Post by Jamie Keenan on Jul 17, 2011 21:45:39 GMT -5
SU015
Name:Jameson Le Keenan Kirkland
Aliases:Jamie, Jamer, Finnegan, Finny
Age:24
Date of Birth:3rd of May, 25th of December
Gender: Male
Heritage: Pure Irishman. With maybe a touch of Brit.
Birthplace: Belfast, Northern Ireland
Occupation: Bartender and local ruddy drunk
Height: 5’9”, 179.8 cm
Weight: 142 lbs, 64.4 kg. Jamie’s a bit underweight from how much he drinks and how little he eats.
Hair: Jamie has black hair with a tinge of midnight blue, while Finny has bright, platinum blond hair.
Eyes: Jamie has lime green eyes with a hint of amber, while Finny has dark, sapphire blue eyes.
Distinguishing Features: Angel wings tattoo on his back with a spinal column following his own, covering three large scar. Jamie has multiple piercing in both ears, along with an eyebrow piercing he doesn’t remember getting.
Sexual Orientation: Jamie is straight with bisexual tendencies, while Finnegan is somewhat of a pansexual.
Specimen’s Likes:
Specimen’s Dislikes:
Specimen’s Interests:
- Alcohol – Jamie’s always been fascinated with alcohol; how it’s made, how it affects the body, what it does when mixed. When he’s not completely hammered, and sometimes when he is, the Irishman can usually be seen at his bar mixing drinks and testing them out to see how they taste.
- Going back to school – He missed out on half of his senior year of highschool due to a run in with the law, so Jamie’s always been interested in going back to school or at least getting his GED so the Irishman can eventually go to college.
- Chemistry – This ties into the alcohol slightly, but chemistry has been a love of Jamie’s since he was in school in science class. He’s fascinated with what happens when you mix this with that and the other thing; whether the result be volatile or calm.
Specimen’s Strong Points:
Specimen’s Weak Points:
Specimen’s Aspirations:
- Own A Bar – He loves alcohol and mixing drinks, talking to patrons, and just the general atmosphere of a bar.
- Finish School – Jamie’d love to go back to school and at least get his high school degree. His ultimate ambition is to get a degree in chemistry, but the Irishman doubts that’ll ever happen.
- Quit Drinking – Jamie full well realizes he has a problem, and he wants it to stop. He doesn’t like how he acts drunk, or how he speaks to those he cares for and he doesn’t want to turn out like his father.
Specimen’s Fears:
- Becoming His Father – Jamie’s father was a bitter, abusive drunk and pushed Jamie to the same extreme. He’s afraid of becoming what his father was.
- Losing His Family – As much as the Irishman gripes and moans about his brothers, Jamie really does love them and doesn’t know what he would do without the pricks.
- Dying of Alcohol Poisoning – He can think of a million and one better ways to go than this.
Specimen’s Personality:
In a few words, angry, drunk, bitter. And for all intensive purposes, Jamie Keenan is just that. Very angry at how he let himself be pushed around most of his childhood, Jamie is constantly drinking and always has a bad attitude towards anyone who gets on his bad side within five seconds, which usually doesn't take more than a small implication of his father, or anything about him. Jamie can be moody and usually doesn't stay in the same mindset for long. He's a violent drunk and will lash out if prodded, but runs to the bathroom as soon as he sees blood.
Get Jamie sober, and you find a completely different person. Very soft spoken and observes more than interacts, Jamie is a very inquisitive and thoughtful person who rarely raises his voice and always thinks before he speaks. He interested in explosives and has almost been recruited by the IRA a few times, but dislikes what they’re doing. He understands and supports their cause whole -heartedly, but he hates how they handle it.
Jamie is very gentlemanly towards women, drunk or sober, and will often bring out his Irish charm just for the fun of it. The Irishman also has a soft spot for children, but tends to avoid them when he is drunk. Jamie doesn't trust himself all that much. He is very aware of how violent he can get and would hate to have a child even witness that, let alone take out his anger on such a child. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if that happened.
On the matter of trust, Jamie has slight trust issues. And by slight, I mean major. When he was a bit younger, 9 or 10, he was constantly beat by his father who had suddenly become a drunken mess. Jamie was usually afraid for his life and spent as much time as possible out of the house, glancing over his shoulder to see if his father was there to pick him up yet. Because of this, Jamie has a very hard time fully trusting anyone and tries to keep all at a distance. When he feels someone is getting too close, the raven will usually push them to a comfortable distance, whether it damages the friendship or not.
Despite his trust issues, Jamie is a hopeless romantic. His library is filled with romance novels and other things of the various sorts. He loves to fantasize and will sit for hours just staring into space and thinking of dashing romances and perilous journeys. Jamie can be a bit of an airhead sometimes.
Jamie is a very troubled man, constantly stalked by his demons and his past, always waiting to catch up with him just around the corner of sober and thus he runs back to the bottle like a child runs to his mother after having a bad dream. As such, the Irishman keeps his house liberally stocked with various amounts of alcohol and other mind numbing things. Jamie hates being drunk, but he hates being sober more at this point in time.
In all, Jamie is a violent drunk, has a very pessimistic outlook on life, and almost always has a drink with him. But get the man sober, and you find a kind, compassionate, and very considerate man who is well aware of his sins. He’s tried to stop before, but his demons always manage to catch up with him when he’s sober and thus pushes him back to the bottle. Jamie is a very troubled individual.
Specimen’s Second Personality: Finnegan is the epitome of recklessness. He’s constantly trying to start needless fights just for the sake of fighting, for the sake of that feeling of bone crunching under bone and skin breaking and blood pouring. This is probably due to the fact that Finnegan usually only comes out when Jamie is stark raving drunk.
He’s very malicious and has no morals when it comes to a fight and will do anything to come out on top. He’s ruthless, and a constant critic of other’s fighting style. He’s amused at other people’s anger and loves to incite them. Hit him, he laughs. Slap him, he cackles. Kick him, he just sits there and grins. Finnegan could probably be considered a masochist if you delve too deep into it.
Get on Finnegan’s good side, and that’s a feat within itself, and you find a mildly pleasant individual, if a narcissist. Finny is convinced he is the greatest thing to bless this earth. Get him going, and he could talk for hours about himself. It can grate on ones nerves, but he does it in a way that sounds like he doesn’t mean it, that he’s just trying to get a smile out of you.
Finnegan takes Jamie’s trust issues to a whole other level, almost to the point of paranoia. Finny is constantly looking over his shoulder or flashing a mirror in front of a corner to see if anyone is coming. He’s found that most people usually want to do more harm than good to him and will avoid people. He’s a tad bit anti-social, but with good reason.
When Jamie’s father attacked him, Finnegan was suddenly born. He was born out of hurt and rage and fright and the feeling of a knife going down his back with words of hatred and malice filling his ears at the tender age of thirteen. As such, he’s always wary of people standing behind him or even getting yelled at if he didn’t incite the yelling.
Specimen’s Family:
- Finnegan Keenan; father; deceased; factory worker
- Miriam Kirkland; mother; deceased
- Arthur Kirkland; half brother
- Friseal Gavin MacDonald; half brother
- (Wales); half brother
Specimen’s Brief History: Jameson Le Keenan Kirkland was born the illegitimate child of Finnegan Keenan and Miriam Kirkland on the third of May twenty-four years ago. He was a premie, about a half a month early and slightly underweight, but otherwise a healthy and happy child. Finnegan Keenan adored his new son, but Miriam was apprehensive of the boy, already in a different relationship and quickly relinquished parental rights to Finnegan.
As a small child, Jamie was the picture of a spoiled child, growing up in the busling city of Belfast, Northern Ireland with his then dotting father. Finnegan was constantly taking his son on fishing trips, to the park, any place the boy ever wanted to go, he’d go. Jamie enjoyed a very lush and easy childhood, no matter how pressed his father was for money. If the Irishman thought back far enough, he could remember nights of his father just sitting there with a glass of coffee while Jamie ate the food he couldn’t afford for himself.
Jamie lived on the better side of poor and his father was always good to him, he got a decent education, and lived a generally pleasant life. Until Jamie’s mother married, that’s when Finnegan started to drink. Jamie was only nine.
Finnegan Keenan was a sour drunk.
It wasn’t until almost a year later, shortly after Jamie’s birthday, that his father started hitting him, blaming the boy for any trouble he’d ever had. Whether or not little ten-year-old Jamie was really the culprit was to be determined. Jamie would constantly show up to school with bruise and cuts, one time even getting sent to the hospital because his hand was broken but Finnegan refused to take his son to the hospital. The just couldn’t afford it.
Over the next few years, the beatings got worse and worse and Jamie soon started to drink himself, staying out to ridiculous hours of the night and coming home to take yet another beating. He’d learned to take it and move, clinging to those rare moments when Finnegan was sober. They were few and far between.
One time, when Jamie was thirteen, he came home to find his father drunk as all get out. Nothing new, but there was definitely something wrong with that night.
Finnegan Keenan had a knife.
Next thing Jamie knew, he was on his stomach with the pain of cold steel against his bare back. After that, he blacked out and woke up with blood all over him, not all of it entirely his own. He had quickly stood up and called 999, waiting quietly as the police came.
It turned out that Jamie had killed his father in self defense, and was let off with no other kind of legal trouble. He was bounced around from foster home to foster home until he was eighteen. That was when he hightailed it to England to get a paying job.
Not much after his twenty-third birthday, Jamie heard that his mother had been murdered. Jamie tentatively made his way to the funeral home and met up with brothers he hadn’t seen in years. Soon after the awkward meet up, Jamie had slunk away to get drunk as all get out. He found himself in Amenic a year later.
Split’s Emergence: Jamie was thirteen when his father attacked him with a knife. The Irishman had been out drinking, both of them, and Jamie had come home around midnight; hammered and swaying. It was just like any other night, both of the Keenan men hammered and violent, but something was different tonight. Finnegan was sitting at the kitchen table with a butcher knife, and he’d just lost his job. Of course, this was all Jamie’s fault and the little bastard of a boy needed to be taught a lesson.
Finnegan slowly approached Jamie, who was half way up the stairs in an attempt to hide out in his room. He felt a sudden tug at the back of his shirt as his father drug him back down into the living room; ripping the boy’s shirt off and proceeding to toss him on the floor on his stomach.
Jamie’s first thought was if he was about to get raped by his own father, but as he felt the other sit on his lower back, clothes intact, he knew this train of thought was wrong. Not that his new one was any better. Jamie’s next thought was that he was about to be killed by his own father as he felt cold steel press hard enough on his shoulder blade to draw blood. By this time Finnegan was rambling on like a crazy man as he cut and slashed three long marks into Jamie’s back; one from his left shoulder blade to his tail bone, one going right down his spine, and one going from his right shoulder blade to his tail bone.
The young Irishman felt something inside his head snap and everything went pitch black.
He woke up some hours later, covered in blood not entirely his own as the ebony haired boy stood on shaky legs, glancing around for his father. Not seeing him anywhere, Jamie dialed 999 and sat in shock as the police arrived. He later found out he killed his father in self defense.
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OOC
Name/Alias; Taibutt, Jedi, That Weird Girl, whatever I’ll recognize<3
Age; Over 9000
Favorite Pairings; Kirklandcest, Irishcest, ScotNire, and pretty much NirexWorld >A>
Did you read the rules? I don’t like veggies :c But I guess I can stomach Carrots.
Age; Over 9000
Favorite Pairings; Kirklandcest, Irishcest, ScotNire, and pretty much NirexWorld >A>
Did you read the rules? I don’t like veggies :c But I guess I can stomach Carrots.
He’d dreamt about her again.
Shoulders sagged, face pale and sweat gleamed, hair a mess, Jamie sat on the stoop of his motel room with a cigarette between his lips and a bottle of whiskey in his clammy hands. It was always the worst kind of night when he’d dream of her. Couldn’t the bitch just leave him alone? She was dead and buried, why did the woman have to haunt his dreams? It was bad enough that Jamie had been forced to kill her. He didn’t need the nightmares.
With a shaky sigh, the Cu Sith snubbed out his cigarette and took a long swig of whiskey, reveling at the burn it left down his throat. Over the past few months, Jamie had been drinking more than he ever has, smoking more than is even healthy, and sleeping less than six hours a week at best.
All because of Camilla.
He hated it, knowing that a woman, or anyone for that matter, could have so much control over him as to drive the man into a potentially early grave. Jamie didn’t even want to think about how bad a shape his body was in. The worst part was that his body wasn’t even the part of him most damaged. His trust, of anyone, was completely shot, his sense of mind and peace was gone, his pure sense of self was blown to bits.
Jamie was completely numb, only finding sensation in alcohol.
The ebony haired man pushed himself up onto shaking legs, cursing at himself under his breath as the man stared out at the night. The moon was up, overshadowing the stars around it and taking center stage of the night. Jamie shook the thoughts from his head with another swig of whiskey, downing the rest of the bottle. He stared at it in disdain, tossing the thing onto the floor and watching as the glass shattered. Turning, he headed for the tavern that owned the motel he was in, intent on getting more whiskey as he entered the establishment through a wooden door that creaked at the hinges.
It was mostly empty, a few people here and there probably with troubles similar to his, probably not. Jamie didn’t really care as he plopped down on the bar stool, ordering a bottle of Jameson. He didn’t want to remember a lick of tonight.
Shoulders sagged, face pale and sweat gleamed, hair a mess, Jamie sat on the stoop of his motel room with a cigarette between his lips and a bottle of whiskey in his clammy hands. It was always the worst kind of night when he’d dream of her. Couldn’t the bitch just leave him alone? She was dead and buried, why did the woman have to haunt his dreams? It was bad enough that Jamie had been forced to kill her. He didn’t need the nightmares.
With a shaky sigh, the Cu Sith snubbed out his cigarette and took a long swig of whiskey, reveling at the burn it left down his throat. Over the past few months, Jamie had been drinking more than he ever has, smoking more than is even healthy, and sleeping less than six hours a week at best.
All because of Camilla.
He hated it, knowing that a woman, or anyone for that matter, could have so much control over him as to drive the man into a potentially early grave. Jamie didn’t even want to think about how bad a shape his body was in. The worst part was that his body wasn’t even the part of him most damaged. His trust, of anyone, was completely shot, his sense of mind and peace was gone, his pure sense of self was blown to bits.
Jamie was completely numb, only finding sensation in alcohol.
The ebony haired man pushed himself up onto shaking legs, cursing at himself under his breath as the man stared out at the night. The moon was up, overshadowing the stars around it and taking center stage of the night. Jamie shook the thoughts from his head with another swig of whiskey, downing the rest of the bottle. He stared at it in disdain, tossing the thing onto the floor and watching as the glass shattered. Turning, he headed for the tavern that owned the motel he was in, intent on getting more whiskey as he entered the establishment through a wooden door that creaked at the hinges.
It was mostly empty, a few people here and there probably with troubles similar to his, probably not. Jamie didn’t really care as he plopped down on the bar stool, ordering a bottle of Jameson. He didn’t want to remember a lick of tonight.
