Post by Gilbert Beilschmidt on Oct 24, 2011 16:14:26 GMT -5
You want to tell me what this is all about?
Name: Gilbert Beilschmidt
Street Name: Teuton
As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
I take a look at my life and realize there's not much left
I take a look at my life and realize there's not much left
Age: 22
Bitch or Homie: Homie
Cause I've been blastin' and laughin so long that
Even my ma'ma thinks that my mind is gone[/font][/size][/b]
Where you from?: Berlin, Germany
Whatchoo do?: Assassin, body guard, enforcer, college student (senior, soon to graduate)
Who you be reppin?: Zhuravli Bratva
But I ain't never crossed a man that didn't deserve it
Me, be treated like a punk, you know that's unheard of
Me, be treated like a punk, you know that's unheard of
How you do:
[/li][li] Immature
[/li][li] Wanderer
[/li][li] Clingy
[/li][li] Loud
[/li][li] Obnoxious
[/li][li] Spoiled
[/li][li] Cruel
[/li][li] A bit narcissistic
[/li][li] Nosy
[/li][li] Kindhearted (at times)
[/li][li] Naive
[/li][li] Argumentative
[/li][li] Stubborn
[/li][li] Sappy
[/li][li] Impulsive
[/li][li] Protective
[/li][li] Easily excited
[/li][li] Of slightly above average intelligence (though he prefers to use this in other ways beside with college)
[/li][li] Proud[/color]
You better watch how you talkin, and where you walkin
Or you and your homies might be lined in chalk
Your thing:
[/li][li] Liquor -- especially beer
[/li][li] Smoking
[/li][li] Cute things
[/li][li] Birds
[/li][li] People
[/li][li] Weapons
[/li][li] Bright/unusual/shiny objects
[/li][li] Chaos
[/li][li] Fire
[/li][li] Being warm
[/li][li] Blankets
[/li][li] Nighttime
[/li][li] The colors red/black
[/li][li] Sleeping
[/li][li] Attention
[/li][li] Money
[/li][li] Talking
[/li][li] Dead things
[/li][li] Being on the hunt for the next target
[/li][li] Human anatomy
[/li][li] The smell of chemicals
[/li][li] Family[/color]
I really hate to trip, but I gotta loc'-
As they grew I see myself in the pistol smoke, fool
Not your thing:
[/li][li] Work (definitely includes homework)
[/li][li] Sitting still
[/li][li] Having to wait
[/li][li] Hungarians
[/li][li] Being ignored
[/li][li] Being by himself
[/li][li] Snotty people
[/li][li] Authority figures
[/li][li] Not being in charge
[/li][li] Stake-outs
[/li][li] His albinism (for the most part)
[/li][li] The cold
[/li][li] Staying in one place too long
[/li][li] Not being near Ivan
[/li][li] Weakness (his own or others')
[/li][li] Being sick
[/li][li] Doctors
[/li][li] Losing control[/color]
I'm the kinda G the little homies wanna be like
What you been through: Gilbert barely remembers his life before he was found by Ivan. He doesn’t know what happened, but for some reason his mind is completely blank from a couple weeks before his ninth birthday. He finds this a handicap, but he prefers to believe that he had come from a nice home with loving parents – ones who didn’t abandon him and his baby brother in the center of Berlin; Ludwig was only six at the time. The little Prussian didn’t understand why the first memory he remembered was huddling together with his brother in the freezing cold of December.
This question plagued him even after the two brothers were found and taken in by Ivan. Gilbert quickly developed an attachment quickly to the older man, refusing to let go and not once wanting him out of his sight – not unless it was absolutely necessary. Ivan was his hero, savior, and role-model all rolled into one; he had saved him and Ludwig from death and starvation. He clung to Ivan as he was taught the ways of how to survive in this new world of Russian gangs that he had been introduced too. His skills became top-notch easily, and he was chosen to be an assassin for the Bratva – and bodyguard to Ivan once he managed to obtain a top rank.
Once Gilbert hit his teenage years, his feelings towards Ivan started to change from admiration to lust. It was only a few years later that he realized he had fallen in love with the older man, and soon the two became lovers after a series of events. At this time, the Prussian was ranked as nearly second-in-command, alongside his brother. He was satisfied with his life.
He is currently being put through college, though Gilbert is dangerously close to flunking out despite this being his senior year. He had taken a gap year between graduating from high school to starting college, and still he doesn’t care too much about the educational system. He’d rather stay by Ivan’s side or take someone out with his ‘job’ as an assassin than go to school.
On my knees in the night
Other shit: Gilbert owns a white cat named Adler (meaning 'eagle' in German). He also has a compulsive tendency to constantly clean his guns and other weapons, to make sure that they remain in top shape.
Sayin prayers in the street light
Show us what you got:
[ From Zirkustalia ]
Gilbert wandered unsteadily through the grounds of his Zirkus, nearly falling several times despite his trying to walk in a straight line. He was laughing, more of a cackle then anything, with that Cheshire cat-like grin curving his lips. He must have looked similar to a mad man, but in his drunken haze he didn’t really care for his appearance as Ringmaster. There were no customers here, after all.
Vaguely he wondered where Arthur was, and after a minute or longer pondering this, he remembered that his lover was still in their caravan. Maybe still waiting for him. The Prussian had wanted a drink, and now here he was…though he wasn’t exactly sure where he was in the camp. His sense of direction was skewed.
He paused, tilting his head up to blink dazedly at the stars in the velvet sky. Arthur had taught him how to read directions from the heavens, hadn’t he? But he couldn’t remember, couldn’t get his brain to process what he needed to do for that. Was he lost?
Gilbert cast a curious gaze around at the caravans around him, not recognizing them now. But he knew that this was his Zirkus…right? Right. The Prussian nodded to himself and started forward again, changing his direction at the last minute.
His fingers tightened subconsciously around glass, and Gilbert looked down in surprise. How had he forgotten that he was still holding a beer bottle? Lifting it up to his face, he squinted to try to determine how much was left – and nodded in satisfaction at the amount. He tilted his head back to take a sip, almost spilling it on himself with his uncoordinated state.
The Prussian frowned deeply at the bottle when it ran out of beer, pointing it towards the ground and shaking it, as if it would magically fill with the liquor again. Gilbert muttered darkly, tossing it carelessly to the side with a small curse as he stumbled on. He found himself near the animal pens, eyes hazed as he stared at the smaller creatures.
Creeping forward, he leaned heavily against one pen and peered down at the chickens poking at the dirt. The flimsy walls of the cage barely reached his waist, not even taking his weight, but Gilbert was far too oblivious to notice. “What good little chickies…” he cooed softly, reaching forward to stroke a finger along the downy neck of the closest one.
Gilbert leaned further, laughing as that chicken seemed to preen at the attention. But the fence bent under his weight and he found himself falling forward into the pen with a startled shout, scattering the chickens and feathers. The Prussian shook his head in an effort to clear it, staying perfectly still as the animals squawked around him. Well, that was a change of pace.
Gilbert wandered unsteadily through the grounds of his Zirkus, nearly falling several times despite his trying to walk in a straight line. He was laughing, more of a cackle then anything, with that Cheshire cat-like grin curving his lips. He must have looked similar to a mad man, but in his drunken haze he didn’t really care for his appearance as Ringmaster. There were no customers here, after all.
Vaguely he wondered where Arthur was, and after a minute or longer pondering this, he remembered that his lover was still in their caravan. Maybe still waiting for him. The Prussian had wanted a drink, and now here he was…though he wasn’t exactly sure where he was in the camp. His sense of direction was skewed.
He paused, tilting his head up to blink dazedly at the stars in the velvet sky. Arthur had taught him how to read directions from the heavens, hadn’t he? But he couldn’t remember, couldn’t get his brain to process what he needed to do for that. Was he lost?
Gilbert cast a curious gaze around at the caravans around him, not recognizing them now. But he knew that this was his Zirkus…right? Right. The Prussian nodded to himself and started forward again, changing his direction at the last minute.
His fingers tightened subconsciously around glass, and Gilbert looked down in surprise. How had he forgotten that he was still holding a beer bottle? Lifting it up to his face, he squinted to try to determine how much was left – and nodded in satisfaction at the amount. He tilted his head back to take a sip, almost spilling it on himself with his uncoordinated state.
The Prussian frowned deeply at the bottle when it ran out of beer, pointing it towards the ground and shaking it, as if it would magically fill with the liquor again. Gilbert muttered darkly, tossing it carelessly to the side with a small curse as he stumbled on. He found himself near the animal pens, eyes hazed as he stared at the smaller creatures.
Creeping forward, he leaned heavily against one pen and peered down at the chickens poking at the dirt. The flimsy walls of the cage barely reached his waist, not even taking his weight, but Gilbert was far too oblivious to notice. “What good little chickies…” he cooed softly, reaching forward to stroke a finger along the downy neck of the closest one.
Gilbert leaned further, laughing as that chicken seemed to preen at the attention. But the fence bent under his weight and he found himself falling forward into the pen with a startled shout, scattering the chickens and feathers. The Prussian shook his head in an effort to clear it, staying perfectly still as the animals squawked around him. Well, that was a change of pace.
Been spending most our lives living in the Gangsta's Paradise