still have one of jordan’s things because she was terrible at remembering everything after a sleepover? did jordan’s parents help your muse’s family out? idc, just gimme!

exes / almost exes. remember what i said about jordan being a shit when it comes to love? they could’ve been serious at some point whether as adults or in their youth, maybe it was short-lived, maybe jordan never even let it get off the ground. could be on good terms or bad terms or no terms at all. 

neighbors!! jordan pulls some odd hours n sometimes plays her music a little too loud and burns her food more often than she should at 33 yrs old. she may or may not be the best neighbor to have is all i’m saying, but she tries!! 

friends!! platonic love is the most purest form of love there is and she’s got a lot of it to give!! come and get ya some! 

enemies / hateships because sometimes .. it just be like that. whether this has to do with a falling out of some sort, just straight up hate at first sight, or something to do with an encounter on the job, or something else entirely i’m here for it! 

one night stands / [old] fwb. i’m gonna be honest with y’all: if jordan likes you, then she can’t sleep with you. now, i’m gonna be honest with y’all again: jordan’s very much a yes-girl. she says and does things just to get a reaction sometimes or see what’ll happen ( something-something "sometimes if you let people do things to you, you're really doing it to them" ). that being said, she’ll sleep with just about anyone. maybe they don’t talk about it ever, maybe they only ever talk when they want something, maybe they regret it, maybe it’s all gucci, and maybe it was good until it wasn’t. idk! 

jordan has been shot twice in her career thus far. the first time was during a noise disturbance call and the second time was during a narc raid. if your muse wants in on that we can discuss the deets! 

and also literally whatever else your heart desires because i’m both here for the fluffiest deepest connections ever and also the angstiest makes-me-wanna-die type shit. i literally don’t say no to anything so if you have any ideas you think jordan can be a good fit for, i’m all ears!! 

[empiricst]

last but not least, the fourth of rylan’s knights of the apocalypse, meet fbi profile / serial killer obsessed weirdo camille thomas! + more info, wanted connections. / @redridgeimp​

name: camille may thomas nicknames: cam, thomas age: 31 ethnicity: white gender/pronouns: cis female, she/her sexual/romantic orientation: pansexual/panromantic been in red ridge for: born and raised, though she left at the age of eighteen to pursue a degree in criminal psychology, then quickly joined the fbi and spent most of her days either at quantico or travelling around the states, following cases. occupation: fbi profiler affiliation: police rank: special agent (fbi - consultant for red ridge pd) positive traits : clever, observant, protective, kind, empathic, intuitive. negative traits : obsessive, manipulative, impulsive, self-destructive, reckless, secretive, mistrusting.

BIOGRAPHY —

(WARNINGS for murder, gore, suicide, racial profiling, racism, alzheimer’s).

red ridge, nv, 1989. camille is born on the day that marks the beginning of the rorschach killings. she is six hours old when her father, detective jeffrey thomas, is called on the scene where the first body was found: camille and the murderer later known as rorschach are, in a way, born at the same time.

deeth, nv, 1995. each body found takes a piece of jeffrey’s mind with them and he has begun to wash away. camille is young, and naive, but she can see it: fading out of the picture, he’s less her father every day, more a vague stain whose edges she can’t contain. july 22nd a new body is found, and in his rush to leave he forgets to lock the door to his study. she is a curious child, her thirst for knowledge, like his thirst for truth: uncontainable. she sees pictures, photographs, sketches. she senses evil in them, she should not be looking at them: still there’s a strange fascination in each array of pale bodies and blood, and she begins sketching these in the privacy of her bedroom, when mom and dad are asleep, or out there fighting the monsters.

ruby valley, nv, 1996. a christmas present to the good people of nevada: rorschach was found. it wasn’t her father who caught him, but his partner, detective frank d'angelo — on christmas night her father was muttering at the window that they’d gotten it wrong, they were going to see. but he’s been kicked out of the force months ago, and camille was happy, thought this would mean he would spend time at home and they’d finally go fishing like he’d promised. they never go fishing. her christmas present is a sweater her mother knit for her. she looks at her with teary eyes, and says i’m sorry: this won’t make up for the warmth we lack.

west wendover, nv, 1999. something’s wrong: someone else has died. she’s old enough now to understand how it works, how the nightmare should’ve ended when they caught the murderer daniel flores, also known as rorschach— but the killings continue and it’s clear there’s been a miscalculation. uncle frank comes home often now, and he and jeffrey spend hours in his study, trying to piece everything together. sometimes camille presses her ears to the door and steals bits of dialogue. “her blood”, “his skin”, “the motive”, “identity”. at night she draws stain-like sketches and gives them all a title: her blood, his skin, the motive, identity.

red ridge, nv, 2003. her birthday comes with a funeral. first it was FLORES, who hung himself in his cell with shoelaces he never should have had in the first place. then it was her father: shot himself in the head by the desert he promised he’d take her to teach her how to drive. she wasn’t surprised — she’d seen the color leak out of him bit by bit, and people need color to survive. they lower his casket in the ground on the day she’s supposed to turn into a teenager (but she’s older, much older now: she’s woman and mother and crone, and the weight of the world is taking residence on her shoulders, today). after the funeral, she stands by that same spot, staring back at the sand, imagining her father standing there. then a manemerges, like ink in the water, from the woods. he is sad, he is broken: she doesn’t know him, but knows the sorrow pouring from his eyes, so eager to drown anything around it. she asks who he is, why is he there, why does he look so sad? he just stares and says he’s sorry. then, like ink in the water, disappears.

red ridge, nv, 2006. over the summer, her house becomes claustrophobic. her mother’s sorrow is tangible, even if fading out from her own mind: it chokes her daughter. a summer job comes as a salvation — camille spends her days at the local police precinct, sketching the faces of petty criminals to be found so quickly she proves to be a vital resource for the force. he was right, wasn’t he? detective d'angelo, who recommended her: trying to make amends for her father, perhaps. her mother gets worse every day. she loses herself in mazes of her own memories, and one night she begins crying, pleading “algernon, algernon, algernon —”. camille struggles to fall back asleep, but when she does she sees a face she has seen three years before: she’d forgotten it but it’s clear now, etched into her memory. the face of sorrow, the face of fragmentation.

quantico, va, 2013. her intuition is a superpower: she knows characters, she recognizes their traits. when she joins the FBI she’s one of the most promising young profilers of her generation — her sketches gain quite the fame, but it is not the path she wants to pursue, or not entirely. her studies have focused on criminal psychology, and perhaps she is looking for something, for an answer. a key to uncover the enigma sitting at the back of her mouth. she devours criminology books to draw a deeper understanding of the evil of the world, but the enigma at the back of her mouth feeds off of them. it begins taking a shape, a shadow-self latched onto the unfinished question her father had posited, but could never answer. that night she digs up all her father’s materials, and stares at the blood sprays of the crime scenes, like rorschach stains on paper, and asks herself: what do you see?

red ridge, nv, 2020. special agent thomas’ birthday is a funeral. not yet: but the body before her is cold, devoid of life and color. michael kaspar has died, at the blood around him resembles wings, or a cape, or a crown. special agent thomas has seen this before: to anyone else that was an old case, buried and safely removed from the minds of those who covered it up, but she knows it so intimately she can’t turn away. it is the same old question, echoed by each victim until the latest one: what do you see?

[roadklls]

hello, rylan (27, she/her, gmt+2) again, introducing you to my lil angry hedgehog by the name of kara davidsen + more info, wanted connections. / @redridgeimp​

name: kara davidsen nicknames: n/a age: 31 ethnicity: Indigenous (Awaetlatla First Nations + Himalayan; this is unknown to them, as their arrival in the orphanage was not met with any information regarding their biological family). gender/pronouns: genderfluid, they/them, she/her sexual/romantic orientation: pansexual/demiromantic been in red ridge for: on and off all their life occupation: criminal (mostly drug dealing atm) affiliation: none (deviant, though occasionally will lend a hand to valencia or whoever needs it) positive traits: loyal, observant, clever, headstrong, generous, determinate. negative traits: proud, aggressive, cold, hot-headed, cruel, resentful.

BIOGRAPHY —

(WARNINGS for child abandonment, abuse, bullying, substance abuse, medical misconduct / patient abuse, overdosing, death, violence).

red ridge, nv, 1989.  left, discarded like unwanted leftovers — they found them in a cardboard box, half-freezing, on the doorsteps of the charming orphanage. they were given a name that was supposed to be temporary, until a family would pick them up: kara. something breaking, something thunderous, like the storm raging on the night they’re found. their last name davidsen, from the orphanage of st. david’s. lost in the world, but they soon found an ally in a child left, discarded like they were — delphine, though sharing none of their blood, became their sister.

red ridge, nv, 1993. it was clear from the very beginning that the two would have to fight teeth and nails for their place in the world, but their bond served as a double-edged weapon, kept them safe with one another and the rest of the world away. the two barely ever left each other side, and kara, in particular, soon developing a violent protectiveness over their sister. this bond would allow them to sustain the abuse, the violence, the difficulties they were soon thrown into the second they were assigned to their first foster family. it is a poisonous environment, one that corrupts the valorous side of them to leave the broken parts behind, the damage. together, they fight back. together, they survive.

red ridge, nv, 1999. taken out of the foster family, they both return to st. david’s. it’s not a victory, but it’s the chance for something better to happen - kara won’t admit it, but they hold hope someday this might have a sense. find a family for the both of them, with food on the plate and fresh clothes every day.

red ridge, nv, 2001. delphine might just get that. changes of getting out st. david’s are always slim (there’s a thing about kids grown in the desert, they bark and bite as if coyotes themselves have been the one raising them), but delphine is taken away. off to a good family, off to a better family: the bond, the magical bond that had kept them fighting through the various different wildfires life had enjoyed putting them through, it suddenly broke. kara was left behind. dumbfounded, angry, a question left ringing in their head without the knowledge to put it into coherent words: what’s the point of loving, what’s the point of caring — if it all gets taken away?

red ridge, nv, 2003. but they do love, and they do care. in their own misguided, clumsy way; and one day they bring another kid in the orphanage, two years their younger, a scared, wide-eyed kid. the other kids enjoy teasing him, enjoy the look he gets when they knock the glasses off his face and he has to go scramble to find them. kara hates that. kara enjoys putting themselves between them and him and grin at them: say come on, what are you gonna do? what’s that, are you afraid? (maybe they mimic the way delphine would look after them. maybe, in their own half broken language, they are just trying to summon delphine — or their spirit, the protective archetype of an older sibling — back into their bones. they vow they will protect eric, even though they have to endure the other kids’ beatings in his place. but one day it is too much: we gotta get out of here, they say to him one night, after they found the other kids collecting punches in eric’s gut and the tutors pretending to look the other way. we gotta get out of here.

somewhere across the nevada / utah border, 2005. breaking out wasn’t the hard part; by now kara knew exactly how to slip out, just had lacked a motivation to leave the orphanage. the hard part is when they’re out in the cold, freezing their asses off somewhere in utah, trying hard to find a fucking way to live and coming up empty. they steal cans of meat from a barn; the owner finds them, threatens them both, a shotgun aimed at kara’s throat. he sees something in them, and then somehow understands: these aren’t thieves. these are assets.

eureka, ut, 2006. scott halbridge has a lot of flaws, but one couldn’t say he isn’t a resourceful man. there isn’t a single felony he and his makeshift clan haven’t dabbled with, even just for a taste of it — and the two orphans he found in his barn might just help him grow his business. the younger kid, the one with the glasses, is soft and unassuming but he’s got a skill — he’s good at handling drugs, he’s good at selling ‘em too. the other one, the girl (he keeps calling them that and kara wants to bite the vocal cords off his throat but they won’t; they won’t, he won’t understand, it’s better they just play nice) — kara’s tougher to handle. but they’re great at kicking ass, and when needed they can slip in and out of buildings and steal shit without anyone ever noticing it. they’re both extremely useful. but eric gets to try the merch he sells and he begins growing a sweet tooth for it. when the money he brings back to scott every week grows shorter by one, two, ten doses — that’s when he understands. and his way of making eric understand, too, is by jumping on him, bashing in his head, slamming him against the wall. kara doesn’t think — it’s a single instinct that leads their arms to move, retrieving the shotgun by the side of scott’s desk, aiming, shooting. the shotgun recoils back and throws them off their balance. kara falls, but so does scott: his brain sprayed all over the walls. panting, eric stares at kara. they know what he’s seeing: something damaged. something terrifying. kara breathes, wipes the blood off the side of their cheek. “we gotta go”, they say, and then they’re on the road again.

elko, nv, 2010. another kind of scott halbridge ends up taking them in. a gang of sorts, someone who has use for their talents. kara’s attitude for fighting and taking one, two, a hundred punches, proved them to be a great resource for the needs of criminal enforcers. eric’s charm, instead, proved once again to be a fruitful assets in selling drugs: they found a life of their own, as unlawful as it was, and kept surviving on their own.

carlin, nv, 2013. eric was too soft for this world. kara had known from the beginning, and yet it still caught them off guard. the drugs got the best of him, swallowed him whole — after he’d given in to a manic episode in public, he was forcefully committed to a rehabilitation facility where the limits of ethics were more than a little stretched. they’d abuse him verbally, physically, use prescription drugs on him too liberally until he was left a screaming, aching mess of a human being. once kara learned of this (once they were able to track the place they’d taken him to), they followed through with the promise they’d made with delphine years before, the one that the loss of delphine had  led to breaking but had to be respected now, for it was sacred: them against the world, no matter what. somehow, kara managed to break him out of the facility. somehow, he got his hands on drugs again. eric overdosed at the age of 22.

red ridge, nv, 2014. though kara had known anger all their life, this was the first time they experienced pain. on their own, with no destination, or even a reason to keep moving forward, they ended up back in the place where they’d began. red ridge, nevada — old contacts allowed her a way into the safe, usual business of fucking around and stealing cars, selling drugs, whatever could get them by. they were good at dealing, even good at fighting for respect. within years, they had a decent business network going on. though they didn’t care about valencia’s business in the city, and the many gangs trying to start shit in town, never did, really — they found the conflict, the violence, to be the healing balm for their aching soul. they soon began fighting at rogue’s club: though lacking discipline or any sort of training, they’d been fighting since the day they were born and could take punches for hours. the pain became a shelter, a relief. it kept them alert and out of their sorrow, out of their weakness. her life became a pantheon for violence — the fights, the ghosts, and the drugs she wouldn’t use. each of them a replacer for something she couldn’t get anymore. each blow landing against her ribcage, a reminder: this is for delphine, the way she was taken and gone forever, and perhaps a part of them had hoped coming back to red ridge would make her show up again, summoned by memories and whatever bond they’d shared — that’s a fairy tale, isn’t it? they always fucking hated those. this is for eric, the way he vanished out of thin air, no matter how much they tried to hold his molecules together, force shapeless air back into the container of his body. this is for their inability to accept it. this, at last, is for kara davidsen and all that’s left of them. a bag of bones, a blooming of bruises. and their anger: so thick, so venomous you could smell it in the air.

[stfreds-a]

hello everyone! this is rylan (27, she/her, gmt+2) here to introduce you to the lil nugget of fucked up-itude that is freddie dawson! + more info, wanted connections. / @redridgeimp​

name: fredericke ann dawson nicknames: freddie, fred, st. fred age: 33 ethnicity: white gender/pronouns: cis female, she/her sexual/romantic orientation: bisexual/biromantic been in red ridge for: five years occupation: bartender at st. peter’s affiliation: none positive traits: nurturing, clever, good spirited, humorous, wise, motherly, diligent, quiet, loyal, protective. negative traits: closed off, impulsive, proud, resentful, self-deprecating, bitter, frightened.

BIOGRAPHY —

(WARNINGS for depression, death, abuse / domestic abuse, violence, underage sex, prostitution, child abandonment).

“why’d you get so obsessed with that word, freddie? who told you about saints?” “grandpa did, he said he’s named after st. peter”. “and why do you care?” “‘cause he said saints do good things. i wanna be a saint, too”. “why on earth would you want that?” “‘cause, ma — i wanna save everyone”.

—

there’s a lifetime from that moment to now. she can remember it, but it comes in flashes, a hazy hue of desert gold — she remembers the girl she was, bright-eyed and restless, never shying away from the trail of a question. prying, relentless: the whole world could be simplified to reasons and whys, and she would hunt them the whole day long, out in the dust storms like the wind, not even it could dare question her spirits. whatever happened to that girl? dull, watered down: erased, and her own has been the hand rubbing her existence off her own life.

el paso, texas, 2002. she couldn’t tell how it happened, or when it began — surely that summer of eighteen years ago must have played its part. her mother losing her job (too tired, too tired all the time: too sad to see a doctor, too weak to even get out of bed anymore), bills piling up. her older sister trying hard to keep things afloat with an underpaid gig at the laundry, but it’s not enough. it’s never enough. one day grandpa comes home and he’s making math in his head, calculating how much longer they can survive if he sells the farm, the truck, the horse. that night freddie asks, how come their dad’s not around? he could provide, he could help them? grandpa grows colder then, gaze darker than the clouds gathering on the horizon: i’ll burn this place to the ground before he sets foot in here.

that side of the family, either way, is cunning and insidious, and it comes knocking at the door, offering business, a way to salvage the farm. it is victor, freddie’s uncle, who brings the offering: grandpa throws him out in spite, and freddie watches it all while she’s sitting on the fence outside, skin burning gold from the sun, dust sticking to her like glitter. you’re pretty, victor says: you might be your family’s only chance, you know? she doesn’t (can’t) understand, but she’ll walk any way that can save grandpa, his horse, her mother’s strength, her sister’s dreams of becoming a nurse.

turns out the way is a dark and winding one, one where she has to suck up the terror when a man touches her skin and she has to say yes, please, more, i’ll be anything you want, the key to unlocking all the dark and sick desires you’ve buried in there and can’t speak to anyone, not your wife, not your daughter, not your mother: give them to me, she whispers, let the darkness out. at night she takes hour-long showers to try and rub the darkness off of her, and it won’t come off, it never does — but grandpa didn’t have to sell the farm, and even if he was against her getting a job (said she’d be a waitress, don’t worry pops, i got it), the day he realized he wouldn’t have to sell the horse he smiled: it felt like the gates of heaven themselves would open.

she hates her job, but doesn’t mind the company. they make her work in a dismissed motel, along with girls about her age and her damage, and there is an unspoken bond of loyalty between them — the guys, too, when they’re guarding the doors they smile at them as fondly as they would their sisters (but they wouldn’t let their sisters in a place like this, no). there’s carl, who never speaks but smiles at fred each time he sees her. there’s billy, drives her home every night before victor can volunteer. there’s sonja, who teaches her how to punch a man’s throat when he gets too handsy. there’s a sense of family, while her own begins unraveling around the suspicion that something dark is going on.

el paso, texas, 2005. the farm is saved, but mom’s not getting any better. depression sucks her up, little by little, and she drifts away more or less peacefully, doesn’t dare oppose resistance — she dies a morning of october, and neither of her daughters can speak of it. grandpa has to put down the horse a week later. she’d thought she’d saved everyone —— how come the darkness still won’t leave?

she grows sadder, dark as the clouds that won’t seem to leave their town alone. she finds an unexpected shoulder to cry on in the person of johnny, billy’s cousin and yet another one of victor’s men: johnny’s sweet, he makes her laugh. he begins driving her home at night instead of billy (his cousin’s not happy, she can see this: but he nods his agreement anyway and doesn’t protest, he can’t, johnny’s older and wiser and he’s still just a kid). the rest of it is as old and predictable as it gets: he says he’ll make an honest woman out of her, she retorts there needs to be an honest man for that to happen to begin with. they laugh, they kiss, they promise — five years later, she’s twenty-five and married, almost happy. almost.

el paso, texas, 2006. she wants to leave her job. johnny said he can’t stand the thought of someone touching her where he should, and she tries: but victor won’t have it, no, did you think it was a temporary gig? come on girl, you’re smarter than that. he’s filthy, he humiliates her — beats her just to prove he can, he owns her. she comes home with bruises and johnny’s angry: if you couldn’t quit, he says, it’s because you didn’t really want t. his bruises are added to victor’s, perfectly symmetrical blooms to decorate her skin. she begins cracking, her very essence tearing at the seams — she was trying so hard to save everyone, how the fuck is she gonna save herself now?

billy comes over sometimes. his commitments to what he likes to call “street things” keep him out of the motel now, but he needs to check on her — she makes up excuses to keep away, hide the signs. says she’s got a bad cold one day, the other she’s just not feeling. one day he’s got enough and forces her to open the door: a busted lip, both her eyes grown purple with the blows. his anger is scalding hot but she manages to calm him down — it’s okay, she says, he just gets angry sometimes. i’ll find a way out of it somehow. he leaves in a hurry, never shows up again: the unspoken fear in her mind, that he’s gone and done something terrible he’ll regret, almost brings a relief to her sore mind. perhaps he’s killed him, she thinks. perhaps i’m free.

johnny comes back and it’s business as usual. she tells herself she’s gotta be strong, gotta leave this town, gotta make it out alive. she packs a bag and leaves it hidden under the bed, but when she looks at the door she sees the world with johnny’s face, ready to eat her up, chew her out, over and over. it’s the day police comes knocking at her door that the world drags her out — in the person of detective jake graham, investigating the disappearance of william ‘billy’ dickinson — part of a much bigger investigation, that sooner leads to the arrest of victor rosce and most of his men (johnny included). she’s on her own: and when the detective figures out she needs help, he makes the way for a new life in red ridge, nevada. beaten, broken, ashamed, she says goodbye to texas; to freddie dickinson; to the comfortable shelter of her fear.

red ridge, nevada, 2015. red ridge ain’t much of an afterlife, but it works. they take her to a women’s shelter and bit by bit she puts her pieces back together. badly held in place, like a broken teacup taped back together — but it works. azul, the director of the shelter, turns out to be the family she’s missing — she finds a sense of home in the shelter, a new purpose behind the counter of st. peter’s, serving drinks for those who are heading for a fight at rogues’. like a gatekeeper, like st. peter himself: such a stark contrast from the hell she just left.

heaven is short-lived, and hell comes knocking back at the door. it appears in the shape of two parallel lines on a pregnancy test: johnny’s seed, rooted in her womb, giving way to evil like himself. she wants to throw up, hopes somehow that’ll rid her of this curse — her vision blinded, her ears are ringing. in fear, she turns to the only place she knows can provide comfort, or advice, or any sort of guidance while she has no fucking clue how to fix this: back home, to her sister.

el paso, texas, 2016. grandpa’s dying, angie says. old age catching up to him, so all he does is lie in his bed all day and ask for movies to be played continuously on his tv. it’s an odd family they recreate now, the nurse, the dying man and the pregnant sister. there is a soft, mournful balance found, until one night victor shows up demanding to see her and when angie claims freddie isn’t there he has his men beat her grandpa, thrash the house just to get the point across: he can. he owns her.

she sits by her grandpa’s deathbed that night and weeps. i’m sorry, pops, i’m so sorry: i tried so hard to be a saint, to save everyone. perhaps he’s just exhaling, but it sounds like he’s laughing. child, he says, saints always die either virgins or martyrs. you fucked up the first — now you just gotta pray you’re good enough for the latter.

somewhere between texas and nevada, 2016. grandpa dies two weeks later, and freddie’s not there. right after victor’s visit, angie gave her money just to get her away from them, and bring her trouble with her — grandpa dies a week before her baby’s born, taken out of her and delivered into a nurse’s hands without so much as a goodbye. they ask, would you like to see your baby? freddie turns and pretends she didn’t hear. wherever the baby will end up, it’s gotta be a better fate than the child of a martyr.

red ridge, nevada, 2017. red ridge felt like a home. for a hot second, it felt like things could start over again. she ends up in it again — in the thick of a burning town, trying to make her way through people that do not belong to her, desperately looking for something to hold on to. a year has passed since she last set foot in town, but st. peter’s has been waiting for her; the same arrangement of unfinished business, too. little by little, in red ridge, she begins putting herself back together.

CURRENTLY fred is a bartender at st. peter’s, occasionally lends a hand to azul evangelista for the women’s shelter, is in a committed relationship with detective jake graham. her uncle, her husband and most of their gang are in jail after the investigation jake led back in 2015. she hasn’t heard from her sister ever since leaving el paso. her baby was given up for adoption and she never learned anything more about them — nor does she plan to.

[domxhunter]

@redridgeimp​ Dom’s Intro!

BASIC INFORMATION 

Full Name: Domenico Lee Hunter

Nickname(s): Dom, Nico

Age: 34

Date of Birth: May 2nd, 1986

Hometown: Los Angeles, CA

Current Location: Red Ridge, NV

Gender: cis male

Pronouns: he/him

Sexuality: heterosexual/romantic

Religion: raised catholic, not practicing

Occupation: financial analyst for Valencia Industries

Language(s) Spoken: English, some Italian

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Face Claim: Justin Baldoni

Hair Colour: Dark Brown

Eye Colour: Brown

Height: 6’2” or 185.4 cm

Tattoos: V for Valencia on his wrist, often covered by his sleeves

Piercings: none

Clothing Style: business formal at work, a lot of suits, ties, button down dress shirts, etc. At home he wears casual clothing, sweat pants, shorts, cotton t-shirts, sweaters, hoodies, etc. 

HEALTH

Physical Ailments: needs reading glasses 

Neurological Conditions: none, though he suffers from anxiety but nothing diagnosed

Allergies: latex and cats

Sleeping Habits: he tries to keep a pretty regular schedule so he usually goes to bed at a decent time on weekdays and gets up early, average 6-8 hours a night. if his wife isn’t there he doesn’t sleep well and often is found sleeping on the couch with the television still on.

Eating Habits: breakfast is usually a shake or something quick like yogurt or oatmeal unless he has time to make something more like the weekends or mags cooked, lunch he tends to eat at his desk and he’ll either bring a sandwich or salad or leftovers or go get something from the lunch cart, on weekends he eats with his family. Dinner is always with his family and they try to eat healthy for the kids, he likes to cook so if he can get home on time he’ll try to make something. 

Exercise Habits: Semi-regularly, he likes to run so whenever he gets the chance he’ll go for a morning jog and tries to do push-ups and squats for a full workout, he goes to the gym when he can.

Sociability: fairly social, he likes to have conversations and meet new people, go out for drinks, hang out at family orientated events, hold barbeques, etc. 

Body Temperature: warm

Addictions: caffeine

Drug Use: he experimented in high school and college but never continued

Alcohol Use: occasional, no more than a glass of wine/beer/drink a day unless he goes out or is at a barbeque

PERSONALITY

Positive Traits: attentive, dependable, industrious, methodical, temperate

Negative Traits: overcritical, possessive, jealous, cowardly, impulsive

FAVOURITES

Weather: sunny clear skies, warm

Colour: blue

Music: classic rock, classical, pop

Movies: comedy

Sport: rugby

Beverage: iced tea or a cold beer

Food: all things pasta and garlic bread

Animal: dog

FAMILY

Father: Antonio Hunter

Mother: Viola Hunter (deceased)

Sibling(s): none

Children: Teagan Hunter (12) and Boy Hunter (3)

Other family: Magnolia Hunter (wife)

Pet(s): TBD

EXTRA

Zodiac Sign: Taurus

MBTI: ESTP

Enneagram: 9 - the peacemaker

Temperament: melancholic

Moral Alignment: lawful neutral

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/kitmeowza/ch-domenico-hunter/

BACKGROUND

Domenico's life started with tragedy. Due to complications during the labor, his mother passed away after giving birth to him. He was positive this was the first time he disappointed his father who had a hard time looking at him as he looked just like her. 

Antonio owned a talent agency in Lost Angeles, CA and his mother had been an actress he represented. He was quite the agent and eventually grew his business to the point that he no longer needed to be an agent and could run it from behind the scenes. This didn't mean he was any less busy, however. He remarried and devoted most of his free time with his new wife. 05

For the most part, Dom was raised by nannies and later sent to a boarding school in the city, coming home only on weekends where he was mostly left to his own devices while his father and stepmother attended social functions and parties. 

Naturally, he vied for Antonio’s attention and when he didn’t get it he found other outlets. He played lacrosse, which helped work out a lot of aggression, and started to party and cause trouble at school. Bad attention was still attention and his behavior got just that from his father. This continued throughout high school. He did the opposite of what his father wanted for him. 

He wanted him to do things like drama and theater or music, things he could make a career with through him. Instead, Dom played sports, got mediocre grades due to the extracurricular activities he was involved in from partying to minor shoplifting and joyriding with his friends. Nothing serious, but enough to have his chances at college threatened.

By some miracle, he managed to get his grades up senior year and qualify for a lacrosse scholarship to UCLA where he majored in economics and accounting. While it didn’t please his father he found a new sense of freedom on campus. He had a group of friends, kept up with his classes for the most part and ventured more into the dating world even though he hated most of the women in LA because they reminded him of his step-mother, fake and full of themselves.

One of the women he dated ended up introducing him to Mags, who he would eventually marry and call his soulmate. She called her “her weird roommate” but Dom ended up liking her a lot more and they started dating. After a couple years, she revealed to him by way of a greeting card that she was pregnant. He asked her if it was a good or bad thing and when she said she wanted to have it, he was over the moon. Still, terrified, but happy all the same. 

From then on he stopped the partying and the messing around, he focused hard on his studies and getting a good paying job so he could provide for Mags and the new baby on the way. When he graduated he was already a new father and his own father didn’t even attend the graduation. 

A few years and failed internships and shitty jobs later, he got word of a position in Red Ridge, NV. He applied and was accepted for the position. Dom and his new family picked up and moved there, only later he found out the risky side of Valencia and what his position really entailed. The money was something he couldn’t look away from and he made the choice to take the risk, despite that he could lose everything if the company went down. 

Because of the money, he was able to afford a ring and asked Mags to marry him one night before they went to bed. Several years later they had their son, and while he still worries about Valencia, things are going well. Dom is nervous it won’t last. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

Co-Workers (multiple): People who work in the business side of Valencia or that can help connect him to businesses that Valencia can work with. They can have a good relationship or a bad one. Rivals or close acquaintances.

Friends (multiple): Someone to have a drink with, invite over for dinner, grab coffee or lunch, pretty self-explanatory

Best-Friend (0/1): The person who isn’t his wife that is by his side through thick and thin, and the other way around. This person knows him well and he trusts them. Probably made them the god-parent to his kids. 

Enemy: Someone who wants to take him or Valencia down or both.

[jennymann]

hey, everyone! i’m a little late to the intro party but i’m so happy and excited to be here! i’m bucky (21, she/her, est). i’m bringing you my mess of a woman, jenny. i currently have a stats page for her HERE and a pinterest board that i’m in love with right HERE. 

name: jenny ingrid mann nicknames: jen age: 34 ethnicity: white gender/pronouns: cis female, she/her sexual/romantic orientation: bisexual/biromantic been in red ridge for: seventeen years occupation: bus and taxi driver affiliation: none but is willing to work for anyone sun, moon and rising: scorpio sun, sagittarius moon, and gemini rising positive traits: charming, alluring, profound, humorous, and passionate. negative traits: dependent, fickle, selfish, flighty, and self-deprecating.

OVERVIEW OF JENNY’S BACKSTORY. @redridgeimp​

TRIGGER WARNINGS: child abuse, radical religion, apocalypse mentions, and animal death.

Grew up in a very small town in Texas.

Has two sisters. One older, one younger. Jenny is the middle child.

Parents are extremely religious to the point where religion basically ran their lives.

Jenny’s father feared the end times, believing that the end of the world could come at any time.

Due to this, they had a large bunker located under their home filled with food, supplies, and other various things. 

Jenny was always a little troubled. She used to start little fires in their yard as a teenager.

By the time Jenny was 17, her father believed he was sent a message from God stating that his daughters didn’t take his beliefs seriously.

He ended up planning out a fake apocalypse to scare his children. He even killed a tiny bird and placed it onto the front step of their home to scare his daughters, making them believe the air was becoming toxic.

They all raced to the bunker after this, Jenny and her sisters crying and praying for themselves and the world.

They stayed there all day and all night, Jenny forced to look out the dusty little skylight inside their bunker in complete and total fear. 

After it was revealed that it was all a test, her father wanting to test their limitations and beliefs, Jenny decided that enough was enough.

Her and her sisters fled the nest, moving here to Red Ridge. Jenny knew some people (arguably not the best people) who could help them out.

Jenny has been here ever since, working various jobs here and there before settling as a bus and taxi driver. 

Her sisters have moved on. Married, babies, the whole thing. They don’t talk much anymore thanks to the trauma they experienced as children. 

Jenny is currently a Deviant in Red Ridge. Her area of expertise is identity theft and theft in general. She can steal anyone’s likeness and make it her own, all while stealing from others in the process. It’s best to keep your wallet close while around Jenny. But even so, she’ll get it somehow.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

FWB

ex-FWB

Exes

Close friends

Friends

Neighbors

Enemies

People she works for

People she has worked for in the past

Maybe someone from Texas who knew her family?

Flirts

Ex-friends

[redridgehq]

Happy Thursday, members!! As we get ready for our first meme day & honesty hour Friday tomorrow, we’re hoping to hear from some members on what ask memes they would like to see available to them as we will only be reblogging 3 to the redridgeimp blog for you to reblog to keep dash clogging and confusion to a minimum. We will be releasing more details tonight, but for now, please shoot us the links to any memes you would like to see included! Even if your choice doesn’t make it this time, it may show up for our next one on Tuesday. 

[redridgehq]

A tumblr glitch wouldn’t let us follow these two sideblogs sooner, but they’re crucial for the group so everyone please do follow them!

STARTER BLOG: After we officially open for interactions tomorrow, we will be reblogging all the open starters in this blog.

IMP BLOG: Here we’ll be reblogging all of the other important posts (hence the name), like introductions & biographies as well as any self paras, tasks or event related posts that you guys publish down the line.

Please tag @redridgestart​ on your open starters and @redridgeimp​ on all the other important posts mentioned above. Every single tag is glitching right now so we would really appreciate your help tracking down everything.