Me before... everything happened.
Full Name: Jackson Flynn Murphy
Nicknames: Jack is only allowed by those who I let into my close circle of friends. To everyone else, it's Jackson.
Age: Nineteen.
Birthdate: Eleventh of March.
Home Town: I was born and raised in Galway, Ireland until I was seven. Then, my family moved around - we reside in San Francisco at the moment.
Sexuality: Heterosexual.
School: Arcana Academy
Power: My power is emotion manipulation. I can cause the people around me to feel things that they are not, and to enhance or decrease the intensity of an emotion. I can't completely remove an emotion, but I can dull it down to the point where the person can barely feel it. I also can't "add" an emotion, but I can try and enhance a tiny speck of it in someone, if I believe that it's there somewhere. Some of the main emotions that I usually have to deal with are sadness, anger, pain, affection and fear - it's rare that I have to deal with any of the "good" emotions, as most don't like those emotions being dulled. I have to be told, or physically see how someone is feeling, as I'm not an empath, to be able to use my power as well, so against an enemy, it is a little useless. However, there are a lot of limitations to my power, seeing as it is incredibly powerful when used correctly. I can affect more than one person at a time, but my limit so far as been four - and after that, I almost collapsed. Also, to be able to dull someone's emotion, I have to absorb it myself. See why the many people is a problem now? I try to limit myself as to how much I use my power, and to who I interact with, as I can't stand having to absorb too many emotions.
Likes: ⊠Whiskey ⊠parties ⊠anything to do with music - listening to it, playing it, ect. ⊠bacon sandwiches, possibly with sausage ⊠genuine people ⊠a good cup of tea ⊠just wandering around aimlessly, with no worries or cares ⊠Disney movies are a guilty pleasure of mine - not the lovely dovey ones, but Lion King, and Pinocchio, but don't tell anyone ⊠long showers or baths ⊠the smell of freshly cut grass.
Dislikes: ⊠Not being able to walk outside - I just likes being outdoors ⊠being asked to help with emotions - I don't like people asking me unless they're in my close friendship group ⊠wearing new shoes for the first time ⊠being too cold ⊠orange juice - it's too sour to drink ⊠being classed as a traditional Irishman because of my accent and like for drinking ⊠girls that are taller than me - it's rare, but it's happened ⊠clingy girls ⊠I can't stand people sitting on a piano, just playing "Chopsticks" ⊠when people who I'm not close to decide to touch me - just don't.
Fears: I have pyrophobia, which is a fear of fire. I honestly don't have a reason for disliking fire - I just really, really hate it. It's the only thing I'm really scared of, other than death.
Personality: I'm a perfect gentleman. I hold the door open for a lady, always buy everything on a date, and act with the up-most chivalry. I don't however, like to make a lot of conversation - I'm quiet and solitary. If I don't have to stand there a talk to someone, I won't. I will smile and excuse myself before a conversation can be sparked. I don't know why - maybe it's because of all my moving around as a child, I don't like the idea of getting too close to someone, as I'm still a little afraid of loosing them. That's probably why the word "mysterious" follows me around a lot. I haven't opened up to many people in Arcana since I have been here, and I don't plan to in the near future; I'm quite content the way I am with my small number of friends. I'm extremely confident when I have to be, such as talking in front of crowds in Philosophy class, or leading a charge in Battle class, but I wouldn't walk up to a woman with the same confidence. I am a little shy when it comes to dating, which explains my only ever having one serious girlfriend.
I'm also what you could call a partier. I host all of the best parties at Arcana. If you don't get invited to one of my parties, it seems, then you are no-one. However, I try to invite everyone. Although, I don't heavily get involved in the drinking and dancing festivities. I much prefer standing in the corner of my room, drinking a glass of whiskey. I don't flirt, I don't have casual sex, and I don't dance. Some say I can be a bit of a prude, but I just say I don't like to make a fool of myself. I'm very stiff-upper-lip and upper class as some people may say, but I again call it being polite. I do have a little bit of a temper problem however, and I don't like people who go against my will on purpose, and rub it in my face. I'm like most males, extremely stubborn when it comes to a lot of things, and I am quite closed off. If you want to get close to me... well, you can try, but I'm sure it won't happen. If I want to be your friend, I shall come to you, not the other way around. Finally, I hate people who are "mean" to others on purpose, and if I see it happening, I will get involved and try to stop it. I can't stand bullies - they have no place in this world.
Before my father died, I was completely the opposite to the way I am now. I was a socialite, had many friends, drank a lot, and... let's just say I had a little bit of promiscuous side. I enjoyed my youth the way that every male does - whilst keeping a polite and straight facade up in front of my parents - at comprehensive school, I was the class joker, the life of the party, and the school "player." I had to grow up when my father died, and my gift came out. It's rare that I smile any more...
History: I was born Jackson Flynn Murphy to Millicent and General Bartholomew Murphy in the small town of Galway, in Ireland, their only child. It was my mother's home town - the place where she had grown up, and had wanted to give birth to her first child. My father had been stationed there for the last four years, and had fallen in love with and married my mother, Millie. He had to extend his company's stay to accommodate his wife's wishes, of giving birth to me in Galway, and on the Eleventh of March, I was born into the world. My father is the General of the Irish Army, and so decided to stay in Galway with my mother for the first few years of my life.
It was nice, having both my mother and my father around, seeing as some of the other children that I knew didn't have that same stability. However, that all changed when I hit the age of three, and my father started getting restless. He was used to travelling around with his troops, making sure everything was perfect with them first hand, and it made him uncomfortable knowing that he was being left behind. So, he went off again to travel with them, leaving my mother and me behind in Ireland. I didn't like it at first - I wondered where my father was going, and why he didn't come home for long periods of nine months at a time. When he did come home however, it was lovely, and we spent as much time together as possible - going on picnics, playing in the park and everything else that a usual family does.
I was definitely more of a father's boy than a mother's one. I looked up to my father more than anyone else in the world, and by the age of seven, I was pleading to go along with him on his journeys. My mother was also getting sick of my father leaving us all of the time, and so, we started to travel with him - I became what some call an "army brat", being dragged around different countries, and cities by my General father. However, I loved it. I got to meet an amazing array of people, made a couple of good friends and had a fun time. Of course, it hurt when we moved on again, and I had made a friend, for example, that one girl I was friends with before, Lulu - sometimes, I still miss her. But, all of the hurt was taken away when I arrived at a new place, with new people, and new things to see. I wanted to become my father, to join the army and move up from the very bottom rank like he had done.
When we lived in Washington, we stayed there for three years, and I started going to school there, I made friends, and I even found a girl. Bethany Phillips. Whilst I was in the basketball team, and hung out with all of the jocks, she was the girl who sat in the library reading whatever books she could get her hands on, and she was the most beautiful girl in the school. I was only fifteen at the time, her only fourteen, but I knew I wanted her as my own. I tried to ignore her however, as my friends all told me that "going out with a nerd like her would be social suicide" but in the end, she won me over - I mean who could ignore a beautiful face like that? She became my best friend, rivaling my friendship with Lulu, and soon, we were in a relationship. It was perfect for the first year - we went out for romantic meals, took pictures in photo-booths, walked through the park barefoot - it was lovely. We even took each other's virginity - something that meant a lot to both of us.
However, we were still stupid kids. New Years, we went out to a party together, and there was a lot of drinking. When I say a lot, I mean, I barely remember anything from the night. I don't even remember the clock turning twelve, going up stairs with Beth, and forgetting to put a condom on. I blame myself for the situation that we found ourselves in - it was my responsibility to carry the condom and to put it on, but no - I was too drunk to care, and I forgot. About a month later, I finally asked Beth why she was acting so strangely. She was a little sick, which obviously had me worried out of my mind, but she had been strange around me; not telling me anything, trying to avoid me - it wasn't like my Beth, and I didn't like it. Then, she finally opened up to me and dropped the bombshell.
She was pregnant.
I was going to be a father at seventeen.
I literally held her as she cried in my arms as she told me, and I could see that she was petrified. I was too - I was so scared. Would I be a good father? What would we end up doing about the child? What would my father say? Did her father know? So many questions ran through my mind, but they were all slowly answered. Both of us instantly decided against an abortion; it's wrong and there's no condoning killing a child like that, and we thought about adoption. However, both Beth and myself knew that we couldn't give up our child like that. It was wrong, to have someone else raise our son or daughter as their own; we decided to do it together, to help each other through it. My mother agreed that it was the best decision, and she said that she would be there to help us throughout whatever. I got a job to be able to pay some of the medical fees, and bought some of the baby things - like a crib, and toys. I held Beth's hand throughout the scans, throughout all the medical procedures, and finally, throughout the birth.
When I first laid eyes on my daughter, I cried. There was honestly nothing more beautiful in the world. We named her Holly Millicent Murphy, taking my mother's name as her middle name. When she was first placed into my arms, I just didn't want to let her go. She had a dark head of hair like mine, and the beautiful blue eyes of her mother. That was the moment I told Beth I loved her, holding Holly in my arms in that hospital room, minutes after her birth. I was literally on Cloud Nine.
I practically moved in to Beth's house when we brought Holly home; our parents didn't mind - they thought it was right for me to be over there all of the time, seeing as she was out daughter, and not just Beth's. Reading her bed time stories was my favourite part of being her father, and just laying there with her in my arms, looking down at her. She was just so beautiful, and the one thing in my life that I knew I would love for the entirety of my life. I telegramed my father days after she was born telling him to come on video chat, and the first time he saw her, he cried. Holly was my world.
However then, the worst thing imaginable that could happen, happened. One night, when Holly was just over five months old, I was laying next to Beth in bed, catching up on a bit of homework, I heard our daughter cough. And then again. And then again. And then she cried. I woke up Beth instantly, and moved over to the crib to check on her. A little bit of a sniffly nose, but she was fine. I was a panicky father - probably one of the worst that there has ever been, but I just saw it as being protecting of my daughter. A few days later, she started being sick, and we instantly rushed her to the doctors, wondering what had made our precious daughter so ill. We were told about a flu that was going around, and that all we had to do was keep her wrapped up and warm, and she'd get better in a few days.
But she didn't. Our baby didn't get better. She got progressively worse and worse, and six days after going to the doctors for help, Holly passed away. She was in Beth's arms, and I was holding her hand as she took her last breaths. Our precious little girl was gone, at such a young age. All I remember is Beth screaming, tears falling down both of our faces as I took her out of Beth's hands, cradling my little girl. Beth was in too much of a state to hold her as her father rushed us to the hospital, but there was nothing that they could do. She was gone.
Me and Beth tried to keep our relationship together, but as we took apart the cot and packed away all of Holly's toys, I could feel us drifting apart. The loss of our daughter was driving a wedge between us, instead of helping us grow closer. Then, I got some news that just destroyed me completely. Three months after my father was shipped out to Iraq, we received a telegram. The dreaded telegram. My father had been in a jeep with another five members of his squadron, and a land mine had blown. First Holly, now my father... was anything ever going to go right for me?
I found out about my power on the date of my father's funeral. There was no body to bury, and there was just a casket with his picture on top. We were in the front row, my mother and me, and I as I was holding her hand, I wished that I could make her stop crying. I didn't want her to be upset any more, it was killing me to see her crying so much, and the harder I thought about it, she began to stop. Then, I began to cry - I began to take in everything that my mother was feeling - the emptiness inside her heart, her fears and worries for the future... I felt everything my mother had been, and when I turned to look at her, she had stopped crying completely - where was I was pouring my heart out through my tears. When I asked my mother about it that night, she bit on her lip softly, and began to tell me about my father.
My father had been an Empath - knowing the emotions of those around him, and with how close to him I was, it was no surprise that my power began to stem from his. My mother then told me about a school that he had once attended, Arcana Academy, and I instantly knew that I wanted to study there, to make my father proud of me there. And so here I am. I'm completely broken since my father's death - I haven't been myself in two years, and I'm not sure that I ever will be again. We moved to San Francisco after my father's funeral. Beth and myself split up before I left; we knew it wasn't going to work out without our daughter around, and with my added sadness of my father's death, I was no good to be her shoulder to cry on. Holly and my father were buried next to each other in Washington, allowing them to meet in heaven, and then we left. Ever since then, it hasn't been the same. My mother has changed, I've changed - and we now live in San Fransisco.
Anything else? I've played the piano since I was a young boy, and I'm also fluently skilled in the violin - I have my own black one called Verona. I'm also fluent in Spanish, Gaelic, Italian and Chinese, and I can fence. Yup, I can fence. The joys of being a rich child. I'm also very interested in psychology, and I would like to work as a mental health doctor one day. I have to also wear glasses when I'm in class. I carry around a picture of my daughter in a chain around my neck, keeping her close to my heart, always.
