Fandom High Dormitories

This afternoon, Jackson was roasting marshmallows outside his bouncy castle.

What, he was bored, the castles annoyed him, Stiles rolling all over him annoyed him, and a lot of other small stuff annoyed him. He deserved something good. Obviously, he always deserved good things. But under the circumstances, he felt he deserved them even more. And he knew no one else was going to come by providing them for him, as much as he would've liked them to.

Also, he was bored, yet didn't feel like walking into town and getting his car to get the hell out of town. So, marshmallows.

Now, if he could only have stopped burning them. It was getting on his nerves.

[ooc: Oh so open!]

There'd been an email to the club to meet in the rec room today. No actual sports. Because sometimes Jackson could be easy on people who'd recently been through a lot of trauma. Or maybe he'd just not felt like training with them today. One of those. Probably the latter.

"So, next week is going to be our last session," he said, once it looked like everyone had showed up. "And we'll be playing a complete game in the Danger Shop. But, since last week was messed up for some of you, I guess, we'll be watching another classic sports movie this week."

And without any further words, he pressed play, and sunk back into a seat.

... A few moments later, he frowned hard at the screen, because this was, while familiar, not the movie he'd meant to rent. "What the ––" And then he decided he didn't care enough right now. "Ugh, whatever."

Enjoy meta for The Notebook, guys.

Jackson had been in a better mood than he was this morning.

Don't laugh, it was true.

See, he'd had a rough couple of days. Did you know what it's like to be on an island with everyone's dead loved ones coming back for closure and to make sappy peace with wrongs of the past and whatever, and no one showing up for you? Even though you definitely had people who could have come, who should have come, who you had every right to get to meet? It was not a good feeling at all, and it was weighing on him more than he would have cared to admit, getting twisted up with what he'd learned back in Beacon Hills until it felt like a suffocating stone inside his chest.

And also, the wrong team had won the Super Bowl last night.

"You goddamn piece of –– !"

Yelling at the toaster for getting his Pop Tart stuck was a perfectly valid response to stress.

[ooc: Fair warning, this common room is pissy and bitchy, but totally ooopen!]

Yes, the sports club was meeting in the dorm rec room today. There were two reasons for this: one, the weather outside wasn't great. Two, Jackson had had other things on his mind since the weekend, and hadn't had the time or the inclination to figure out what they needed to learn next. He'd think on it over the break. (Also, relocating into the dorms kept Derek from lurking around the meeting, so guess there were about... two and a half reasons for this.)

"Today, you're going to learn by watching," Jackson informed them from his spot on a couch. "What I've got set up here ––" He nodded at the big TV. "–– is a video of one our matches back in Beacon Hills. I figure you could benefit from seeing how an actual game goes before we do any actual playing."

Also, he was busy texting his ex-girlfriend's BFF.

"I'm number 37, you won't be able to miss me." Captain and star player, see. And this match was from the time before Scott's sudden skills, too. "Oh, and keep an eye out for Stilinski. He's not actually on the field, naturally, but you can sometimes catch glimpses of him on the bench."

Yeah that was one douchey smirk he gave them. Then he pressed play, before going back to focusing on texting. It was important stuff.

[ocd up!]