Post by dominic alexander farraday on May 2, 2012 11:38:14 GMT -6
[atrb=style,width: 500px; background-color: B9B9B9; border: 10px dashed #754A4A; border-right: 15px solid #754A4A; border-left: 15px solid #754A4A; padding: 5px, bTable][th] dominic 'dom' farraday port worker, citizen, charlie |
 the basics FULL NAME dominic alexander farraday AGE & DOB 30 | september 1st HOMETOWN valkyrie, california ETHNICITY american LANGUAGES SPOKEN english SEXUAL ORIENTATION heterosexual HAIR COLOR dirty blonde EYE COLOR blue HEIGHT & WEIGHT 6'1" | 160lbs DISTINGUISHING MARKS couple tattoos. scar on his chest from heart surgery LIKES/DISLIKES likes: seattle, playing music, song writing, eating, working, making friends, staying active, relaxing, food, girls, bars, live shows, action movies, money, tattoos dislikes: medicine, most of his family, over thinking, social networks, politics, thunderstorms, quiters, stand up comedy, infomercials, assholes STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES strengths: good listener, musician, songwriter, drive weaknesses: honesty, being so dependable, cigarettes (though he quit) SECRETS - he's always tried to keep his heart condition under wraps, especially when he was a kid, but now since he has his scar, it's unavoidable. - wishes his dad died instead of his mom - almost accidentally killed himself in seattle |
in depth
PERSONALITY
- humble
- respectful
- appreciative
- creative
- honest
- friendly
- sociable
- active
- athletic
- bold
- wistful
- tough
- steadfast
FAMILY LIFE
"my family life is actually sad. not because of what it had become but what it used to be. we used to actually be happy. family dinners, family camping trips, family game nights. yeah, the whole nine yards. but after mom died, it quickly became not like that. dad spiraled into depression where he brought himself to the surface long enough to drink himself into oblivion and spend all his paycheck on gambling. my brothers, too. we used to be close, took care of each other. we relied on each other after mom's death, but... as we got older things just changed. we fought a lot. with each other, with dad. the cops were regularly called to our house by neighbors. so yeah, the saddest thing about all of that was we had experienced a good family life, and it was taken away from us."
PARENTS/SIBLINGS
john farraday - father - was 55 - bookie/gambler - deceased
meredith farraday - mother - was 33 - bank teller - deceased
aj farraday - brother - 32
--- farraday - 29 - strip club owner
--- farraday - 24
meredith farraday - mother - was 33 - bank teller - deceased
aj farraday - brother - 32
--- farraday - 29 - strip club owner
--- farraday - 24
HISTORY
"john farraday and meredith gennero were those type of people that probably only got married because they got pregnant. i know they are my parents, but i'll be the first to say they shouldn't have ended up together. my mom was warm and kind while my father was cold and mean. the sad thing is, she was the only reason why he was semi-sane while she was alive. i think dad needed her more than she needed him. i think we all needed her. because life pretty much sucked after she died, but more on that later.
so, i was born after two years after my older brother. then the second youngest was only a year younger than me, we were called irish twins. and then the youngest was born when i was six. when we were kids, everything seemed fine. or maybe it was just because we were blind. but life used to be normal. when i was born, i was born with flawed heart valve, but we didn't know that until i was around six and i was getting chest pain regularly, so my parents took me to the doctor's and that had been the diagnosis. a way to fix it would be to have surgery to replace it, but my family just didn't have that kind of money. i'm sure if that had been the only option, they would have somehow managed the money, but since i could have medicine that would regulate the blood passing through and prevent irregular heartbeats, that's the option my parents took. i always had to watch my physical activity. had to build up a stamina so i wouldn't over work myself. i still hung out in the neighborhood, made friends, did all that stuff - trust me i wasn't a shut in, i just wasn't sprinting to get to third base in baseball. speaking of sports, i didn't really pursue any outside of hanging out with friends in the neighborhood. in fact, i turned to music. dad had an old guitar and i taught myself how to play it since we really couldn't afford lessons.
i was nine years old when my mom died. it was a few days till christmas and we had actually decorated a tree in the living room, we had a wreath on our front yard, mom made us help her decorate. dad had been drinking that night and was passed out on the recliner so mom said she had to get a few things and she left for what probably would have been an hour. i remember because me and my brothers fell asleep on the couch watching rudolph the red nosed reindeer on television. it was ten o'clock when the police knocked on the door. my older brother answered it because dad was just passed the fuck out, but the police managed to get him up when they came into our house. dad didn't know what the fuck was going on. he didn't even know mom left, but they went into the kitchen and dad told us four to stay in the living room. we heard everything though. i still remember what the police officer told my dad. "mr. farraday, your wife was in an accident. i'm sorry, but she didn't make it." it had been a hit and run. to this day, they never found out who hit her car, but mom was driven off the road and collided head-on into a tree. details of her death came out the next day. read it in the paper. she was thrown from the car, died instantly. at least she didn't suffer. that's the way i just have to think about it.
we didn't celebrate christmas. or any of the other following christmases. it was too sad. it reminded us that mom was supposed to be there. i remember we went to the funeral everyone felt bad for us boys. we ranged from ages 3 to 11. our dad barely acknowledged us through the funeral. our grandparents from mom's side had to come in and help us get ready. the house had been quiet a solid week after that. and then everything changed. first, dad would leave at night and not come back until the next day. we never knew why he was gone for long periods of time leaving an eleven year old in charge. when he did come back he was pissed and usually drunk. he'd yell at us, and we'd just go into our rooms. our home was a crappy three bedroom apartment. i shared a bedroom with my older brother. but, we would soon have to get out of that house because dad couldn't hold a stable job down and we soon found out he was gambling and drinking - so that was where the money was going. there was a solid three weeks where we couldn't buy my medicine because there was no money. my older brother stole money from dad's wallet one night when he was passed out.
when i turned thirteen, we had to move out of our house. it got foreclosed because dad wasn't paying the bills. we ended up in this shitty as hell two bedroom home. dad got one, and i shared the other with my two youngest brothers. my older one was fifteen at that point and had assumed the role as father. he'd sleep on the couch and make dinner which was usually eggs or grilled cheese, basic stuff, you know? this was when the fighting again. sometimes we got irritated with each other and would yell at each other. but that was mild compared to when dad came home, of course, with no money because he blew the money at poker. i mean, yes, there was some slapping around done and i know there is no excuse, but it was never to the extent of hospital injuries. cops were called... several times over the next several years. it was always neighbors that heard us yelling at each other. all the cops in valkyrie knew the farradays. our mom really was the glue that was keeping us all together. without her, we were just... five different people living under the same poor roof.
in high school i got really close to some guys because we all were into music. i wasn't a band geek in high school. trust me, but people knew that i played. my junior year me and some guys formed a band. we weren't no boy band, but we weren't eye-liner wearing metal heads. no, we played music that meant something. i played guitar, occasionally lent my voice, but i wasn't the lead singer, you know? we played gigs at nonsense, we even played at prom. we knew what we were doing, and we were pretty good. really good to the point where we thought we could do something with the talent. college was never in the plans for me. like i could afford it. my older brother was in college at this point but he was gone. didn't even come back for holidays or in the summer. he was done. i sort of got it. he fought with dad all the time. one of the band's members was going to college in seattle, so we pretty much decided to move to seattle after graduation. i felt really bad for leaving my younger brothers, but dad was being a jerk-off to me now that i was the oldest in the house. about a month after graduation, (that i went to alone if you were wondering,) i packed up my shit and we moved to seattle. i knew i had to get a job, so i ended up getting a job at the port of seattle. cargo ships come in, i help handling loading stuff on, getting stuff off. it's a pretty easy blue collar job, but i never complained. it was a job, i got paid, and i could still play music.
we easily got gigs at bars around town. seattle always had a big music scene. i don't know if our idea was to get rich, get famous, and be on mtv, but we were comfortable with our fanbase and just playing around seattle and some surrounding cities. we even released a couple albums independently. it was fun. but god just must think us farradays can't be happy. when i was twenty seven, jimmy, our drum player overdosed on drugs and died. i mean, i know drugs are quite common on the music scene, i was presented with blow more times than i can count, but clearly my heart can't handle excessive alcohol, smoking, and naturally drugs, so i just always stayed away from it. i knew they sometimes did drugs, and maybe looking back on it i should have done something to stop it. jimmy was supposed to meet me, cameron, and adam downtown one night and he never showed so we went to his apartment and we just found him like that. jimmy and i were really close. he was the first i had met and became friends with. his death fucked with my brain completely. we were just kids from valkyrie in our mid twenties now. i became depressed. after the funeral, i went back to my apartment and drank. i felt like my father, but i didn't care. i felt solely responsible for jimmy's death. i stopped taking my medicine, broke up with my girlfriend, became sort of a douchebag to everyone i came in contact with. started smoking too just to stick it to my health. yeah. i was slightly out of control, but jimmy had been my best friend and then i didn't have him anymore. a lot like my mom.
i was aware that i could have killed over at anymore, and there had been some thrill in that. six months after jimmy's death, i had completely shut myself in my apartment and alternated between bottles of fifths and packs of cigarettes. i was black out drunk one night. i only knew this because i was in the hospital with cameron and adam hovering over me. i was hooked up to monitors, iv in my arm. i didn't know what was going on. cameron told me that they found me in my apartment barely breathing, called 911, and here i was. the doctor's asked if i was trying to commit suicide and to be honest, i have no idea if i was trying to kill myself. i don't think in that moment i was trying to, but the fact that i stopped taking medicine pretty much told the doctors that i was waiting for my heart to stop beating.
my six month bender effected my health a lot. the doctor said they were surprised i hadn't died three months before. and then it was time for the hard facts, that basically i damaged the valve even more to the point where medicine wasn't going to help me anymore. i needed to get the valve replaced. i had money. well, you know, not enough for me to have those five cars and the ability to shit money, but i had enough for surgery. health benefits at the port was able to pay for some. cameron and adam pitched in too, which was unnecessary but they insisted. i was getting a man-made valve which was an option that wouldn't require for me to get it replaced. only set back was i had to take blood thinning medicine for the rest of my life so blood wouldn't clot. i was more comfortable taking medicine like i had been all my life versus having to go in and get opened up every ten years. so a couple months later they opened me up and replaced a valve. sewed me back up and that's where i got this long scar. chicks dig scars so i'm not self conscious about it.
i got better. i accepted jimmy's death and was able to move on without forgetting... you know, therapist shit. i continued my life like i had. only thing that was different was that we didn't really play music together anymore. we were still closer than ever, it just didn't feel right, you know? there was just a hole. life resumed back to normal, i felt like my life was seattle and valkyrie was just a temporary chapter in my life. but i guess that goddamn city has a way of sucking you back in. i got a call from my younger brother. i hadn't talked to him in over eleven years. after i first moved to seattle i tried to stay in contact with them, but that just tapered off after a year. anyway, he said dad was dead. murdered. he said i should come back because they were going to have to organize a funeral. my mom died by accident, my friend died by drugs, and now my father died of a gunshot wound to the back of his head. i honestly never thought that was how he was going to go out. but... i told the port what was going on and they said take the time i needed so then i came back to valkyrie. it looks like a different place with the same type of people."
[/color][/size][/div][/td][/tr]so, i was born after two years after my older brother. then the second youngest was only a year younger than me, we were called irish twins. and then the youngest was born when i was six. when we were kids, everything seemed fine. or maybe it was just because we were blind. but life used to be normal. when i was born, i was born with flawed heart valve, but we didn't know that until i was around six and i was getting chest pain regularly, so my parents took me to the doctor's and that had been the diagnosis. a way to fix it would be to have surgery to replace it, but my family just didn't have that kind of money. i'm sure if that had been the only option, they would have somehow managed the money, but since i could have medicine that would regulate the blood passing through and prevent irregular heartbeats, that's the option my parents took. i always had to watch my physical activity. had to build up a stamina so i wouldn't over work myself. i still hung out in the neighborhood, made friends, did all that stuff - trust me i wasn't a shut in, i just wasn't sprinting to get to third base in baseball. speaking of sports, i didn't really pursue any outside of hanging out with friends in the neighborhood. in fact, i turned to music. dad had an old guitar and i taught myself how to play it since we really couldn't afford lessons.
i was nine years old when my mom died. it was a few days till christmas and we had actually decorated a tree in the living room, we had a wreath on our front yard, mom made us help her decorate. dad had been drinking that night and was passed out on the recliner so mom said she had to get a few things and she left for what probably would have been an hour. i remember because me and my brothers fell asleep on the couch watching rudolph the red nosed reindeer on television. it was ten o'clock when the police knocked on the door. my older brother answered it because dad was just passed the fuck out, but the police managed to get him up when they came into our house. dad didn't know what the fuck was going on. he didn't even know mom left, but they went into the kitchen and dad told us four to stay in the living room. we heard everything though. i still remember what the police officer told my dad. "mr. farraday, your wife was in an accident. i'm sorry, but she didn't make it." it had been a hit and run. to this day, they never found out who hit her car, but mom was driven off the road and collided head-on into a tree. details of her death came out the next day. read it in the paper. she was thrown from the car, died instantly. at least she didn't suffer. that's the way i just have to think about it.
we didn't celebrate christmas. or any of the other following christmases. it was too sad. it reminded us that mom was supposed to be there. i remember we went to the funeral everyone felt bad for us boys. we ranged from ages 3 to 11. our dad barely acknowledged us through the funeral. our grandparents from mom's side had to come in and help us get ready. the house had been quiet a solid week after that. and then everything changed. first, dad would leave at night and not come back until the next day. we never knew why he was gone for long periods of time leaving an eleven year old in charge. when he did come back he was pissed and usually drunk. he'd yell at us, and we'd just go into our rooms. our home was a crappy three bedroom apartment. i shared a bedroom with my older brother. but, we would soon have to get out of that house because dad couldn't hold a stable job down and we soon found out he was gambling and drinking - so that was where the money was going. there was a solid three weeks where we couldn't buy my medicine because there was no money. my older brother stole money from dad's wallet one night when he was passed out.
when i turned thirteen, we had to move out of our house. it got foreclosed because dad wasn't paying the bills. we ended up in this shitty as hell two bedroom home. dad got one, and i shared the other with my two youngest brothers. my older one was fifteen at that point and had assumed the role as father. he'd sleep on the couch and make dinner which was usually eggs or grilled cheese, basic stuff, you know? this was when the fighting again. sometimes we got irritated with each other and would yell at each other. but that was mild compared to when dad came home, of course, with no money because he blew the money at poker. i mean, yes, there was some slapping around done and i know there is no excuse, but it was never to the extent of hospital injuries. cops were called... several times over the next several years. it was always neighbors that heard us yelling at each other. all the cops in valkyrie knew the farradays. our mom really was the glue that was keeping us all together. without her, we were just... five different people living under the same poor roof.
in high school i got really close to some guys because we all were into music. i wasn't a band geek in high school. trust me, but people knew that i played. my junior year me and some guys formed a band. we weren't no boy band, but we weren't eye-liner wearing metal heads. no, we played music that meant something. i played guitar, occasionally lent my voice, but i wasn't the lead singer, you know? we played gigs at nonsense, we even played at prom. we knew what we were doing, and we were pretty good. really good to the point where we thought we could do something with the talent. college was never in the plans for me. like i could afford it. my older brother was in college at this point but he was gone. didn't even come back for holidays or in the summer. he was done. i sort of got it. he fought with dad all the time. one of the band's members was going to college in seattle, so we pretty much decided to move to seattle after graduation. i felt really bad for leaving my younger brothers, but dad was being a jerk-off to me now that i was the oldest in the house. about a month after graduation, (that i went to alone if you were wondering,) i packed up my shit and we moved to seattle. i knew i had to get a job, so i ended up getting a job at the port of seattle. cargo ships come in, i help handling loading stuff on, getting stuff off. it's a pretty easy blue collar job, but i never complained. it was a job, i got paid, and i could still play music.
we easily got gigs at bars around town. seattle always had a big music scene. i don't know if our idea was to get rich, get famous, and be on mtv, but we were comfortable with our fanbase and just playing around seattle and some surrounding cities. we even released a couple albums independently. it was fun. but god just must think us farradays can't be happy. when i was twenty seven, jimmy, our drum player overdosed on drugs and died. i mean, i know drugs are quite common on the music scene, i was presented with blow more times than i can count, but clearly my heart can't handle excessive alcohol, smoking, and naturally drugs, so i just always stayed away from it. i knew they sometimes did drugs, and maybe looking back on it i should have done something to stop it. jimmy was supposed to meet me, cameron, and adam downtown one night and he never showed so we went to his apartment and we just found him like that. jimmy and i were really close. he was the first i had met and became friends with. his death fucked with my brain completely. we were just kids from valkyrie in our mid twenties now. i became depressed. after the funeral, i went back to my apartment and drank. i felt like my father, but i didn't care. i felt solely responsible for jimmy's death. i stopped taking my medicine, broke up with my girlfriend, became sort of a douchebag to everyone i came in contact with. started smoking too just to stick it to my health. yeah. i was slightly out of control, but jimmy had been my best friend and then i didn't have him anymore. a lot like my mom.
i was aware that i could have killed over at anymore, and there had been some thrill in that. six months after jimmy's death, i had completely shut myself in my apartment and alternated between bottles of fifths and packs of cigarettes. i was black out drunk one night. i only knew this because i was in the hospital with cameron and adam hovering over me. i was hooked up to monitors, iv in my arm. i didn't know what was going on. cameron told me that they found me in my apartment barely breathing, called 911, and here i was. the doctor's asked if i was trying to commit suicide and to be honest, i have no idea if i was trying to kill myself. i don't think in that moment i was trying to, but the fact that i stopped taking medicine pretty much told the doctors that i was waiting for my heart to stop beating.
my six month bender effected my health a lot. the doctor said they were surprised i hadn't died three months before. and then it was time for the hard facts, that basically i damaged the valve even more to the point where medicine wasn't going to help me anymore. i needed to get the valve replaced. i had money. well, you know, not enough for me to have those five cars and the ability to shit money, but i had enough for surgery. health benefits at the port was able to pay for some. cameron and adam pitched in too, which was unnecessary but they insisted. i was getting a man-made valve which was an option that wouldn't require for me to get it replaced. only set back was i had to take blood thinning medicine for the rest of my life so blood wouldn't clot. i was more comfortable taking medicine like i had been all my life versus having to go in and get opened up every ten years. so a couple months later they opened me up and replaced a valve. sewed me back up and that's where i got this long scar. chicks dig scars so i'm not self conscious about it.
i got better. i accepted jimmy's death and was able to move on without forgetting... you know, therapist shit. i continued my life like i had. only thing that was different was that we didn't really play music together anymore. we were still closer than ever, it just didn't feel right, you know? there was just a hole. life resumed back to normal, i felt like my life was seattle and valkyrie was just a temporary chapter in my life. but i guess that goddamn city has a way of sucking you back in. i got a call from my younger brother. i hadn't talked to him in over eleven years. after i first moved to seattle i tried to stay in contact with them, but that just tapered off after a year. anyway, he said dad was dead. murdered. he said i should come back because they were going to have to organize a funeral. my mom died by accident, my friend died by drugs, and now my father died of a gunshot wound to the back of his head. i honestly never thought that was how he was going to go out. but... i told the port what was going on and they said take the time i needed so then i came back to valkyrie. it looks like a different place with the same type of people."
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the player
ALIAS lainey
YEARS OF EXPERIENCE long time
OTHER CHARACTERS the scoobies
HOW'D YOU FIND US? i'm an original.
RP SAMPLE
YEARS OF EXPERIENCE long time
OTHER CHARACTERS the scoobies
HOW'D YOU FIND US? i'm an original.
RP SAMPLE
i regularly ship elijah/lainey
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