nysalogs | Trust is earned, not given

Entry tags:

Trust is earned, not given

Who: Jessica Jones (

assholic) & OPEN
What: April's catch-all
When: Beginning of April until at least the 21st (likely also usable for log threads from the event)
Where: Wyver; The pubs, her home with Clark, the arenas. Thesa Station; Visiting the pods to check on her people, the bars.
Warning(s): As this post will also be available for the memory share event, there is a possible warning for discussions and/or graphic descriptions of sexual assault and violence. I'll update which threads need to be warned for. Usual warning of language and possible sexual content. Update: Jessica/Brock's thread has a cw for sexual assault memories.

I: Thesa Station
[When the whole idea of living rustic got a bit too much for her, or when she just wanted to stop feeling like she was being judged or watched by everyone in Wyver, she headed up to the station. She figured she'd get in as much time there as she could, considering how long they'd been locked out from visiting before. Their tech seemed to be iffy at best. Plus, they had better alcohol there that she knew wasn't laced with anything magical, and that right now as an immense bonus.

There was also Trish, and lately, Jess had a lot to talk to her best friend/sister about, and it was killing her that she wasn't there, wasn't really there to give her advice. Or laugh at the shit she'd gotten herself into.

So on Thesa Station, Jessica could be found either hanging around Trish's pod, drinking herself into a stupor, or heading to sleep it off in a corner/cot/room. There's also the wildcard option, if none of those fit.]

II: Wyver
[Despite wanting not to, she still lived in Wyver. She had people down there she gave a shit about, and despite part of her thinking they'd be better off without having to deal with her shit, there was too much going on right now for her to think about leaving them. No one was safe on the planet. Not in either town. But for the moment, even after her... ordeal, she was sticking with Wyver.

That choice might have something to do with the person she lived with, but she wasn't about to tell him or anyone else that.

In Wyver, Jessica could be found working at the Arenas for money to burn, trying to avoid the odd accolades some shops were giving her because of the ring she'd been seen with in public before stuffing it in her pocket, drinking herself into a stupor, and trying not to get herself into more shit than she was already in. That might be a tall order. There's also a wildcard prompt if none of these suit.]

III: Memory Share - (CW: Potential mention of sexual assault/trauma/violence with some of Jessica's memories)
[As if what she'd gone through hadn't been enough, now she was seeing other people's thoughts? Or... memories. The whole thing played like a VR snippet of someone's life, and she felt a growing sense of dread that the next bubble she got caught in would be her own instead of someone else's -- a fact she was bothered by enough considering the immense invasion of privacy that it was, one that crossed a line beyond snooping and taking pictures of someone in the act. This sincerely bothered her, and for the duration of the event, she would be very... unsettled.

(As a large lump of memories from Jessica's canon/past deal with sexual assault/violence/drug abuse, I'd like to make sure anyone who'd like to play with one of her memories is fully understanding of the scope of them and to double check on what people are comfortable with. Please PM or PP me (

junglewere) if we haven't already talked about it or it's new CR, or just to make sure we're all on the same page and no one is made uncomfortable or upset by anything threaded.)

This can be a prompt for either people to come across her memories, or her to come across others. Or, there's a wildcard option if you'd prefer.

IV: Wildcard
[Wildcard in general. If none of the other options are what you'd like or you have a specific scenario in mind, please feel free to write your own starter or msg me for specifics if you'd like.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Yes, asshole. Snowflake is off the fucking table.

[She gave him a shove, lifting her hand to wipe at where he'd kissed, mostly to show him she was annoyed than to get rid of any saliva that wasn't there.

But the small banter helped stabilize her, bringing her back from where her mind was running around to the here and now.]

I need a drink.

[And without offering for him to join her or waiting to see if he would, she marched off towards the front of the tavern, heading for the door.]

Damn, that one felt like a freebie.

[He rocked with the shove, having set himself to lean into it so he wouldn't be thrown right off of his feet. He nodded his head when she claimed she needed a drink, but he had a feeling she actually meant she wanted to start with a bottle and move on from there.

He followed her, mostly because she hadn't told him that he shouldn't. He had intentions to take a look at her hand as well, clean it up and bug her enough that she wasn't likely to think too much about what they had seen. She could fall apart when she was home wherever she actually lived with whomever she happened to live with.]

You must be this place's best customer.

They tolerate me.

[She went over to the bar that was peppered with people lined up against it, most of the tables and booths taken. There was a spot near the end of the bar with three stools still open, and she headed to sit with her back to the wall, pulling out a handful of silver and dropping it on the bartop.]

That dragon breath stuff. A bottle. And keep them coming.

[He meandered into the tavern and looked around, noting it was busy enough that the low hum of conversation would cover over the sad state of people drinking themselves into oblivion. He took the stool that left one between them, keeping that joke alive of personal space. Of course, he still set a foot on the stool bottom in order to claim it.

When the barkeep looked at him, he pointed at Jessica.] I'm with her, and she's paying. [Like a gentleman.] I'm also her mostly D.D. [If anyone knew what that meant.]

[No, Brock. No one knew what that meant. But the bartender set down two glasses and the large dark glass bottle that looked like you could see the contents inside swirling around on their own. He poured out into both glasses, the liquid having an odd metallic shimmer to it; amber with a red sheen.

She grabbed one for herself and tipped it back, dropping it back down and reaching for the bottle to pour herself another.]

You are not driving me home. Or dragoning me. Or... whatever other D word you want to shove in there.

[It was clear that D.D. was a swing and a miss when two glasses were set down and a bottle of booze he wasn't certain that he liked the look of. She would, of course, buy the potent stuff, and this wasn't exactly an establishment where asking for a glass of water seemed like it would go over well. Right, frequent trips to the bathroom it was going to be.]

I know. Drunk marriage proposal never end well.

[He picked up the glass and threw it back because the alternative was to make him look like a coward, and he wasn't that. It burned, and he gave a little involuntary cough as heat settled in his belly and yes, it was going to be a long night.]

Besides, if I drink much of this, you might be pushing me in a shallow ditch to sleep the night away.

Where's a Vegas when you need one.

[She finished her second shot, then poured a third, reaching over to half fill his glass. He would, of course, have to go easier than her, but that didn't mean he had to pussy out early on. She needed to just... not think of what she'd seen. Forget that it had been a reality for too long and lose herself in that comfortable numbness that drinking gave her when she hit a certain point.]

Of course I will. Your body will keep me out of the ditch enough that it might be comfortable.

Because I always wanted to be buried in a desert.

[There was heavy sarcasm in his voice, though also a tiny bit of old gravity as well. He took the half glass and downed it, wincing at the rising burn of alcohol, like the very fumes would give him the ability to breathe fire in no time. God, he hoped he wasn't drinking some form of sludge. He'd be fine with dragon blood or something; that sounded real mythical.]

As long as my body heat will keep you from freezing to death. You live far away from this drinking hole? I mean, we should angle towards a ditch in the direction of your house anyway. [He actually wasn't living anywhere, which was an adventure he hadn't missed.]

[Drink three went the way of the rest, and she looked over at him, glancing down to see his foot on the bottom of the stool in that casual way of saying 'mine' that body language had. She poured herself a fourth, leaving the bottle there for him to pour when and if he could handle more.]

Don't know if you've noticed, Spanky, but it's pretty warm around here.

[Guess who wasn't answering the last part of that.]

Don't know if you realize, Princess, but alcohol affects the ability of the body to regulate its temperature. Maybe you don't suffer from that? You that much of a special snowflake?

[He glanced at her as he poured himself another full glass, but he left it sitting there as he tried to pace himself. No point getting handsy tonight, despite the fact he was certain she'd probably be fine with a fuck or two.]

Let's be honest, we're more likely to get stabbed. This feels like a place that enjoys stabbing.

Call me a snowflake again, Shitface, and we're going to see just how little effort it takes to throw you through a wall.

[She'd slowed down herself, sipping the next glass, already feeling that warmth spreading up through her stomach to the rest of her body. There was a slight nausea that followed her drinking too quickly on an empty stomach, but she was used to that by now.]

Pickpockets. This place is full of pickpockets.

[Who knew well to avoid her by now. Three different attempts with three broken wrists and crumpled fingers had made her a 'no' as far as a target.]

You realize I might actually want that? Of course, I figure that would get you a ban here.

[He sipped at his alcohol and thought of the real possibility that he would be vomiting tonight at some point. He definitely should have eaten something more substantial than he had, but then again, he hadn't expected the night to go quite like this either.

He managed to look aghast at the idea of pickpockets. Man, how long had it been since he invested time and energy into that trade?]

Oh no, what will I do if they touch my flower?

[They had food here, if he cared to order it. It was a tavern, and unlike the bars back home, as long as the doors were open, there was something available to eat. Bread, stew, fruit, cheese. Of course, if he wasn't willing to fork cash over for it, he'd have to convince her to buy something.

She really wished they had pizza here. Almost enough to think about convincing someone to start making it.]

Cry like the little bitch you are?

[He was as close to order food here as he was to requesting food poisoning. He wished he had had some MREs on him, but alas, there hadn't been time to collect them with a building literally collapsed on him, so he was stuck with food here. Least he could cook like he was a boyscout over a campfire in the woods when he felt inclined to.

He snorted and downed the rest of his glass, already feeling the rising gentle buzz of the booze in his bloodstream. He normally kept himself to beer and the occasional shot. This stuff was strong too.]

You'll defend my honour, won't you?

Do you have any to defend?

[There was more bite to her words than she meant there to be, but if he couldn't handle her having a bad moment after that bullshit, then chasing him off early was probably for the best.]

[He seemed to seriously consider as he poured himself another drink and topped off her own glass in the process. Like a gentleman. That was probably as honourable as he could manage.]

Now that I think about it, no. But you'll still defend my gorgeous body, right? If anything, they'll likely never see it coming.

[Sorry, but he was here to stay, weathering her storm and letting her have her bad moments without taking it personally.]</small.

You're packing it. You can defend it.

[She watched him pour more of the liquid with that sheen to it, looking down at her glass and swirling it a bit.]

You know this is bullshit, right? All this... this that keeps happening.

So cruel.

[He sniffed dramatically and set the bottle back down between them. He rested his forearms on the bartop and raised an eyebrow at her.]

The weird events or the fact that you're drinking yourself to unconsciousness?

The weird shit, asshole. It just keeps coming. Storms and balls and weird shit that just keeps happening. Kind of makes me want to just go back into one of the pods and tell them to wake me when they figure this shit out.

Or you could weather the shit like everyone else and grow a pair.

[He inclined his head towards her.] Bad shit happens to everyone. And yeah, your shit is superior in its grossness, but you're alive, and you can fight back. So fight.

Ever think that maybe I'm just tired of having to deal? It was bad enough back home, for fuck's sake. Then I wake up here and 'oh, everyone's in a fucking pod, here's the guy that should be dead, go down and play muckglucks and don't tell or else, but that's not a threat, la la'. It's one thing if it's my shit. If it's something I've done. I can handle that. This?

[She reached for her glass, tipping it back and downing half of it.]

This is someone else's shit show.

Don't forget your world and everything you were familiar with is destroyed. [He decided to add that so the full scale of her potential frustration at the situation was complete.] Might be someone else's shit show, but it's still impacting your muckgluck life, so you either take it or you change the rules of the game to suit you.

[He hadn't decided where he personally fell on this matter, but he knew where his skills would take him eventually. That was an inevitability as far as he was concerned, especially with no particular prospects as he was now. So, he'd change the game, play and see what happened.]

You've been drawn in, so it's your shit now too.

Thank you, Captain fucking obvious. This isn't the same. This is...

[Her hand waved around her, taking in the room around them, the bartender watching over the drunk flock to make sure nothing happened, and the planet in general.]

Fucked. It's like walking into some asshole's fanfic about being on a lost world and ooh, there's a pretty rock let's pick it up oh my god, a fucking dragon. This isn't my shit. My shit is mine. This is someone else plugging the goddamn toilet.

[He would give her points for creativity at the very least. He waved the bartender open and actually asked for a glass of water, ignoring the look he was thrown. It wasn't for drinking yet anyway.]

But you're still involved now, so you gotta figure out your shit and find a way out of it or to make them leave you alone.

[The water arrived and he picked up a bar napkin and dipped it in the water.]

Let me see your hand. Looks like the ground won to a degree.

What?

[She hadn't even been paying attention to the stinging throb in her hand. Pain was muted by the alcohol and the rage in her mind. But once he gestured to it, she felt the cuts and bits of dirt, moving to wipe her hands on the sides of her jeans. She could tell him to fuck off. Maybe another time she would. But she was tired just then. Tired and sore and a little more vulnerable than she wanted to be. So she just slapped her hand on the bar and rolled her eyes.]

I don't know if there's a way to do that. Apparently they don't let you die here. You just wind up back in the pods and they pop you out later. Or keep you in there. It's too... It's like gods playing Barbies.

[Her tone said what she thought of that idea; she didn't fucking like it.]

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