Player Info

Name: Kristin
Age: 20
Time Zone: EST
AIM: Winsome Wizard
Email: Badfairy@gmail.com
Experience: ???? (We went over this in the last app…ha.)

Character Info

Name: John Napoleon Darling-Hook

Date of Birth/Age: February 13, 1992; (18)

Story of Origin: Peter Pan

Why are they in the City?: Step-son of Captain Hook. Member of The Lost Boys.

Occupation (if any):

Good or Evil? Why?: Evil. After living the life he's lived and seeing the things he's seen, it isn't all too surprising that John has lost hope that there's much good left in this world...or, much good left in the City. The only time he has happy thoughts are when he's...flying - high on anything he can get his hands on, although he favors Dust.

Physical Description: Tall, dark and handsome. There isn't something about John that doesn't captivate whoever happens to be looking in his direction. Whether it be his enigmatic eyes, or that crooked smile he gives whenever something goes as planned, he catches people's attention for one reason or another. Even if they aren't attracted to him, his presence alone is cause for attention. The way he carries himself lets people know that he's a force to be reckoned with.

PB (please include a picture):
Sebastian Stan



Background/History (Two Paragraphs Minimum):

John Napoleon was the first son born to Mary and George Darling, second child after their sweet Wendy. Their lives were normal, for a time; they had fun, they were happy. John and Wendy would play in the backyard, their imaginations running wild, keeping themselves entertained. When he was about 4 years old, Mary got pregnant again. This child would turn out to be their second son, Michael. John instantly became attached to his baby brother, always looking out for him, feeling it was his responsibility as the older brother to make sure nothing happened to him. Wasn’t that their job or something?

Time passed, and things for the Darling family started to take a turn for the worse. George became ill; it was cancer of the lungs. It spread rapidly, and soon the man had passed, leaving his wife a widow with three young children. John was 11 at the time, and he could remember holding onto his mother’s hand as he watched his father struggle to breathe, attached to all sorts of tubes and wires. It had scared him at the time, but he wouldn’t ever admit that. He was the oldest son of the house hold…so that made him the man of the family, didn’t it? It was a title he took on with pride…

…but it wasn’t a title he got to keep for very long.

It seemed like no time at all had passed before his mother married Captain Angelus Hook. He resented the man on principle alone. How dare he come into their home and try to replace their father. It angered him to think of this man as his ‘Dad’, and never once addressed him as such. He called him ‘Captain’, and nothing else. Michael followed his older brother’s footsteps and did the same.

It hurt him, every time he would look at how miserable his mother was. For a time, he didn’t sympathize with her…but as time went by, and he saw how truly twisted this man who lived in their house really was, he resented her. His own mother had brought this man into their lives, and now he was there to stay because of the matching rings on their fingers. Didn’t she care what she was doing to them? To him?

He tried his best to think of some way to get out of the situation they were in…but it was his sister Wendy who first met the boy who would change their lives forever. One night, John woke up to the feeling of a cold breeze against his skin. Shivering, he threw off the blankets in order to stand up and close the window…and that was when he noticed that Wendy was gone. Her bed was empty, and there was a note addressed to her brothers. John read it out loud, and felt his blood begin to boil because of the context. How could she just leave? His hands crumpled the note, and he stood there for some time, thinking of what they were to do. Suddenly, he turned to his brother. “We’re leaving. We’re going to find Wendy.” Michael was stunned, but he nodded his head and followed his brother’s lead.

The both of them snuck out the window, the same way his sister had. They wandered the dangerous streets of the city, but before they could find Wendy…Peter found them. Wendy had probably known they would come to follow her. John and Peter talked for quite a while, and it was during one of their discussions that Peter told John about what his step-father had done. He was repulsed, and sickened at the thought…as was Michael. He always wondered where that scar on his lip had come from, but now he knew. When he finished explaining, John insisted that he become a Lost Boy, since he despised the Captain more than anything. Besides…maybe if he was a Lost Boy, he could find some way to get his mother away from the Captain…even if that meant making her a widow again.

Years passed, and as John got older, his views on the world and on politics started to become more and more twisted. Drugs and alcohol were as available to him as candy, and it was difficult to resist the temptations…but found it impossible when he met Tink. He was 15, the first time he had met her, and she offered him something called ‘Dust’…and he got hooked, quickly.

Now, at the age of 18, John’s life has been based around 4 things: drugs, sex, murder…and revenge. But the last two really come hand in hand, don’t they?


Personality:
Intelligent, cunning, and persuasive are just a few adjectives that can describe John. While most people would expect him to be just another common hoodlum, when they sit down and have a conversation with him they are surprised to find that his vocabulary often consists of words with more than 2 syllables. His actions on the other hand, while not always smart, are always well thought out, at least. He likes to think ahead, and know his surroundings before making any rash decisions. This makes him an excellent leader when put in situations where someone has to make a choice.

He doesn't like when things don't go his way, and his attitude always reflects his displeasure. He's a man who takes what he wants, and anyone who thinks he shouldn't have it is a fool who isn't worth his time...and at times, depending on the severity of the situation, he feels it necessary to just get rid of the annoying fly buzzing around his ear. The quick movement of a blade, or the pull of a trigger does the job just fine.

Other: (Is there anything special about your character: Who is their arch enemy? Roommates? Friends?)

Brother to Wendy (sewingshadows) and Michael (lil_darling) Darling.

Uh...the Peter Pan peeps are kind of a give-in. I don't know about who else he'd know.

Sample Journal Entry: (First Person)

Who decides when enough is enough? How much is too much, and how long does it take for a person to realize this without having someone tell them?

Whatever the answer, it’s always too late. When you realize you’ve taken one too many lines, or shot back one too many hits of hard liquor, there’s never enough time for you to rectify your mistakes. There’s hardly enough time to even regret what you’ve done, since you’re far too gone by that point. All you know is that your nose and your throat are burning because of how you’ve chosen to spend your night, and in desperate times, inhaling more dust or ingesting more alcohol seems like the only way to make the pain disappear. That’s when it’s too much.

That’s the point of no return; when you start self-medicating yourself with the vices that got you into that position in the first place. You’re on the floor, your heart racing in your chest, your breath hitching in your throat as your clammy fingers grasp the neck of the near-empty whiskey bottle that’s just within your reach.

One more sip…one more sip, and everything will go away. Everything will be better, as long as you can’t feel anything. What does it take for a man, or…a woman, to get to that point? It disturbs me to know it doesn’t take very much at all. It makes me more aware of my own mortality…but strangely enough, that still doesn’t stop me from being hypocritical.

As I write this, my nose and throat are burning because of how I’ve chosen to spend my night. I worry sometimes, that one night a near-empty whiskey bottle will be just within my reach, and because my willpower will have been eroded away by the drugs and alcohol coursing through my veins, I’ll take that final sip. I won’t be in control of the situation…and that worries me more than anything.


Sample Narrative: (Third Person)

The low vibration of the bass coming from the speakers in the other room slipped beneath the door leading to where John Darling was currently located. The sight of him was something to be expected, even if it was slightly pathetic. His body was slouched on the comfortable couch that was stored away in that room, his head resting on the back as half-lidded crystalline orbs stared up at the ceiling, a joint still burning in his right hand, though it was hardly the only drug he had been taking that night.

“You still with me, baby?”

The obnoxious cooing voice of the female sitting beside him made him slowly blink, his gaze swiveling over to look at the brunette, who had apparently been stroking at his face and hair for quite some time, her other hand slipped beneath the t-shirt that clung to his chest. Her question didn’t even get an appropriate response; at least not until he took a long drag of smoke from the white stick between his fingers. He held it in his lungs for a while before he let it casually escape from between his lips, fascinated with the swirling grey smoke that was coming from within him.

“…hardly.”

His voice was emotionless; matter-of-fact and to the point. He looked over to the girl beside him, the sound of the bass still holding all of his attention. The girl (whose name he couldn’t even begin to try to remember, if she had mentioned it at all) slid her hand further up his chest, her nails gently dragging against his skin on the way back down. “Maybe I can do something to bring you back…” She smirked deviously and pressed her lips against his own. As though instincts just took over, John returned the kiss, his tongue slipping between the ruby lips of his female counterpart. He vaguely remembered her tasting like raspberries and smelling of vanilla, when he had first arrived…but now she tasted like stale weed, and reeked of cheap liquor. It was disappointing…and he pulled away from her once he had gotten his fill of what she was providing. A crooked smirk crossed over his features, though it didn’t travel up to his dilated, cloudy eyes. “You’re no longer needed.”

The girl reacted as he assumed she would, her brows furrowing together as she gave him a look that clearly showed how insulted she was. “I’m not some whore you can just get rid of!” Her words, which he knew were supposed to make him feel guilty in some way, just made him laugh. He lifted his head from the back of the couch, feeling lightheaded as he did so, but managed still to lean forward to ash the joint on the edge of the glass he had been drinking from earlier. “No, no, of course you’re not…but that doesn’t mean you’re not replaceable.” He took another hit off the drug he was holding before putting it out in the same glass he had just used moments ago. “I grow tired of your company…and even more so of your pathetic attempts at gaining my attention.” Rising to his feet with a bit of difficulty, he headed over to the door, turning the handle, though he didn’t leave before addressing the girl once more. “You should think about cleaning yourself up a bit...looking like a whore hardly becomes you…and it’s not fair of you to be so misleading.” The door opened, and he probably would have been more focused on the shouting and cursing that was going on inside had the sound of the music he had been listening through the walls not hit him like a ton of bricks. He shut the door behind him and leaned his back against it, trying to steady himself…

…and couldn’t help but laugh again at the girl’s expense as he heard the sound of glass shattering against the back of the door.




"Okay, Chief. You win this time. Now turn us loose."
"Turn us loose? You mean this is only a game?"