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amusebox2012-12-04 03:39 pm
wuzzafuzzle) wrote in amusebox2012-12-04 03:39 pm
Entry tags:
Open RP Post
↪ Pick one of my characters (make sure to specific which version) OR drop any character of yours in and get a random choice.
↪ Find a meme, roll something, idefk
↪ Or cheat and just pick something.
↪ You can also just throw a picture, quote, or whatever kind of prompt you want.
↪ Or just leave a TFLN.
Jackson Whittemore | Teen Wolf
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Either way, it ended with Jackson chained up to the back of a dank warehouse wall while the rest of the pack stood watch. For the longest time, they just waited - Jackson near motionless as he curled back against the wall behind him, waiting for that familiar drowning feeling of something primal, animalistic, clawing itself over him, taking any small, sad attempt at control he may have been clinging to. Eventually, a taco run is in order, however, because this is taking too damn long, and it's Isaac stuck on babysitting detail.
It starts with a small twitch, like a shudder coursed through his body, flexing and testing new muscles and stretching like they'd been long in disuse and needed breaking in. Second, is the growl - a low rumbling that comes from where Jackson's head is ducked, forehead to his knees, and as his head raises, there's that brillant yet so so cold blue glowing in the darkness, focused sharp on the one other body in the room. His mouth twists and the snarl that has his lips pulling back away from his teeth - no, fangs - almost looks mocking - feral but something of that smirking promise of violence that was written all over his features when he was the kanima, disguised as a boy.
His jacket and shirt had been collateral to the fight with Derek before Jackson was wrestled into chains, and the stretched out, ripped neckline hangs loose and open, the muscles in his throat, chest and shoulders clear as they flex, just before a snap of action. He's lunging forward, snapping and snarling and all matters of feral, with chains around his wrists and legs and waist rattling loudly, all just a rabid animal trying to make it to that other creature in the room - to rake claws into warm skin and tear. It isn't the same as the kanima - this isn't Jackson muted out and suffocated in the background, watching his body like it was someone else's. This viciousness is something he wants now, needs. This isn't a spectator's sport. The chains dig into his skin, blood trickling down in some places, and Jackson pays no attention to it - his hunger a singular focus in his mind. ]
idfk have two
ugu give me all of them 83 also hurgh tldr and im half asleep, pls forgive typos ;;
Some nights he wouldn't stay in his regular room, knowing he might wake up near screaming and he'd rather not have to meet Sherlock's eyes sharp on him from across the room. And some nights he doesn't want to go inviting himself in Wesley's container to pass out, given that usually earns some questions in the morning and occasionally a lecture.
The last island hadn't been any kind of easy, and he'd seen more gore than he could literally stomach at some points. Wounds lingered, something COMPASS apparently didn't want those with healing abilities to forget so quickly, and Jackson found himself unconsciously running dull nails over the cuts and bruises still decorating his hands and arms - there's more, on his face, under his clothes. Those he doesn't have to look at and maybe that's why he hasn't gone for his typical shower off the horror ritual yet. Instead, he's just wandering the holds, not really sure where he's going, but just going. At least until he glances up to see Isaac near one of the shipping containers. He's studying him in a side long sort of manner, even without stopping or appearing to want to stop to talk with him, for all intents and purposes, going to pass him by. But he sees those same marks on him - the purple, red, and black of bruises turning a sickly yellow around the edges; the bright red at the center of raised, torn skin from cuts and scraps here and there. Jackson's wondering if he looks similar, and maybe his steps are turning more towards his pack member as he considers it. If Isaac glances up, Jackson doesn't comment on it, either out of not caring how strange he's acting or not noticing, as his eyes are following other features - the curve of his lips, angles of his cheekbones and jaw. The way his collarbones look prominent with the shadows cast from dim lights in the hold.
As much as he doesn't want to remember the things his body did while his mind was imprisoned while he was the kanima, they're there all the same, as if that memory of the night at the rave - of Erica's body pressed hot against his and Isaac hovering so close, breath mingling, near misses on so many thing, and it's like there's electricity courses through him at the thought of it. For the half a year Jackson's been here, he hasn't had that kind of physical release, hasn't sought it out and hasn't taken anyone up on it. Maybe something thinking he doesn't deserve it, thinking he shouldn't, but on nights like these? He's half doubting he'll ever make it back to a place and a person that would mean he shouldn't.
It's almost a natural progression, no real pause or hitch in the motion, as Jackson steps fluidly up into Isaac's space, crowds him back against the container behind him, brings a hand to hook behind Isaac's neck and the other to grab a handful of the thin cotton shirt over his chest, dragging him forward as lips press firm, demanding and hot against Isaac's. Nothing else has been able to shut off that suffocating spiral of horror in him, might as well try this - regardless of whether it goes somewhere pleasant or unpleasant. A fight is just as good a distraction. ]
DIS 4 U SAE
Not that he really would have even knowing that a deep shithole they pack in Beacon Hills had dug themselves into - even a continent away there's still that pull to him. It took him a while to put a name to it, really. He'd thought it was just being homesick. Missing Lydia, Danny, the school. But he kept coming back to what Derek had said about 'pack'. He thought it was some bullshit sentimentality used to keep Derek's little legionnaires around and loyal, but it wasnt' until after he was gone, across the pond and detached that that detachment and lack of something seemed to get very sharp, very specific. There were other werewolves in London, sure, but they weren't his pack. There wasn't that connection. They weren't like a piece of him - like a part of a whole.
God, how did he even get involved in this cheesy load of crap.
Or any of this, really, considering the situation in general is nothing to be overjoyed about - huddled into a dank, musty closet in an abandoned building, listening to the floorboards outside creaking while the Alphas, the goddamn Alphas, paced outside. One breath just a hair too loud and Jackson and Isaac would be getting very suddenly relieved of their throats. It's not easy to sit through, and really, Jackson's using so much of his mental process to try to keep himself from flipping his shit that he's paying zero attention to the pack member next to him. Granted, Jackson isn't really known for paying attention to others, but in this case, more so. It isn't until a long minute passes with no sounds, after feet retreated, that Jackson opens eyes that had been squeeze shut and lets out a shakey exhale before reaching for the door.
And finding it jammed. ]
...Son of a bitch. We're stuck.
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Here, it isn't so easy. Here, he's essentially become Jackson's babysitter. Because Boyd doesn't want to deal with him, and Erica sure as Hell won't bother, and Derek expects the best of the 'litter' to play nice with everyone. Nobody can quite bring themselves to trust the previously Scaled Wonder, so Isaac plays the good guy buddy cop. Minus the buddy. They are not buddies, which is possibly why it's so stifling. All it takes is the fear of being immediately disemboweled disappearing, and a new one takes its place; the Alphas leave, and the walls start closing in.
He's quiet for a moment, waiting for Jackson to figure out the door situation.
Then it's stuck. He scoffs. Pushes the other boy out of the way and twists hard at the knob himself.]
... No. [Soft-- his voice just then. He shoves harder. Bodily with his shoulder. Nothing.]
No. C'mon-- [Not soft anymore and that's all the warning Jackson is going to get. This discomfort. The tense moment before Isaac loses it.]
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He doesn't see him as his neighbor anymore - he sees him as pack, and that's all that is.
And, unfortunately, that pack bound now is feeding Jackson a little more about Isaac's mental state that Jackson really wanted to know. He's freaking the fuck out, and it's not just a 'oh god we're going to starve to death or have to resort to cannabilism' thing because Isaac isn't a moron. It's something else. Something intense. And something Jackson doesn't know how to place. He's never seen him like this, and even as he's slumping casually back against the wall next to the door, his eyes are sharp on him and tone layered with something a little freaked out. ]
Christ, chill. [ A little incredulous with his tone. ] Derek knows this is where we came looking. When we don't come back, he'll come get us.
If you're worried about missing Glee, it's okay. The internet exists.
[ what even is heeding warnings ]
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Shut up! [Guttural. That's how he sounds. Like he is grunting out the words through shards of glass thrown at his face. Fuck. Fuck. He hasn't had an attack in-- what? At least a month or two? So now he's ramming himself against the door. Once, twice, three times, before there's this ugly sound coming from the vicinity of his shoulder. Like maybe he broke something.
His nails are elongating-- his eyes taking on a low glow. The telltale lupine features starting to contort his face.
Jackson's presence isn't all that soothing. No offense.]
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That said, when Isaac starts snarling over some passing snide joke, one of five million Jackson's likely to make in a day, it's as obvious as a swift kick in the face that something is wrong. For a moment, Jackson's just sort of staring, brow furrowed and body tense because what the shit, Isaac.
It's that sickening sort of cracking sound that has him snapping into motion, seeing teeth growing and claws coming out, and Jackson's surging forward to try to brace him against the far wall - just make him stop. ]
Calm the fuck down, Lahey! It's not the end of the world. We're fine. [ For the sake of aggression, his eyes flare that cold blue tone and lips pull back to bare teeth. But it's that only - just a show. ]
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Speaking of violence, shoving Isaac to the wall wasn't the soundest choice. Fear threatens to break the rest of his bones-- grind him to dust, because he doesn't like the tight space and now Jackson's made it tighter. He slashes outward, too caught up in horrible sense memory to care that it's his pack mate he's tearing at. All he knows is claws catching flesh makes him feel some semblance of control over the situation. As if he's fighting the darkness and the walls pushing in together-- not another living being.
Derek likes to have them spar together. They have different styles-- Isaac gets brash. Jackson's always gonna run slightly cold-blooded. This isn't the same as that, though. This isn't Isaac holding back because he doesn't really want to hurt another beta, and he'd get reprimanded if he did.]
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Seriously? Is this what we're doing this right now? [ He doesn't know what the fuck snapped in Isaac and he really couldn't care less. He's not about to be the punching, or shredding, bag for this whacked out kid's mental issues.
He's fought Isaac plenty of times before, even as the Kanima and not a member of Derek's pack, not really. And he's also not that worried about hurting him. He'll heal. The aspect of Jackson getting hurt is much less appealing that suffering through Derek growling at him. Besides, Isaac's never exactly been easy to land one on him - and he sees that difference in him, between aggravatingly holding back in sparring and now, when he's just trying to destroy out of some feral panic. So not even dealing with that shit, and his features are completely transformmed as Jackson's hunching his shoulders, watching. ]
It's just a room, you freaking psycho.
someday I will upload wolfy icons for now disdainful face
They're both transformed, though Isaac less on purpose than as a consequence of rising adrenaline. He doesn't wait long before following after Jackson, mouth open in a snarl before he feints back and-- and gives himself. Half a moment to hazily attempt to remember who he is.
No. Gone again. Pressing forward again and he's taller if not stronger and this isn't going to be pleasant.]
sob someday colton haynes will come back to the show and ill get actual wolfy icons ;;
Hands are immediately going for his arms, trying to find a way to just restrain him, and with how much bigger and frankly more powerful Isaac is than him, it takes Jackson forcing a hip against his just to keep him pinned.
There's snarling, growling, and the occasional near roar - something Jackson might have thought would be absurd before he actually was a werewolf, but now, transformed and in more of a headspace of an animal than a snotty, sarcastic teenager, it's an attempt at dominance - a threat. And in this case a warning. There's not really a place for words anymore, because Isaac isn't hear them. Just force, struggle, and that primal snapping and snarling. The fact his body is basically totally flush and near grinding against Isaac's doesn't even really strike him as odd at the moment. ]