Wizards and Werewolves
Hogwarts had not exactly been gentle on Jackson. Then again, he wasn't gentle on himself. Like so many others, his parents had been killed in a war that threatened to tear their world to shreds. Though both his parents were well steeped in the magical world, it was muggle authorities who'd found them and their son, thus landing him with completely unmagical parents. They loved him as if he were their own, but he grew up feeling constantly as though something were missing. And age 11, he found out just what that was. But it wasn't the instant cure he'd longed for, as he was thrust into a world which he knew nothing about, leaving him at a disadvantage.
His drive to prove himself, even at such a young age, landed him in Slytherin where he immediately started bashing heads with his housemates as he had no way of proving his bloodline. He didn't even know who his birth parents were. But he proved it all wrong by doing rather well in his classes and landing himself a position as a chaser on their quiddich team in his second year. But it was never enough.
Before the start of his fifth year, he started chasing dark magic. That summer he ended up being cursed in ways he still hadn't sorted out completely. A monster roamed the halls, eventually killing people outside the school. Though a core few knew the monster had been Jackson, the school as a whole only knew it had been a Hufflepuff named Matt who'd controlled it. Too bad Matt ended up drowning before he could face the weight of his crimes.
By sixth year, he forced himself to be oblivious to the horrors that kept hitting the school. He'd been a monster, nearly died more times than he could count, had blood on his hands that he only ever saw in his dreams. Now he had to make up for the time he'd lost. He had to work harder. Never mind that he was near the top of his class and was a shoe-in for quiddich team captain once their current captain graduated. It was never enough. He was never enough. Not until he figured out who his parents were and proved this is where he belonged.
His drive to prove himself, even at such a young age, landed him in Slytherin where he immediately started bashing heads with his housemates as he had no way of proving his bloodline. He didn't even know who his birth parents were. But he proved it all wrong by doing rather well in his classes and landing himself a position as a chaser on their quiddich team in his second year. But it was never enough.
Before the start of his fifth year, he started chasing dark magic. That summer he ended up being cursed in ways he still hadn't sorted out completely. A monster roamed the halls, eventually killing people outside the school. Though a core few knew the monster had been Jackson, the school as a whole only knew it had been a Hufflepuff named Matt who'd controlled it. Too bad Matt ended up drowning before he could face the weight of his crimes.
By sixth year, he forced himself to be oblivious to the horrors that kept hitting the school. He'd been a monster, nearly died more times than he could count, had blood on his hands that he only ever saw in his dreams. Now he had to make up for the time he'd lost. He had to work harder. Never mind that he was near the top of his class and was a shoe-in for quiddich team captain once their current captain graduated. It was never enough. He was never enough. Not until he figured out who his parents were and proved this is where he belonged.
Keep your silver, give me that gold
This was NOT how Jackson wanted to be spending his afternoon. He wanted to run drills on his own before practice started, and he still had homework to fit in somewhere in there. Dark Arts was one of the classes he paid the least attention in, because why did it matter any more? He knew first hand that curses were a joke. You go to a shady guy in an alley on summer break, and he claims to have worked some nasty curse that could make you stronger and...nothing happens. Absolutely nothing. Not a rash, not a bad dream, nothing.
Now that they were getting well into the school year, the holidays approaching, there were whispers among the students. There was a "monster" in the halls. Talk of a snake or a lizard spotted at night through the corridors. But so far there were no confirmed reports. One kid claimed to have been paralyzed and unable to move for several hours, but he had nothing but a scrape on the back of his neck. This was chalked up to childish pranks and stories held from over a decade ago when kids were found petrified in the halls. So far it was little more than a ghost story. Less that that, as not even the ghosts themselves seemed to have seen the supposed monster.
The "failed" curse was not Jackson's first brush with magic that he shouldn't be messing around with. He'd been sick for more than a month the year before because of a potion gone wrong that left him with nasty aconite poisoning and he refused to talk to anyone about it until it was almost too late. And now he was flaunting his disrespect for the dark arts, showing off spells that students really shouldn't be working. It was all wrapped up in an air of showing he wasn't afraid of the magic that supposedly nearly destroyed their world. He didn't just toss these spells around, but threatened to use them on his fellow classmates. His favorite target seemed to be a pair who hadn't seemed like they'd amount to much, but as they grew were getting to be rather proficient. Scott was was the one with true magical power, while his friend was the one who always seemed to know every scrap of lore there was to be known.
Then there was his disrespect of their teacher. Draco Malfoy. Now there was a name he'd heard often enough when he first came to the school. He didn't grown up with wizard parents, so he didn't have the same associations with the name that others might, but he was a quick study. The way people spoke of the Malfoy family was that they were some evil, dark, impressive force. Like dark kings of the wizarding world. Too bad most of what he'd heard was of Draco's father, so finally getting into the guy's class was frankly a disappointment. He was expecting someone with an iron fist, someone who was far more into the dark arts part and less about the defense.
That day, Jackson had been asking a few questions that students had no reason to be asking. Like just how a wizard could go about getting stronger. He'd actually started to say. "You know, as strong as V--" when his friend Danny elbowed him so hard in the ribs he stopped talking.
So now Jackson sat at his desk, having not moved after the class emptied out, showing every ounce of disdain possible. Arms folded, knees splayed, partially slouched in his chair. Defensive, offended, knowing he was better than being held after class. He stared at the teacher, challenging him to do something, anything. He was someone accustomed to getting away with his attitude because he was always the teacher's favorite. So this was just a formality.
Now that they were getting well into the school year, the holidays approaching, there were whispers among the students. There was a "monster" in the halls. Talk of a snake or a lizard spotted at night through the corridors. But so far there were no confirmed reports. One kid claimed to have been paralyzed and unable to move for several hours, but he had nothing but a scrape on the back of his neck. This was chalked up to childish pranks and stories held from over a decade ago when kids were found petrified in the halls. So far it was little more than a ghost story. Less that that, as not even the ghosts themselves seemed to have seen the supposed monster.
The "failed" curse was not Jackson's first brush with magic that he shouldn't be messing around with. He'd been sick for more than a month the year before because of a potion gone wrong that left him with nasty aconite poisoning and he refused to talk to anyone about it until it was almost too late. And now he was flaunting his disrespect for the dark arts, showing off spells that students really shouldn't be working. It was all wrapped up in an air of showing he wasn't afraid of the magic that supposedly nearly destroyed their world. He didn't just toss these spells around, but threatened to use them on his fellow classmates. His favorite target seemed to be a pair who hadn't seemed like they'd amount to much, but as they grew were getting to be rather proficient. Scott was was the one with true magical power, while his friend was the one who always seemed to know every scrap of lore there was to be known.
Then there was his disrespect of their teacher. Draco Malfoy. Now there was a name he'd heard often enough when he first came to the school. He didn't grown up with wizard parents, so he didn't have the same associations with the name that others might, but he was a quick study. The way people spoke of the Malfoy family was that they were some evil, dark, impressive force. Like dark kings of the wizarding world. Too bad most of what he'd heard was of Draco's father, so finally getting into the guy's class was frankly a disappointment. He was expecting someone with an iron fist, someone who was far more into the dark arts part and less about the defense.
That day, Jackson had been asking a few questions that students had no reason to be asking. Like just how a wizard could go about getting stronger. He'd actually started to say. "You know, as strong as V--" when his friend Danny elbowed him so hard in the ribs he stopped talking.
So now Jackson sat at his desk, having not moved after the class emptied out, showing every ounce of disdain possible. Arms folded, knees splayed, partially slouched in his chair. Defensive, offended, knowing he was better than being held after class. He stared at the teacher, challenging him to do something, anything. He was someone accustomed to getting away with his attitude because he was always the teacher's favorite. So this was just a formality.
005 // Fur and Fury
[ Early in the breach ]
[ Jackson should have been on the front lines. He should have been out there with the rest of the pack. He should be trying to establish his rightful place among them. He should be the leader. The captain. But he wasn't there. He wasn't anywhere near the battle. He was back at the palace. Frequently found with his head resting on the feet of a very particular statue. Because he'd failed her. He was supposed to protect her. Keep her from harm. A queen. He'd growl at the statues that flanked her. They'd failed her even worse. At least HE was alive and able to keep fighting! How dare they betray her like this! Never mind that she held hands with one of them. ]
[ After Dean's speech ]
[ After days of skulking around the palace, Jackson sees his chance to actually do something. He'd never been able to take on the captain on his own. But with the alpha wolf fallen, this was his chance. He could challenge them all. He could claim his proper place. Prove he wasn't as weak as he'd been before.
He ran. As hard as he could. Charging through the camp of his own. Ready to take on any who challenged him.
Later, he would slip off toward Aslan's camp. With the intent to verify the announcement, or to see if it had merely been a trap. ]
[ Jackson should have been on the front lines. He should have been out there with the rest of the pack. He should be trying to establish his rightful place among them. He should be the leader. The captain. But he wasn't there. He wasn't anywhere near the battle. He was back at the palace. Frequently found with his head resting on the feet of a very particular statue. Because he'd failed her. He was supposed to protect her. Keep her from harm. A queen. He'd growl at the statues that flanked her. They'd failed her even worse. At least HE was alive and able to keep fighting! How dare they betray her like this! Never mind that she held hands with one of them. ]
[ After Dean's speech ]
[ After days of skulking around the palace, Jackson sees his chance to actually do something. He'd never been able to take on the captain on his own. But with the alpha wolf fallen, this was his chance. He could challenge them all. He could claim his proper place. Prove he wasn't as weak as he'd been before.
He ran. As hard as he could. Charging through the camp of his own. Ready to take on any who challenged him.
Later, he would slip off toward Aslan's camp. With the intent to verify the announcement, or to see if it had merely been a trap. ]
004 // Deck The Halls
[ Video ]
[ He looks utterly disgusted. And surprisingly, it has nothing to do with the sweater he's wearing. Hardly a color he usual wears, too. ]
You call THIS decorating? Doesn't anyone on his this ship have any sense of actual taste? Maybe some of you should go request things that don't look like you dug them out of the bargain bin at the gas station, huh?
And to whoever took my black Hugo Boss sweater, I'm going to find you.
[ He hadn't had much time to take inventory, so he didn't know if there was anything else missing. But he was pissed. ]
[ Spam ]
[ He's become quite skilled at shoving down all of his problems, especially now that he has a purpose. Between the sweater and Lydia's orders, he had become rather aggressive about this whole Christmas thing. He's in and out of his room frequently, and if he's in there, he tends to have a habit of leaving the door open. The room was immaculately decorated. He did lean a bit toward the minimalist and monochrome side, but it had the air one might expect from a kid who was raised with a great deal of money. It was all white, silver and red.
Otherwise, he could be found going about his usual activities. If he can get a warden to let him into either the gym or pool, he does his usual routines there. Otherwise he does his daily circuit on the ship. And of course, there's always the dining hall. Where he acts like he owns the place as if he were still king of the high school cafeteria. He's trying to generally ignore all of his problems. And that includes not thinking of the event that proved he was no longer afraid of Kira. And certainly not thinking of her at all ever. Just as much as he was ignoring anything that had happened with Lydia or Lydia and Stiles, or whatever that with Stiles a while ago. Pretty much NOT thinking about anyone he knows from home, period. ]
( Gifts )
[ He looks utterly disgusted. And surprisingly, it has nothing to do with the sweater he's wearing. Hardly a color he usual wears, too. ]
You call THIS decorating? Doesn't anyone on his this ship have any sense of actual taste? Maybe some of you should go request things that don't look like you dug them out of the bargain bin at the gas station, huh?
And to whoever took my black Hugo Boss sweater, I'm going to find you.
[ He hadn't had much time to take inventory, so he didn't know if there was anything else missing. But he was pissed. ]
[ Spam ]
[ He's become quite skilled at shoving down all of his problems, especially now that he has a purpose. Between the sweater and Lydia's orders, he had become rather aggressive about this whole Christmas thing. He's in and out of his room frequently, and if he's in there, he tends to have a habit of leaving the door open. The room was immaculately decorated. He did lean a bit toward the minimalist and monochrome side, but it had the air one might expect from a kid who was raised with a great deal of money. It was all white, silver and red.
Otherwise, he could be found going about his usual activities. If he can get a warden to let him into either the gym or pool, he does his usual routines there. Otherwise he does his daily circuit on the ship. And of course, there's always the dining hall. Where he acts like he owns the place as if he were still king of the high school cafeteria. He's trying to generally ignore all of his problems. And that includes not thinking of the event that proved he was no longer afraid of Kira. And certainly not thinking of her at all ever. Just as much as he was ignoring anything that had happened with Lydia or Lydia and Stiles, or whatever that with Stiles a while ago. Pretty much NOT thinking about anyone he knows from home, period. ]
( Gifts )
003 // Put It Back Together
[ Spam ]
[ It was about a week after the barge had settled after the arena. Jackson seemed to have regained some sense of composure, back to his arrogant self. But in reality, he'd just managed to get the mask back in place. It was a thin disguise over all of that turmoil and pain. Most people wouldn't be able to tell the difference, but anyone capable of detecting emotions in any way would be able to tell it was just a ruse.
He moved through the ship with a well practice confidence, like he owned the place. It wasn't too unlike high school, after all. The dining all wasn't unlike the cafeteria. Where he sat like a king upon a throne. Even if his table were lacking in his usual followers.
If he wasn't there or in his cabin--which is where he spent most of his time--he was working out. Mostly running, because almost anywhere else required warden access and he refused to go to anyone for that. The stairs were great for running. He was alwas pushing himself as hard as he could. A look of stern determination on his face. ]
[ It was about a week after the barge had settled after the arena. Jackson seemed to have regained some sense of composure, back to his arrogant self. But in reality, he'd just managed to get the mask back in place. It was a thin disguise over all of that turmoil and pain. Most people wouldn't be able to tell the difference, but anyone capable of detecting emotions in any way would be able to tell it was just a ruse.
He moved through the ship with a well practice confidence, like he owned the place. It wasn't too unlike high school, after all. The dining all wasn't unlike the cafeteria. Where he sat like a king upon a throne. Even if his table were lacking in his usual followers.
If he wasn't there or in his cabin--which is where he spent most of his time--he was working out. Mostly running, because almost anywhere else required warden access and he refused to go to anyone for that. The stairs were great for running. He was alwas pushing himself as hard as he could. A look of stern determination on his face. ]
002 // Cold Steel Wolf
[ Spam ]
[ Jackson hated the woods. They were filthy, exposed and unnecessary. Not to mention the insulting lack of supplies. The message, however, was a welcome invitation. But he didn't care about us-versus-them. It was him versus everyone else. Even what remained of his pack wasn't safe, if they chose to cross him. He could always bite more people.
Because Jackson? He was an alpha. A cold, uncaring, ruthless alpha. He never spent time as the kanima, lacking the issues that had led to that for his counterpart. He'd need some semblance of a heart to be anywhere near that. But he was also from a little further along the timeline. Having taken on the Alpha twins and taken their power from him.
He could be found stalking through the woods. Seeking his pack. Seeking infiltrators. Seeking anyone he could find an excuse to kill. ]
[ Video ]
[ In looks, he is no different. But in voice, he certainly is. There's a cold stillness to him. An overwhelming sense of control. Making him sound closer to Peter Hale than the little ball of fury that was the original version of Jackson. ]
There is only one person who's going to win this. And no one will stand in my way. So we're going to work out a little deal. Anyone in my pack--[ The word sounded like poison on his tongue. ]--should already know what that is.
[ Jackson hated the woods. They were filthy, exposed and unnecessary. Not to mention the insulting lack of supplies. The message, however, was a welcome invitation. But he didn't care about us-versus-them. It was him versus everyone else. Even what remained of his pack wasn't safe, if they chose to cross him. He could always bite more people.
Because Jackson? He was an alpha. A cold, uncaring, ruthless alpha. He never spent time as the kanima, lacking the issues that had led to that for his counterpart. He'd need some semblance of a heart to be anywhere near that. But he was also from a little further along the timeline. Having taken on the Alpha twins and taken their power from him.
He could be found stalking through the woods. Seeking his pack. Seeking infiltrators. Seeking anyone he could find an excuse to kill. ]
[ Video ]
[ In looks, he is no different. But in voice, he certainly is. There's a cold stillness to him. An overwhelming sense of control. Making him sound closer to Peter Hale than the little ball of fury that was the original version of Jackson. ]
There is only one person who's going to win this. And no one will stand in my way. So we're going to work out a little deal. Anyone in my pack--[ The word sounded like poison on his tongue. ]--should already know what that is.
001 // Spam - Video - Open
[ Spam ]
[ His eyes snapped open and he sat up all at once. At first, he wasn’t aware that he wasn’t on the cold floor of an old warehouse. He was only aware of the sudden intensity of everything. Smells. Sounds. Light. It all blurred together into a blinding, deafening, dizzying rush. Claws and fangs extended as he let out an involuntary roar.
But as the rush passed, he was left standing in the middle of his room. Naked. Confused. He went straight to the mirror, one clawed hand gripping the edge. He caught his reflection just in time to see the fangs and other newly acquired features features retreating. He’d done it. He’d finally become what he’d been after all along! He was struck with startling color of his eyes. Was it because Derek was the one to bite him? Derek had blue eyes before they’d brought Peter down. But everyone else had yellow. Maybe it was just rare?
He could think about that later. For now, there was something more important to do. He started getting dressed. He was pulling on his jeans as it slowly came together. The important thing he had to do was find Lydia. The key she’d offered to save him. What she'd said to him... But that had been in a warehouse. How was he back here? Where was she? He needed to find everyone else. Get answers. He snatched up his phone from the dresser and stopped. It was a phone, but not his. Those idiots!
Shoving it into his pocket, he headed for the door. Beyond should have been the upstairs hall of his house. The familiar smells of home. But instead he was greeted by the harsh light of the unfamiliar corridor, lined with strange doors. He took a cautious step out of his room, manicured brows furrowing. ]
MCCALL!
[ He called out, confused and angry. But then the smallest note of worry and fear entered his voice as he added...]
Lydia?
[ That fear started to settle in. The strange, unsettling lack of familiarity. He retreated back into his room, slamming the door. Pulling out that phone that wasn't his, he tried to see if there was something he could use on it. Someone to call. And rather quickly, he found the option to broadcast a message... ]
[ Video ]
[ The face that fills the frame is handsome in that douchebag model kind of way. Well, it would be, if he weren’t so incredibly pissed off. ]
I don’t know what kind of sick joke this is, but someone out there is going to give me answers! Derek! MCCALL! I don’t care who! But you’re going to tell me what the HELL is going on and WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO THE REST OF MY HOUSE!
[ His seething rage seems to overpower him for a moment, his teeth grinding together. ]
If Stilinski had anything to do with this, he’s DEAD.
[ His eyes snapped open and he sat up all at once. At first, he wasn’t aware that he wasn’t on the cold floor of an old warehouse. He was only aware of the sudden intensity of everything. Smells. Sounds. Light. It all blurred together into a blinding, deafening, dizzying rush. Claws and fangs extended as he let out an involuntary roar.
But as the rush passed, he was left standing in the middle of his room. Naked. Confused. He went straight to the mirror, one clawed hand gripping the edge. He caught his reflection just in time to see the fangs and other newly acquired features features retreating. He’d done it. He’d finally become what he’d been after all along! He was struck with startling color of his eyes. Was it because Derek was the one to bite him? Derek had blue eyes before they’d brought Peter down. But everyone else had yellow. Maybe it was just rare?
He could think about that later. For now, there was something more important to do. He started getting dressed. He was pulling on his jeans as it slowly came together. The important thing he had to do was find Lydia. The key she’d offered to save him. What she'd said to him... But that had been in a warehouse. How was he back here? Where was she? He needed to find everyone else. Get answers. He snatched up his phone from the dresser and stopped. It was a phone, but not his. Those idiots!
Shoving it into his pocket, he headed for the door. Beyond should have been the upstairs hall of his house. The familiar smells of home. But instead he was greeted by the harsh light of the unfamiliar corridor, lined with strange doors. He took a cautious step out of his room, manicured brows furrowing. ]
MCCALL!
[ He called out, confused and angry. But then the smallest note of worry and fear entered his voice as he added...]
Lydia?
[ That fear started to settle in. The strange, unsettling lack of familiarity. He retreated back into his room, slamming the door. Pulling out that phone that wasn't his, he tried to see if there was something he could use on it. Someone to call. And rather quickly, he found the option to broadcast a message... ]
[ Video ]
[ The face that fills the frame is handsome in that douchebag model kind of way. Well, it would be, if he weren’t so incredibly pissed off. ]
I don’t know what kind of sick joke this is, but someone out there is going to give me answers! Derek! MCCALL! I don’t care who! But you’re going to tell me what the HELL is going on and WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO THE REST OF MY HOUSE!
[ His seething rage seems to overpower him for a moment, his teeth grinding together. ]
If Stilinski had anything to do with this, he’s DEAD.
POSSESSED - Open RP Post
Jackson isn't himself. Quite literally. But is possessed by a demon, the Nogitsune, or something else? (specify in your subject line)
Bother Someone Else - Derek and Jackson
Two weeks he'd been back. As much as Jackson tried to avoid getting dragged back into the mess of problems that saturated this town, he'd at least heard a few things already. He just refused to take part in them. He'd already snapped at Scott for even talking to him at school. He wasn't back to dive back into that mess. He had a plan. And he was sticking to it. This plan involved a distinct lack of Derek. That one altercation with Scott had involved threats upon telling the resident grumpy alpha about his return. The last thing he needed was judgmental glaring and getting thrown around under the guise of "training."
He was alone in his house that night. He'd been alone every night. He'd yet to explain it or bring any sort of attention to it, but his parents hadn't returned to the states with him. A towel around his waist, he emerged with a cloud of steam from the bathroom and headed for his bedroom. If anything, he looked exhausted.
He was alone in his house that night. He'd been alone every night. He'd yet to explain it or bring any sort of attention to it, but his parents hadn't returned to the states with him. A towel around his waist, he emerged with a cloud of steam from the bathroom and headed for his bedroom. If anything, he looked exhausted.
Did You Miss Me? -- Jackson and Isaac
The plan was simple. Get settled back into school. Reintegrate into his role as most popular kid in school. Reclaim his captain titles. Avoid Derek and McCall. Everything would be back to normal. Never mind all that had happened in the few months he'd been gone, or the fact that he'd come back without his parents. He was headed into the locker room to find the coach, when he slammed his shoulder into Isaac's, in an attempt to get ahead of him. "Out of the way, freak," he said, barely even bothering to glance at the other wolf.
At The Rave - Jackson and Lydia
Lydia's hesitation to give him what he'd asked for frustrated him to no end. She had what he wanted. What he'd been demanding for months from Derek and Scott. So when she told him to meet her there, he decided it would be the last time he asked. If she refused him again, he'd just go to Derek. He'd get the bite, one way or another.
He pushed through the crowd at the rave, ignoring the ecstasy fueled hands that tried to grope at him or tug him into someone's gyrating embrace. He was looking for Lydia and no one else.
He pushed through the crowd at the rave, ignoring the ecstasy fueled hands that tried to grope at him or tug him into someone's gyrating embrace. He was looking for Lydia and no one else.
