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nice 💝

Liam Sullivan - Between Two Worlds Chapter 1: Chicago Roots Liam Sullivan came into the world in November of 1997 to Jack Sullivan, a tough but affable Chicago firefighter, and Maeve O'Sullivan, a feisty Irish immigrant who worked long hours as a nurse. Their South Side apartment was cramped but loud—baseball games always crackling on the radio, the smell of his mother's stew bubbling on the stovetop, and the boom of arguments through thin walls. Liam had two worlds tugging on him when he grew up. His father had him learning at Cubs games, blue-collar attitude, and how a man has to stand his ground. His mother had him learning fast talking, old rebel tunes, and drinking tea as medicine. As a teenager, he had absorbed his father's obstinacy and his mother's temper—unstable mixed together in the wrong situation.   Chapter 2: Breaking Point When Liam was twelve years old, his father was burned in a fire and returned home with a twisted leg and no pension. Cash grew scarce, and the arguments grew louder. Maeve worked double shifts, and Jack grew resentful. Liam learned to slip out early, before the arguments started, and walk the streets, an old acoustic guitar he'd found in a second-hand shop held protectively to his chest. Music held him together. By the time he reached high school, he was already taking odd jobs—delivering pizzas, working trucks, bouncing at bars that didn't card too closely. He fought, usually fighting on behalf of someone, and had a reputation for being the kind of guy who would never back down. But Chicago ensnared you, and he knew that if he stayed, he would be just like his old man—ticked off and stuck.   Chapter 3: Westbound At the age of 21, with a duffel bag and a broken guitar, Liam boarded a bus to Los Santos. It was unlike Chicago—wider, louder, with palm trees and strangers who were on the run from something or pursuing dreams. He slept on couches, played open mic for tips, and did anything that paid in cash. It wasn't fun. He got robbed, got into a few scrapes, and spent a few nights sleeping in his car. But he also found his niche—playing blues-tinged Irish folk in seedy bars, hanging out with other vagabonds, and finding that Los Santos didn't care where you were from as long as you could stand on your own two feet.   Chapter 4: The Grind Now in his mid-twenties, Liam's life is a patchwork of hustles and gigs. He tends bar at a Vinewood rock club, freelances security work when he can use some extra cash, and plays music whenever he can scrounge up time. He's got a run-down apartment in Rancho, the kind of place with peeling paint but good enough to call home. He's not rich, he's not famous, but he's on his own. Los Santos taught him to make do—when to bullshit his way out of trouble and when to jab the first guy in the face. He still calls his mom on Sundays, still uses his dad's battered old Zippo, and still feels that Chicago pride when he meets another Midwesterner downtown. But Los Santos is his now. The city does not forgive, but if you're smart, tough, and a little bit lucky, it lets you carve your own niche. And Liam Sullivan? He's just getting started.

Apperciated sir, we'll use it to buy a vehicle to atleast four newbies. Will post screenshots soon! (bro didn't donate shit)

familia de sangre