King of the Clouds

Owen Jackson | 24 | Metahuman | Gyrokinesis | Undocumented Some days I lie wide awake 'til the sun hits my face, and I fade, elevate from the earth, far away to a place where I'm free from the weight, this whole world, this whole world. I don't trust anything, or anyone, below the sun, I don't feel anything, at all.

[owenxjackson]

xastcriiax​:

“Sure Jan,” Finn replied, flashing Owen the typical face that went with that reaction gif. Or at least as best as he could with half his face covered, but the intent was still very present. He watched the other Meta sway on his feet; was he drunk? Or had he taken a harder hit earlier? 

It was becoming harder and harder to not hit the masked civilian the more he opened his mouth. Thankfully, Finn kept his cool, reminding himself that he looked a little different this evening and this guy might not know who he was. 

“You serious?” he questioned, hands on his hips as he walked up to Owen again. Their common enemies were currently all incapacitated for the moment. “I’m Phantom. Like the actual vigilante, Phantom?” Not to sound cocky, but a good majority of Pansaw knew who Phantom was with the rest of the Hero Squad. Finn glanced down at himself with a slight grimace showing. “I mean, probably sounds unbelievable since I woke up the opposite sex this morning, but this is no Halloween costume.” 

Jackson rolls his eyes again, his body feeling completely zapped for energy. What the fuck was going on? Had he taken something earlier in the evening? Honestly, he couldn’t remember, it felt like his brain was fogging over, even more so than usual in his drunken state. It wasn’t uncommon for Jackson to gamble with drugs given to him by randoms, but he couldn’t remember taking anything tonight. 

The overwhelming wave of exhaustion just kept hitting, forcing Jackson to lean a hand against the wall beside him. “Phantom?” He repeats, though he was having trouble staying focused--god he wanted to sleep. “You one of those Hero Squad fuckers?” He grumbles, more focused on staying on his feet than the conversation at hand. “Look, you might think you’re real important but like, not everyone gives a shit, okay?” Was he even grumpier than usual? Maybe. But he couldn’t shake the fog washing over him. 

“What? You--fuck.” Jackson found himself stumbling, tripping and falling forward, his hands catching him on the pavement, grit pushing into his palms. “What the fuck is going with this fucking town.” 

[owenxjackson]

scarlett-valenti​:

With all the strange stuff happening around Pansaw, Scarlett had to wonder if something weird had also happened to the handsome stranger. She could tell he was hungry just from the way he looked at her, but she didn’t mind that in the slightest. If anything, it only made her want him more.

She smirked, wetting her lips a little as she watched him take a seat next to her. Scar’s blue eyes took in every inch of her new companion, admiring just how lovely he was to look at. Scarlett was hungry too, just not for blood… which is what he seemed to want since he kept looking at her neck. Scar chuckled at the compliment, leaning in a little closer and letting her hand trailing slowly along his thigh. “You’re not so bad yourself,” the Siren purred before turning her head slightly to expose her neck to him. “I know what you want. Take it.”

Jackson was too used to being inebriated, and the strange feelings that fell over him were being attributed to that in his mind. He was just drunk. Or high. Or most likely a mixture of the two. Whatever it was, Jackson was fixated on Scarlett in a way he couldn’t explain. Heart hammering in his chest with excitement, Jackson continued to admire the small details on the woman that he probably wouldn’t have without his newly heightened senses. But Jackson was too stupid to realize everything felt just a little too clear and sharp for him to be that fucked up. 

“Yeah?” Jackson says with a little cocky smile, her fingers on his thigh felt like electricity and he wanted more. He didn’t care if they were in a club or if there were others around, he wanted her. “Fuck.” Jackson murmurs, watching as her head tilts, showing off the soft curve of her neck. He didn’t need to be told twice. Dipping in, Jackson started by kissing her neck, taking in a deep breath with a pleased sigh. It didn’t take long for Jackson to throw himself into it, his teeth scratching over her skin sharper than he realized. The first puncture in her skin was small, and accidental, but when the blood hit Jackson’s lips, his tongue swiping over it, he all but moaned at the taste. There was no going back now. With little to no restraint left, Jackson bit her properly, audibly moaning as the blood filled his mouth, his fingers gripping onto her side to keep her close.   

[owenxjackson]

Owen Jackson || Future Event Bio 

Status: Deceased (2022-2047)

Jackson managed to stay in Pansaw for about a year, but his reckless behaviour and substance abuse attracted unwanted attention. 

As he spiralled, Jackson’s power got more and more out of control, resulting in him being detected by CARMA and forced to register. 

Jackson, however, knew that his name and power were tied to the death of his mother and step father, and attempted to escape Pansaw. 

A chase ensued, since Jackson was a safety risk to the public, and this caused a fair amount of destruction due to his lack of control. 

This chase ended with Jackson in an abandoned warehouse, the building entirely surrounded by CARMA agents, and Jackson, instead of letting himself be caught, brought the entire building down on top of himself, killing him instantly. 

[owenxjackson]

fabulousbitchfabi​:

The only reason FaBi had stopped bitching at Antonio was because she needed to take a breath.  There was more ranting and reaming to be done.  Her mouth opened to continue the diatribe when her unexpected companion volunteered, shock written across her features.  “You will?  Are you that dumb and desperate?  Or maybe it’s an unfulfilled disgusting kink, like sounding.”

She didn’t even have to think about it to agree - anything to keep from dealing with it herself.  “Done.  I’ll show you to the cleaning supplies and your two weeks start tonight - but only, and I mean only if you don’t come back smelling like shit.  I don’t serve stank.”  Focus turned back to Antonio as she shook her head in disbelief.  Who the fuck volunteered to clean someone else’s shitty ass bathroom?  “And you.  Turn your fucking ears on, you prick.  I could have been mid-assault and screaming for you.”  Not that she precisely needed security’s assistance often, but why defend yourself when someone else could do it for you?

Huffing, she relaxed her grip on the stranger’s arm and started to lead the way to the cleaning supplies.  “I do not get enough of a cut to deal with this literal shit, I tell you.  What’s your name, seeing as I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other over the next two weeks?”

Jackson couldn’t help but chuckle, because he knew he was an idiot, and maybe he was too drunk already to know what he was getting himself into. “Or maybe you just underestimate how much I can drink in the span of two weeks.” He remarks with another laugh as he makes a face. “And for the record, I’m definitely not into shit.” 

Jackson follows her, figuring if it was more than he was willing to do he could always back out unscathed. “Got it, no stank.” Grinning as the woman tells off the other guy off and leads him towards the cleaning supplies. 

“Jackson. And yours?” He says as he grabs a rather large bucket, looking disinterested in the other cleaning supplies, instead grabbing the bandana from his back pocket and tying it around his neck where he could pull it up over his mouth and nose. “For the smell.” He says to FaBi with a shrug. 

[owenxjackson]

rowanaubri​:

Just because it was a Saturday didn’t mean that Rowan ignored her work - especially when it felt like she was right on the edge of a breakthrough on her pet project.  Typically she would be out for a hike, or wandering Pansaw to find some hole in the wall with the best burritos in town or the like.  But not today, not when it felt like the answers on her Metahuman genetic project were just within reach.  Brow furrowed, she was pouring over her results when the chair across from her was suddenly occupied.

“Uh.  Hi?” came the almost confused response, though she did flush slightly at the compliment.  Thirty and she still hadn’t gotten accustomed to being complimented on her looks or her mind.  Much less having someone be so direct in what felt like clear attraction.  “I’m flattered, uh, thanks?  But …”  Rowan picked up the half-full coffee cup and gave it a little shake.  “Unless you’re suggesting we start drink-drinking before noon?”  

Whatever strange magic had gotten into Jackson’s mind, it wasn’t allowing him to think clearly. There was no way he’d act like this normally--he’d probably have to cringe at himself for a few weeks to come because of it. The one saving grace was that this wasn’t his body, not the one he’d always worn, and at the very least that would keep him from the actual embarrassment he was bringing upon himself. 

“Right--” He nods his head, long hair cascading over his shoulders, the flirty grin still on his face. “I mean, I’ve never been one to oppose a good day drink, there’s gotta be somewhere around here that’s open.” He says glancing back towards the door, rolling with the suggestion, because all he knew was that his mind was telling him he needed to be around this girl. 

[owenxjackson]

candygraham​:

Candy’s eyes skimmed over Owen’s file, noting that he … or well, she at the moment, seemed to be what they called a frequent flyer at MetAid.  Typically it indicated one of two things - an inclination for the dangerous, or addiction.  Sometimes those two seemed to go hand in hand - no pun intended at her current situation.  With limited medical training underneath her belt, Candy was typically used as triage - and to offer her abilities where needed.  And it was clear that the injury was severe.  “Crushed?  Well let’s see it, Miss Jackson, and we’ll see what we can do.”

Gently, she extended her hands towards the patient to gently pull it away from its current cradle.  “That all depends.  If you want to go the traditional route, well.  Most likely you’ll need to see a specialist, an orthopedic hand surgeon after the doctors patch up what they can to get you by until you can get an appointment.  Not a very fast fix, but one that will ensure there is as little permanent damage as possible.  The non-traditional route, well …”  Candy stifled a yawn, once again thanking the powers that be this was the last patient on her list.  “I am a Meta, and can heal you through some unusual means.  Just not as quickly or enthusiastically as I typically can.”

Jackson hated being vulnerable. As he allowed her to take his hand, it shook slightly, and he fought off a grimace as Candy looked it over. Even though he tried to keep himself calm, his breath was quicker from the mix of the pain and the panic that he might be without his hand for who knows how long. 

He looks up through eyes that weren’t usually like his own, unable to compress the look of horror at the thought of having to go through all of that. Without his hand, his power was fucked, and he wasn’t sure at this point to manage without it. Really, it was what had kept him alive this long. 

He had a moment of panic, looking at his hand, already purpling with bruises. “The non-traditional route?” he replies, eyes flickering back up quickly, looking hopeful. “That--I want that. Whatever it is, I’ll do it. I just--I need my hand. Fix it, please?” He asks, sounding more desperate than he would have liked. 

[owenxjackson]

ionicmurray​:

Lachlan had met many walking disasters in his day. Hell, by all rights he was one. Pretty, full of themselves, barely being held upright by their own legs, and so this one checked off all three boxes. You could almost be amused at the fact he had just spat out that he didn’t need help before collapsing. Lachlan considered it for a solid thirty seconds, but ah! Then the guilt set in. So he picked him up off the ground once he had ordered one of the handful of drivers working in Pansaw that didn’t freak when a costumed vigilante needed a ride, carried him all the way home, and took a hefty dose of painkillers once the younger man was settled on the sofa bed. Armor put away, he checked the skinny bastard over for wounds and ran a medical scanner over him to check he hadn’t hit his head as hard as it sounded like earlier. A fucking mess, that’s what this one was.

Maybe if he hadn’t twinged a little something in Lachlan’s heart he would have called 911 and left him there, but there was a hollowness to the younger man’s reckless actions. You didn’t get piss drunk and try to fight a Meta for shits and giggles, not without some other motivation. And given Larry hadn’t recognized him, it wasn’t specifically directed towards him. So he had questions, he was a soft piece of shit at heart, and that was precisely why the young man would wake up better than he had been upon passing out. Lachlan was working on a bit of sewing for Finn when the younger man’s eyes fluttered open hours later, sitting in the armchair nearest in a t-shirt, boxer briefs, and a silk robe that Finn had proclaimed gaudier than papal vestments. “Ah, I see we’ve made our way back to the world of the living. Bout time, your clothes are long since washed and dried.” Lachlan said, conversationally. “Feeling better, sùilean dubh? Bit less like the walking dead?”

Jackson was tired. Having spent the last few years of his young life running, learning how to survive on his own in a way that he never had before was taxing growing taxing on him. At the core of it, that was why he’d settled in Pansaw. Sure, being a place full of meta’s made it easier to blend in, but the real reason was that he was tired. Tired of running. Tired of sleeping on the street. Tired of everything. This exhaustion, one that ran deep into his bones, had made him sloppy, and the buried trauma that he wouldn’t acknowledge wasn’t helping. 

That’s how he ended up here, in a strange man’s home, piss drunk and passed out, unable to help himself even if he wanted to. The few hours of unconsciousness were more than needed as Jackson’s body rested, recouping from the abuse he constantly put it through. But the blissful sleep couldn’t last forever, and, wrapped in the comfort and warmth of a place he didn’t know, Jackson’s eyes fluttered open and he sat up with a start. Panic seized at his chest the way it did sometimes, and his head spun, leaving him well disoriented for a few moments as he blinked. 

Jackson’s head whipped around, eyes landing on a robed man. Jackson swallows, his throat dry and his tongue thick and he fought off a wave of nausea that threatened. Jackson doesn’t reply at first, staring as his mind tries to remember what he remembers. Did he sleep with this man? How did he get here? He remembers flashes of the night before: the fight, someone stepping in, then nothing. 

“The fuck am I doing here?” He says, though the usual bite wasn’t there, scrubbing his face for a second--everything hurt. “My clothes--” The younger man repeats, glancing down blinking as his mind catches up. “You didn’t--did we... who the fuck are you?” 

[jackson-falahee]

Connor Walsh + putting on a shirt 

[owenxjackson]

matty-chapman​:

“Not very nice,” Matty commented mildly at his dismissal, though the smile on her lips did not falter. He was clearly not fine, and that was coming from Matty, who’d been known to insist she was fine through tears, as if by denying she felt sadness she could make it go away faster. “You don’t seem fine, mister,” she told him, and then let out a squeak of surprise when he suddenly pushed himself up, nearly knocking himself out of the light hammock she’d made and taking her with him.

“Stop that,” Matty scolded, putting a hand up to draw in more light, careful to pull from multiple sources so that the lights near the mouth of the alley only dimmed slightly. Waving her hand, she formed a sort of lasso of light, wrapped it round the man’s middle and tugged it up snuggly under his armpits before releasing the hammock he’d been held in before. The little ring of light held him dangling a few inches off the ground, free to flail all he wanted without knocking either of them over, and Matty’s smile was pleased as she considered him, nodded once before cheerfully setting off down alley, her light bringing the man bobbing along behind her. 

“Are you gonna tell me where you live so I can take you home? Otherwise I’ll have to take you to the police, to um… dry up. I can’t just leave you out here to choke on your own vomit in an alley, so you can just save the swearing, buddy,” she told him as she clambered up a fire escape to the roof of the bar, still towing him along. “You’ve got a pretty face, you know that? What’s your name? I’m Hologram.”

“And what of it?” Jackson mumbled, words slurred and not completely audible. He didn’t want to be nice. Nice made you stupid. Nice got you caught. Nice kept people around that were only going to get hurt eventually. Jackson grit his teeth, trying to get his head to stop spinning, but the blinding light the other was throwing off and trying to wrap around him, his fingers trying lamely to push it away, only to dance along the light in a rather beautiful way that Jackson couldn’t appreciate in this state. 

“M’fucker.” He grumbles as the light wraps around him and he blinks, his body swaying, but even he knew that band of light was what kept his body up right as he was almost about to fall again. He barely even registered his feet weren’t on the ground as she guided him back. “Mmph.” The noise escapes his lips, his body sagging into the light this time as he’s deposited into the makeshift hammock.   

Jackson’s tongue felt thick as he blinked up at her, lights dancing behind his eyes mixing with the sheen of the hammock. The mention of police had his eyes widening in a silent panic, pushing against the light, though this time he didn’t have much energy left in him to pull him away from where he was nested. “No police.” He managed to get out as his stomach churned, the world spinning as he raised into the air after her, the ground moving further away. 

“Jackson.” He managed to get out, as he pushed himself against the light, this time so he could hang his head over the side of it, promptly emptying the contents of his stomach onto the roof of the bar, retching violently.  

[owenxjackson]

xastcriiax​:

While half of his face was hidden behind the glowing blue visor, the shock was evident in Finn’s jaw dropping. He stared at this stranger against the wall, unable to fathom the audacity he had in accusing him of nearly getting him stabbed. “Excuse me?” he questioned, placing his hands on his hips while he glared at Jackson. “I’m the guy who just saved your ass. You’re welcome.” 

It probably wasn’t fair for him to get snappy at this stranger, but between the magic sex change, weakened powers, and now some guy in a hoodie yelling at him for saving him? He’d always been short-tempered, but now it seemed today was truly the wrong day to mess with Finn. 

The guy he’d knocked the ground made an attempt to get back up and the vigilante noticed. He turned on his heel and swung his leg right into the man’s abdomen, earning a harsh grunt in response. He looked back at Jackson again. “I’ll ask again, who are you and what do you think you’re doing out here?” 

“I was fine.” Jackson growls again through clenched teeth as he straightens himself up, brushing off the front of his hoodie and planting his feet to keep from swaying too much. Of course he knew that he really shouldn’t be picking fights when he was barely sober enough to see straight, but that just made it more fun, right? Or maybe he just liked getting his ass kicked. 

“The guy that saved my ass?” He says, his voice muffled slightly by the bandana that covered it, eyes shifting down as the masked figure kicks the man on the ground, giving the slightest nod of approval, because at least that was one more asshole taken care of. 

“Now why the hell would I tell some kid dressed in flashy spandex who I am--like seriously, shouldn’t you be out trick or treating or something? Like what the fuck are you even supposed to be?” 

[owenxjackson]

alessio-is-more​:

After the decidedly weird week and the night before at the bar, Alessio had spent Sunday morning lounging against the headboard of his bed and staring out the window of his bedroom. He had caught up on his marking and any lesson plans he had missed for the following week, so he had the whole day to himself. The past week had given him much pause in thinking of the ways he approached his free time, what with seeing the ghost of his mother for 2 days straight, following him. 

With a decisive jump out of bed, she shook off the sleepiness that were remnants from his lazy morning in bed. His mother would be happy if he had begun to reopen the shop that had lay dormant for some time. Dusting off the old rickety whiteboard sign, he wrote of free samples available after lunchtime and set about creating the sweets he knew and loved from a long gone childhood. Within the 4 hours he had given himself, he had created several batches of said sweets and was handling a few customers when a glint of long brown hair caught his attention.He thought nothing of it, until he finally looked up and clashed eyes with the new stranger. Lifting the plate of treats he offered her one, “I don’t see why not. And what brings you here today. Apart from the sweets?” he asked conversationally, his charm immediately switching on after last nights re-ignition. 

Jackson couldn’t help playing up his new feminity, hoping to see what sort of trouble he could get into with it. Letting out a little chuckle, he pushes some of his newly long hair over his shoulder. “Well thank you.” He says, taking one of the sweets and popping it into his mouth, attempting to be seductive about it. 

“Well, you see, I’m new to town,” Jackson lies easily, shifting his weight as he bats his eyes. “and I just got here a few days ago, and really haven’t seem much of the city. Sure is a big place.” Jackson helps himself to another sweet, giving the man a Cheshire smile as he pops it into his mouth and chews. “These are real good, this place must be real busy a lot.” 

Jackson glances around the rest of the shop, then back to the man, twirling a strand of long hair between his currently more feminine fingers. “You got a name, gorgeous?” 

[owenxjackson]

ionicmurray​:

He really wished the amateurs would take the night off. Or the year. Forever, something that wouldn’t require him to step in from time to time so that they didn’t get blown to bits by someone with twice the experience and three times the gumption. Like this skinny bastard he’d come across on his rounds, losing a fight with an idiot who called himself Killjoy that Lachlan knew full well was actually an accountant named Larry with a Napoleon complex a mile wide. Larry had just stepped forward to send the poor kid into oblivion when Lachlan caught him in the back with a blast of plasma that knocked him sideways. Scorched his arse too, if he was lucky. “Can’t you just masturbate and do spreadsheets on your Friday nights like a normal bloke? Just the once, at least when I’m working?” He said, feeling the stitches of his Kevlar body armor stretch as he threw Larry into a nearby dumpster. That he was going to feel in the morning. 

“And you, who taught you to fight? Your great grandfather?” Lachlan said, pulling the younger man to his feet and getting close enough that he could smell alcohol on his breath. Oh good. Drunk and wearing a shitty disguise. This one he leaned against the wall and glared at through his mask, hoping it was clear enough that he wasn’t supposed to move until Lachlan gave the go ahead. Lachlan pulled a tracker button from a pocket on his belt and dug it into Larry’s shoulder, then pressed the center button to send a pickup order to the authorities. Faster than fucking around with 911, and he pinched at the man’s neck to be sure he stayed unconscious in the meantime. “Fighting drunk is a fool’s move, mate. It’s a great way to end up in a fucking sewer, two steps from drowning. What the sweet fuck made you think you’d do alright?”

Jackson knew when he was getting his ass handed to him, he knew when he was outmatched in a fight. He might not have been the smartest person, but that was one thing he’d learned from his father. 

Always know when you’re outmatched, and don’t be afraid to run. 

Of course these were words spoken to a child with a black eye from getting in a fight on the school yard from a worried father who knew his hot-headed son often wanted to bite off more than he could chew. But now, as those words rang through his head and Jackson was knocked back once again, Jackson knew he wouldn’t listen to his fathers advise. He’d learned to run well enough, he’d been doing that for most of his adult life, but when it came to a fight like this, there was no chance. Maybe he just wanted to make his father proud, or maybe he was just a dumbass who was trying to punish himself, but whatever the case was, if the other man hadn’t stepped in, Jackson may not have made it off of the pavement. 

“I was fine. I don’t need any fucking help.” Jackson glowers, pushing himself away from the wall, only to stumble back, tripping over a garbage bag and tumbling back to the ground. It wouldn’t have taken much to knock him out at that point, so when his head hit the ground, he was out like a light, proving he really did need some fucking help. 

[owenxjackson]

scarlett-valenti​:

While Scarlett was aware that there was some weird shit going down in Pansaw, she was quite enjoying the effects that it had had on her. She’d experienced being a Tiger, being a guy and now.. well, she definitely had what she could only describe as Siren-like abilities. They were fairly close to her own abilities in that she could have anyone wrapped around her finger in an instant, but the abilities were also very different in other ways.

She gave the incredibly attractive guy a smile as he approached her, glad that she was still able to lure men in with just a look from across the room. Scar always said she was blessed in that way. “It’s a pleasure, Jackson,” she replied, wetting her lips slightly as she toyed with the straw in her cocktail. “I’m Scarlett. You want to join me? I’m pretty lonely this evening.. your company would be very welcome,” the Siren purred with a smirk, gesturing to the seat beside her.

Jackson didn’t really understand why his gaze seemed to flicker over her face only to land on the vein on her neck, the one that so subtly pulsed, but to Jackson with his new found heightened senses, for that moment it was all he could hear. Unconsiously licking his lips, Jackson looks at the woman like she’s a snack and suddenly he’s starving, and well, technically she was, right now anyways. 

Jackson’s attention goes back up to her eyes, the dumb smile that had been playing on his lips spread a little more as she asked him to join her. “Hell yeah I would.” He says, easily sitting himself down next to her, his arm shifting to rest on the back of her seat, his eyes flickering from her face to her neck again, and he couldn’t help but breathe in deeply. “Jesus,  you’re gorgeous, you know that? Fucking gorgeous... and god you smell good.” Jackson says without thinking too hard about what he was saying. 

[camilamcrrone]

[owenxjackson]

noah-wright​:

Noah liked clubs. For a lot of reasons, really. He liked dancing, first and foremost, and–well, there was something about the crowds. Clubs were the sort of place where anyone could disappear, fade into the sea of people losing themselves to the music, even without the sort of gifts that Noah possessed. It was easy to be anonymous in a club.

Which was why Noah took such great pleasure in standing out in them.

Tonight, he was just a little bit tipsy, leaning against the bar in pants so tight he could hardly sit in them, and making eyes at a young woman on the opposite side of the bar. He might have gone to talk to her, too, except that while he was considering it, someone slid up the bar beside him and promptly knocked his glass over.

For a second, Noah just watched bourbon splash across the counter and drop onto the already sticky floor, and then he looked up, watched as the culprit’s expression shifted as he looked at him–and sure, the spilled drink was annoying, but that was satisfying, the way his lips curled into a smirk as he took Noah in.

“Sure, baby,” he said easily, turning to angle himself towards the other man as his own lips curled into an answering smile, eyes dragging over him from head to toe. “You can make it up to me. Tastes better when someone else is payin’, anyway. Bourbon. What’s your name, gorgeous?”

Attention was something Jackson both loved and avoided, harbouring a bit of a love-hate relationship with the concept for a while now. At his core, he craved it, this sort of attention anyways, his smirk spreading a little more as he watches the taller man’s eyes drag over him in a way that lit Jackson up with excitement. Yes, this kind of attention was good. The other kind--the 'police find out you’re the unregistered meta that killed your mom and step father’ kind of attention was what he avoided, though unfortunately sometimes the two could intermingle. Jackson knew he needed to be careful, he knew he shouldn’t have settled in Pansaw, but he was tired of running, of never having anywhere stable, wondering if he’d be able to scrounge up enough cash to rent a room for the night or if he’d have to find a park bench to crash on--it was exhausting. And really, what better place to hide than a city packed full of metas? 

The nightlife though, that’s what had Jackson being more reckless than he should. He was restless, constantly, because even though he wasn’t physically on the run, mentally he was still trying to escape what happened. 

“It sure as hell does.” Jackson says, his body leaning in against the counter, keeping him stable enough for now. “A bourbon man... I like.” Jackson smirks again, his own eyes flickering over the other for a moment before turning back to the bar and lifting a hand to flag down the bartender. “Two bourbons.” He says, ordering one for himself, sliding the glass over and lifting it in a semi cheers before sucking back a heavy sip. 

“Jackson. It’s Jackson.” He replies, the smirk ever present on his lips as he shifts forward, just a little towards the other, chin tilted up to see him properly, still leaning on the bar for support. “And what about you, what’s your name? Or should I just call you Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome, cause it sure as hell looks like you’ve got that locked down.” 

[owenxjackson]

fabulousbitchfabi​:

“Oh no you’re not.  I fucking refuse to deal with this shit alone, your nicotine addiction is going to have to wait.”  Was FaBi making an assumption?  Possibly, but if her assumption was incorrect she might have to take the stranger up on his offer.  A little mellow to deal with Mount Shit would be welcome at the moment, but someone to clean up the place would be even more welcome.

Instead she grabbed the stranger by the upper arm to drag him along in her quest to find Antonio, disgust and fury running through her as she marched towards the bouncers’ stools.  Typically, she had good working control over her abilities but when she was pissed, well - maybe a few of the bottles behind the bar exploded as their volume rapidly expanded a little too fast.  Maybe.  It wouldn’t have been the first time.

oooh Spotting her prey, FaBi seethed as she continued her fast clip towards Antonio whilst murmuring under her breath to her newfound companion.  “We’re getting this fucking fixed, and then we’re getting drunk.  Welcome to the mother fuckin’ party.”  Huffing, she wheeled onto the bouncer with a screech.  “Enhanced Hearing my ass, I about popped a vocal chord yelling for you, you prick!  Find someone to clean up the men’s room before some Fecal Manipulator follows their nose in and decides to drown us in shit.  $100 and free drinks for a week, I don’t fucking care, just … fucking handle it, Antonio.”

“I’m not?” Jackson says raising a brow, arms moving to cross but the woman was quicker, and Jackson found himself being dragged along with her. Had he been more sober, maybe he would have resisted, but FaBi was hot, and well, Jackson found that hard to resist. He staggered along behind her, his own stride a little unsteady, but he huffed out a laugh as they found who FaBi was looking for. 

His eyes perk up when she mentions getting drunk, and any hesitation he had from being pulled away from his smoke break were gone. Jackson couldn’t help but smirk as the woman seemed out the other man, impressed, and very glad he wasn’t the one on the receiving end of it. 

“Damn, $100 bucks and drinks for a week? Make it two and I’ll do it myself.” Jackson says with a cocky smile, not really thinking about the job he was just volunteering himself for. 

[owenxjackson]

matty-chapman​:

A beam of solidified light preceded Matty into the alley, briefly illuminating the space in white and neon purple with light pulled from a street lamp and nearby sign. It stayed just long enough for Matty to come running down it, arms held out at her sides for balance–a little faster than she’d meant to go, but space was tight and it was a steep curve. She’d heard a commotion from this way while patrolling–yelling, and some faint scrambling, like a fight, and then a thud. It was quiet now, but a groan from behind a dumpster had Matty wondering if she’d been just a little too late to stop a mugging, if maybe there was a victim who needed help. Matty held up a hand, a small sphere of light forming above it, illuminating the alley once more as she stepped around the dumpster to find–

A man lying face down outside the back door of a bar, smelling of alcohol and half snoring. So not a mugging then–what she’d heard was the sound of someone too drunk to stand being tossed out of a bar, and one he’d wanted to stay in, judging by the way he seemed to have crawled closer to the door before passing out.

Matty sighed as she stepped over to him, gave his side a nudge with one shiny boot. This didn’t feel as good as rescuing someone, maybe, but clearly this guy still needed help, so Matty bent down, hooked her arms under his armpits, and heaved him up enough that she could pool light beneath him, forming a vaguely hammock-shaped beam that held him up for her. “Hey, Mister,” she said, pulling his prone form up until his face was next to hers and tapping his cheek, studying his face from behind her visor. “Wake up, buddy, where do you live?”

@owenxjackson​

“And don’t even think about coming back in here! I’ve had enough of you trying to pick fights.” 

The bouncer tossed Jackson out like he was nothing more than a sack of potatoes, leaving his staggering, and ultimately falling into a few bags of trash. Jackson grumbled a little from where he lay, the stink already trying to cling to him. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been here before, laying amongst the trash, too inebriated to even stand up. He tried, but ended up slumping back, shifting himself towards the door before the world started spinning and Jackson had to close his eyes to keep from vomiting. 

“Fuck.” He mutters under his breath, barely audible and slurred. Another minute and Jackson was well on his way to passing out right there in front of the exit he’d been thrown out of, where his head would likely be slammed by the next person that opened the door. Luckily for Jackson, the world had sent him a little shiny hero, not that Jackson would acknowledge that blessing. 

His eyes screw up tighter as light beams around him, and he’s pulled up and engulfed by the light. Too drunk to fight it much, Jackson still tried to struggle but ultimately ended up slumping into whatever was holding him. 

“Fuckoff.” He groans when his cheek is poked, waving a lazy hand at the person poking him. His eyes squint open a little, the figure in front of him looking angelic with light haloing around them, shining off of their rather reflective outfit. “’m fine, leave me alone.” He slurs unconvincingly as he tries to push himself up from whatever was holding him up, causing him to stagger forward into the other.