Post by Captain Jack Harkness on Feb 17, 2012 19:34:44 GMT -5
Captain Jack Harkness
Luna
Third Person POV
Luna
Third Person POV
General Information
Age "However old you want me to be."
Gender Male
Species A human of sorts.
Physical Description
Playby John Barrowman
Eye Colour Blue
Hair Colour Dark brown
Height Six feet
Describe Their Appearance Jack can blend in to the crowd easily. There isn't much about him that stands out aside from his dimples and charming smile. He walks tall and dresses nice. What he's wearing doesn't matter most of the time, but usually it's a pair of nice, dark slacks and a button-down shirt. Other times, he'll wear a t-shirt and jeans. He's comfortable in most outfits. His hair is a little long, but he keeps it out of his face.
Personality
In General Jack tends to be mysterious. Jack keeps his real name a secret, keeping an air of mystery about him. He took the name in 1941 when the real Captain Jack Harkness, an American volunteer, had died in action that January before. He doesn't open up to many people, leaving the Ninth Doctor and Rose two of the only people who know the real him.
On the outside, he is happy and energetic. Once a former con man, he enjoys the occasional scheme, game, or joke. He flirts with everyone, different species alike. After he was cursed with immortality, he managed to keep his humor, but sometimes wondered if he wanted to really die or not. He views life differently now that he can't die. Now, he knows that even if he finds someone, a normal human, he will outlive them; it has happened to him before and it was terribly sad, but since then Jack has basically come to terms with his own immortality.
However, he is still powerful and ruthless when the time calls, never hesitating in killing someone who was a threat. Jack has a good sense of right and wrong. Doesn't mean he always abides by that sense, but it's there. He always sticks by his guns though. If he feels threatened by someone, he will go on the offensive, and he will attack. If not, he'll leave you be, or try to flirt (depending on his mood).
Jack feels too easily towards people. Whether that feeling is positive or negative. When positive, he will flirt with you. These feelings led him toward being in a relationship with John Hart, a time agent he was trapped with for five years in a time vortex, and him kissing the real Captain Jack Harkness when they met in 1941. The feelings do not always arise as sexual, but more as appreciation.
Since discovering his immortality, Jack has died over a million times. That means he has over a million nightmares. At night, he relives a death or two, whether it be his very first one, the most painful one, or the most recent one, he remembers. It is slightly terrifying, waking him up in a cold sweat. Usually, he keeps quiet and wedges himself between his bed and the wall for comfort.
Attitude Toward... The Doctor. Jack loves the Doctor. Specifically Nine, since that was his first. The Doctor changed him from a coward to a hero, which is both a blessing and a curse. When he came back to life on Satellite 5, he was crushed to hear that The Doctor and Rose had left without him, leaving him deserted. For the next century, he spent his time and energy looking for The Doctor. His love for The Doctor isn't sexual, but it could be if he mustered on it long enough. Then again, his love for anyone could be sexual if he thought on it.
Sex. In the 51st century, views on sex are dramatically different from the 21st century. There, sex exists between man, woman, and alien kinds alike. Jack feels attraction to any species, and will not be afraid to let them known. He has had sex with many different people and species alike. At one point he was in a relationship that was equivalent of a married couple with John Hart ("He was a good wife, too.").
Attitude Toward... Killing. He'll never hesitate to kill anyone who is deemed a threat. However, unnecessary killing pissed him off. Everyone is innocent until proven guilty. If someone doesn't deserve to die, he won't kill them. They don't deserve it, and it's wrong.
Dying. Jack hates dying with a passion. He has died millions of times, each no better than the last. It gives him a feeling of helplessness and pretty much scares him. Not to mention it hurts like bloody hell. Not being able to die, however, is what gets him the most. He'll live for thousands, maybe millions, of years, and he'll never die. Jack may even be a little afraid of sleeping for that reason: it is way too close to death for his comfort zone.
All The Little Things
Personal Effects Some of the important things he carries are his sonic blaster, psychic paper, a modified defabricator, and a World War II Webley.
Jack steals pencils. He has about ten in his coat alone, just because. He also keeps gum on him for the occasional "close encounter". Jack has a pocket watch from 1941 that he carries around. The old thing keeps good time, even now.
Jack kept the severed hand of the Tenth Doctor once. That was odd, but it wasn't kept on his person. He had it stashed away at Torchwood.
Quirks or Habits Jack likes to have fun. He can be carefree and happy most of the time. But when the time calls for it, he'll be serious and refuse to joke around. His tongue gets away from him sometimes (pun intended); he'll say whatever he feels like without caring about the consequences. He flirts. Constantly. The Doctor calls him out on it, which he replies to as just "saying hello." Jack can also get slightly dedicated (obsessive) about the things he does.
Extras Uh... he sleeps in a hole.
Sample Post
Jack mumbled under his breath. He twisted and turned, quietly muttering incoherencies and sucking in short batches of air. His face contorted to that of pain, and he let out a quiet whimper, arching suddenly off of the bed, the faintest of cries slipping out.
Another nightmare. Another god damn nightmare. Again and again, they happened. He hated it. Hated them with a passion. Jack stretched out his legs in front of him, hands pressed firm and flat against the sheets. Steadying himself. Grounding himself.
Death number two thousand, five hundred, and seventy-three. Falling head first off of a tall cliff in to a lake, hands and legs tied together like some game swine, sinking in to the water, down, down, slowly resting at the bottom, painfully drowning. Jack took in a slow breath, his eyes closed, and sighed. He was safe, he was dry, he could breathe, he could move.
After rubbing his face roughly for about a minute, he stood, climbing out of his hole in his boxerbriefs and singlet. Air was good.
