Post by Lila Red on Mar 20, 2017 22:20:58 GMT -6
Name: Jiro Séamus O'Shannon
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Occupation: Student, Nine-Tails member
Race: Human. Irish-Japanese.
Physical Appearance: Jiro looks every bit rough and gritty as his voice is. Carrot colored hair short on the sides and long in the front and more than likely unbrushed and still messy from waking up, pale as the moon, and eyes a vivid sea green and wild! He stands at a clean and even six feet and seems to be a bit underweight for his height and age and always has an irritated tenseness in his shoulders. In terms of face, he's got high and sharp cheekbones with narrowed eyes, Irish and Japanese blood mixing together to give him a slightly elven appearance, but his signature scowl is all his own! With that temperamental glower and sharp face, he's handsome in a feral way. His mother once described him as looking like a "Rat that crawled out of the water only to have someone step on his tail and steal his mornin' cheese." before promptly telling him to straighten his back and stop slouching!
Clothing Appearance: Following the tradition of the people in his home town of Killarney, Jiro will wear the same clothes every day, only switching his shirt every three days and his pants every four. Though honestly it doesn't really matter, he's always to be seen wearing a dark green hoodie with the draw strings and bottom edge lightly frayed and sleeves always rolled up to his elbows. Dark denim skinny jeans, a black studded belt, and a nice pair of well-worn and fading black converse with stretched shoe-laces are the every day order for his lower body.
Personality: Imagine the most stereotypical Irish man you can. Boom. That's Jiro in a nutshell. Short tempered, prideful, stubborn, scowling, and a bit too fond of his whiskey, Jiro's wild and it shows! He's got a mouth foul enough to make a sailor blush, a sense of humor that's even raunchier, and a manner about him that's rough and tough and hard to get around. 'Course he becomes more manageable when there's a lady present. He might be a dirty bastard but he's still got some manners in him. Jiro's got an old fashioned idea of what it means to be a man and as such will often refuse help, refuse to show or talk openly about his emotions ( "Irish men don't cry" and all that ), and values his pride and dignity as if it were oxygen. Like an angry dog on a chain, Jiro always looks ready to bite and take a swing, and he will should you say the wrong thing.
Most of Jiro's anger comes from deep-seeded issues and bad habits he picked up from his old man. He's got no outlet for his rage and thus often resorts to either his fiddle, whiskey, a night in the shadier clubs in town, or the church. He's a devout Catholic and will often turn to the confessionals and prayer to get the weight off his shoulders, though doing this never works for long. The anger always comes back. The shame, too, of the one thing he could never say to anyone. He doesn't like girls. Not like a proper man ought to.
Though despite this mountain of flaws...Jiro's still a bastard past all of that. Just a little less of one. If you can manage to earn his respect and trust, which is harder to do than it is to pass a bill in Congress, he'll ease off of you. He'll cuss a little less, be open to helping you out with some persuasion, and willing to pick you up off your feet if you need it. He might be an angry hound, but once you got his respect, you got it forever. He's also got a sympathetic side to him even if he won't admit it ( and don't even think about mentioning it! ) and regularly will go around helping out those in need. Over the recent years he's been trying to model himself after the first respectable male figure in his life; Hideki. Trying to be more level-headed and calm, polite, and even trying harder in school, though he trips up every now and then and will either blow up in your face or flunk a test. He practically idolizes Hideki and views him as an elder brother type figure, often times following him around and listening to every word with more focus than he does the Priest's sermon at mass. You can call Jiro a dick, a jerk, a complete and utter asshole, but what you can't call him is a liar and a cheater. He'll play it fair and he'd sooner cut off his own hand than ditch his honesty.
Weapons/Tools: A trusty switch blade, the occasional pistol, and his fists, scarred from punching men and the brick wall in his room.
Skills:
Fiddle: Started playing when he was five, hasn't put down the fiddle since.
Poetry: You'll never catch him reciting it in public, writing it in school, or even keeping it in a journal somewhere. When he reaches his breaking point is when he'll let the words spill out and you'll be lucky if you can even catch a verse of it.
Drums: Picked it up when he joined the gang. At first it was only an excuse to hit things and not get back-handed for it, but he eventually grew to enjoy it.
Knife: Being angry and having time to kill will lead you to learn some odd skills. Joining a gang gives you an excuse to use them.
Fighting: Been doing it for most of his life. Raise a fist to him and expect to get your ass knocked onto the concrete.
Drinker: Given his consumption of a variety of alcohols ranging from whiskey to vodka, he's pretty good at holding his drink by now.
Enemy Stand: Flogging Molly
Quotes: "Get your arse movin'! We'll be late for mass!" "The fock ya want, eejit?!" "Ah, ya can kiss my Irish arse!" "Heh heh heh, sorry mate! I'm three sheets to the wind! Can barely see me own hand! Say, how 'bout we sing a round o' Molly Malone?" "Ya call this a pint?! American's can't drink for shit!" "Oi! You watch what ya say 'bout my Ireland, or I'll shove our flag up yer arse and hang it half-mast!" "Jog-on, bloke!" "Irish men don't cry, but for ye, I'll shed a tear." "All I learned I learned from ye, fock whatever else there is."
Their Goal: As of now, he's still undecided. He goes with the will of Hideki.
Their Secret: Not that it's much of a secret, but he once showed up to school drunk off his ass on whiskey. He made it to fourth period before passing out face down in a water fountain.
BONUS SECRET: He's homosexual and still heavily denying it.
Weaknesses: While his anger can help him in a fight, get him real ticked off and he'll come at you even if it risks a fist to the gut and his lunch on the ground. Stubborn and prideful, he won't turn from a fight even if it kills him, not to mention he'll be willing to rush at you solo even if he has a team to back him up. Jiro's got a big mouth on him as well, and it usually doesn't do him any favors. It's all too easy for him to make enemies and push potential allies and friends away, not that he cares.
Strengths: Cross him and you're in for hell. Knock him down all you want but he'll get up and spit in your face every time. He'll get you, and when he does, he isn't going to go easy. Jiro's rage and anger give him the power and savage strength he needs to fight and when he fights he aims to hurt you as bad as he can. There is no mercy in his book. Once you piss him off, you've earned a knife in the back in his eyes. He's also quick on his feet and has a surprisingly sharp mind which make him a dangerous foe in battle. Plus, he's got a few years of battle experience under his belt already, more than what a boy his age should have.
Bio: Born and raised in the small town of Killarney in Ireland, Jiro can't say he had a happy life. His mom was a nice gal and the second generation of a Japanese family moved to Ireland, and his dad was a drunkard with a handsome face and nice hair. He managed to run in to Jiro's mom at a pub, gave her a go, and was content with the memory until she came back a few months later with a round belly and a pair of angry Catholic parents. Soon they were married and settled in a small apartment with barely enough room for the both of them. Father would get a job, go out, drink half his pay, and come back with a mouth full of laughter and some loose change in his pocket before falling asleep and missing work the next morning. The only reason they managed to survive at all was due to his mothers parents sending over food and supplies for the baby, none of which his Father was happy about receiveing as a "true Irish man doesn't take no one's charity", but it was enough. For awhile.
The fights began when Jiro was a little over a year old. She had been meek at first but eventually his mother had been pushed to her limit and would yell at his father as soon as he stepped through the door. "How could you drink your wages away while we're here starving?", "Some man you are! Can't even save enough money to buy your son new clothes!", "Why can't you be like all the other men in this god forsaken town? At least they can all hold a job!", "True Irish man my arse! What's dignity when you don't even have a fire to keep you warm?". They'd only stop when Jiro would start crying, mother rushing over to calm him down and Father watching with head bowed and hands curled. The man tried. There was a period where he held a job for a month or two, but the drink always called to him and he always answered. That's when the fights began to get nastier and soon even Jiro's crying couldn't stop them.
But for all his flaws Jiro still loved his father. He loved the man with all his jokes and fun games, taking him to the park every wednesday and pushing him on the swing till the sun began to set, and ruffling his hair before school, telling him he was going to grow up to be a fine O'Shannon man, he already had the looks of one! With all these nice things, it didn't matter that his shoes were a size too small, or that he went to bed to the sound of angry whispers outside his room. Before Jiro finished elementary it was agreed that there was no life for them here in Killarney. In the summer after third grade they packed their bags and moved to Brooklyn in search of opportunity. That's when things went to Hell.
There were too many new things for a man to waste his money on and too many places to search for him when he didn't come home. The fighting escalated more and more every week with shoes being thrown and fists banging on walls. Jiro would spend these nights locked in his room, rocking back and forth and waiting for everything to stop. The door would slam, his mother would spend an hour crying on her knees, and then she would come to tuck him into bed, holding him until he fell asleep. Father began to stay away longer and longer into the night, eventually not coming home for a day or two before showing up with whiskey on his breath and smudged gloss on his neck. The fights got worse when he showed up like that and one day, something was said that crossed the line. Jiro can't remember who said it and what it was, but he remembers a loud smack and then silence. No one came to put him to bed that night.
Fast forward a few years and he's stuck in a small apartment with a cheating and violent father, an angry and grieving mother, and only the church down the street and his fiddle as his means of escape. In fourth grade he'd made friends with one of the altar boys; Daniel. Or simple Danny as Jiro called him. They'd pall around the neighborhood whenever they had the time and were always seen with eachother, close as two peas in a pod. Sometimes a little too close. It wasn't long before Jiro began to feel something fuzzy whenever he was around Danny. Suddenly letting Danny hold his hand to guide him somewhere wasn't just that. It was...something more. Now, being a child, Jiro didn't know what this was, and so didn't see anything wrong with asking his mother what these feelings were.
It earned him a harsh slap across his face, her nails leaving scratches, and a shrieking rant about how his soul was damned to Hell for allowing such disgraceful sin to infest him.
She took his arm and dragged him down to the Church, forcing him into the confessional box and waited as he confessed to the priest weeping. Afterwards she pulled him out, took him home, and gave him an entire other lecture on his sin. He apologized and he hoped that would be the end of it, but the next time Dad came home his mother doomed him. "Not only do I have to deal with a sorry excuse of a man like you, but our son's in love with the devil!" Whether or not she said this to avoid a raised fist, Jiro didn't know. He was already trying to hide under his bed as he heard shoes stomping towards his room.
At the next Sunday mass his parents spoke to Danny's. They never saw each other again after that.
After that they're family all but broke. His father became cold to Jiro where he'd once been loving, his mother still cared for him but prayed over his soul every night she thought he was sleeping, and when the guilt became too much it turned into hate and he began to join in the fights. Insults and fists flied but nothing ever got settled. The anger itched in his finger tips even after the fights. So he spent his nights searching for trouble, going deeper and deeper into the cruel streets of NYC until he ended up in a gang. Sure, he was only a kid, barely even 13, but they didnt't care. Even sticks like him had their uses. Delivery boy, scout, messenger, punching bag, someone had to do it. Sure, it sucked. The boss would slap him in front of the others, push him down, kick him around, mock him, and make a weak and pathetic little worm out of him, but he took it without a flinch. He was nothing but gum on their shoes, but he earned some respect for his stone face.
Then came the man who would change it all. Hideki Hiruma.
Barely even the same height as Jiro, skinnier, and lacking all the fighting skills Jiro had gained, but even when they smacked him around he kept quiet. It wasn't the same stubborn pride that Jiro had, but an unnerving calm. No matter how hard they drove their fists into him, no matter how many times they busted him up, Hideki stayed cool. That's what got to Jiro. He hung around the older boy like a puppy and when he didn't seem to mind, that's how things stayed.
When he and Hideki were upgraded up from delivery boys and punching bags they were allowed to join in the fights. At first they weren't very good, but they got the hang of it, and after every scuffle it was Hideki who stitched his cuts and pulled glass out of his skin. He did it so carefully too. It honestly had Jiro on edge the first few times. Here was this boy who he'd only known for a short while cleaning up his blood and helping him to his feet. He was the only person who'd never raised a hand to him. Only helped him.
That's when he earned Jiro's full loyalty. It was because of this sense of loyalty to Hideki that Flogging Molly manifested, summoned out of the need to help him in return. Once Hideki took over the gang and began running the show, Jiro's new home became the Nine Tails.
Theme Song: Drunken Lullabies - Flogging Molly
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Occupation: Student, Nine-Tails member
Race: Human. Irish-Japanese.
Physical Appearance: Jiro looks every bit rough and gritty as his voice is. Carrot colored hair short on the sides and long in the front and more than likely unbrushed and still messy from waking up, pale as the moon, and eyes a vivid sea green and wild! He stands at a clean and even six feet and seems to be a bit underweight for his height and age and always has an irritated tenseness in his shoulders. In terms of face, he's got high and sharp cheekbones with narrowed eyes, Irish and Japanese blood mixing together to give him a slightly elven appearance, but his signature scowl is all his own! With that temperamental glower and sharp face, he's handsome in a feral way. His mother once described him as looking like a "Rat that crawled out of the water only to have someone step on his tail and steal his mornin' cheese." before promptly telling him to straighten his back and stop slouching!
Clothing Appearance: Following the tradition of the people in his home town of Killarney, Jiro will wear the same clothes every day, only switching his shirt every three days and his pants every four. Though honestly it doesn't really matter, he's always to be seen wearing a dark green hoodie with the draw strings and bottom edge lightly frayed and sleeves always rolled up to his elbows. Dark denim skinny jeans, a black studded belt, and a nice pair of well-worn and fading black converse with stretched shoe-laces are the every day order for his lower body.
Personality: Imagine the most stereotypical Irish man you can. Boom. That's Jiro in a nutshell. Short tempered, prideful, stubborn, scowling, and a bit too fond of his whiskey, Jiro's wild and it shows! He's got a mouth foul enough to make a sailor blush, a sense of humor that's even raunchier, and a manner about him that's rough and tough and hard to get around. 'Course he becomes more manageable when there's a lady present. He might be a dirty bastard but he's still got some manners in him. Jiro's got an old fashioned idea of what it means to be a man and as such will often refuse help, refuse to show or talk openly about his emotions ( "Irish men don't cry" and all that ), and values his pride and dignity as if it were oxygen. Like an angry dog on a chain, Jiro always looks ready to bite and take a swing, and he will should you say the wrong thing.
Most of Jiro's anger comes from deep-seeded issues and bad habits he picked up from his old man. He's got no outlet for his rage and thus often resorts to either his fiddle, whiskey, a night in the shadier clubs in town, or the church. He's a devout Catholic and will often turn to the confessionals and prayer to get the weight off his shoulders, though doing this never works for long. The anger always comes back. The shame, too, of the one thing he could never say to anyone. He doesn't like girls. Not like a proper man ought to.
Though despite this mountain of flaws...Jiro's still a bastard past all of that. Just a little less of one. If you can manage to earn his respect and trust, which is harder to do than it is to pass a bill in Congress, he'll ease off of you. He'll cuss a little less, be open to helping you out with some persuasion, and willing to pick you up off your feet if you need it. He might be an angry hound, but once you got his respect, you got it forever. He's also got a sympathetic side to him even if he won't admit it ( and don't even think about mentioning it! ) and regularly will go around helping out those in need. Over the recent years he's been trying to model himself after the first respectable male figure in his life; Hideki. Trying to be more level-headed and calm, polite, and even trying harder in school, though he trips up every now and then and will either blow up in your face or flunk a test. He practically idolizes Hideki and views him as an elder brother type figure, often times following him around and listening to every word with more focus than he does the Priest's sermon at mass. You can call Jiro a dick, a jerk, a complete and utter asshole, but what you can't call him is a liar and a cheater. He'll play it fair and he'd sooner cut off his own hand than ditch his honesty.
Weapons/Tools: A trusty switch blade, the occasional pistol, and his fists, scarred from punching men and the brick wall in his room.
Skills:
Fiddle: Started playing when he was five, hasn't put down the fiddle since.
Poetry: You'll never catch him reciting it in public, writing it in school, or even keeping it in a journal somewhere. When he reaches his breaking point is when he'll let the words spill out and you'll be lucky if you can even catch a verse of it.
Drums: Picked it up when he joined the gang. At first it was only an excuse to hit things and not get back-handed for it, but he eventually grew to enjoy it.
Knife: Being angry and having time to kill will lead you to learn some odd skills. Joining a gang gives you an excuse to use them.
Fighting: Been doing it for most of his life. Raise a fist to him and expect to get your ass knocked onto the concrete.
Drinker: Given his consumption of a variety of alcohols ranging from whiskey to vodka, he's pretty good at holding his drink by now.
Enemy Stand: Flogging Molly
Quotes: "Get your arse movin'! We'll be late for mass!" "The fock ya want, eejit?!" "Ah, ya can kiss my Irish arse!" "Heh heh heh, sorry mate! I'm three sheets to the wind! Can barely see me own hand! Say, how 'bout we sing a round o' Molly Malone?" "Ya call this a pint?! American's can't drink for shit!" "Oi! You watch what ya say 'bout my Ireland, or I'll shove our flag up yer arse and hang it half-mast!" "Jog-on, bloke!" "Irish men don't cry, but for ye, I'll shed a tear." "All I learned I learned from ye, fock whatever else there is."
Their Goal: As of now, he's still undecided. He goes with the will of Hideki.
Their Secret: Not that it's much of a secret, but he once showed up to school drunk off his ass on whiskey. He made it to fourth period before passing out face down in a water fountain.
BONUS SECRET: He's homosexual and still heavily denying it.
Weaknesses: While his anger can help him in a fight, get him real ticked off and he'll come at you even if it risks a fist to the gut and his lunch on the ground. Stubborn and prideful, he won't turn from a fight even if it kills him, not to mention he'll be willing to rush at you solo even if he has a team to back him up. Jiro's got a big mouth on him as well, and it usually doesn't do him any favors. It's all too easy for him to make enemies and push potential allies and friends away, not that he cares.
Strengths: Cross him and you're in for hell. Knock him down all you want but he'll get up and spit in your face every time. He'll get you, and when he does, he isn't going to go easy. Jiro's rage and anger give him the power and savage strength he needs to fight and when he fights he aims to hurt you as bad as he can. There is no mercy in his book. Once you piss him off, you've earned a knife in the back in his eyes. He's also quick on his feet and has a surprisingly sharp mind which make him a dangerous foe in battle. Plus, he's got a few years of battle experience under his belt already, more than what a boy his age should have.
Bio: Born and raised in the small town of Killarney in Ireland, Jiro can't say he had a happy life. His mom was a nice gal and the second generation of a Japanese family moved to Ireland, and his dad was a drunkard with a handsome face and nice hair. He managed to run in to Jiro's mom at a pub, gave her a go, and was content with the memory until she came back a few months later with a round belly and a pair of angry Catholic parents. Soon they were married and settled in a small apartment with barely enough room for the both of them. Father would get a job, go out, drink half his pay, and come back with a mouth full of laughter and some loose change in his pocket before falling asleep and missing work the next morning. The only reason they managed to survive at all was due to his mothers parents sending over food and supplies for the baby, none of which his Father was happy about receiveing as a "true Irish man doesn't take no one's charity", but it was enough. For awhile.
The fights began when Jiro was a little over a year old. She had been meek at first but eventually his mother had been pushed to her limit and would yell at his father as soon as he stepped through the door. "How could you drink your wages away while we're here starving?", "Some man you are! Can't even save enough money to buy your son new clothes!", "Why can't you be like all the other men in this god forsaken town? At least they can all hold a job!", "True Irish man my arse! What's dignity when you don't even have a fire to keep you warm?". They'd only stop when Jiro would start crying, mother rushing over to calm him down and Father watching with head bowed and hands curled. The man tried. There was a period where he held a job for a month or two, but the drink always called to him and he always answered. That's when the fights began to get nastier and soon even Jiro's crying couldn't stop them.
But for all his flaws Jiro still loved his father. He loved the man with all his jokes and fun games, taking him to the park every wednesday and pushing him on the swing till the sun began to set, and ruffling his hair before school, telling him he was going to grow up to be a fine O'Shannon man, he already had the looks of one! With all these nice things, it didn't matter that his shoes were a size too small, or that he went to bed to the sound of angry whispers outside his room. Before Jiro finished elementary it was agreed that there was no life for them here in Killarney. In the summer after third grade they packed their bags and moved to Brooklyn in search of opportunity. That's when things went to Hell.
There were too many new things for a man to waste his money on and too many places to search for him when he didn't come home. The fighting escalated more and more every week with shoes being thrown and fists banging on walls. Jiro would spend these nights locked in his room, rocking back and forth and waiting for everything to stop. The door would slam, his mother would spend an hour crying on her knees, and then she would come to tuck him into bed, holding him until he fell asleep. Father began to stay away longer and longer into the night, eventually not coming home for a day or two before showing up with whiskey on his breath and smudged gloss on his neck. The fights got worse when he showed up like that and one day, something was said that crossed the line. Jiro can't remember who said it and what it was, but he remembers a loud smack and then silence. No one came to put him to bed that night.
Fast forward a few years and he's stuck in a small apartment with a cheating and violent father, an angry and grieving mother, and only the church down the street and his fiddle as his means of escape. In fourth grade he'd made friends with one of the altar boys; Daniel. Or simple Danny as Jiro called him. They'd pall around the neighborhood whenever they had the time and were always seen with eachother, close as two peas in a pod. Sometimes a little too close. It wasn't long before Jiro began to feel something fuzzy whenever he was around Danny. Suddenly letting Danny hold his hand to guide him somewhere wasn't just that. It was...something more. Now, being a child, Jiro didn't know what this was, and so didn't see anything wrong with asking his mother what these feelings were.
It earned him a harsh slap across his face, her nails leaving scratches, and a shrieking rant about how his soul was damned to Hell for allowing such disgraceful sin to infest him.
She took his arm and dragged him down to the Church, forcing him into the confessional box and waited as he confessed to the priest weeping. Afterwards she pulled him out, took him home, and gave him an entire other lecture on his sin. He apologized and he hoped that would be the end of it, but the next time Dad came home his mother doomed him. "Not only do I have to deal with a sorry excuse of a man like you, but our son's in love with the devil!" Whether or not she said this to avoid a raised fist, Jiro didn't know. He was already trying to hide under his bed as he heard shoes stomping towards his room.
At the next Sunday mass his parents spoke to Danny's. They never saw each other again after that.
After that they're family all but broke. His father became cold to Jiro where he'd once been loving, his mother still cared for him but prayed over his soul every night she thought he was sleeping, and when the guilt became too much it turned into hate and he began to join in the fights. Insults and fists flied but nothing ever got settled. The anger itched in his finger tips even after the fights. So he spent his nights searching for trouble, going deeper and deeper into the cruel streets of NYC until he ended up in a gang. Sure, he was only a kid, barely even 13, but they didnt't care. Even sticks like him had their uses. Delivery boy, scout, messenger, punching bag, someone had to do it. Sure, it sucked. The boss would slap him in front of the others, push him down, kick him around, mock him, and make a weak and pathetic little worm out of him, but he took it without a flinch. He was nothing but gum on their shoes, but he earned some respect for his stone face.
Then came the man who would change it all. Hideki Hiruma.
Barely even the same height as Jiro, skinnier, and lacking all the fighting skills Jiro had gained, but even when they smacked him around he kept quiet. It wasn't the same stubborn pride that Jiro had, but an unnerving calm. No matter how hard they drove their fists into him, no matter how many times they busted him up, Hideki stayed cool. That's what got to Jiro. He hung around the older boy like a puppy and when he didn't seem to mind, that's how things stayed.
When he and Hideki were upgraded up from delivery boys and punching bags they were allowed to join in the fights. At first they weren't very good, but they got the hang of it, and after every scuffle it was Hideki who stitched his cuts and pulled glass out of his skin. He did it so carefully too. It honestly had Jiro on edge the first few times. Here was this boy who he'd only known for a short while cleaning up his blood and helping him to his feet. He was the only person who'd never raised a hand to him. Only helped him.
That's when he earned Jiro's full loyalty. It was because of this sense of loyalty to Hideki that Flogging Molly manifested, summoned out of the need to help him in return. Once Hideki took over the gang and began running the show, Jiro's new home became the Nine Tails.
Theme Song: Drunken Lullabies - Flogging Molly