falling down the rabbit hole

[gabster4]

VALKYRIE,
CALIFORNIA

[/color]
the ocean breathes salty, won't you carry it in?




I don't care if it hurts, I want to have control
I want a perfect body, I want a perfect soul
I want you to notice, When I'm not around
You're so fucking special,I wish I was special
But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here[/font][/center]


WHEN THE OCEAN MET THE SKY ,[/color]
CHARACTER BASICS ,
you missed when time and life shook hands and said goodbye[/color]

FULL NAME: beck malachi selwyn
NICKNAMES: mighty mouse
GENDER: male
AGE: 22
PAST EDUCATION: ha! funny
JOB: mobster, former book-keeper
PLAYBY: andrew lee potts

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YOUR BODY MAY BE GONE ,[/color]
CHARACTER APPEARANCE ,
i'm gonna carry you in my head, in my heart, in my soul[/color]

ETHNICITY: irish
HAIR COLOR:

black. short enough to spike, long enough to piss him off when it gets wet. absolutely zero curl to it whatsoever.

EYE COLOR:

As stated by him, his eyes are the “most boring shade of brown that you’ll ever see,” but every time he looks in a mirror, he’s constantly complimenting himself about how his eyes appear to be "windows to his soul," giving him a boyish and young appearance and exerting countless amounts of emotion. Of course, this is actually the case for almost everyone when it comes to eyes… though Beck likes to believe so otherwise. What he sees in himself is by far more exaggerated than what others see.

HEIGHT: 6'0
WEIGHT: 146

He was always considered... tiny, when he was younger. He was small. Kind of puny. Short, obnoxious, and with no muscle to back up his overly-exercised mouth. That is, until the summer he was thirteen years old. He was near incapacitated when over the space of three months, he grew a total of fourteen inches. Of course, he wasn't anything close to 'something to be reckoned with' until he started adding on the lbs, which took a while. Sweating was never really his thing. But eventually he did start to add on the required biceps, triceps, and other yummy bits that are required when you're the self-appointed eye-candy of the irish mob.

BODY TYPE:

You can Wikipedia this shit. 'Studies have indicated the Irish are almost uniquely pale skinned when unexposed, untanned parts of the body, are observed and 40% of the entire group are freckled to some extent.' True to that form, Beck is as pale as someone of muted Irish descent is expected to be. He tans surprisingly well, though, and generally... er... makes sure that those 'uniquely pale skinned when unexposed' parts of his body get their share of sunshine.Slightly lean and skinny; he’s not a fan of what he dubs the “steroid look. You know those perfectly-chiseled guys that look like their Adonis' composed entirely out of 230 pounds of pure muscle and one-size-too-small-so-I-can-show-off-my-abs-maaannn t-shirts? Beck isn't one of them. He's tall, and has the kind of muscle thats long and lean. More built for sudden, violent, quick encounters, rather than all-out brawls. Beck is composed almost entirely of long legs, broad shoulders, and awkwardness. The only time he's ever really on top of things is when he's got a knife in hand, and is kicking ass (which is almost never). He's retained a boyishness about him thats off-putting, until he gives you incentive to think otherwise.”

DISTINGUISHED FEATURES:

Scars: Has one rather impressive one that wraps around the heel of his left hand, that he got when he was nine. He was at one of the many garages or scrap-yards that he's still partial to, tripped over his own feet, and fell, putting his hands out to catch himself. Of course, as luck would have it, he put his hand right down onto the rusted edge of an old bumper that was laying half-in half-out of a pile of scraps. The scar is a thick line, and wraps around the entire palm-base of his hand in a crescent moon. He also has quite the collection of knife scars. One on his right thumb, nail to base, from when he first started, and then other various lines and curves when he was practicing. Also has some needle scars on the upper-half of his forearm, the inside of the elbow/blend of the arm, (on both arms, but mostly left) as well a few in between his fingers, from earlier drug use.

Tattoos: Becki got his first tattoo when he was fourteen years old, from a guy named Fish. (Well, his name wasn't Fish. His name was Joe. But he always smelled like fish, since as well as doing tattoos in shady old shacks, he had a side-job at the docks). It's a small black shamrock, about two inches in height, one and a half inches width, on the lower left side of his neck. It got infected within the week, but it's still there, in all it's rough-edged glory. His second venture into the realm of ink Beck was much more professional and clean-cut, and ended up with him having the word 'SPARED' on his inner right forearm, in bold gothic capitals. He also has a small black-outline star on the webbing between his pointer finger and his thumb, on his left hand. He doesn't exactly remember when, or where he got it, but does suspect that there might have been gin involved at some point. The most recent tattoo would be a small and simple catholic cross, about an inch high and a half inch in width, on his upper middle back. Beck got the tattoo after Jonothan O'Grady, who had raised him until he was five years old, and he had known to be very religious, died in 2004.

PERSONAL STYLE:

To say that one Beck Selwyn has an actual 'style' might be going a bit far. He has clothes of every shape, size, and color. Jeans are the staple of his wardrobe, and t-shirts. He has mountains of t-shirts. Ripped up old t-shirts, t-shirts with obscure band-names plastered over the front, t-shirts that say 'My Parents Went To Al's Gator Farm And All I Got Was This Crummy T-Shirt!' If anything, his style could be described as 'laid back.' T-shirts in summer, long-sleeved t-shirts and button-ups in the winter. For more formal occasions he has a few suits set asides (Holy Hugo Boss - It was worth it if only because he got a little discount from the shop-lady in the dressing room). He can clean up nice, but the majority of the time, every day for Beck is 'Casual Friday.' He also likes hats, gloves, and often times what he wears dont necessarily match. but does he care? feck no

OTHER:

Growing up completely surrounded by off-the-boat Irishmen and muted Irish bloodlines that arrived at the turn of the century, Beck was bound to pick up a bit of the lyrical tilt that the Irish are so well known and marked for. Of course, his accent isn't nearly as strong as someone who grew up in Ireland, or was fully exposed to the language, for however short a time, but he can emphasize or detract from the accent. His vowels are soft, and his consonants very sharp, and his general speech and speaking rhythm seems more lyrical and musical, which even when he's trying to downplay the accent, marks him out as Irish descent..

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IN YOUR MOUTH, IN YOUR SOUL ,[/color]
CHARACTER PERSONALITY ,
the more we move ahead the more we're stuck in rewind[/color]

STRENGTHS:

Intelligent
Perfectionist
Perceptive
Humorous
Dominant
Competitive
Handles Conflict Well
Well Read
Well Spoken
Curious
Practical
Logical
Resourceful
Charismatic
(Usually) has good intentions
(though his version of 'good' and yours may differ drastically).

WEAKNESSES:

Judgmental
Argumentative
Manipulative
Arrogant
Impulsive
Attached
Uninhibited
Generally likes people too much
Opinionated
Underestimates everyone
Has difficulty 'dealing' with emotion
Doesn't believe in 'Plan B's'
Caring, but not careful
Abhorrent
Dishonest

LIKES:

bonnie; she's his one and only. ever since he was sixteen, he's felt like she was his everything. losing her broke him in more ways than meet the eye.
money; well, why not? you can buy and sell anything in the world if you've got the benjamins. beck likes to think that they live a pretty good life, with their stolen goods and random, high expenses, but it always helps him to keep some bills in his pocket, as a reminder that he's living like a king.
winning fights; well... nobody likes to lose fights. they hurt like a bitch.
the 'getaway' car; loud, mean looking.. and fast. most importantly fast.
being free; beck hates being cooped up anywhere, especially in places where he hasn't decided to put himself. staying in the same town, or the same house, or the same room for too long isn't so bad, but if he gets stuck somewhere, he's not going to be a very happy man. see dislikes; jail.
raspberry soda; what's not to like?
chocolate milkshakes; need i reiterate.. what's not to like?
breasts; beck's a boobs man. he can't help it. they're just.. well, they're awesome. he's programmed, as a straight man, to at least find them a little bit arousing. he just can't help it. legs are okay, but tits are the superbowl.
lucky charms cereal; how ironic, right?

other than that, you add the following to the long list: Living, Chinese Food, Candy Canes, Ice Cream Cake, The Spotlight, Chocolate,Open-Minds, Spontaneity, Humor. Curious Hands, Himself, Rain, Girls, Heritage (Irish, to be specific), slim-jims, Sticky Notes, To Be Continued’s, Accents, Languages, Heat, Sex, Movement, Honesty, Reality, Fantasy, Sleep, Quiet, PB&J, Soft Spots, Hot Spots, Cigarettes, Metaphors, People, Blue Eyes, Open Windows, Music, Rhythm, Night Time, Raspberries, Weaponry
Books, reading, Literature, Art, Piano, Kit-Kats, Cars, Frost
Lists, Mechanical Pencils, Condensation, Fruit-Scented Markers, Culture, Jack Daniels (Alcohol in general), Arguing, Public Transportation, Ridiculous hats, Neapolitan Ice Cream, The Other Side Of The Pillow. Scary Movies, Creativity, Infomercials, Seedy Bars, Cheap Beer, Sexual Innuendoes, Pet Names, Confrontation, Adrenaline,Yard Sales, Flexibility, Conversation, Collar Bones, Cheek Bones, Red Hair, Challenges, Thighs, Forehead-kisses
Puzzles, Crooked Smiles, Expressions, Adrenaline Rushes, Catching people off-guard.

DISLIKES:

authority; it's a given, really.. don't take away his freedom.
jail; more than a given. beck hates prison more than anything he's ever hated before, and that includes the general population of human beings.
fortune cookies; those little shitters lie like there's no tomorrow and they taste foul.
dependency; he could handle bonnie being dependent on him, but by god, if someone else tried it, he'd smack them into next july.
the whore wig; the wig he made bonnie wear many a time for 'con work', and the one she ever so affectionately named. he has been planning on burning it, but he hast found the time
prostitutes; why pay when he can get any woman that he wants for free? "with me expertise an' charm, tha' bird always ends up wantin' ta' pay me."

aaaaaaaaaaand lets not forget: Blame, Being Left Out, Idiots,
Carrots, Ignorance, Willing Ignorance, Fake Smiles, Courtesy Laughs, Liars, Pepsi, Haughty Attitudes (he has one), Hypocrites (he is one), Stereotypes, Modern-Day Horror Movies, Snow, Too Warm, Too Cold, Just Right, Rules, Beets, Death, Hiccups,The Dying, Sickness, Blond Hair, Love-At-First-Sight, Hate-At-First-Sight, Apprehension, Caution, Fear, Locks, Early-Birds, Antiseptic (The Smell), Fluorescent lighting, Diet Soda. Uncaught Sarcasm, Fences, Restrictions, Boredom, Fans, Conformists, Escalators, Serious Conversations, Sugar Substitutes, Apologizing, Scented Candles
Strong Perfume, Modern Art, Yellow (The Color.), Obnoxious Intellect - unless it's his own, ideals.

FLAWS:

tends to put his foot in his mouth, speaks without thinking, he seems to be a compulsive liar, romantically handicapped

HABITS:

Smokes like a furnace. Has since he was thirteen years old, and doesn't plan to quit anytime soon - or ever. Drinks like a fish. Inherited his Mother's side of the family's affinity for anything involving, or that could at some point involve alcohol.
'Jack Daniel's' is his favorite.

Always manages to have a quarter in his pocket, and when he's nervous, he'll take it out and roll it back and forth his hand across his knuckles. Ever the accomplished multitasker, he's gotten so good, he can both do that; and chain-smoke at the same time. You've gotta love a boy with talent.

Covers his ears when he's concentrating - crowds and background noises, any unnecessary noise, bother his 'thought process.' Therefore gets easily annoyed with talkative people. Can usually be found at the Kilpatrick kitchen table with his hands over his ears when he's planning an operation.

SECRETS:

He ran over a puppy once, and he didnt tell anyone, does that count? He is in mafia, what do you expect? He has a lot of skeletons in his closet

BEST MEMORY:

finding out bonnie was pregnant with my kid.

WORST MEMORY:

i suppose my mother's suicide was pretty fucking terrible. although if i have to choose it would be bonnie's death, because she was my everything

OVERALL PERSONALITY:

Though others may disagree, I’d like to say I’m normal well as normal as I can get, considering whom I’ve grown up with. So, I’d like to start this little shindig with my stance on nature verses nurture. One would have to be blind not to think or not to know that at least thirty percent of what makes us up is nature. It’s nature when a screaming baby out of the womb instantly knows who its mother is. It’s nature to stand and walk and cry and eat that’s all stuff that one not taught. Like wise there are just some things that people are naturally gifted with. Then there’s the other seventy percent that is nurture. It’s nurture the way almost every girl on the planet is obsessed with make-up and dream weddings and it’s nature the way boys refuse to cry take on the “man work, woman stay home” mentality. What this has to do with me is using my seventy/thirty figure I pretty sure I’ve figured out why I’m the way I am.

I’ll start with the thirty percent, or what I’m naturally good at for those who have a hard time following numbers. The key word in that last sentence being naturally, there’s always something that someone is naturally good at. For some it’s sports, for others academics, and others the fine arts or hunting, etc. you get the point. For me, what I’ve always seemed naturally inclined to mathematics. I liked playing with those little counting blocks when I was little, and once I’d learned how to count I counted everything. Adding and subtracting came easily, as did multiplying and dividing. I just have this thing for math. Not that I’m too overly fond of the subject, when it comes right down to it, it’s really a boring thing but it’s one thing I’ve always been good at and never had to work at. Geometry was another story; I hated that class, but Algebras, STAT, Economics, all of those classes I breezed through easily. Hence I keep the books for my father, not that one has to be particularly good at math to do so, knowing how to keep count of money and write numbers would suffice, I can just do it quickly and efficiently is all. It just seemed natural that the job go to me. Now are you starting to get what I mean by nature being quite an effecter in one’s life? One may learn to be good with working and manipulating numbers, but they have to work at it. That would be nurture. I didn’t have to work at it, at all, ergo: nature.

Another thing about myself I’d say I was naturally inclined to was learning. Though you may disagree with me on this one because I will make a point later that sounds a bit contradictory to this one but bear with me for the time being. I never was the talkative one in my family, I preferred soaking things in, information and, stories; you name it I could probably recall something I heard about it from someone or another. That was the way I learned things, it was always the way I saw fit to learn things as appose to going out, trying it and potentially getting hurt or humiliated in the process. I have quite the memory, not to say I have a photographic one, no, not in the least but I remember a lot of things. I should say though, that these things I can remember are things I’ve been told. I’m the type that will remember the name but not the face, and the guy that gets irritated when people tell me to go look something up instead of just telling me how to spell it because I’ll remember it that way because I never did. I always remember how to spell things when people called it out to me. I guess I’m what you’d call I hearing learner. I remember things better when I hear them, especially words. Like I said previously, Math is my thing not English though I enjoy poetry. I can recall something’s I’ve read, if I’ve read them often enough as would anyone. The important lessons, the lectures I’d gotten my whole life, I remember all of them. Perhaps not word for word, but I could give you a damned good summery of what so-and-so told me.

I’d imagine everyone has a natural element of learning, some more so that others because I’d also imagine some people have a very hard time with learning. Actually I’d be able to name a few but that would be a diversion I don’t feel like taking. I’m a rather picky person, and while it’s not a very attractive quality I’m not afraid to admit that about myself. This, I’m afraid, is very much nature taking it’s course. I’m picky off the foods I eat because of taste buds, which is definitely something that can’t be changed by outside influence. I’d say I’m a very picky eater as well, which severely limits the amount of food I eat in a day and leaves my diet rather poor but I don’t really care so much about that. As I said, I can’t help the foods I find tasty. As well as food I’m also very picky about the company I keep. Of best friends, hell even of close friends I’ve only got one. I’m not anti-social, don’t get me wrong, I just prefer certain personalities to others and I’m not one to settle either. Rest assured it’s not a race or prejudice thing, when I say that I’m picky of people, it’s truly their personalities I’m picky over. Well, okay, maybe I will avoid some on looks, but if one really wants to make acquaintances in the world they should at least look their best when they go out in it! And, among a favored subject: women. I’m also very picky about the type of women I’d choose to date and associate with. For example, women like Caitrin I wouldn’t associate with because in my opinion she has no self-respect. Unfortunately she’s my sister so I have no choice but to associate with her.

Continuing on the subject of women, I’d say this is where the line for me starts to blur between nature and nurture. Nature would say, according to the Oedipus complex, that I should be looking for women that emulate my mother. And while I have a few fond early childhood memories of my mother, the fair majority of what I remember of my mother embodies everything I hate in women, well almost everything, there’s a few things that she wasn’t like that I dislike in women as well. She was over emotional, depressed, and suicidal in the ending stretch. I loved my mother, but hot damn I wouldn’t be able to be in a relationship with a woman like that. In this day and age though it’s rather hard to find a woman that something’s not wrong with them, and I have a very big list of what I see as faults in women. The three listed above being on the top of the list. However, I may be against men in the thought that proper housewives are also on that list. As much as I’d liked to be taken care of, I’d rather not have a woman that I can walk all over. In my opinion the housewife types are incredibly boring. However, like I said, I’m not interested in women as wild as my baby sister either. I guess you could say balance draws me to women. Balances of smarts and strength but also with knowing where a woman’s place is. I’d wouldn’t say that cleaning the house and taking care of kids isn’t woman’s work, but I’m also not that much of a chauvinist to think between all of that a woman can get dinner on the table when I walk in the door or that she has an easy job either. Plus in this new age women work too, so that just add a whole other factor to having balance in a relationship. Cooking maybe, taking care of kids, when they weren’t babies sure, but you’d never catch me doing laundry or gardening.

Now I’ve already given you an idea of where nature blurs into nurture. Well this next bit is nurture at it’s best. I would say I’m more passive in nature. I prefer to listen, watch and learn from others, rather than jump to my own conclusions too soon. No by nature I wasn’t much of a fighter, not physically anyway and not verbally for a while after that. Growing up, actually in the years I can’t remember even, my brother would beat on me. His way of “toughening me up” because he was either going to end up killing me one day or I’d learn to fight back, and you know what I learned to fight back. I can’t count how many times I’ve gotten into physical altercations with Sean, and I still do. We’re much more evenly matched these days compared to when I was an infant and the younger years when two years seemed like a big difference. What comes second nature to us is what nurture is, and now, because of years of either fighting back or taking a beating, fighting has become second nature to me, though I’d say much more in a defensive way the offensive. I still don’t go looking for fights, but when someone comes at me, you can bet your ass I won’t step down. Now verbally, like I said didn’t come until later, until I have some knowledge under my belt and now, now it’s my favorite tool. Proving someone wrong, it’s a great feeling. Call me egotistical, but I like knowing I’m right and being right and I like when I can leave other speechless and gapping.

Then there’s what happened with mom. Remember I said she was suicidal there for a last stretch? Well when I say suicidal, I mean she killed her self. If it weren’t for mom’s depression and suicide, I think all of us kids would be, at least, a little different than how we are today, well except maybe Sean. I think my dear brother was doomed from the start to be a sociopath. But I like to think us younger ones would be getting along better, though I’m acutely aware that, that whole concept is just a dream. Anyway, mom’s death left us competing in a way for dad’s attention, and the winner in that contest was Merryn. After getting hit by that car and becoming all crippled and all, well there was just no way to compete. Not that I hold ill will towards her, it certainly wasn’t her fault some asshole ran her over, but like I said she’s dad’s favorite. But what I was saying about mom’s death I certainly wasn’t going to go crying to Sean in the middle of the night when I woke up from nightmares and I guess, for me, dad wasn’t an option either. So, I had to learn to work through things, work through nightmares, observe a situation and figure out the best plan of action for it. I had many late nights to think things over and finally came to the conclusion that I had a brain inside my head and while I still prefer to hear what others have to say on something, I ultimately make my own decision and stick to it like superglue. I decided quite a bit among those late nights, one of the things I decided being that I wasn’t going to let others sway my opinions, another being that I did not want a woman like my mother and there were several others that I don’t feel like going into.

As for a nurturing relationship with my father, the way that worked out was that were really wasn’t one. Dad was always too busy with work, and the Merryn’s accident. I’ve learned things from the man though, like respect for elders but mostly mob stuff was the lessons I got out of him, and I’m grateful, I am! Really. He’s my father, I love him and respect him but it’s a sixty/forty thing. Respect being the sixty and love being the forty. I’m aware my father at least trusts me, or he probably wouldn’t have me keeping books, because believe me, I could make money disappear if I wanted too. But I would never. If anything I really got out of my father though, is that I don’t want to be a father like he is. Being distant and gone half our lives, picking a favorite child, picking a favorite child that isn’t even family over my own sons, giving a gun to my self-proclaimed suicidal wife. Not for my thanks. Best lesson I think I ever got from dear old dad. He’s not a bad guy I guess; he’s just doing his thing is all. As for me, that just helps strengthen my theory on nature versus nurture, or lack there of.

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AND WE'LL BOTH GROW OLD ,[/color]
CHARACTER HISTORY ,
well i don't know, i don't know, i don't know, i hope so[/color]

HOMETOWN: ireland
PARENTS: kipper selwyn, the absentee father and abigail harlam, the suicidal mother
SIBLINGS: sean selwyn, merryn selwyn, caitlin selwyn
OTHER: keyson selwyn, uncle
kahlan and connow selwyn, cousins
other cousins that are not worth mentioning
LIVING SITUATION: he lives in the shaks right now, cause hes hiding
HISTORY:

Awww, memories. Most of my childhood memories are of Sean beating me up all the time. In particular this one cobble stone walkway somewhere in town where he left me sobbing until one of our neighbors happened to be passing and brought me home. Anyway, I was born in Dublin, so when I say I’m Irish, I mean I’m a real fucking Irishman. I can’t really remember why, but I remember, or have this feeling that I was close to my mom back then. I mean I can only really remember bits and pieces of the last year there, but I remember, and can safely assume, I went crying to her a lot when Sean would knock me around. She never actually stopped him from doing this, and I can only assume it’s because she was too worried over dad being gone all the time because even though Sean was the first born, I don’t see him having ever been the favored child. This is only an assumption though bare that in mind. Anyway, like i said, i dont remember much about me as a kid, everything is just snapshots with details filed in by outside sources. Mom was pretty happy I remember that, and I remember playing out front of our house a lot but like I said most of those “playing out side” memories are of getting into fights with Sean. Sometimes though, sometimes they weren’t. Mom got pregnant again, lets not forget about that

I remember I had to start school, and I hated that suggestion. Especially with a new baby around, because all I wanted to do was stay at home and harass Merryn every time mom turned her back. Don’t get me wrong; I didn’t hate the baby or anything I just thought of her, as a plaything, was all. As it turned out Kindergarten wasn’t too bad, it was kind of dull actually, and naptime was a real irritating factor too. I didn’t understand why I could just take a nap at home. Before too long Caitrin was born, and what a mess that girl was and still is. I don’t really remember things being to bad off before she was born. I remember I’d stopped running to mom every time Sean took a swing at me and actually tried fighting back. I was five-going-on-six though and he was seven just about to turn eight, so I still didn’t stand much of a chance against him. I remember it wasn’t long after Cait was born that mom would start getting real upset when Sean and I, fought, or when any of us got rough with each other; over the years that seemed to just increase by volumes. I don’t remember dad much, he was never really around, he kind of did his part as the man of the family bringing home the bacon. Now that I think about it, it just might have been that, that drove mom over the edge. That dad was never around and she had to take care of us four crazy kids all by herself for the most part. I don’t remember if I was ever too much trouble, but I remember I wasn’t exactly the angel child either.

I think I at least tried to be good, after I’d walked in on mom sobbing once. The scene hat literally made me sick to my stomach, I was maybe ten or eleven at the time and I just didn’t know what could possibly make my mom cry like that and I remember wanting to murder who’d ever done it. After that, it was always easy to tell when she was on one of her fits, the shower would start running at odd hours of the day and night. I can’t exactly remember how I found out, but I did find out that Sean was getting sent to a shrink, hence my calling him a sociopath, because, well, he is one! But all I knew was I didn’t want to go to one too, and about the time I was going into high school mom would mumble now and then that she’d like to see me in some kind of sport. All I knew was, coming in under Sean I was not playing football, no way no how. Instead I took up rugby, and I liked it. I’d say I was pretty good at it too. I think, I think mom saw that I was doing it, knew that I was doing it, but for all her mumbling she never once came to a game. Neither did dad, but by that point in time I’d come to expect it of him. We weren’t a very close family and I hated it when I’d see school buddies and teammate’s parents coming out to support their kids. I especially hated it when they asked where mine were. I never had an answer for them so I made up excuses. I don’t think anyone ever believed me.

I was sixteen when mom killed herself. I think Cait was the one who found her, I remember only taking a quick peek right before they put her in the body bag. Call me weak, but I didn’t really care to stand and gawk at my mother’s brains blasted all over the bathroom. Even from what I saw I still had nightmares over, nightmares I did very bloody well to keep to myself. Somewhere between there and now I decided I didn’t ever want to deal with a woman like my mother again. Now, one might have thought an incident like that would have brought us closer together as a family, but it didn’t. We’re Selwyn's for God’s sake not the fucking Johnsons. No, dad just hired a nanny and was as distant as ever and my siblings well, the only one that’s well enough I guess is Merryn, I’m not close to her but I can see why dad favors her. After she had her accident she had solidified her spot at dad’s favorite child. Again, I don’t blame her for it, she didn’t ask to get hit by a car. Though, I patronize her quite a bit for it. I can’t help but to see her as that squishy baby, plaything she was to me as a child. As for Caitrin and Sean, one or both of them is calling me a cunt or a pussy in every other breath so you can imagine why we don’t get along. Me and Sean have gone at it so often and in just about any setting that the bars we frequent have just started to add busted chairs and broken tables to our tab. It’s going to be sometime sooner rather than later that one of us kills the other, and as of now, I’m determined for it not to be me that gets whacked.

I mentioned I was good with numbers right? Well after high school I went on to major in economics and minor in accounting. I don’t know of anyone that could have had an easier time in college than I did. I took mainly math classes and it was all a breeze. Well, save all the paper work put into it, but tests and stuff, I only ever failed one and that was because I didn’t show up to do it. My other classes I had to work at, and didn’t do nearly as well as I’d done in my math inclined classes but I survived, graduated college and here I am today. I’m a captain working for the Irish Mob under my dad, as well as the bookkeeper. I got my job working with numbers after all. Imagine that. All that’s was left to do, was prove to my father and my uncle Kyson that I’m the best in line for my father’s job once he gets all bored and done with being a mob don.

Why am I here in California? Valkyrie of all places? Well, to be completely honest with you I grew tired of life in Ireland. After years of working for my father without receiving an inch of consideration, hell not even a pat on the back and the words "good work lad", nothing...absolutely fucking nothing. So I decided to come here and let Sean deal with all the bullshit in Dublin. After all, he wants to be in charge of it all, right? It also had to do with the fact that because of Sean, my girlfriend Bonnie was murdered. Oh no, she was not just shot in the back. but she was tortured for days before we found her body floating in the river. did i mention she was carrying my child? the whole thing fucking sucked. I loved her. Its not an easy thing to say coming from me, but I did. she was my world, and now she is nothing but maggot food. Ive had it with Ireland, with Ssan, with dad, with the fucking mob. Everyone carrying the Selwyn last name can go to hell

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COLLECTED MY BELONGINGS ,[/color]
ABOUT YOU AND FOR THE ADMINS ,
and i left the jail, well thanks for the time[/color]

YOUR NAME: gabs
GENDER: female
AGE: 20
RP EXPERIENCE: a lotttttttttttt
OTHER CHARACTERS: sonny, suri and maddox
ROLEPLAY EXAMPLE:

blahhhhhhh .... check out sonny or suri yeah?

credit: format by lainey, lyrics by modest mouse

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[Elizabeth Hughes]

I love him with a passion already! He sounds great and yay for more mafia!

Accepted!