Post by Alexander Jay García Torres on Jan 31, 2013 21:04:56 GMT
ALEXANDER JAY GARCÍA TORRES
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[style=width: 85px; letter-spacing: 2px; border-bottom: 2px solid;]BASICS[/div]
FULL NAME: Alexander Jay García Torres
NICK NAMES: Jay, Alex, Jaybird
AGE AND BIRTH DATE: 23, 30th August, 1989
SEXUALITY: Homosexual
NATIONALITY: Spanish
MEMBER GROUP:
STYLE AND APPEARANCE
HAIR COLOUR AND STYLE: Dark brown and long enough to curl around his ears and bottom of his neck. Sometimes Jay cuts it shorter though.
EYE COLOUR: Brown, with a bit of a lighter, golden-flecked hue in the sun.
BUILD: Willowy, bordering on too skinny.
HEIGHT AND WEIGHT: 5' 6", 110lbs.
TATTOOS: "Mad as a hatter" on right wrist, "Thin as a dime" on left wrist, "Q" on the back of his upper left arm and "?" on the right.
PIERCINGS: Used to have small dilatations in his ears, sealed up.
SCARS: Thin, three inch one and a couple of nicks on his scalp, behind his ear but covered by his hair.
ANYTHING ELSE: Nope~
OVERALL APPEARANCE:
Alex's wardrobe, over time, has become a rather impressive thing. He practically hoards clothes he likes, even if he doesn't wear them. What he usually does wear though is a long-sleeved shirt, waistcoat and scarf combination, teamed up with some slim-fitting jeans. It doesn't exactly help his thin appearance any by drawing attention to how skinny he can get but it's what he feels comfortable and at ease in. If you give him a scarf, he'll be your best friend forever.
This man loves to be groomed and will refuse to leave his house until he's been preened to almost perfection. That includes making his hair do what he wants it to do, no ugly creases pressed into his clothes and not a speck of dirt on his shoes. He likes to smell nice too. Don't deny him a shower ever because that feeling of being clean is one of the best things in the world for him. If you use one of those horrible three-in-one things that're good for soap, shampoo and conditioner... why are you even alive?
As mentioned before, Alex is a slim person but that isn't solely due to a good metabolism. He's a bit of a picky eater. "A bit" being an exaggeration. He loves to eat sweets but that's usually the only treat he lets himself have. Along with pancakes and lunchables. Everything else he eats is pretty much healthy and trans-fats have no place whatsoever in his diet. He'll turn his nose up if you push some greasy burger in his face. And perhaps make a snippy comment about it.
Although his eyes are brown, plain ol' brown, he thinks they're his best feature. They're large and a soft, toffee in colour, he loves how slender his eyebrows are as well, giving him an almost feline-like glare when he gets ticked off. Which is usually often.
GETTING TO KNOW YOU
LIKES:
- Playing guitar
- Eating all sorts of sweets
- Kisses, cuddles and sex.
- The smell of vanilla.
- Flirting
- Waistcoats and scarves.
- Cats
- Lazy afternoons
- Whining about everything
- Hot chocolate
DISLIKES:
- Restringing guitars
- Being told to be patient
- Wearing his glasses
- Dirty clothes
- Anything scary
- Being denied kisses
- Waking up early in the morning
- Sudden noises or movements
- Cold showers
- Dogs.
STRENGTHS:
- Gets on well with people.
- Creative
- Playing guitar
- Getting things organized
- Pays attention to detail
WEAKNESSES:
- Cracks under pressure
- Is a terrible driver.
- Can come off as spoilt.
- Gets very stubborn
- Obsesses
SECRETS:
- Can't swim
- Cheated his driving test
- Tried to have sex with a girl once and... just puuure embarrassment.
- Likes to kink it up in bed.
- Thumb sucker.
FEARS:
- The dark
- Being bitten by a zombie
- Dogs
- Death by drowning
- A zombie dog getting into where he lives in the dead of night.
GOALS:
- Find a way to figure out if his twin his alive
- Get a decent job that pays well
- Do something with his music
QUIRKS:
- Gets twitchy when nervous
- Curses in Spanish because he finds English swears ugly
- When he sleeps, he sucks his thumb and talks a hell of a lot.
HABITS:
- Smokes, even if he hates the smell on his clothes.
- Chews his cuticles constantly.
- Fidgets.
OVERALL PERSONALITY:
Alex is, to put it simply, a bit of a bitch. He doesn't mind catching up on the latest gossip people are whispering about the neighbourhood, so long it's not about him, of course. Being a touch stubborn as he is, Alex likes to get his own way and will shamelessly use whatever he has in his power to get it. He can pout, complain, whine and sink to the manipulative level of slight emotional blackmail and lovely, little white lies. And if even then there's no luck, he'll get a grump on. Fold his arms, glare, huff, speak in a snippy voice and make sure you know that he's not pleased. And he'll get this way over something as trivial as getting the last sugar cube or taking the rubbish out.
He has a quite a few of his moody moments but Alex doesn't usually get angry. But if someone pushes it, his temper will surface and it's... very loud for some reason. He likes to shout things and push things and throw things and... just things. Alex probably won't mean half of whatever he says though because, really, he isn't a horrible person. Even if he can come off as a moody, spoilt brat that acts a little bit younger than he should. He honestly isn't a horrible person.
Alex is actually very caring and finds enjoyment in lending someone a hand. He's a bit of a social butterfly and makes friends with ease. But there's friends... and then there's proper friends. You know. The ones you spill your guts to. Alex doesn't usually have a lot of those because, like, it means talking about his past, his family and other things like that which he feels uncomfortable with sharing. He doesn't like talking about subjects which involve anything that gets him down. Those things have all happened and it's not like there's much to be done about it now. No point in bringing sensitive topics up if they're just going to be mood-killers.
Flirting. That is one thing Alex loves to do. Heterosexuality is a myth anyway so he'll hit on whoever he feels like it. Even if it's gotten him in a couple of undesirable situations in the past. He hasn't exactly learnt anything from them though. Having gotten out of a reasonably long relationship a short while ago (a year is a long time for him, shush), his skills are perhaps a bit rusty and in need of some polishing. He'll work on that though. And very soon. He has no plans to share a bed with just his right every single night. It isn't the same and it's boring. Yawn.
This guy's always been a bit jumpy. After the relationship he's just escaped from and those zombies appearing, you can't blame him for being a bit skittish. Loud noises and unexpected movements aren't for him. He hates getting startled without a reason so... if you purposely sneak up and spook him, be ready for a taster of his snappy temper. If you poke fun at him for it - or for anything actually - it'll just make it worse.
EXPLAIN YOURSELF
HOME TOWN: Toledo, Spain.
WHERE WERE YOU?: Travelling London in a Volkswagen camper van with some friends.
WHERE ARE YOU NOW?: Safe Lands.
PARENTS:
- Father: Blythe Jeremy Carrington, 64, whereabouts unknown.
- Mother: Susan Marie Carrington, 42, whereabouts unknown.
- Foster Father: Iñáki Leonardo García Torres, 68, retired, ex-pâtissier, alive.
- Foster Mother: Mª José Isabela García Torres, 60, music professor, alive.
SIBLINGS:
- Zachary Levi García Torres, 23, student, alive.
ANYONE ELSE?:
- Rafael Tomás Martín Pérez, 28, ex-boyfriend, whereabouts unknown.
Hopefully dead- Samson Hannibal Corvus, 24, friend, model and aspiring actor, supposedly trying to head north with Kimberly and Sebas.
- Kimberly Ann Edwards, 22, friend, receptionist, heading north. Not known if dead or alive.
- Juan "Sebas" Sebastián Mora Martínez, 23, musician, heading north. Ditto.
- Dallas Blake Richards, 24, friend, musician, deceased.
PETS:
- Tootie, two years old, spayed female cat, Bengal.
COMPLETE HISTORY:
Sometimes, when Alex was an angsty teen that hated the world and its mum, he wondered what was even the point of their parents having him and his brother. What had honestly been the point of carrying them in their mother's stomach for approximately nine months if they were just going to leave them to their luck in a fire station a meagre three months after? Maybe some adults weren't meant for parenthood. Maybe twins were just too much to handle. Maybe they hadn't even really been wanted at all. Whatever their reason, Alex thought it was stupid. He knew he should feel a sliver of gratitude for being born into the world but... he just couldn't - and can't - bring himself to feel it.
Both Alex and his brother, Zachary, got off to rough start in life. Thankfully though, since they were so young, neither remembers much. It's probably for the best that they can't remember just how many times they bounced from house to house, family to family, in their first couple of years of life. The social workers that supervised their case didn't want to separate the two and, until the García family came along, it was proving difficult finding a stable family that could take on two, growing, boisterous toddlers.
The Garcías took the children in as their own and, although they grew up knowing that they weren't biologically theirs, the brothers never really had any desire to find out who their real "parents" are. Alex didn't anyway, he's not too sure about Zach. To him, there's more to a parent than blood. A parent is the person who's there for you, nurtures you and gives everything, time, money, heart and soul, just to see you grow well. So those Americans which gave him life to later abandon him, aren't his parents. Iñáki and María José are his papá and mamá.
After that, things were pretty tranquil for the two boys. Their parents gave them everything they basically needed and, sometimes, what they wanted too, even their surnames. Being brought up by Spaniards ended up with them both feeling as though Spanish was their native tongue. Alex actually sucked at English in school. Hell, in school he pretty much sucked at everything besides music.
When Alex reached the end of Sixth Form (called Bachillerato over there), he began to knock around with a couple of less than desirable individuals. First they had been friends of a friend of a friend until, somehow, he'd ended up in their social circles. It was probably the uncaring, party attitude they had on life that'd unknowingly attracted him to them. They didn't care about grades, just how much cash they could get together for the weekend. Cash that they'd just blow on drink, cigarettes, pot and, in cases, harder substances.
Those couple of years felt like the best for Alex in that moment of time. But it was far from it. He didn't see the damage he was doing and the strain he was putting on his family. Zach covered his ass half of the time, cleaning him up before either Iñáki or Mª Jóse came home and saw the state he'd gotten himself into. Most of the time, he shuffled home - when he even came home for the night - smelling of drink and smoke, sometimes sporting bruises, sometimes not even sure he was home. Zach held his hair when he hurled his guts into the toilet basin, patted his back when he inexplicably broke into tears, dabbed witch hazel and alcohol on his bruises and cuts and plodded down to the kitchen, at crazy hours in the morning to make some food, even though Alex was always already sound asleep by the time he returned.
For three years, that was their routine. Their horrible, horrible routine. But things change and people do too. People make plans, move on. Leave others behind and carry on with their lives. When Alex turned twenty-one, Zach had moved out already to Madrid, to attend university after putting it off for two years in the case that, y'know, Alex wanted to come with him and actually do something with his life. When Alex turned twenty-one, he was moving in with his current boyfriend. He met him in the cheap crowd he hung around with but... he seemed different. He seemed sweet, caring, patient. He seemed like a lot of things. And a lot of things he wasn't.
Alex, to this day, still isn't sure what he saw in that man. Maybe it was his body and tats that'd wooed him. Or maybe he was actually a sweetheart until their relationship grew stale. Something which had happened pretty quickly, mind. They had only really been living together three months when the playful shoves were no longer so playful and the arguments were becoming often and louder. Rafa didn't come home some nights. And those were the nights when Alex couldn't sleep. Because he knew what he'd be like when he came back. The man would stumble home, drunk or worse, and looking worse for wear. And, in a curious turn of a events, Alex couldn't help but think that this was exactly how his brother felt. Waiting. Waiting for someone to come home. Just to be sure they were okay.
The first time Alex's arm was grabbed, hard enough to leave the imprints of four fingers and a thumb, he should've done something. Same went for the time he got shoved backwards and his head had a near-miss with the corner of the coffee table. And that time he was on his knees, winded, hands over his chest, wide-eyed and gasping for breath. When Alex spotted Rafael holding hands with a brunette, eight months into their explosive relationship, he should've done something other than bow his head down and hope he hadn't been spotted. But, instead, he just went home. And waited for his boyfriend who, obviously, greeted him with a kiss and suggested ordering something for dinner because he was tired.
Alex's life, so far, was just about made up out of "shoulda, woulda, coulda"s. Rafael's fuse became shorter and shorter, as the same time his hands got heavier. He sometimes didn't come home for days at a time but... Alex no longer worried now. He knew where he was. With that girl. That sixteen year old. That child. It made him feel sick to his stomach. He lost sleep, lost his appetite and, finally, finally, after a couple of months more of long-sleeved shirts, concealer on his face and unpaid days off work, Alex realized that there was nothing salvageable in this relationship. Rafael could surprise him with a flower, a dinner, a smile, a kiss and an affectionate purr all he liked. It didn't make things better any more. So, without even a note, Alex packed his bags and simply left, weighed down with his possessions but already feeling lighter the instant he shut the door behind him and that dark period of his life.
Zach helped him get into another routine. A healthy routine. One that involved eating properly, going to the library, studying, getting out and seeing people, good people. He didn't question why his brother was now so jumpy and restless at night. But he had an idea. And another idea to help him move on from it all.
A month later, Alex was slumped at the wheel to a cherry red Volkswagen, his cat Tootie snoozing on his lap, stuck in a traffic jam that seemed to stretch for miles on the outskirts of London. His new friends, Dallas, Kimberly and Sebas were in the back, singing along to a Beatles song blaring from the radio with gusto, Samson was sat in the passenger seat, rolling his eyes at them, his feet up on the dashboard and a book on his lap. In the boot, they each had a small bag, there were two cased guitars and a cajón. They were travelling light but it was the healthy life experience they were after. The plan was see London, see Paris, see Berlin and see Amsterdam. Neither of the five had any idea that they'd get stuck in their first stop.
BEHIND THE SCREEN
ALIAS: Azuu
AGE: 20
TIME ZONE: Spain, CET. (GMT+1)
ROLEPLAYING EXPERIENCE: Arounnnd... seven years nowbut with a two year hiatus somewhere in there
AVERAGE WORD LENGTH: Depends on the other person kinda... 200-700+ words.
ROLEPLAY SAMPLE: Taken from the last thread I made on the last site I was on.
[atrb=border, 0, true][atrb=style, background: url(http://i1076.photobucket.com/albums/w450/BluuBluuie/alexcoding.png); border-radius: 50px; border: #867457 1px solid; padding-top: 15px; padding-right: 10px; padding-left: 10px; padding-bottom:15px] Damaged ribs, head trauma, concussion, visible bruising, possible internal bleeding... and they still said that he'd been lucky. Doctors were quite an optimistic breed, weren't they? They had talked as if the injuries Ray had sustained weren't all that bad. Alex begged to differ. The bandages on Ray were thick and too white, the one that swathed his head was particularly discomforting because he'd gotten an eyeful of what was exactly under that one. It hadn't been pretty. Little guy had dry-heaved for ten minutes straight into the paper bag given to him in case he'd had a panic attack. Alex shifted in the seat by Ray's bed. He was hooked up to all these things that supposedly were helping him, monitoring him, keeping him safe. But, to Alex, it just looked ghastly and scary. The man that lay in the bed was usually so tall and proud... it was terrifying seeing him so small and frail because of one accident that'd gotten out of hand. Alex swallowed and forced himself to look away. He didn't like this. The steady beep... beep... beep... of one of Ray's monitors was something that Alex swore was going to be drummed into his head for an eternity. But he listened intently to it as he continued to pick fine and whispy black hairs off the leather jacket. This had all happened because of this stupid thing. Someone should just throw it away or something in case it was a bad luck token. Alex's brown bag crinkled eerily loud in the almost total silence of the ward, putting Tootie's hairs into it so he didn't dirty the impeccable tiled flooring. The least he could do was make the jacket presentable and wearable again. Ray'd almost died because of it. Alex had calmed down considerably by now. His breathing was back to normal although his chest still burned slightly and he was rather tired, as if he'd ran a short marathon or something. But he couldn't sleep. He needed to be awake. One of the nurses had told him to go home, rest, sleep, eat... but he couldn't. It'd be impossible for him to do any of things knowing that Ray was here, lay in some hospital bed, because he'd fucking sprayed mace in his face. Plus, Alex needed to get numbers out of Ray. His partner was probably worried sick and fretting over his possible whereabouts. The sprite chewed his bottom lip nervously and stole another glimpse at the unconscious man. He looked down at his feet, clad in thick, woollen socks and donning some slippers given by the hospital. Alex was still in his pyjamas though. He hadn't really thought to grab anything when he went to lock the car, but what he was wearing wasn't so bad... and anyway! Who cared about that? Not him. Not when he was growing an unhealthy obsession with making sure the beeps kept beeping and the drip kept dripping. tagged: raybaby! notes: hehe outfit: clicky! words: 493  |
CREDITS
This application was made by Kat, the admin, for London's Fallen. Stealing or adapting in any way will result in frowny faces and tutting.
EDIT: 02/02/13 - modified "anyone else" section slightly, changed names.
