Post by Alfred Jones on Mar 9, 2012 23:21:58 GMT -5
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*ALFREDFITZGERALDJONES,
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OH, HAI THERE! I'M LORI AND IT IS MY PLEASURE TO MEET YOU. I'VE BEEN DOING THIS FOR A YEAR OR TWO SO I KNOW WHAT TO DO. YOU NEED TO TALK TO ME? HIT ME UP AT TUMBLR AND I'LL TRY TO GET BACK TO YOU.
[/b] - Alfred is stronger than average, giving him an advantage in physical activities such as sports or simply moving things around.
FULL NAME Alfred Fitzgerald Jones
COUNTRY OF ORIGIN United States of America
AGE 17
GRADE Junior
OCCUPATION N/A
SEXUALITY Pansexual
BIRTHDAY July 4
SCHEDULE
ENG302: American Literature
HST202: Modern World Studies
WLG230: Latin II
MTH302: Algebra II
SCI302: Chemistry
Debate (2 semesters)
Astronomy (2 semesters)
OVERALL APPEARANCE
LIKES
DISLIKES
STRENGTHS
Intelligence - He's a bit of a goofball and acts like a fool sometimes, but he's actually fairly smart. He enjoys solving math problems or discussing history and science.
Ambitious & optimistic thinking - Alfred tries to stick with a positive mind.
Social & friendly - He tries to be friends with anyone and everyone. He'll get in arguments with others, but he often tries to fix things between others out of fear of being disliked.
Just - Alfred will not keep quiet out of fear when it comes to justice of any kind. If he believes something or someone is wrong and unjust, he will say it.
[/ul]
WEAKNESSES
Obsessive & possessive - Alfred will grow obsessive and/or possessive over little (or big) things. For example, if someone were to call him fat, he'll grow obsessed with losing weight. He will also grow jealous and possessive over certain individuals.
Stubborn - Alfred is hard-headed. It's difficult talking to him in arguments or debates because he'll often block out others and continue believing in what he wants to believe.
Soft-hearted - Because he has a bit of a soft side, he could be considered a pushover.
Fear of failure - This could go hand-in-hand as one of his obsessions. Alfred will work himself to exhaustion out of fear of being a failure or looking like one.
[/ul]
PERSONALITY
HISTORY
Alfred was born and raised in Virginia by his birth-mother, though he never met his father, who was disliked greatly by his mother. He wasn't sure why, but he never pushed for answers. The only things he did know was that his mother considered him a "womanizer" and good-for-nothing, and it is also rumored that Alfred could have a younger brother, though he has never actually met said brother. That didn't bother Alfred too much, though, because he believed in his mother, and thus in his mind, a boy raised by that "awful man" must have been raised to be an awful person themselves, right?
While Alfred got along with his mother well, it was often stressful for both. When he was around 11 years old, his mother had decided to try alcohol and it didn't take long for her to make it a habit of getting drunk. Though he knew she was only trying to drink away her emotions, Al never agreed with it, and made a vow to never become an alcoholic. When he was 14, his mother became more and more unstable, to the point Alfred had to learn how to take care of himself and a grown woman at a young age. They began to struggle with money, and Alfred often had to work himself just to pass by. It was almost as if their positions had switch - Alfred was the parent, and his mother was the child.
Alfred had always pushed himself to get high grades in school, a good reputation, a decent amount of friends, and participated in many sports and club activities. He managed to do so well in school that he was offered to study abroad in Switzerland. Of course, Alfred hesitated when he first received this offering. Who would take care of his mother? And could he really take good care of himself in a foreign country? When his mother found out about the school, she encouraged Al to go. His mother insisted she would be fine, though Al hardly believed her. He was finally convinced, though still reluctant, when she mentioned "friends helping her out." Of course, he'd still call her once a week at the minimum and visit whenever he could. And while Alfred tried to remain optimistic about this opportunity, he had no clue of the school's... secrets.[/ul]
RP EXAMPLE
*Canon!America RP sample
It was hard to see anything; gusts of wind blew dirt and ash in the blond's face. It was hard to breath, almost as if he really couldn't breath, and was imagining everything. Every breathe he took was disgusting. It smelled bad, it reeked of death; of people burning, bleeding, dying. His people. He coughed, the boy felt like he would puke right then, right there. He could just roll over and die. Everything would be over then right?
But he can't think that way. He's America. The U.S.A. - the big guy with the cool stuff and number one in the world. The fucking hero! People were looking up on him from all over the world - whether it's good or bad. True, some people were just waiting for him to fall. And that's exactly why he can't fail, for he did NOT want anyone laughing at him for his fall. And he wouldn't be able to face...
Gunshots, bombs, screaming, groaning... Alfred want to rip his damn ears off. It was awful, hearing his own people die this way. Was war even necessary? Or was this utterly pointless? He couldn't even remember what the damn fight was even for. Now it just seemed like days and days of fighting but no goal. There was nothing that he could even remember that was so important, it required the lives of so many citizens. Some were younger than him - seventeen at the youngest - and they were laying on the ground, suffering. And they were praying, for they knew they'd be dead in less than an hour. God wouldn't save them. As cruel as it sounded, God would not do a thing. Alfred could understand why; this was life and all... but at the same time he thought, "He's fucking GOD, so why doesn't he do anything?!"
It was also during battle when Alfred felt the most useless. He could try and save one soldier but there were dozens of others begging for someone to help them. He was taught better to even acknowledge them dying. It was too emotional and in war, if you break down, you're screwed. You have to laugh at death. You have to just sit there and laugh about everything. That is exactly what America did. As his friends around him screamed, bled, died... He began to laugh. It was soft but it was there.
Then he was grabbed by the shoulders and shoved to the ground. Everything was blurry but he could feel whoever had pushed him bleeding right on his chest. But he could feel them breathing too. He gently pulled himself out, careful to damage the other any more than they already have been. He stopped once the body was resting on his legs. America took that moment to find out who it was. He regrets it instantly.
Of all the men, it had to be one of the kids, didn't it? This was just some cruel joke. No one at such a young age should die like this, not ever. But here was one seventeen-year-old, dying right in front of him. And it took Alfred a moment to realize that this kid had taken a bullet for him. But why?
He would cry if it wasn't war. He knew it was hopeless trying to do anything - was there even a health kit nearby? He could feel his heart shattering, as if he just finally realized how much of a fucking hell he was in. The gunshots, the cries, they were all much more clear to him. When he looked around, the first thing he noticed was how many were dead.
Still, he did not cry. He wanted to. It hurt him more to not cry but besides his heart, the rest of him knew it wasn't allowed. Instead, he began laughing like he did before. America pushed the boy off of him, still being careful but with more force. Ha ha ha. He slowly pulled himself back up and looked at his surroundings. Aha ha ha. It smelled bad, it just seriously reeked. Scrunching his nose, he grabbed his own gun. Positioning it, he aimed at a target, and pulled a trigger. Ha, ha ha ha. Miss. Was he even aiming at anything important?
--
Weeks after the battle had passed and America was to meet with other countries today. Was he still heartbroken? Of course he was. He wished sometimes he had someone who wouldn't care if he just cried and vented to them. He wanted to find someone who would accept him even for acting in such a way. But Alfred could not do it. He has been tempted before - a lot, actually. But he did not want to feel like a burden, like a failure, or a laughing stock. With his country being one of the most dominate in the world, he was expected to be big, tough, and a hero.
And one thing he believed in? Heroes never cry.
But he can't think that way. He's America. The U.S.A. - the big guy with the cool stuff and number one in the world. The fucking hero! People were looking up on him from all over the world - whether it's good or bad. True, some people were just waiting for him to fall. And that's exactly why he can't fail, for he did NOT want anyone laughing at him for his fall. And he wouldn't be able to face...
Gunshots, bombs, screaming, groaning... Alfred want to rip his damn ears off. It was awful, hearing his own people die this way. Was war even necessary? Or was this utterly pointless? He couldn't even remember what the damn fight was even for. Now it just seemed like days and days of fighting but no goal. There was nothing that he could even remember that was so important, it required the lives of so many citizens. Some were younger than him - seventeen at the youngest - and they were laying on the ground, suffering. And they were praying, for they knew they'd be dead in less than an hour. God wouldn't save them. As cruel as it sounded, God would not do a thing. Alfred could understand why; this was life and all... but at the same time he thought, "He's fucking GOD, so why doesn't he do anything?!"
It was also during battle when Alfred felt the most useless. He could try and save one soldier but there were dozens of others begging for someone to help them. He was taught better to even acknowledge them dying. It was too emotional and in war, if you break down, you're screwed. You have to laugh at death. You have to just sit there and laugh about everything. That is exactly what America did. As his friends around him screamed, bled, died... He began to laugh. It was soft but it was there.
Then he was grabbed by the shoulders and shoved to the ground. Everything was blurry but he could feel whoever had pushed him bleeding right on his chest. But he could feel them breathing too. He gently pulled himself out, careful to damage the other any more than they already have been. He stopped once the body was resting on his legs. America took that moment to find out who it was. He regrets it instantly.
Of all the men, it had to be one of the kids, didn't it? This was just some cruel joke. No one at such a young age should die like this, not ever. But here was one seventeen-year-old, dying right in front of him. And it took Alfred a moment to realize that this kid had taken a bullet for him. But why?
He would cry if it wasn't war. He knew it was hopeless trying to do anything - was there even a health kit nearby? He could feel his heart shattering, as if he just finally realized how much of a fucking hell he was in. The gunshots, the cries, they were all much more clear to him. When he looked around, the first thing he noticed was how many were dead.
Still, he did not cry. He wanted to. It hurt him more to not cry but besides his heart, the rest of him knew it wasn't allowed. Instead, he began laughing like he did before. America pushed the boy off of him, still being careful but with more force. Ha ha ha. He slowly pulled himself back up and looked at his surroundings. Aha ha ha. It smelled bad, it just seriously reeked. Scrunching his nose, he grabbed his own gun. Positioning it, he aimed at a target, and pulled a trigger. Ha, ha ha ha. Miss. Was he even aiming at anything important?
--
Weeks after the battle had passed and America was to meet with other countries today. Was he still heartbroken? Of course he was. He wished sometimes he had someone who wouldn't care if he just cried and vented to them. He wanted to find someone who would accept him even for acting in such a way. But Alfred could not do it. He has been tempted before - a lot, actually. But he did not want to feel like a burden, like a failure, or a laughing stock. With his country being one of the most dominate in the world, he was expected to be big, tough, and a hero.
And one thing he believed in? Heroes never cry.
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