O'KANE, cormac teague

[cormac teague o'kane]

, cormac TEAGUE o'kane

the black keys have never seemed so beautiful and a perfect rainbow has never seemed so dull

Hello my name is Korrigan. I've been inhabiting this planet for seventeen years. Out of those years, I've dedicated four to the game. Keefe is my other brain child. I came to know about The Dollhouse from Kaitlyn. Wanna know a secret? admin edit.

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ALL THE SAME
i don't want mudslinging games
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, full name: Cormac Teague O'Kane
, nicknames: Mac, Riot
, age: seventeen years
, birthday: may eighth, nineteen-ninety-two
, gender: male
, grade: eleventh
, occupation: music store clerk
, sexuality: heterosexual
, member group: hero

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IT'S SUCH A SHAME
to let you walk away

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, hair colour: dark brown
, eye colour: dark brown
, weight: one hundred and sixty three pounds
, height: five feet and nine inches
, distinguishing features: more often than not, Mac has a bruise on his cheek or under his eye, or maybe it'll appear that his nose is slightly more crooked than it was the day before. Less often seen, he also has a variety of small scars on his upper body. Ask him about it and he'll just shrug and say he got in another fight, and "If you think I look bad, you should've seen the other guy!" Despite this almost constant battered appearance, it's clear that the boy is much stronger than most, and probably would beat challengers even a little bit larger than him. His arms are thick, trailing down into large, square hands, and his chest is broad with wide shoulders.
, personal style: Mac never makes things more important than they really need to be, and clothes are no different. He avoids bright colors, usually sticking to quieter earth tones such as brown, hunter green, or black. On a regular day he'll probably wear a button-up flannel shirt with a plaid pattern, a nice pair of jeans held up with a black leather belt, and a pair of black and red sneakers. He also keeps a silver watch on his left wrist, just so he doesn't ever lose track of time. A dogtag necklace on a silver chain dangles just about as far as the center of his chest, with a shamrock engraved on one side and 'Éirinn go Brách' on the other, which translates into 'Ireland Forever.'
, costume: Mac kept his costume simple so he could slip into it whenever he feels the need; the tight-fitting, sleeveless, charcoal undershirt seems normal when glimpsed just under his regular shirt. No one except his opponents see the two bright red bars running diagonally from the bottom right up to the top left (bottom left to top right on the back). His pants are close-fitted as well, black like his shirt and with two more scarlet bands, these ones starting just below his knees and slanting down into points above his heels. He, like most superheroes, wears a mask to hide his face and eyes; its base color is red, with a thin black stripe on either cheek angled upward.

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IS THERE A CHANCE?
a fragment of light at the end of the tunnel?

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, likes: peanut butter, most food in general, rugby, the color green, snow, having money in his pocket, quiet places, taking his time, being with Keefe, music
, dislikes: his father, any type of alcohol, the color orange, loud atmospheres, sugary foods, being inside for too long, soccer, being mistaken for a Scotsman, lending money, being away from Keefe
, strengths: physically strong, reliable, excellent singing voice, trustworthy, warm-hearted
, weaknesses: slow on foot and in thought, possessive, stubborn, jealous, extremely violent when pushed too far
, quirks: speaks with a thick Irish brogue, dislikes being touched
, goals: get over his fear of being touched

, personality:

As a whole, Cormac is stoic, methodical, critical, practical, and usually cautious and dependable. He does, however, have a wild streak that comes from his lack of guidance growing up, inescapable no matter how calm a person he is. He is a thinker; when faced with a decision, usually his options are turned over and examined closely before one is chosen, and the process takes much longer than most outsiders would like. But this is not to say that he won't make quick choices. Forced into gaining street smarts at a young age, he can make up his mind swiftly, but this only happens if the situation demands it. He is slow to reach anger as well, though once he does, everyone will know.

, super powers:

Mac has been gifted with the power of superstrength. Although he is naturally strong, there are simply not very many boys who can heft a bus up over their heads. Obviously, he can pick up objects several times his own size with relative ease. It doesn't take any will power for this power to be used; it happens automatically. In his earlier years, before he learned to guage his strength, this made everyday tasks extremely difficult and he broke, smashed, and cracked a variety of things. Now, he is aware that what is a light toss to him is a hard throw to other people. As far as he can tell, he was born with this ability, and the level of power he can exert has grown as he has.

, family: Finn Cassidy O'Kane (father, living), Sheridan Gael O'Kane (mother, deceased), Keefe Brogan O'Kane (twin brother, living), Rory Quinn O'Kane (grandfather, deceased), Keegan Sloane O'Kane (grandmother, deceased)

, history:

Cormac doesn't really like to talk about the details of where he came from; really, all anyone should know is that he's from Limerick, Ireland. He's a few minutes younger than his brother, Keefe; his mother died shortly after giving birth to them (which hardly happens anymore, hence fueling his father's belief that they killed her somehow) and his father, heartbroken at the loss, never remarried. Finn has been angry at his sons for as long as Cormac can remember, and the earliest time he can recall his father touching him was when he was five and the older man slapped him for spilling some juice on the carpet. Cormac grew up tough but quiet.

Cormac realized he was different when he was about ten. Finn, drunk as usual, was shouting at Keefe this time, about what neither boy remembers nor would like to. All he remembers is watching his brother's new glasses fall to the floor, the lenses shattered, then knocking his father back into the wall with a defensive shove. One would think Finn would learn to leave the stronger one be, but it was just the opposite. Ever since, Cormac has been the sole victim of his father's abuse. It is this experience that has solidified his resolve to keep others from being bullied; if there's one thing this boy hates, it's a person who won't hurt someone capable of defending themselves.

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A REASON TO FIGHT?
is there a chance you may change your mind?

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, custom title: Riot
, rp sample:

"Shush, nigh, we're jist aboyt in." To anyone watching him, Cormac O'Kane looked and sounded like he was talking to a cardboard box. The boy held it under one arm as he dug around for the key in his back pocket, seeming to be unaware of the somewhat sogginess of the bottom half. At first, the box seemed to be empty; nothing live responded to him. Then, a muffled mewl came through the top of it and something shuffled weakly from inside. The curly-headed lad bit his tongue, feeling sorry for the poor little fellow, then hurried to unlock the door and let himself in. It wasn't dark outside despite it being later in the day, but there was a stillness in the air that suggested that Chance was sleeping.

Probably just taking a nap, he thought to himself, twisting the doorknob before shutting it so it wouldn't click. An awkward blush tinted his cheeks (which were already a little rosy from the cold outside), but he also gave a soft, pleased smile to himself. Haven't done much sleeping around here. He set the box at his feet for a moment (gently so as not to hurt the little things inside) so he could slip off his gloves, stuffing them in his coat pocket. Another mew came from the box as he took off his coat and left it on a hook next to Chance's, to which he murmured something soothing in hopes of quieting them. He unwrapped his scarf and draped it over the top of his jacket, then picked up the box and went straight to the kitchen.

They'll be hungry. Perhaps Cormac was only projecting his own feelings of hunger onto them, but the odds of finding anything abandoned in the street and well fed were slim. He placed the box on the table and opened it, revealing three small, thin, confused kittens. Well, the two that were awake looked confused; one of them, the little gray tabby (though they all had the stripes), was curled up and sleeping. The other two, one silvery pale and the other brown, stared up at him with wide eyes. The boy reached in and gently rubbed the darker one behind the ears. "Don't luk so worried. Oi'll git ye sum grub, al' roi'?" With that promise, he got a small plate with some leftover chicken from dinner and set it on the ground.

He was quiet; not quite tiptoeing, but certainly treading lightly in fear of disturbing Chance. One by one, he lifted the kittens out of their cage and let them find what might have been their first meal in a couple of days. He was glad Killer usually stayed with Chance; he didn't want the big dog to think these pathetic little scraps of fur were just oversized bits of kibble. That was just what they needed. He'd found them (or rather heard them, crying and carrying on the way they were) in an alleyway on the way home, undoubtedly abandoned. They were probably Christmas presents that someone couldn't keep. The thought made him curl his lip in disgust; you just didn't leave lives behind, human or not. It wasn't fair.

And besides, he had a little plan in mind for them later. After the kittens (and he himself) had eaten, Cormac put the dishes in the sink to wash later and then ambled into the den. There, he tiredly flopped onto the couch. He stretched out on his back, one hand under his head and the other rested on his belly, his eyes half closed and face serene. He was tired, too; although he didn't do much, the sleepless nights and Advil for his cracked ribs was enough to make his head feel fuzzy. He hardly moved when the gray kitten bounded easily onto the couch and curled up (he liked this one already; the two of them certainly had a common interest) right on his chest, purring faintly. He was already half asleep, anyway.

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OR ARE WE JUST
ashes and wine

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