Post by Alfred F. Jones on Sept 29, 2013 22:32:11 GMT
その日人類は思い出したXXXヤツらに支配されていた恐怖をXXX鳥籠の中に囚われていた屈辱を On that day, mankind received a grim reminder... Alfred Frederick Jones Age: 20. Gender: Male. Ethnicity: American. Rank: Captain (Scouting Legion.) Birthday: July 4th. Physical Appearance: Picture!~ The constant worry and nervous attitude about his comrades and the conditions humanity has been thrust into have caused Alfred to thin considerably over the years; though, he doesn't look fragile in the least. Still maintaining broad shoulders and a build that hints at having more muscle than currently present, he is certainly one not to be judged based on appearance alone. In a world such as this, that could end up being costly. While his features are rather young and appropriate for a man his age, the melancholic, serious nature of his expressions make him seem older than he actually is. Speaking of his body and invisible to the untrained eye, Alfred sports a long scar across the left side of his neck. It's never spoken about and thankfully no one's ever asked, even if they did, he'd find a way to change the subject and keep the attention off him. While he usually loves being in the spotlight, when it comes to speaking of his past, the blonde is very quiet and withdrawn. The colour of his hair resembles that of wheat, and he makes certain to keep it at a certain length and that it's well taken care of. There's an odd lock of hair that sticks out, stubbornly holding itself up no matter how much he tries to press it down with the rest of his hair. Said hair seems to fit perfectly with the tanned nature of his skin, all natural mind you. This is mainly due to the fact he was out in the sunlight quite often as a child, refusing to come inside a good portion of the time. At least not until the sun set, sometimes he'd even beg to stay out awhile longer to watch the stars. Finally, his eyes. Gems that were once filled with life and light have since been clouded over with doubt and a troubled nature. Alfred also wears glasses due to the fact he's near sighted. Distinguishing Features: Aside his eccentric personality, the first thing people would notice about this American is the colour of his eyes. They've often been referred to as sapphires; however, this isn't particularly true. Alfred's eyes reflect the the sea when it's at it's calmest, a light sea-blue with a tint of navy. When enraged, depending on the lighting, one can almost see the ocean on a rampage deep within his eyes. There's also a cowlick near the front of his head. Personality: The first thing to take note of is his energetic and forward personality--Alfred is usually always seen sporting a smile that can light up a room and ease any sort of tension around him should he play his cards right. Though one needs to dig a little deeper to realize the smile is nothing more than a reflex action he's forced himself to learn and master. Alfred seldom smiles as much as he used to in his youth, and when he does, it's the weakest twitch of the lips that one could hardly call it a smile. It's almost as though there's a melancholic aura to him, and due to the losses within his family and pessimistic ideals, he thinks very little of himself and the 'importance' he holds within the world. Don't think that means he's forgotten his dignity or pride, he'll readily defend himself if insulted; and he's not that eager to die yet either. Despite the negative view on himself and the world, he tends to keep up an optimistic attitude around his squad and their lives/situations. Whether it's because he genuinely cares or simply doesn't wish to see them fall to his level is a question left without an answer. Mainly because Alfred himself doesn't know why he does what he does half the time. It all comes naturally. Maintaining a physical and emotional distance around those he calls comrades, Alfred's quirks and attitude often contradict how he acts around camp. There's far too many sides to him that you'd be better off trying to solve a rubix cube than what makes this guy tick. He's developed a wariness of individuals, especially new arrivals, often finding fault and doubt within them when there's nothing openly present for him to be so suspicious and cautious over. This is merely a distrust of people and the human race in general, that doesn't mean he'll let it fall victim to the Titans, but he also sees no problem in the elimination of those who shouldn't be allowed to live in such a world either. Not because it's too hard, but because he's come to view the occurrences as God's punishment. Similar to Noah's Ark only longer and worse. Though if you asked him about his beliefs, there's a chance you'd gain a sarcastic laugh and an anecdote on how no such being exists, a quick change of subject, or no answer at all. Leaving him to simply stare at you until you drop the subject entirely. Aah yes, he hates sharing anything too personal about himself, his past, or his beliefs; choosing to keep private information...well, private. Despite the distance, he remains very polite towards others. He may not be all that polite until he's gained enough trust in a person (which is rather hard to come by when it concerns him.) When speaking with higher officials, he tends to stick with the basic formalities one should normally hold for a senior officer. It's easy to get him nervous around such a group and he'll often trip over his own words if enough spotlight is thrown onto him; possibly stutter or forget what he'd been saying in the first place. When he's around his squad or other cadets, even trainee's; he tends to speak rather informally. Holding a much more steadied voice and a sureness in his words; however, he can also be blunt. Extremely so. He usually speaks loud and clear, but has been known to soften his tone when scared or upset. Additionally, his voice loses the 'child-like quality' it usually possesses when he's enraged; slipping into a lower octave than one might expect from him. Below are further examples to this broken, contradictory personality.
History: Alfred is the first and only child to seamstress Marianne Jones, and Scouting Legion cadet Alexander Jones. He was born on July 4th, 830, inside the Wall of Maria. His mother died shortly after childbirth which left Alfred in the care of a man who was seldom home due to his duties. For a good part of his life, he was raised by an aunt and uncle who lived in the same area, and he wasn't the only child in the house either! There was another boy there by the name of Matthieu Williams, his cousin and closest friend. The two were inseparable and almost identical save for Matthieu's paler complexion, longer hair, and soft-spoken personality. By the time he was five, word came that his father had gone missing in action. Even back then he wasn't stupid, Alfred knew what the term was used for and knew he would never be able to see his father again. The loss left him with mixed feelings. One one hand, he was now an orphan, and on the other he never knew either of them enough to be deeply affected by such a tragedy. Besides, the ones he thought of as parents were his aunt and uncle, even Matthieu had become something like a brother. Life moved on and time continued to tick on; so did Alfred. In the years to come, this was but the first of many losses he'd have to experience. Shortly after word of his father's death reached the town, his aunt was kind enough to take him in despite her husband's protests that they could barely afford to keep up a family of three. Taking in a fourth would be ludicrous, but Abigail Williams insisted. For a time, save the rough living conditions, everything seemed to flow smoothly. But who ever said life was fair? Abigail Williams died the following year after a run-in with a speeding cart, leaving behind a devastated husband and child; as well as a grieving Alfred. Still, by this time he saw death as something that happened now and then, besides, Heaven had to be better than the life on Earth. One time, while he attempted to cheer Matthieu up, the quieter of the two showed a rare fit of rage and snapped at him. Telling him he'd never be able to understand the loss of a parent considering his mother died and his father abandoned him. There came a time when the child apologized for what he said, but the impact those words had upon Alfred created a rift between the two that's never been able to be fixed. After this, not wishing to be a burden on the still grieving family, Alfred left the household in the middle of the night without so much as a word to the occupants and headed off into the world alone. The year was 837, the year his life would begin to lead him in an entirely different direction. A seven-year old child alone in a rather unforgiving world certainly took its toll on him. Being the little ball of energy everyone would come to know, he had little to no problem chatting up some of the bakers nearby; offering to help out however he could around the shop. They didn't even have to pay him in money, he'd be content with whatever leftovers they had by the end of the day and could afford to spell. It's here that he started to teach himself how to cook and survive on his own,with or without a roof over his head. When he wasn't chatting up foolish store owners, he was stealing from street vendors and ducking into alleyway's so the Police wouldn't catch him; if they were even interested in a petty thief. Other times he gambled, and is known to be exceptional in cheating at cards; a skill that would keep him well fed through these years; and well beaten up when people caught him doing it the first couple of try's. Still, he survived, that's all that mattered to him. Did it all on his own too! He had a plan, some might call it a suicidal plan, but he was rather fond of it. Alfred was going to join the Scouting Legion, defeating the Titans who opposed a threat to humanity and leave them lying in a pool of their own blood as they'd done to so many humans. During training, he handled himself rather well in 3D Maneuver Gear training, and excelled in hand-to-hand combat and tactical courses. Ranking third in his class, he immediately headed for the Scouting Legion as originally planned and was quick to work his way up. Flash forward to the year 845, the Wall of Maria was breached and all hell broke loose. Having been out on an assignment with his troop at the time, Alfred only learned of the Titan's sudden appearance as they drew closer to returning to the tattered, half-destroyed city. Breaking away from the rest of the team despite his captain's orders to return, Alfred frantically headed into town in search of the house he'd abandoned all those years ago. Screaming out Matthieu's name in hopes someone was still around to hear him, a sign that his cousin was either among the dead or safely out of the danger zone. Just before he reaches the house, he is snatched away by a man by the name of Francis just as a Titan crashes through the building he'd been standing next to. This brush with death is the only time he meet's the strange male, never being able to thank him properly or gain knowledge of his cousin's whereabouts. For the next five years, he believes his cousin and foster-father to be dead and begins to work hard in honing his skills. Wishing to become a better fighter. Despite the mistrust and distance he was already beginning to show towards the rest of the group, he got along well with the rest of his class and began viewing the training regiment as a family. A place he could belong without any farm befalling anyone else he cared for. (Seeing as he believed them all to be dead.) Quite used to surviving on his own, when a mission left him stranded without immediate back up, Alfred found it rather easy to think of a few ways to buy time; especially in a tough situation where anyone else would've lost their cool. With a great boost of physical strength and mental wit, he often kicked serious titan ass. There were times he even /smiled/ during a fight; relishing in the kill and watching a monster of the world fall to its knees. By the year 850, he has risen to the rank of Captain, and takes special pride and care for his team; still hoping for the day he learns of what happened to his family. Likes: - Reading; For as long as he can remember, Alfred has enjoyed the company of reading materials. Books, poetry, scrolls, shoot, he'd even read a rule book so long as it provided a welcome and pleasant distraction from the world outside the pages. One thing to note, if he's seriously into the book, Alfred tends to lose contact with the outside world. You could be speaking to him and he wouldn't even hear, his attention would be nowhere near you. The only way to snap him out of such a state is by waving your hand in front of his face or smacking him over the head. - Being outside; The outdoor's has always provided the blonde with a sense of comfort and serenity. It's a little hard to explain, but, he feels connected to nature and often takes caution to where he lays/sits. No need to trample innocent flowers. - Playing the violin; Inheriting the talent from his late mother, the sound of the violin is often heard through the squad's barracks. Though, he often plays it when he's alone and is certain no one else is around. This is because he let's everything go when he plays. Everything. Every piece of every mask he's ever kept up while around his men or other soldiers. Alfred's songs always seem to hold a melancholy tune about them, as though he were remembering things from long ago. - Working Out; Well, he enjoys keeping fit. It also does wonders for stress. - Cooking / Gardening; Surprisingly, Alfred is really good at cooking. He's no master chef, but is able to handle himself well enough to produce a decent meal that'll quickly boost one's energy. - Heat; Bring. it. on. The hotter the better. - Space; Call him crazy, but the man's always been curious about life beyond the stars. The multitude of possibilities that exist outside the world they've come to known, maybe there's another world out there. A better one, filled with peace and no such thing as war or battle. From childhood to present day, he can always be seen gazing up at the night sky. - Competition; A little friendly competition never hurt anyone. Just keep it off the battlefield. - Coffee; Best drink ever, don't even talk to him until he's had his morning cup. Tends to be rather grumpy without it. - Food (especially burgers); He's not picky in the least, but if there's one meal he could eat over and over again, it would have to be the hamburger. Alfred loves food, he adores it with a passion. Dislikes: - Thunderstorms; It's not the rain and lightning that bother him; what he hates is the thunder. If he's alone and storm rolls in, upon the first sign that thunder is accompanying it, he crawls into a cramped space and hides until it passes. Going so far as to cover his ears in a futile attempt to block the sound. - Freezing Temperatures; No. Just no, whoever invented cool weather and winter need to be stripped down to their underwear and left to freeze. That'll teach them. - Staying still; It's not in his nature to remain motionless, Alfred has to be doing something. Whether that's rocking back and forth on his feet or fiddling around with his hands. Even on the battlefield, it's become habit to be doing something, anything so long as he isn't remaining completely still. (He's not going to be stupid enough to give himself away either.) - Ghosts; Ghosts, stories about ghosts, nope. Not gonna go there, he's going to NOPE right out of the room. - Being called out; Let's face it, does anyone particularly enjoy this? Probably not, and if you do you're weird. It's why he does his best to maintain order and fulfill his duties to the fullest. - Lack of Motivation; It irks him, badly. When people don't have the motivation to get the job done properly and orderly, it upsets him to the point of becoming pissed off. Alfred is the type of person who likes to get the job done as quickly as possible, yet still ensuring it's done the correct way. - Privacy Invasions; Excuse you? Back that booty up and sit it down, don't invade his personal space. That's a no-no, good sir. - Tea; Horrid stuff, end of discussion. He refuses to drink, let alone try the substance. - Needles; The mere thought of one is enough to send shivers down his spine. When his father died, Alfred produced the idea that it was the medicine in the injections the town doctor was giving his father that caused the man to die at an early age. From then on, the sight of a needle puts him in a state of panic and he must be restrained and sedated before such an object is able to be put within an inch of him. - Speaking ill of the dead; It's not something you should be doing no matter the circumstance, but if you do such a thing in front of Alfred he's likely to backhand you across the face and kick your ass to the ground. Hell, he might just kick your ass, got a bit of a temper when it comes to that particular subject. - Death; No one's a fan, that's no surprise. Alfred just takes it a little harder than most, blaming himself for a comrade's death or believing it could have been avoided somehow, someway. Strengths: - Determination; Every mission fills him with a desire to ensure his squad returns alive and with minimal damage. He knows it's impossible, but it's one of the few hopes he has left for the world. Also, his determination has been known to make an appearance when presenting a case or in day-to-day activities. - Optimism; Despite the pessimistic view he holds of the world in private thoughts and conversations with the higher officials, Alfred makes sure those within his squad and those around him never have to witness that side of him. Choosing to smile, laugh, and joke around to keep spirits and hope high; after all, there's no need they're dreams need to end simply because his is already dead. - Analyzing; He's far better at it than people give him credit for. While he may act like an energetic, loudmouthed, idiot; Alfred has impressive analytical skills. It's not as great as his acting or combat, however, it's nothing to laugh at either. - Combat; A fighter at heart, it should come as no surprise that he's no amateur when it comes to hand-to-hand combat. While he can admit there are far better fighters than himself, he also has no problem taking pride in his skills. - Strength; He's not super-human strong, but, definitely stronger than the average man. - Communication; Such skill is practically a requirement for a captain to have, no? Alfred has little problem giving out orders he thinks will best serve the squad and ensures the mission is a success; he also has little problem taking and giving information. Being a relatively open guy, he can talk for hours on end and finds speaking to be an easy task. Though, he needs time to think his actions and words through like everyone else, and while some might think the only thing h can utter is pure foolishness; he has his shining moments as well. Especially when it comes to directing a battle. - Acting; Alfred is often described as a man with many faces due to how different he can appear around his peers. Having secrets like everyone else, and his own personal issues he'd rather not disclose with others; he has slightly perfected 'acting.' Simply put, it's not uncommon for him to have three to four 'masks' on at once so those around him have little to no idea how he truly feels one a situation. These masks are often hard to spot and only crumble when around someone he trusts with his life. Weaknesses: - Stress; "Alfred's" problems come last on his list of priorities. His concern and worries are always with the squad and their own needs as well as his work before he even begins to worry about himself. - Vocal; He's loud, especially when excited. It hasn't landed he or his squad in much trouble yet, but the man seriously needs to learn when it's time to lower the volume. - Possessive; Yet to get ride of that whole 'this is mine' mentality, he has a hard time letting go of things he believes are 'his.' He desperately clings on to what he fears losing as tightly as possible. - Sentimental; This doesn't fall in the strength category for a reason. It's already been stated that Alfred has the tendency to be impulsive, and that means he can act based solely on emotion. It depends on the situation sometimes, but if his sentimentality is greater than anything else, that'll be the driving force behind his actions. - Debate; While his communication skills are fine and dandy, Alfred has a bit of trouble in the debate department. This is partially because he has a difficult time making up his mind and finds himself arguing for all sides of a debate. In times such as these, he normally keeps his mouth shut until gaining more facts from each side before giving his opinion. - Temper; His temper can be explosive, and if someone manages to set him off then it's for the best if you duck and cover. There's a fire burning within him that always settles at a constant simmer. Fears: - Ghosts; Again, nope. He's going to nope outta there. - Loss / Failing; The one thing he fears more than failing humanity is failing his own squad. Granted not everyone can be perfect and that's not what he's aiming for; however, Alfred truly wishes not to see any of his squad suffer if at all possible. And the knowledge that one day, he'll have to, fills him with grief. - Being forgotten; It's horribly cliche, but seeing as he has no known relatives among the living; he knows that once he falls in battle no one will remember him. Sure, the squad will for awhile, but the earth still turns even after a comrade loses their life and time marches on. It stands still for no one, and he doesn't want to become a stepping stone in time. Here for a short while and then forgotten like the rest. - Rejection; It doesn't even have to be in love, he fears rejection plain and simple. What if they don't accept me for who I truly am? Would they ever care for someone like me-? And so on. His mind is filled with so many 'what if's and woulds' that Alfred often has trouble seeing the bigger picture. Quirks: - Slips into a Southern accent when half-asleep or enraged. - Tends to end or start his sentences with 'dude.' - Often holds conversations with himself in his head. When he likes or agrees with an idea, he speaks aloud the words; "Yeah that's good. That's very good." Skillset: Physical Strength: 9/10 Intelligence: 7/10 Teamwork: 5/10 Confidence: 10/10 Agility: 7/10 Roleplay Sample: (TW; Blood & Character Death) Fate, or whatever people were calling it these days, often times worked in the strangest of ways. Often times, one could even call it cruel. Sure, you could blame the events leading up to whatever incident had occurred, but, sooner or later the reality of the situation would settle in. There was always going to be that one person who managed to take the bitch by the throat, toss her to the side and grab a hold of their own future. A future they imagined. Not one that was written or being written in the pages of history. It didn't happen that often, especially for nation's. Defying fate was similar to signing a death sentence. People actually thought they were immortal? What a joke. They could die so, so easily. If one thought outside the box, killing them became surprisingly simple. Still, Alfred had to wonder if some things were just meant to be. Debates popped up over decades, centuries even and some went so far as to say God himself wrote out your entire life. Fate..Destiny..Time-those sort of things meant nothing to a nation. But here, at this moment, they meant everything to him. History showed him, had tried to warn him. And he ignored it. Humans love to fight, its etched into their very being. Violent creatures who enjoy the thrill of the hunt as much as a lion stalking it's prey. They're greedy and selfish beings. But no, not America! Land of the free and home of the brave is what they say! Bullshit. His people, even America himself, were no different from the rest of the world. He was no hero, had never been such a thing to anyone. Alfred-no, America had never saved anybody that didn't grant him a benefit later on. What kind of hero was that? ------- The rain was pouring out of the sky like a waterfall, drenching him and the decimated land around him in a blanket of tears. It was kind of ironic that this is how he'd be meeting his end. Oh, back in 2012 and further than that people had guesses about when the world would end and what it would be like. Zombies, the sun, global shutdown, another ice age. No, sorry. The human race actually managed to survive until the year 3035. Then it came crashing down, without warning or announcement of its arrival until it was already too late. Know what the ending was? Nuclear and atomic warfare. And America was the first to fall. He should have seen it coming if he was going to be honest. Had he? No, never even suspected. That was mistake number one. There were too many mistakes to count, the point was D.C. along with the rest of his country had been completely obliterated earlier that day by thousands, upon thousands, of bombs. Heh, he could remember when they started to hit. ------- "Now then, for tomorrow's meeting I'll need you to be there bright and early. We need to make peace with the Russian's if we aim to win this sudden rise of communism. The fact such a thing has returned is ludicrous! We don't need anyone succumbing to that again," the President stated. Her short, ebony hair swaying as she paced back and forth in the room. She had a point. The last thing they needed was for the Russian's, Russia, to fall to communism once more. They'd been a big enough threat in the past, and he being who he was back then decided Democracy was the way to go! It still was don't get him wrong, but he'd matured-no, that was the wrong word. Alfred had always been mature, just never bothered to show it. Why should he care what the others thought when they judged by appearances? "I know Ma'am, we'll do everything we can. The meeting is already set and your husband was kind enough to invite me to stay the night. My alarm will be set two hours earlier than yours so I may catch my flight as per agreement that the both of us shouldn't be on Air Force One at the same time. Really, you're stressing too much on this, we've managed with Ivan and his boss before. We can easily do it-" He never got to finish that particular thought. Arizona was the first to be hit, followed by Texas, Idaho, California. You got the gist. Never before had there been so much blood in the Oval Office, the blonde nation hunching over with blood spewing from his mouth as the Carolina's were hit next. The President screamed something in the background while keeping a tight grip on his arm, trying to help him retain balance before he fully collided with the ground. Each time a state was hit, his body gave a spasm and a whole new wave of pain greeted him. There was barely a voice left to scream with, of course, the blood piling up in his throat helped in silencing him as well. Already weak by the time New York was hit, not even the President and the members that had rushed inside could hold him up. America was down for the count. Despite how horrible this sounded, he would be more comfortable if his capitol had been hit first. That way he wouldn't have to suffer through everything spreading around and through him at once, there'd be nothing to feel for once D.C. was hit he'd be dead. Literally. The fires spreading from the impact zones, the radiation, it was making him sick to his stomach. Burn marks appearing all over his body. And then-there were the screams. Such a haunting sound. The screams of dying men, women, and children that he'd never make it to in time. No one would. ------ The fact he was still conscious despite the enormous amount of pain his body was in astounded him, but, he figured this was his punishment for taking so many lives in the past. He had to watch from the bloodied, blackened waters as the rest of country burned to dust. Hear the remaining screams of what little had managed to survive. It was maddening. Here he was, "hero" of the world laying in a pool of his own blood with the ocean that had ravaged the city shortly after the bomb struck; killing those who weren't already dead or dying washing up on him. The skin on his back was burned clear off, bombers jacket and all. One could have seen the bones and muscle on his bloodied back if not for the building that was on top of him. The upper portion of his body pinned to land while the lower half remained in the water. Yeah, he'd been swept away pretty far. His hair which had once been so bright in colour was now stained with blood and charcoal. Orbs that once held the spark of life were being clouded with the promise of a nearing Death. And in this half-aware state, the most oddest thoughts kept popping into the former superpower's head. 'Aah..maybe if I'd stayed a colony back then...we wouldn't be here now. What would have happened...had I lost to you back then?' "Ar...thur." It was weak, cracked and hoarse. He didn't expect anybody to hear him, didn't expect anybody to even be there looking for him. At least not so soon after the impacts. Besides, they'd be happier he was gone. Sure it'd be hard at first, but maybe it wasn't the end for everyone. Maybe this was just the end of America's time on this world. Who knew, it hurt to think. Everything hurt. Honestly, even breathing was starting to be a chore, for reasons he'd rather not mention. Let's just say it wasn't pretty. Arthur and Matthew would be okay, right? They'd live, right? "Mat..ttie.." Why did he keep calling out for them? Why was he crying? 'I don't wanna die yet....please...someone..' "You guys...I..sorry...couldn't.." No, this wasn't it; what had he wanted to say? What were his last words, who were they going to be left for? No one could hear, no one could see. Alfred could say whatever and the world would never know. Probably drive themselves mad just thinking about it. Or they wouldn't care and move on with the flow of time. Slowly, the American reached out with his hand, an unfocused gaze staring in front of him in sheer desperation and exhaustion. Tired, he was so tired; maybe it wouldn't be a bad thing if he took a small rest. Five minutes max, and then he'd be up and ready to get back into action. Yeah, that's all he had to do, take a small rest. His heart struggled and pushed for one last beat, a desperate final attempt to survive before it completely stilled. Lungs collapsing moments later under the weight of a collapsed structure and bones pressing against him, the darkness that overtook him dragged him into Death's waiting hands. The United States of America, if he could even call himself that, greeted Death like an old friend as a tear rolled down his bloodied cheek. Hand still outstretched before him, laying just as motionless as the rest of his body. And so Alfred Jones ceased to exist. ------ 'I just wanted to say I'm sorry, and thank you. But, this is where we have to part ways, I'm going on ahead. Don't...think of this as goodbye, alright? I'll be waiting, just don't join the other side too quickly. See ya later dudes!' Additional Information (OOC): Name/Nickname: Crimson. Time Zone: - 7 // I live in the Western half of the United States. Contact Info: You can contact me through chatango when I'm online, or you can ask for my AIM and we'll chat there.~ Introduce yourself: Hello everyone, I go by the name of Crimson. Please don't ask for my actual name or any personal information I chose not to disclose here. I reserve that for close friends and would rather not give out information so easily. Please respect that decision of mine, si? Well, let's see--I'm part Sicilian/Scottish/Irish/French/Cherokee Indian from different sides of the family. The strongest traits are Sicilian/Scottish. I am torn between majors at the moment and as such, have put school on halt for the semester. I've got more free time than most, but keep in mind that I hold a job and that will come first and foremost. I am also on Fight or Flight and Frozen Years in terms of roleplaying boards. You can also find me on tumblr as England, Lavi Bookman Jr, and Ran Mouri. vwv Anything else you'd like to know, so long as it isn't too personal, feel free to message me!~ <3 Have you read the rules? JAEGER ...we lived in fear of the Titans and were disgraced to exist in these cages we called walls. |
Coding by Elruko, please do not steal.
