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• player/ooc name: citrus
• character tags: caroline foster jackson barrett
• dropped characters' tags (if applicable):
• ic posts for characters: caroline 1 jackson 1
• any notes/comments: i'm alive

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taking w/ Kenjiro Yamada

Mienshao and Jackson were not a group of well-bonded trainer and Pokemon. In fact, the same could also be said for Absol and Nickit. Pokemon paired by necessity more than wants or desires. As such, Mienshao’s twirls and glamorous fluttering eyelashes were as much a surprise to him as they were an enrapturing entertainment to the crowded onlookers. It was just as well that she be allowed to enjoy this, whereas her trainer was contemplating the easiest and quickest way to melt into the ground and disappear. What an embarrassing display or narcissism she was advertising. And perhaps a little piece of karma to the man who’d rarely given her the time of day.

A GROWL broke through the crowd’s loud cheers, reverberating through the building’s high ceiling and driving the crowd crazy. Mienshao didn’t seem phased, but perhaps this was more in relation to the crowd distraction. A sparkle of light began to surround her body as she utilized CALM MIND and continued to twirl and parade her body to the crowd.

Was this a contest performance or a wrestling match? Jackson couldn’t even be half-assed to pull back her attention when the Slowking charged at her full force and caught her off-guard. Her flesh-covered paws were too slow to defend as they collided. With a yelp, Mienshao hit the crowd with a thud and another cry of anguish. ”Get your head in the god damn game, Mienshao.” came Jackson’s call from the edge, a look of disbelief painted across his sharp feature. The Mienshao staggered to her feet and let out a loud cry and began her own full force charge. The Slowking was too bulky for a full-front attack, but she could use her speed to dodge while still showing off for her adoring audience.

She ran, then she jumped, her plan was to leap out of Slowking’s path while inflicting a FORCE PALM across the side of its face.

Meanwhile, Jackson caught the look of Mars’ smirk and he returned with a much firmer frown. ”A bet?” His tone flattened, but the glare in his eyes betrayed his irritation and annoyance. ”If this is another one of your stupid plays, don’t bother with it – “ However, he couldn’t ignore the curiosity that piqued. ”What bet?”
Martín del Mar

The typically disgruntled team rocket member squinted and held a hand to shield his face as the lights dimmed and a overwhelmingly bright spotlight danced across the wrestling ring. A sense of verbal familiarity pricked at his memories, but it wasn’t until the blast of music and drawn-out introduction began that he pinpointed the reason for familiarity. ”Aw fuck me.” His words drowned out by the explosion of excitement from the cheering crowd. An all too familiar Slowking stepped through the gates, moving steadily and calmly despite the wild cheers.

Then, like a ghost, the younger rocket member appeared by his side with a wicked grin that sent a wave of annoyance rippling through Jackson. His eyebrow twitched. ”Del Mar.” Jackson spoke dryly, his amusement for the upcoming situation dead before it’d even broken through the gate. ”The hell is happening here? If this is your idea of a joke, I’m not entertained.” His body twitched away from the unnecessary touch against his back and he took a step in distance.

Instinctively, Jackson’s arms crossed his chest and raised his walls against the cheering crowd and obnoxious realizations that broke through his memories. ”Is this your something of interest that you kept rambling on and on about? A waste-of-my-time wrestling match?” His words were almost drowned out as the crowd grew quickly impatient and the calls for action filled the arena. ”God damn, if this – “ He was broke off by the other man’s mention of a cash prize and he couldn’t help the interest that peaked.

”You’ve got less brains than a Trubbish if you think I’m going to let you win this. Prize or no prize.” He snatched the outstretched microphone from Mars’ hand, flames brewing in the iris’ of his eyes. He'd thought there'd be something, truly, that would have benefitted him in the event. Now he was wasting another precious minute of the life he'd gladly have ended yesterday. He turned on the ground, fist clenched tightly around the microphone. The other hand dug for the Pokeball at his belt that contained his Mienshao.

”This asshole’s Slowking couldn’t beat a Butterfly if it was blind with broken wings.” His voice snapped, starkly contrasting the enthusiastic introduction of Del Mar. The crowd’s cheers stumbled for a moment, but quickly gained renewed enthusiasm. ”Your real, goddamn, crown jewel is right here.” He tosed the microphone to the side with a painstakingly sharp scratching sound as a splash of light that lit up the arena and Mienshao leapt onto the playing field waving her long trailing fur in flashy elegance. Her narrow purple eyes fluttered with seductive intentions towards the crowd, and then the Slowking. Even if Jackson had no interests in the flashy theatrics of wrestling, his Mienshao held no similarities to her trainer's persona.

Martín del Mar

An explosion of sound erupted into the late evening air as a man with dark, disheveled hair and exhausted eyes pulled open the heavy metal door and stepped into the dimly lit building. Cheering screams and shouts echoed against the high ceiling and the sounds of punches, grunts, and groans were faintly muffled beneath them. A heavily muscled man with narrow eyes and deep-set frown lines stopped him with a hand against his chest until Jackson muttered a quiet word to him and the pressure was removed. To the left, a stout man with a curled moustache was calling out numbers, bets, and details for the event. On the right, a heavy-set woman was waving a t-shirt in the air plastered with the face of a popular contestant.

In any other situation, universe, or alternate reality, Jackson would not have been here. However, a little bird had supplied him with a rumor: there was something of interest for him here. What the hell is it? He'd pushed and pushed, but the little bird merely curled his lips and shrugged. "I think you'll enjoy it," was all he would say. He'd been lucky Jackson hadn't punched him.

"Hey, I'm here to sign up for one of the wrestling matches. I've got a Mienshao competing." Jackson leaned on the counter, barely listening to the mumblings and warning labels the stout old man was detailing. "Alright, whatever, here's the money. Where do I have to go?" The other man pointed a hand and Jackson shoved his way through the crowded gathering until he stood on the edge, arms crossed, waiting for his name to be called.



Martín del Mar

The buzz of sounds that surrounded them faded to silence as Jackson's intents and desires focused in on Jayden. His face blushed with the burn of alcohol as the rocket member's greedy gaze outlined Jayden's face and then fell to his exposed neck. Already, the foggy mind imagined the marks and bruises he desired to leave. The outline of a hand print. Sexual desire and controlling desire mixed and mingled into one, possessive, want. He licked his lips and bit his lip like a predator lying in a patient-less wait for its prey.

He moved his hand from beneath Jayden's touch, raised it, then dropped it back upon his hand. He squeezed. I don't think you're going to say no. The coy tone laced through Jayden's words made Jackson's inner prey drive surge wildly as it burned through his body. "Maybe you can read my mind."

He watches, greedily, as Jayden swallows the poisonous liquid and golden droplets drip from his lips. Before he can raise a hand, Jayden is already wiping it away with a thumb. What's next? Jackson's gaze meets the dark eyes of Jayden. Then...

In a swift movement, Jackson has raised a hand to grasp the collar of Jayden's casual suit and pull him close. There is no gentle touch as he moves to press covetous lips against Jayden's. He has no doubts that Jayden will resist, but if he does, he would be met with the equal, perhaps stronger, resistance of a lustful man. A man who has nothing to lose. A men desperate for relief on the cusp of a fucking awful day. A man desperate for one last clutch of control to remind him how powerful he is.

When he finally pulls away, he does not remove the grip on Jayden's shirt collar. Instead, he stays close, his other hand sliding up Jayden's arm and curling around his upper bicep. He murmurs a whisper into Jayden's ear. "I know a place." A home. A bed. If Jayden agreed (though Jackson would hardly allow a refusal), they would abandon their drinks on the bar table. Stumble through the dark alleys, down the empty streets. Past an old wooden door, across a faded, scratched, wooden floor, to a bed with a night stand on either side and rumpled sheets. A place away from curious gazes and invasive stares.

jayden cross

Jackson mulled over Jayden's response for a mere second before a sly smirk pulled across his lips. "If you did, it'd take away all of the fun, wouldn't it?" He pressed, his thoughts and goals for the evening already brushing aside the stress of his day. They wove tight red lines around his forgone control and the anger of his night, tearing the memories to pieces and replacing them with imagined pictures of bruised wrists and red marks against bare skin. Heavy breaths. Begging words. Taunts and...pleasure.

A warmth buzzed through his body, reaching through his veins and into his lower regions. The background noise of the bar fading into muffled murmers as Jayden leaned into the pressure of his knee. The touch of Jayden's hand didn't bring a thrill to his spine. Instead, a pure lust wove it's way deeper through the sexual imagery that played in Jackson's mind. He could see his hand wrapped around both of Jayden's wrists, another trailing lines and embedding marks across his skin.

I'm not allowed to be curious? The question removed Jackson from his thoughts and he met Jayden's blinking eyes with his own, unblinking, gaze. Impulsion, be damned. Public bar, be damned. The blurred words of his mind screamed at him to grab Jayden's face and pin his body to the bar counter.

Still, he withheld. "And if I said no?" He asked, forgoing the fact that he'd already revealed his last name. Not that it would matter either way. There was little of him on the internet lest he dig into criminal records. Lines upon lines of misdemeanors and violent actions.

A distraction. Jackson could fucking do that. He didn't really care why Jayden was here, anyway. "I can help with that." Jackson shifted his body closer to Jayden's, his knee moving along Jayden's leg and deeper towards the hidden object of desire. He reached out a hand across the bar counter and moved Jayden's drink to the other's lips, boldly tilting the glass to spill the liquid into Jayden's mouth (or on him, but what did that matter? He wouldn't be wearing those clothes much longer).

"Finish it." He commanded, the closeness of the glass just a thinly-veiled excuse to press his knee deeper between Jayden's legs. "Then..." He let the word hang in the air before he lowered his voice and dropped his other hand onto the one occupying his leg. He squeezed tightly. "I'll show you a goddamn good distraction."

jayden cross

Miro was a simple canine. She smelled treats, she ate treats, she begged for more, she ignored the guilt of her trainer's frustrated gaze bearing a hole through her body. No, this was perfectly fine. She felt great. She was nice and cozy. Even Ki's Skitty, forgone of attention from Jackson, had leaped up beside her and begun grooming her fur. Her paws stretched out in front of her and bumped against the Gardevoir's long dress. If only Jackson could see how amazing and comfortable this place was.

But, he didn't. Flames burned in his eyes, the tiniest of inconveniences and jealousies coursing flames through his blood. Mila's honest question forced a fuming silence that flared the flames more. Isn't something always on your nerves? No. It hadn't always been like that. At least not when it was just Adam, Mila, Michel, and him. Not when it was just them against the world. Against their parents. Against everyone.

Then he lost Mila.

He lost Adam.

Then?

Well, there wasn't a fucking point to it anymore.

Sorry, I know. I didn't mean it. Come on, it's me, Jackson.

It was her. In fact, Jackson wasn't quite sure he wasn't into some weird combination of dream and nightmare. "I know..." His voice oddly defeated, trailing into a small breath of air. Even Miro noticed, her head lifting from her paws and beady eyes staring with concern at Jackson. He was so angry these days. Angrier than even days of the past. He used to laugh with Adam. And Mila. Even if he was angry, they always brought him down. Now, he only had her. And there was only so much she could do to make him happy.

Her paws stretched to the floor, a desire to comfort him overwhelming her heart, but before she could move Jackson left out a short shout. "What the hell?!" He snapped, hands grabbing for the edges of his shirt to keep it beneath his torso. "I get it - it's been a long time, but like hell you're gonna strip me down." Although - well, it didn't seem like he had a choice. He couldn't punch her. Push her. Shove her. He'd never do anything to hurt her and, apparently, that included using his full strength to keep the shirt over his head.

The black t-shirt slipped over his head, leaving Jackson's upper body exposed to all occupants of the room. The six pack. The muscles. And the scars, haphazardly spread across his back in long slashes and short cut. A cruel reminder of a past he'd done everything to shield his mind and heart from remembering. Miro froze with her paws on the ground and lower half still sprawled across the couch. Oh, Jackson...

"What the fuck is wrong with you guys." Jackson cursed, arms crossed over his chest and a flame-charged gaze snapping between Ki and Mila. "I'm not a goddamn child, I can change my own clothes." Not that it mattered now. Stubborn as she always was, Mila had already made the decision for him.

Chu-e left, then returned with a faded band T-shirt that he tossed at Mila. Instead of letting her catch it, Jackson thrust out a hand and caught the shirt, scrambling to slip it over his head and clothe himself in the presence of Ki. "You..." Jackson dropped his head into one hand, running it through black locks of hair and forcing himself to breathe. "Fuck. Just keep the shirt, I don't need it. If Miro is fine, we don't need to stay anymore." His eyes on Mila. "We can go."

Yes, he wanted to leave with Mila. Not that he would make his request any more directly than that. However, Miro's face dropped. Oh no, she didn't want to go yet. She was having so much fun.

mila alexopoulos Chu-e Choi

The buzz of hasty consumed alcohol was quickly and greedily overwhelming Jackson's mind. It cracked chains tightly locked across his heart and burned the barrier of thorns beneath them. The chains would return and the thorns would regrow, but in this moment he could finally feel his chest relax and his breath steady. One more drink would surely send his mind spiralling into drunken paradise.

Through a vision that slowly blurred, returned, then faded again, Jackson kept his eyes trained on Jayden. Obvious to the intense gaze that trailed his face and body. A smirk tugged at the edges of Jackson's lips as the sound of the bar faded like white noise into the background. He could barely hear the sound of the bartenders now frantic attempts to wake the sleeping patron that sat chairs away. Nor could he hear the intense conversation between two office workers as alcohol lowered their filters and returned confidence lost in childhood.

His cheeks burned with warmth, but there was no mistaking the lustful confidence that now enveloped his harsh mind. "Oh?" Jackson straightened his posture, his voice mimicking the almost coy flow of this stranger. "Think you can read my mind, then?" He inquired, curiosity piqued with interest despite the slight inaccuracies of his tone. Vowels were beginning to slur together, but Jackson still kept his words firm and - oh, coy, it was.

Jayden. "Jayden." He toyed with the word as it flowed from his lips. He noticed the redness that blushed Jayden's cheeks. Surely he wasn't drunk already. Not after two measly drinks of whiskey and peach-infused alcohol. No, this was something more. "Not bad." As if the name was chosen by Jayden himself. Eyes so locked onto Jayden's that he didn't notice the Delibird quietly placing a gift at his feet.

"Why the curiosity?" Jackson questioned, his body shifting as he brushed, no, pressed a knee against Jayden's. Was he already interested in taking his name? Surprisingly bold for someone who looked like they'd get stepped on often. In life and bed. He let the question hang in the air as brought his gaze to a near empty glass. Jackson hastily flagged down the bartender, asked for another scotch. This one for Jayden, not for himself. Only then did he answer.

"Barrett." He didn't particularly care for anything more than Jayden's first name. Most time, he never even learned the names of his sexual partners. "How about telling me what the fuck has you getting drunk by yourself." It was a statement, not a question. One might even say it was a demand for information that meant nothing to Jackson. It was only a way to keep him there. Get him drunker. Less inhibited.


jayden cross

Jackson barely noticed Mila's seductive wink, nor did he acknowledge the gentle touch of her hand against his elbow. His fullest attention was focused on the warm body of his electric hound in his arms. Blood soaked into the sleeves of his shirt, the dark liquid blending with the black threads and painting his skin beneath. It was hard to see the wound beneath the blood, but a thousand worst-case possibility swarmed his mind in the moment of distraction. A distraction broken by the hard melody of a question that burned through his veins.

"He's not my boyfriend." Jackson growled, pulling his elbow away from her touch as they departed from the chilled outdoors and entered through the cage doors of Ki's house. It was never that the house had seemed welcoming, but the walls seemed even closer and less inviting on his second visit. Jackson saw the Gardevoir, healed from their previous encounter, the moment before Gardevoir turned and his features fell to the ground. Jackson just scowled, grateful for help but ungrateful for the circumstance, as he followed Gardevoir's motion and rested Miro on the couch.

The bright lights of the room only made Jackson feel discomfort as he bore a distrustful gaze upon the Zoroark resting in the corner. He stood aside, arms crossed, with frustration and a whirlwind of thoughts swirling through his mind. Mila had entered with him, her features relaxed and calm in stark contrast of his own. She seemed drawn to the scent of a delicious meal roasting in the next room, while Jackson couldn't remove his mind's attention from worry of Miro. Not until Gardevoir had begun the healing process and Miro let out a satisfied sigh of relieved pain. Finally, he faced Mila.

"It's been a long time..." His voice trailed, torn between feelings of fresh anger and old comforts. She didn't need to know his original intentions for this place, but her accusations of him and Ki pissed him off even more. "Before you get caught up in that whole head of yours, don't you dare think that there's anything going on between me and that guy. He's been a pain in my ass and I don't need two of you getting on my nerves today." His words were harsh, but there was something deeper beneath them. Something long buried and protected within a cage of thorns.

Minutes later and Ki returned, clad in a t-shirt that looked eerily similar to the ones that frequented Jackson's wardrobe. And a pair of sweatpants with STUNNER slapped across the ass. "Oh, fucking hell." Jackson muttered, as if this couldn't get any worse. The trio of cats frolicked in blissful ignorance of the current scene, freezing when they grew abruptly aware of strangers in their home. Except for Skitty, who sniffed his leg before rubbing against him with a purr. Jackson tightened his arms against his chest, but remained still.

"Miro is fine." Jackson shortly replied, his tone once more cold and removed. "No thanks to you." His eyes followed Ki as he approached the Boltund with a box of treats, her tail wagging as the scent of expensive sweets filled her senses. Without a second thought, a contrast to Jackson who was prepared to smack Ki if he made one wrong move, Miro reached her mouth out and quickly gobbled up the treat. Jackson had never given her something so delicious and drool trailed from her lips as she then begged for a second one. Maybe a third, if Ki was generous. She was already feeling a thousand times better thanks to the effort of Prince. Jackson felt anger of her excited gaze.

In the mean time, the clink of something being slid through the mailbox caught a moment of his attention. Then, the Delibird slipped another present through the mailbox, his name written crudely on the side of the wrapped paper. Oh, fucking hell, what now? Did even the Pokemon outside think he lived here?

Chu-e Choi mila alexopoulos

Time stretched a clear path for the alcohol to curl through his veins and swirl a cloudy haze in his mind. The lanky man beside him was gently nursing the chilled scotch between his hands, a stark contrast to the hasty swigs of his own. Jackson kept his gaze locked on the oddly familiar features of the stranger even after he had finished the two glasses of alcohol. The blue scarf hid some of his features in it's warm embrace and Jackson wondered just how cold he was to still wear that. Jackson, himself, only had a jacket on over his v-neck t-shirt. If he had been cold, the alcohol would soon bring warmth.

Or perhaps something else would.

Jackson caught the side glances from Jayden, and then the cocked head that indicated a thoughtful process pricking his mind. His comment wasn't intended as a compliment, but if the stranger desired to interpret it as such. Well - what did he care. "Sure." Jackson responded, twirling a small circle in the air with his empty drink. It'd hardly been a half hour since the first drink. Four drinks in quick succession was a guarantee for near-future trouble. Even if one of these drinks had been a watered-down peach.

Jayden's eyes lingered over his body and Jackson tried to read the words written in his gaze, but his own gaze was shaky in movement. Was that lust in the other's eyes? Or just curiosity? He snorted a laugh, something short and restricted, the sound and movement of his lips never reaching to his eyes. Jackson couldn't remember the last time something had morphed his face to a smile that reached beyond his lips. He wasn't about to make a new memory of that, either. "Yeah. Why else would I be wasting my time at a bar?"

While he mulled the thought of ordering another drink and allowing himself to get plastered on this weekday night, Jayden continued the conversation with a question. "Jackson" was the trainer's short response, thinking better of a fifth drink and leaning his elbow on the counter to face Jayden. "Yours?"

jayden cross