identification.

(  ♝  )   cocky.  arrogant.  narcissistic.  hot-tempered.  single-minded.  vindictive.

GIVEN NAME: JACKSON WHITTEMORE.  BORN: JUNE 15, 1997.  AGE: SEVENTEEN.  SPECIES: WEREWOLF.  OCCUPATION: STUDENT.  FACADE: COLTON HAYNES.  STATUS: CLOSED.

history.

Everybody knows who Jackson Whittemore is. If you don’t, you’ve probably been living under a rock for the last seventeen years or so and are unfit for human contact. Rich, popular, handsome as an Abercrombie & Fitch model, everyone grew up knowing Jackson Whittemore’s name. Or his money, his infamous bad attitude and his way with the ladies. The guy who made being an asshole an art, who you hated to love and loved to hate but no matter which it was you were always talking about him. Some kids grow up this way because it was expected of them, society had given them these things: good looks, wealthy parents, natural charm  ––  but Jackson, Jackson simply didn’t know any other way to live. What was life without being in the centre of attention? What did it matter what he did if nobody was looking? Preschool, grade school, middle school  ––  as time went on it only became more obvious how easily he slipped into that role. As if he’d been made for it.

Many an overpaid therapist or child psychologist with diplomas lined up along their walls that don’t really mean anything have attributed all of this to his parents. Megalomaniacal attitude? Textbook narcissism? Attention-seeking ways? Clearly a sign of childhood neglect and not enough familial care; commonly seen in the children of adoption. Jackson would always scoff, roll his eyes and leave his appointments with the wheels of his Porsche burning black marks into their parking lot. These idiots knew nothing. His parents were busy people, they had money to make and careers to maintain. Their way of showing affection was through buying him ludicrously expensive sports cars and turning a blind eye whenever he came home in tow with parades of girls. Well, there was usually only ever one. Lydia Martin. The natural queen bee to his king; the perfect power couple of Beacon Hills High. Despite what the rumors said and the way people assumed they’d end in catastrophe like any other high school couple, Lydia was the one constant in his life Jackson had faith in keeping even after all this. 

Don’t think he’s never been completely self-aware of how fragile these superficialities are. That’s the fickle nature of popularity, it’s how he gained his status and he was always distantly aware he could lose it just as easily. So when Scott Wonder Boy McCall appears and starts tearing it up on the lacrosse field, of course he’s got to be on some kind of juice. How else would he able to steal everything Jackson had from underneath him so swiftly and effortlessly? Everything pretty much goes downhill from there. Werewolves. Seriously. A suspected serial killer digs his claws into his neck, he stars hallucinating, and the cherry on top of this amazing, wonderful cake? He turns out to be some kind of freaking shapeshifting lizard thing. Nothing says ‘losing any and all control of your life’ like becoming a lizard and finding out you’re bound to someone else’s will to serve them as your master. The time he spent as the kanima is missing giant black holes of time and Jackson’s never asked about them; it’s probably best they stay they way. He thinks he can vaguely conjure up the sensation of dying, twin sets of claws sinking into his flesh, the rush of sheer adrenaline in his veins and not venom. 

And people think their high school sob stories are traumatic. After his physical and mental breakdown earlier in the year, his parents apparently saw fit to finally do something about it. Jackson said goodbye to Beacon Hills alone, designer suitcase packed already in the trunk, and boarded the plane with his parents to London. Derek’s brief lessons on control and ensured, at the very least, he wouldn’t be murdering people every full moon. Jackson lasted all eight of them between the time he left and the time he came back. London was a million times better than the dump Beacon Hills had turned into but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to see it as home. Not when Lydia and Danny and Allison were back in Beacon Hills. He even started to miss Testicle One and Two a little, which is when he could tell the homesickness was really driving him insane. Beacon Hills had been his home all his life. And more than that, it was where his pack was. If he wanted it. Being an American werewolf in London isn’t as fun it as it sounds when you’re a lone wolf.

After the nightmares they’ve been through, Beacon Hills has finally settled into an eerie peace. Not for long, given the new faces showing up everywhere, but Jackson’s glad to be home. The lacrosse team’s been slacking under McCall’s guidance, Lydia even smiled when she saw him again, and life as a werewolf is so much better than as a kanima. Things might be starting to finally look up for Jackson Whittemore. So go tell everyone you know: The king is back.

allegiance.

Jackson might’ve been Captain of the Lacrosse team for a year before McCall even breathed a hint of being remotely capable at the game but he’s never been all that much of a team player. His position was always about the prestige, the game was always about him and what glory he’d find at the end of his victory. Finding himself the beta to someone else’s top dog has been an awkward readjustment but he’s seen the way McCall handles himself on the field and around the others and if anyone’s going to keep them all alive it’s him.

So now’s he’s a beta alongside three of the school’s biggest rejects, only now he can’t even say that out loud. Jackson doesn’t trust them and they don’t trust him. It’s fine, he’s got Lydia, and Allison, too. The new girls he has no idea what to make of. As for Stilinski  –– still the same old idiot. Jackson Whittemore doesn’t do trust and loyalty; he’s had even fewer friends. But they’re all more than that, they’re pack. And that might just be enough for Jackson to one day see them as friends.

loyalties.

LYDIA MARTIN  (  ex-girlfriend ; complicated  ) 

People used to take one look at them and sigh with either envy or covetous lust. Beneath the scandals, the rumors, the constant stories revolving around them and their petty arguments no one ever believed that Jackson Whittemore and Lydia Martin could truly love each other. Sure they were together but that was only because they rightfully should be, as the most popular boy and girl at school. All the mind games and facades put on like a performance for everyone else’s entertainment  ––  none of that had ever meant anything to Jackson. The one thing he’d always been certain of, the only thing he could be certain of was that he loved her. She’s his first love and she always will be. She saw him at his most horrific worst, literally and metaphorically, and loved him through it. Things are different, they’re different and they’ve both changed  ––  but Jackson’s hoping, counting on the fact that Lydia’s feelings about him haven’t.

SCOTT MCCALL  (  co-captain ; alpha  )

From the skinny nobody who suddenly became a lacrosse superstar overnight to someone worthy of respect, Jackson’s come a long way from the poorly concealed envy he used to have towards the other werewolf. Humans are predictable, especially those in positions of power. The fact that Scott McCall is so pure and incorruptible a leader is either a testament to his innate goodness or sheer naïveté. Jackson’s usually quick to argue for the latter but even he’s struggling to find any insincerity in the alpha when he makes speeches about keeping everyone safe and protecting the pack. If he tried to care about everyone any harder he’d strain a muscle. Loathe as Jackson is to admit it, Scott McCall is a good leader, a great alpha and maybe, just maybe, a semi-decent co-captain.

ALLISON ARGENT  (  friend  )

Allison Argent, the girl that’s impossible not to like. Someone who, between the quiet moments they shared in the gaps of their lives, Jackson genuinely came to like. They’re a study in contradictions but they also couldn’t be more eerily similar. Sweet Allison Argent who went dark and then came out a hero; Jackson the beloved asshole who had to turn into a literal monster to realize he had a soul. Allison’s grounded, and real and unlike any of the superficial people who befriend him simply to bask in his popularity he’s had to endure. If Jackson were a sentimental person, he might even dare to call her a friend. Friends can miss each other but he’d rather go through the bite again that admit that he missed her.

REBEKAH MIKAELSON  (  familiar face  )

What happens in London stays in London. For the most part, Jackson’s content to let things stay like that whenever the others ask about his time there. One of the things he’s kept private has come back to haunt him. A hot blonde with an English accent – what was there not to like? They’d met in a club in downtown London and Jackson had been only half-sober. The rest of the night is a blank in his mind and really, he should’ve known the moment he smelled it on her but ignored it in favor of the pretty smile. Vampire. Trust him to hook up with a vampire while he was overseas in London. Well, at least he thinks they did. Either that or the wicked hickey on the side of his neck really were fang marks. He hasn’t been avoiding the girl, but let’s just say there’s a reason he’s usually a love ‘em and leave ‘em man. One night stands are supposed to be just that. One night only.


July 9th.   ( 2 notes )  
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