Post by klr on Mar 7, 2010 2:15:42 GMT -5
KILLIAN LIAM REAGAN
[/center]Name: Killian Liam Reagan
Nicknames: Kill, Reagan, Ray Gun
Age: 21
Date of Birth: August 21, 1988
Grade: Junior
Orientation: Straight
Nationality: Irish
Home Town: Hoboken, NJ
Degree: Visual Art
- Minor: Canvas[/ul]
Play by: Josh Beech[/blockquote][/blockquote]
--- TOUGH GUY No. Really. He's a tough guy. He swears. From the way his arms swing to the stomp of his combat boots, the Irish brute was satisfied in every possible way with the title of "the tough guy." It was no easy task to get any where near him, what with getting over the initial blunt force trauma of his insulting (yet honest) vilifications of people. Emotions? Pfft. What emotions? Feelings? What feelings? The spectrum of emotion that your average passerby at Emerson can see Killian perform were far from an overabundance. There were actually three, to be precise.
----- LAID BACK The first one was happiness - or, well, Killian's version of happiness. His lips would never spread too wide for a smile, but his green eyes would glint in a mischievous manner as witty one-liners or sarcastic remarks were ensured to be delivered. It was in this stage that he was most approachable, which wasn't saying much seeing as he'd still snarl and ridicule the standard passerby for amusement purposes.
----- LUSTFUL The second emotion was his lust. Not necessarily a womanizer at heart, Mr. Reagan found more satisfaction in the chase than the catch itself. An attractive woman could expect at least two or three compliments in his occupancy and it was assured that at least one of them would have something to do with him, her and his place. These words of course were to be taken with a grain of salt - nothing serious, unless the girl in question wanted it to be. It just came down to the fact that no woman was really worth his time in a serious relationship, and he doubted any woman ever would be.
----- ANGRY Which leads into the third displayed emotion: Killian's anger. Granted, he didn't truly know how to be in love, but that never stopped the man from punching a man right in the mouth for insulting some one he cared about. There wasn't much that could set the generally laid-back man off, but when that small fuse took flight, his big mouth and packed punch ended the issue before any one ever really knew it had started. Defend first - ask questions later. The record was six now, six men who had been sent to the emergency room with his name on their lips because of something they had either said or did in Reagan's presence that didn't sit well with the Irishman. And now at 21 and an increasing drinking habit, the score was destined for greater numbers.
--- LOYAL It started out as a young boy when his mother left that Killian learned the most important lesson of his life. Loyalty. Loyalty meant everything, and if you were loyal, you'd never be alone. Or at least, that's what his father had engrained in his head along with many other nuggets of truth (such as: women are wallet leeches, if some one trips it is ok to laugh because they're an asshole, and liquor can fix just about everything). Not one to be a follower quite so easily though, it took a lot to have him at your side. There were a few things that were necessary prior to his allegiance; like for one you had to be right. He'd research both sides of the break-up before backing who's ever side on who broke who's heart; or make sure that no, you really didn't deserve to get your ass kicked at the bar before going with you to get those guys. The fact of the matter was that once it came down to the words "I swear" on Killian's lips, you could be assured that his presence was nailed at your side.
----- STUBBORN This did, how ever, lead into some trouble in the past...Granted, his loyalty was a great trait when it came to his friends side, but to any opposition, it became the opposers worst nightmare. Once his mind was set, there was no dissuading him. At all. No talking him out, no bribing him out, not even black mailing. It didn't matter that in the long run he might be wrong - but what did matter, was that if Killian believed that him and his cause were right, than his diligent nature and fervor for the cause would never fade.
--- ADDICT He likes, what he likes, and he likes a lot of it. Bordering on the line between a glutton and an enthusiast, if there was something that Killian found pleasurable, there would be no short supply of it in his life. This trait spanned all sectors of his life whether it be his hobbies - and why shouldn't it? If it was something he enjoyed, there was no reason not to enjoy it (a motto that had gotten him into much trouble in years prior).
----- DRUNKARD From the bottom of the bottle to the rim to the bottom again, the lads drinking problem was known to cause quite a stir in his private life - sometimes seeping into his public as well. It was rest assured that on a Friday or Saturday night, his BAC level would read a .3 at least, and by two am a .8. Waking up on a Sunday afternoon wondering where his pants went were a ritual, as were texting around to find out who's thong had ended up in his pocket and why there was a top hat tied to the roof of his Jeep Wrangler.
LIKES:
- Comics
- Punk/Hardcore/Ska
- Politics
- Sarcasm
- Pinstriping - obviously
- Live music
- Hunter S. Thompson
- Liquor
- Videogames
- Jones Soda
- Debating
- Blueberry muffins
DISLIKES:
- Ignorance
- Corporations
- Pop-punk
- Women smokers
- Vampire Novels
- Ex-Girlfriends
- Anime
- People who try to hard
- Pretentious Indie-Kids
- Free-loaders
- Pop-Culture
- People who refer to comics as "Graphic Novels"
Siobhan was beautiful - or so that's what Seamus Reagan always said when the topic of Killian & Casey's mother came up. She was beautiful and funny and...well, she just had some business to take care of. And that's why she didn't come with them when they moved to America. Certainly, that was why. It wasn't because she didn't want a family. And it wasn't because she didn't love him. She just had other things to do - other, more important things then them. More important things then Killian and his younger sister Casey, and their father Seamus.
After a divorce, Seamus moved the kids to America to shack up with some relatives in New Jersey, taking on the dual role of the family head and care giver. With success, as well. Killian & Casey were raised to want nothing more then they had and were grateful for such, Seamus grew satisfied with the life that the new land had provided for them. When Kill & Case had hit middle school, Seamus had opened up a small pub in Hoboken, New Jersey just outside of the city, a place that Killian soon recognized as his hometown.
Growing up was easy - or well, easy compared to the more unfortunate. They didn't have much money, of course, and granted they weren't always on the best of terms with each other, but the Reagan's got by. Killian grew up to be a well rounded young man who found expression through art - the art of pinstriping to be exact, thanks to the hot rod club that came to his father's pub every Saturday and Sunday. Hours would be wasted with a brush in his hand, eyes squinted, movement emulating the great artists like Ed Roth or Steve Kafka on some warn piece of metal outback of the bar. It was a healthy alternative to the other things kids his age were up to, anyway, even if it meant the young man would sit around and crack open a beer on the odd occasion.
By the time High School was over, it was only logical for him to pursue his talents as a career...then again, was it even possible to get a bachelors in pinstriping cars? Turning to Emerson he hoped to find something that could at least applied - and graphic design was apparently the closest. Not that he was complaining, of course...dabbling around on a pirated version of Photoshop never hurt any one and seemed a more satisfying way to kill time instead of sitting around plunking on keys all day. So to art school it was - to try and become something a little bit more then a bartender at Reagan's and maybe get a job that could land him enough money to meet...mom?
Why Emerson?
"It's close to home? I guess? Actually, no. New York is closer to my home. The cost of living here is cheaper though than living in a place like Pratt or FIT. And besides, you guys are just as prestigious, as far as I'm concerned. It's just far enough from home where I wont run into the same faces, but close enough that I'll be able to be back if anything happens. Family is everything, after all."
There was truly little in the world that Lucas Delvalle could call beautiful. And no...it wasn't that he was picky. He had no problem admitting a girl was goodlooking or that a sculpture was breath-taking. But beautiful? The word was only reserved for something so captivating that nothing else verbal could conclude an accurate summation of what it envoked in him. This was one of those things. This was beautiful.
A calm sat at the young mans side, arms rapped around his knees as they pulled to his chest. The gentle hum of the breeze also accompanied him as the sun set miles away over the horizon. His blue eyes were locked upon the bursting super-nova scene, the last tendrils of the sun striking out against the ever approaching night sky. With a sigh escaping him, Luke felt consumed in the passing moment.
Sighing, he rested his chin on his tattered-jean covered knees, eyes still fixed upon the performance of astronomy before him. A worn in sweatshirt clad his torso, hiding his skin from the chilling English night air. Any beach in England left a shore-goer with more to desire during the daily hours of operation--but at nightfall, well this was just spectacular. Luke could just feel himself getting lost in crashing of the tepid sea.
It had become a ritual for the young man to make his way down here evening after evening, ever since he had gotten out of rehab. Maybe it was it's placid nature or simple beauty, but something kept Luke hooked. It's rolling track of whisping winds and crashing waves sedated his anxiety, and that was something quite spectacular for a guy of his nature. This sanctuary, here at Heart's Desire, passed the waters edge and up by the sand dunes was a little place to call his own.
There was no discrepency here, Luke thought to himself as a small smile fell upon his lips. There was no tumultuous feelings for lost love or the pressures of finding a job. Not a thread of jealousy, nor a blade of false hope that infected him. No...no it was just him. Him and the sea...Or, well it wasn't entirely true now any more now was it? The man bit the inside of his lip as he peered over his shoulder at the rollings sands--where was she?
Keeping such a treasure as this to himself would be selfish, he reasoned one day in the company of his best friend. The location blurted itself out from his lips to the girl, telling her of its splender and plans had been made few days prior to meet up in this spot so Lucas could should Sophie the splender of the sunset-view his sanctuary had to offer. A prickle of nerves ran up his spine as he parted his eyes from the sunset to look for her; would she like it as much as he did?
[/size][/center][/justify]Hi, I'm TRENT and I'm 674537636 old. I'm THE DESIGNATED BAD GUY. This is my FIRST application. I found Failure's Not Flattering from IMAGINATION LAND.
