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

Don't know anyone else I can crash with, I guess. You... gonna stay the night or just get off and run?

[He hissed and turned his head to immediately nip back, reaching up to rub his ear. He groped her ass and pressed more pointedly into her.]

Fair warning that you might have to break my arms; I've been told I Broctopus after sex and tend not to let go.

Guess we'll have to see if you wear me out or not.

[They'd stayed to sleep up at the station, so she wasn't entirely against the idea of falling asleep around him. At least she knew him. Sort of.]

C'mon, you drunk sextopus. Let's find a place with thick walls. I think the one with the weird flowery dragon symbol's got good rooms.

If I don't... just sit on my face or something. I should be able to manage.

[He may or may not be joking. He staggered after her though, letting her lead the way since he wasn't familiar enough with Wyver to actually coordinate where he was going to any specific location. He kept his footing the whole way.

Of course, arriving at the place in question allowed him to peer around even as he announced their needs.]

Can we get a room with thick walls? We're going to fuck all night.

[There was a frozen smile on the face of the innkeeper, and that was enough to have Jessica laughing as she swatted Brock's ass.]

Thick walls and maybe some coffee. This one needs all the energy he can get.

[She set coins down on the desk until the man shook himself out of his surprise, then gestured them up towards one of the top floor rooms. In the back. One that happened not to have anyone staying beside them.]

That'll do.

[Rumlow wasn't so old to not be able to enjoy her laugh. He offered the innkeeper some finger-guns, winking and grinning even if he hissed in delight at her swat. It seemed they were going to get a room, and he let her lead him again because his directional skills were clearly compromised.

Besides, it allowed him to watch her ass as she moved, and it was a nice one. He hummed as they went, practically holding onto her hips as they made their way along the landing towards the room assigned to them. He was trying to kiss her neck on the way, but it ended up with him hitting his face on her more often than not.]

What are you doing?

[Said as they entered the room, the innkeeper saying he'd have a tray with coffee, water, and a light snack set outside their door for them before he closed it quickly behind himself when it seemed like Brock might not want to wait to start playing.]

You trying to head-butt me into submission? You a goat now?

[He made it to the room, and that was likely a big win for everyone involved. He eventually stopped trying to kiss and walk at the same time, but now that they had the room to themselves, he gave her a playful shove, maybe harder than he would for any other woman he had slept with.]

You gonna make us wait for coffee and biscuits?

[The room was nice enough, and hopefully they wouldn't break anything. He wasn't counting on that. They played awful rough.]

Dunno. You need the wake-up boost yet?

[She felt the shove, let it make her take a step back, then took that step towards him, moving to herd him up against the nearest wall.]

I'm awake?

[He backed up because he had enough good sense that she could force him there and he wanted to savour the bruises that were coming to him. Plus, leaning on the wall did sound like a logical idea at this point.]

I'm not drunk enough to be sleepy anyway.

Just unsteady.

[She pressed him up against the wall, a knee between his legs, lifting it high enough that it pressed against his groin.]

Give me a head's up if you're going to crash. Last thing I want is to think I killed you.

I have been in worse condition.

[He dropped some of his weight to settle on her thigh, rubbing himself and letting the stimulation wake him up. He was also still needing a bit of help to keep from swaying.]

Murder during sex does tend to dampen the mood. I'll get my arms and legs around you first, if previous events has any meaning here.

Mm, just try to make it worth the hassle. I feel like I need to be worn out and I'm kinda hoping you're up to the task.

[Her hand crept down between them, cupping him just above where her thigh pressed.]

Not yet...

Since you took me out for a night on the town, I'll make it worth your while.

[He had great intentions, and he rose a bit when her hand crept down between them, and while he wasn't fully hard, his interest was plain. So were his wandering hands as he began to pull at her clothing, making clear overtures to removing them and dumping them next to where they were standing. His fingers were surprisingly dexterous, like this might have been something he had done more often than he would like to admit.]

Swear to God, if I ain't hard by the time the clothes come off, hit me. Like... belt me one. Always works.

[She shrugged out of her jacket, letting him pull off her shirt as she tugged his up out of his pants. A snorting laugh at that, then she leaned in and bit at his lip.]

You sure know how to say the sweetest things.

[His arms lifted above his head so he could remove it and the his hand smoothed over her sides and belly before sliding around back to work on the clasps of her bra. That was a tad more troublesome, but he managed.

He kissed her hard at the comment, pleased that he had at least amused her.]

Use your left hand, since that ain't damaged? That's caring, right?

[Her hands were at his belt, tugging the tongue free and jerking him with little tugs as she tossed it onto the floor, then she undid the button and zipper.]

I bet you'd even piss on me if I was on fire, you romantic.

[He let her be rid of the open bra, his own hands dropping to deal with her pants. He leaned in to nuzzle and nip at her jaw and cheek, chuckling at her assessment. She wasn't wrong.]

Thank goodness alcohol is a diuretic, so I'll have lots of piss for you. Oh and I'd spit too if I needed to. That's how far the romance goes. Aren't I just a keeper?

Asshole.

[Her hand slid in past his underwear to hold him, mouth moving down to find that spot she'd nipped last time, making a fresher mark over yellowing bruises.]

That isn't a 'no', you know.

[He grunted and thrust to her hand, fully hard and the alcohol making him a bit more eager than the last time. Or maybe he just knew what the expect and was looking forward to it.

He shivered at her antics, the flare of pain an instant aphrodisiac for him as he shoved himself off the wall so he could wrap his arms around her and lift her up to head for the bed. May as well break that than the wall.]

[True. They might be allowed back if they just broke furniture. Not so much if they broke the inn.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, her nails digging into the meat of his shoulders as she bit down towards his collarbone. It might help his balance a bit that she was weightless, floating along with him so they could make it to the bed with little incident.

Hopefully...]

[He made it to the bed, which may have been a small miracle given that he swayed dangerously on the way. He set her down and leaned in to kiss and bite his way up the column of her neck, hands leaving off holding her to cupping and stroking her breasts.]

Seems to me you're overdressed.

[Smooth. So smooth. He nudged at her to lay back so that he could deal with her pants. A job needed doing.]

You've still got your boots on. That's just being a dick, like fucking with socks on. Who does that?

[She lifted her butt up when he got to the point he needed to tug them down, chin digging into her chest for a moment and ruining that totally primo sour look she was giving him.]

I do apparently.

[He pulled her pants down as far as they would go before they encountered her own boots, and he managed to raise an eyebrow and pointed at them.]

Now who's the asshole? That would be you.

[He chuckled as if he had made a joke and worked his boots off, throwing them in the general direction of the door. Which door? Who cared. Then off came her pants to be flung somewhere that wasn't near where he was currently operating.

He moved to remove his own boots and nearly face-planted into her groin for his efforts. A few false endings, and he kicked them off in some random direction, nuzzling her inner thighs with his permanent stubble.]

I never claimed to be anything but, you prick.

[She helped him by wriggling, because clearly wriggling was the clue to nudity, laughing when she felt the rasp of his stubble against her thigh when he all but face planted into her crotch.]

Wow, Rumlow. You're on fucking point.

[The wiggling was not helpful, but he supposed he could appreciate the show all the same. He growled at her teasing, nipping sharply at one thigh and making some head-way in getting his pants off to join the rest of their clothes.]

I'm exactly where I wanna be, Jones. Admiring that healed bite. Do I need to give you another?

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