Post by Joseph Jeremy Adams on Feb 11, 2012 17:12:38 GMT -5
joseph jeremy adams
twenty-five – sean faris – irish mob
[/font][/color][/center]twenty-five – sean faris – irish mob
mama i'm in love with a criminal...
Sexuality: heterosexual
Occupation:Pixel Conner's personal enforcer and bodyguard
Soical Class: middle
Heritage: Irish
and this type of love isn't rational, it's physical...
Father: Patrick Jacob Adams,deceased(46), Drug Runner
Mother: Emma Madeline Rose,deceased (27), Stripper
Siblings: n/a
Other Family: Uncle- Dermot Elliot Adams, 48, Bookie
Status: single
mama please don't cry, i will be alright...
Strengths: Focused, Intelligent, Loyal, Strong,
Weaknesses: Easily Enraged, No Limits, Stubborn, Ego
Goals: To go to college and become a writer someday
Fears: That no one will care when he dies... and heights
Secrets: he wants to have a family of his own one day, far away from River City and crime, to just have a normal life
Likes: Books, tea, good Irish beer, Pixel Connor, guns, beating the crap out of people, women, suits
Dislikes: Idiots, the world (in general), Pixel Connor (it all depends on his mood you see), abusers and bullies,drugs, the English
Overall Personality: Joe is the strong silent type, for lack of a better description. He doesn't say much, not unless you really know him, and even then, he's not much of a chatter box. He's fairly introspective, and though most people assume he's you're generic thug, he's got a lot going on behind that silent stoic facade of his. He's incredibly intelligent, if he'd had different circumstances in his life, there's a good chance he'd be in law school or medicine by now, some upstanding, respected pillar of the community. Unfortunately you can't choose your childhood and how you're raised, so those kinds of opportunities were never something that was afforded to him. He doesn't trust easily, nor does he let people past a very prickly outter shell, there really isn't anyone alive who has ever seen all the way past it. He is pretty ruthless when it comes to what he's willing to do, what he needs to do, and sometimes, what he just plain wants to do. Whether you get on his wrong side because you've managed to annoy the hell out of him, or you crossed the wrong person and it becomes part of his work to take you out, he won't hesitate to do what he needs. He has a very, very quick temper, some would probably say it's more like rage issues. It takes next to nothing to make him snap, depending on his mood it can be as little as clearing your throat at the wrong time, and he goes totally ape shit crazy. He doesn't have much control over what he does when he's in a rage, something that makes him almost more dangerous with his fists when he's lost it, then when he's cold and focused holding a gun to your head, he has no limits to what he will do, and no 'off switch'. When he gets to the point where he's actually willing to talk with someone, as opposed to just glaring sullenly at them, he can be fairly funny, he has a dry sarcastic banter, and it can be assumed that if he's making fun of you good naturedly, he likes you, or as much as Joe likes anyone. When he's annoyed or getting towards pissed off, it turns down right cruel, and there are some people who'd rather just get the punch in the face rather than the lash of his tongue. He is very stubborn, and refuses to back down from anything, he is protective over the few people he cares about, and loyal almost to a fault. He tends to think that most people are idiots, and undoubtedly dumber than he is, an ego that has caused him problems before when it causes him to underestimate people.
all reason aside i just can't deny, love the guy...
Hometown: Limerick, Ireland
History: Joe has not really had an easy life, nor a childhood that anyone would call idyllic. His father was a low end drug runner for one of the prominent crime families in Limerick, a bottom rung no body who didn't bring in much money and was pretty much expendable. He never knew his mother, she was a stripper who shacked up with his father from time to time. One of those times resulted in Joe. She died before he was one years old, heroin overdose. She hadn't been much of a mother anyways, always high, never really aware of what the hell was going on. Half the time she forgot she even had a son. If it hadn't been for a neighbor across the hall in their shitty apartment taking care of the young baby along with her own children, Joe surely wouldn't have survived his first year.
He was taken by his father, who while he had no freaking idea what he was doing, at least wasn't drugged out all the time. His paternal grandmother was generally the one who took care of him, raised him while his dad was out doing what he did to make money, a tough, no nonsense old woman who instilled a lot of the good qualities that Joe still possesses. The iron fisted matriarch is the reason he became well read, worked in school, will always pull out a chair for a woman, and, well generally anything that Joe does that is considered sweet or charming or kind came from her influence. She died when he was 8, old age, and Patrick took over raising his son. During the seven years that Joe was being taken care of by his grandmother, Patrick was still there, he'd been taking care of his mother in her ailing health for years, it was just that other than the occasional football in the street and ruffling up his hair, and gruffly asking how school was doing, Patrick didn't have much to do with his kid. That all had to change.
He figured at 8, Joe was old enough to start seeing how the real world worked, it wasn't like he could just stop working because he had some kid at home. Joe was dumped head first into the whole dirty world of drugs and organized crime. He watched his dad dealings, he watched him both deliver and receive beatings depending on the scenario. He was immersed in an incredibly violent culture and it didn't just end their. His father, while not the kind of man who would beat his son senseless, was finding that without the added caregiver of his mother to help take care of Joe, the whole thing was incredibly stressful. It started slowly, a slap here or there when Joe was misbehaving, but grew worse in intensity as the years went on. Joe's relationship with his father was very odd, they were close, and Joe loved and respected his dad immensely, but he also lived in fear of when he would do something wrong and it would make his dad fly off the handle.
Joe by the time he was 15 was already a big, strong kid, he was tough, he was fearless in a fight, and his dad was using him as a little bit of back up when he needed to intimidate people a bit. It worked for him, even better when he could let out some of his pent up anger on whoever his dad needed him to deal with. This was pretty much the standard for the next year and a half. Joe's dad continued working for the local mofia, while Joe worked for his dad. It was pretty run of the mill stuff as far as crime went and pretty straight forward. It would probably still be that way, if not for the shooting. It wasn't a big plot or intricate plan that got Patrick Adams killed, simply a drug deal gone bad, and he was caught in the crossfire. Joe was there, he saw his dad shot, was shot himself, though thankfully it only grazed his arm, and he held his father while he died.
Joe was never much of an outgoing chatter box before that moment, he'd always been a bit of a quiet kid. But it was that moment he shut himself off completely. It was also from that moment on that he seemed to no longer really be able to control his anger. It wouldn't get pent up anymore, it would just explode out. He'd always had a short fuse, but he used to be able to stop himself, to control it. Not anymore. After his arm healed up, the 16 year old needed a place to live, someone to be his guardian. His only living relative was an uncle he'd never met who lived in the states. With no other real options, child services contacted his uncle Dermot, and he was shipped overseas.
Upon arriving in River City to live with his uncle, he found it surprising how similar the man was to his father. He was a low end bookie for the Connor family , and Joe, rather than enroll to finish his last few months of highschool, went to work helping him. It was the same sort of set up he had when he'd worked with his father, he'd be the extra muscle when his uncle needed it. Unlike when he worked with his father, he was older now, stronger, and caught the attention of the people his uncle worked for. It wasn't long before Joe went from being his uncles lackey to being an enforcer for the mob. His skills and rep grew the longer he was at it. This tall, silent Irish guy who flipped a switch and could tear a guy a part without thinking. That was the kind of people they wanted in their organization. For five years he worked his way up, when finally, 4 years ago, he was given a promotion of sorts, The bosses daughter, she liked to go out, drink dance, have fun, and generally just be a target for anyone one to pick off. Which is where he came in, Joe was bumped up to be Pixel Connors personal enforcer and or body guard, depending on what she wanted. Joe has spent a lot of time trailing along after the young woman, flipping back and forth between finding her endearing, and being driven nuts by her. At first, he was there simply as a job, Patrick Connor wanted his daughter watched, Joe would do the watching, but it really was only a matter of doing it out of a sense of duty. Somewhere along the line, and Joe can't pin point exactly where it happened, he did start to care for the girl, and infuriating as she could be, and though Patrick Connor still think's he control's Joe's reins, his loyalties have shifted from father to daughter. There was a time when Joe would tell his boss anything he wanted to know about what, where, and who Pixel got up too, but these days, even though daddy dearest is still signing the pay cheques, it's Pixel in charge.
.
Roleplay Sample:
Cordelia sat at her desk, her hands splayed across the dark mahogany finish, her blue eyes clamped shut as she measured her breathing. To most, she probably seemed relaxed, her small shoulders were loose, and though closed, her eyes weren’t strained. Dressed in a tight, severely cut black business suit she looked like a business woman just gathering her thoughts before going into a meeting. Only the people that knew her well would know that she was as far from relaxed and calm as she possibly could be. Grown men, tough men, men who thought nothing of popping a few bullets into a guy’s head, would walk into that room, see the small woman in that position, and they would get the fuck out, and fast. The door to her office opened He’s here. She opened her eyes, looking at the man before giving him a brisk nod. Her eyes darted to her watch. At least he’s on time.
Slowly, she pushed back from the desk, standing up and straightening the tight pencil skirt. 5 inch heels clicked on the marble floor as she walked to door. She gave a small nod, a jerk of her head to the man who was outside her door, pretty much 24-7. Where ever she went, he was there. It was a dangerous world out there for a girl, someone needed to be handy to take a bullet if needed. Even with the heels adding to her rather diminutive 5’1 frame, she still barely reached his shoulder. Any outsider would be baffled as to how this tiny woman was able to instill such obvious fear in the giant man. He made a move to follow her, and she held her hand up to stop him. She didn’t need him, not for this. This she could handle on her own.
Though her face was calm, Cordelia’s thoughts were going a mile a minute as she walked down the stairs. This whole situation was not something she would normally concern herself with, it was simple. You steal from her, you’re out. Not just of the organization, but in general. Out for the count, swimming with the fishes, getting a coffin sized, you get the point. She didn’t take well to anyone messing around with her. This though, this was different. A bullet to the head wasn’t going to solve this problem. She was thinking as she walked into the kitchen, taking in the guy standing there, looking blankly into a glass. Not when it was him.
“ Hello Anthony” she greeted her brother as she came up to him. She leaned her head up, pressing her lips to first one, then the other of his cheeks. Did he always look this gaunt? Or was she just projecting that now that she knew. Anyone else, she would assume they were skimming the drugs from the warehouse to make a few extra bucks on the side. She didn’t think that was the case here. No, Anthony was taking them for his own use, she was sure. She stepped back, looking him over before tutting. “ You look hungry… take a seat, I’ll get you something to eat.”
Slowly, she pushed back from the desk, standing up and straightening the tight pencil skirt. 5 inch heels clicked on the marble floor as she walked to door. She gave a small nod, a jerk of her head to the man who was outside her door, pretty much 24-7. Where ever she went, he was there. It was a dangerous world out there for a girl, someone needed to be handy to take a bullet if needed. Even with the heels adding to her rather diminutive 5’1 frame, she still barely reached his shoulder. Any outsider would be baffled as to how this tiny woman was able to instill such obvious fear in the giant man. He made a move to follow her, and she held her hand up to stop him. She didn’t need him, not for this. This she could handle on her own.
Though her face was calm, Cordelia’s thoughts were going a mile a minute as she walked down the stairs. This whole situation was not something she would normally concern herself with, it was simple. You steal from her, you’re out. Not just of the organization, but in general. Out for the count, swimming with the fishes, getting a coffin sized, you get the point. She didn’t take well to anyone messing around with her. This though, this was different. A bullet to the head wasn’t going to solve this problem. She was thinking as she walked into the kitchen, taking in the guy standing there, looking blankly into a glass. Not when it was him.
“ Hello Anthony” she greeted her brother as she came up to him. She leaned her head up, pressing her lips to first one, then the other of his cheeks. Did he always look this gaunt? Or was she just projecting that now that she knew. Anyone else, she would assume they were skimming the drugs from the warehouse to make a few extra bucks on the side. She didn’t think that was the case here. No, Anthony was taking them for his own use, she was sure. She stepped back, looking him over before tutting. “ You look hungry… take a seat, I’ll get you something to eat.”
he's a villian by the devil's law, he's a killer just for fun...
Other Characters: Cordelia Price, Francesca Bianchi
Codeword:
Notes: You are lovely
sylvie – 2 years ish – PM or AIM
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