Hi Iām Levi and I donāt understand how to intro but here goes.
First a few things about me??
Ā Iām 23, I go by Levi, Iām a photographer and vidographer, and I live in Orlando Florida (wow Disney World). This is the first groupĀ Rp Iāve been a part of in a really long time, so Iām very excited to be here. :)
Also Iāve basically turned John into every emotional teenager from an indie coming of age movie and I hate it (and love it). TheĀ āno one understands me & I listened to bands no oneās ever heard of on vinyl and watch foreign filmsā kinda dude and its HILARIOUS.
Ok now for someĀ Headcanons about my little guy.
i. John Darling writes poetry, itās not any good and itās nothing he would ever share with anyone. He got into it when he was young, after reading a book about great poets. He keeps them all in a notebook he use to carry with him everywhere. Itās now locked in a desk drawer in his room (a long with many other things), but occasionally heāll pull it out to write again. That or cringe at his own musings.
ii. John always quietly searched for something that would set him apart from Wendy and John, its important for a middle child to find themselves a place in this world. However, John found he was particularly gifted in anything. Heās not much of an artist, heās horrible with sports, he canāt hold a tune, and although he is exceptionally smart, heās no where near being smart enough to gain any recognition for it. His writing is subpar, nothing too special. The only thing he found any sort of reward in was photography. Despite his nearsightedness, John has a certain eye for beauty in nature and in life. Although he doesnāt share this with anyone, his photos wonāt win any awards. And heās fine with that, he just likes taking them for himself. Ā This hobby he picked up started when his mother let him keep an old camera they had found in the attic when he was just a boy, it ran on film and it took very long for John to figure out just how to take a photo that wouldnāt end up blurry.
iii. John sometimes wonders if his life could have been better had he not run off with Peter Pan and his Lost Boys. Before all that, he had been on track to get into a good school, a university somewhere far away from here. His grades were high and his future looked bright. But then he let himself piss it all away, and for what? To have friends? Well a whole lot of good these friends got him. Of course heās grateful for them, but still he wonders, were they really worth it?
iv. Obviously John felt in the dark when it came to his family, being a middle child and all. He gets forgotten about or left behind, little recognition or praise. His father was often the barer of it, never did pay much mind to John unless John had done something worth scolding. His siblings had their own lives, of course they were all close but he was their brother. They had to get along with him, and of course, they had friends of their own theyād rather be with. His mother although, she tried her best to give John all the attention and love she could manage. She was busy, as their household usually was, but she took time to notice and see John. Which is why he loves her so dearly.
v. John Darling keeps a journal where he mostly writes about all the things he feels cant be said out loud. His anger towards Peter, his worries about being invisible, his wishes to get out of this town. It gets locked away in the same drawer he locks all of his private things away in. Itās for his eyes and his eyes only.Ā Ā
vi. John uses music as a big escape from his stupid feelings. He enjoys classic rock but also have a vested interest in underground rock/punk bands. He doesnāt really talk about that though, since heās not sure if itās cool or weird.Ā
Spotify
Hereās a little writing thing of John being dramatic:
John lay quietly in his room, hands folded to cradle the back of his head as he stared up to the ceiling. Everything was so quiet. This room, this house, this entire town. It felt uneasy, like everything was wrong. But of course, something was wrong. The room had grown dim, and John wondered how long he had spent just laying here in complete silence. He didnāt bother to check though, afraid of the answer. His eyes instead focused on the window, the distant setting sun still letting some light in. His eyes focused on the window, itās sill, the frame, the summer breeze that rolled through it bringing in the scents of cut grass. How many times had he climbed out that window? How many locks had his father had to install then reinstall when John broke them? He remembers frequent times he had tripped climbing back in and falling on his face, how scared he was that it would wake his parents. Yet it was funny every time, and Peter always laughed a little too loud about it.
Peter.
What should be a happy memory now stung like an open wound. Heād been gone almost two weeks and already the entire world felt like it was shifting. Everyone missed him, his gang, his friends, and probably most of all, Wendy. She seemed inconsolable for the first few days, held up in her room crying. Mother and Father of course, had no idea as to why. But John and Micheal, they understood, and of course, showed their support where they could. Although, they couldnāt cheer her up the same way Peter could. Everything was different without Peter.
Without him, the Lost Boys were just that, lost. They needed their leader, and without him they were all going to fall apart, John could feel that. It was taking a tole Slightly to keep it all together, he was acting like he knew what to do, but John new he was worried. Itās not like John could help though, because really, what would he do?
John wasnāt a leader, he couldnāt possibly be.
He shoved the thought from his mind, getting out of bed and flipping on the lamp on his desk. He looked to the window again. He almost expected to see Peter when he did, coming back after his adventure to tell John and the rest all about it. But he knew he wouldnāt see him, Wendy said he was gone, and John knew she would never lie.
John shut the window, eyeing the lock at the top of his frame. He had always promised to leave it alone, in case Peter ever wanted to stop by and crash. Seemed silly that John still honored a pinky promise made by children.
But they werenāt children anymore, and John had no times for Fairy Tales and Neverland. He had wasted too much time on dreaming, time to face the real world.
He locked the window and pulled the curtains shut. Enough of this childish longing, in only a few months heās start college and he had to prepare for that life.
ā¦But many first he should go and check up on Slightly, see how heās holding up.
