Trust is earned, not given

[assholic]

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.]

Comments

[ukase]

Fine, what do you want?

[Since this was all about him forcing his own agenda, they may as well take it to hers.]

[assholic]

It doesn't matter. I'm not up for you playing some kind of game with me. Coddling or pushing me. I just... I can't tonight.

[Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the day after. But tonight still had other memories fresh and raw in her mind and she'd been wanting to get away from them. Distract herself from being pissed off and angry. And here she was, pissed off and angry.]

[ukase]

So are you going to come and lay down or are you leaving?

[He was still glancing around for the other sock after all. If she didn't want to stay, he wouldn't force her.]

[assholic]

[She'd fucked him, slapped him, yelled at him, and they were both still drunk on alcohol that was more potent than it had any right to be. Lying down didn't seem the best idea. Not when she'd have to wake up and look at him in the morning. He'd be bruised. From her. And she didn't want to see that.]

I'm leaving. The room's yours for the rest of the night. Try not to fuck it up more than it already is.

[She bent down and pulled on her pants, shirt tugged on after and she looked around for her boots.]

[ukase]

[He didn't bruise that easily, but she had nailed him one, open hand or not. He sighed when her intentions were clear and rose to collect his clothing for actual real this time.

He pulled on his pants, found his missing sock half under the bed and then was pulling on his shirt. Like making a quick escape from a bedroom situation was practically muscle memory at this point. And doing it drunk... yeah, did that too.]

I'll see you around, Jones. Don't sleep in a ditch.

[assholic]

Hey, no. You're staying. That was the whole point of getting this room. I'm going home. You're staying here. For all I know, you have a concussion. And there's still the potential for weird random assholes to snag people that they're not familiar with. So sit your ass down and go to sleep.

[ukase]

Shut up, you're not my mom.

[He wasn't even going to bother to be a normal person and head out the door either. Window was how he made his great escapes.]

Go home. I'll find my own way.

[assholic]

Goddammit, are you shitting me?

[Nope. No way was she letting him crawl out a damn window.]

[ukase]

Don't shit your pants. You've only got one pair.

[He looked out to judge the distance to the ground and the potential landing. Nothing he hadn't done before. Man, his cheek really smarted when it was stuck out in the warm evening.]

Go home.

[assholic]

[Nope. Not happening. She stalked over to him, grabbing his wrist and tugging him back in.]

Sit down, you goddamn baby. We get it. You're big and tough. Rawr. Whatever. Now use the pretense of a brain you have and stay in the goddamn room.

[ukase]

[He pulled himself back in and glared at her, but he huffed and twisted his wrist free so he could sit on the bed. He was smart; he'd just wait for her to leave and then do whatever he wanted.

That way, it was all free conscience for her.]

Fine, shut the window and don't let the door hit your skinny ass on the way out.

[assholic]

[Oh, she knew that look. She'd seen it on Trish and Malcolm and, yeah, on herself. That was the 'fuck you, I do what I want' look. She sat on the windowsill, legs crossed at the ankle, arms folded across her chest.]

Nah. I think I'll sit here and watch you drift off.

[ukase]

[Whatever. He knew how the game worked. He pulled himself up and flopped on his back, closing his eyes and thinking happy weird drunk thoughts.]

Don't let the door hit your skinny ass on the way out.

[assholic]

[She found one boot half under the bed, the other buried under part of the broken headboard, and she went over to shake them free of debris before slipping them on. Her socks were somewhere, but whatever. They were socks. Her bra was somewhere as well, but she could make it home without one, so she just went to go back and sit on the windowsill.

Jessica Jones could be annoyingly patient and persistent when she wanted to be. Right now was one of those times.]

[ukase]

[Rumlow might be drunk, but he was just as willing to wait her out. He also had plenty of practice pretending to fall asleep while remaining alert. The spy life taught many fun skills after all.]

[assholic]

[She curled up on the windowsill, rubbing at her eyes occasionally as she looked over at the supposedly sleeping asshole.

She shouldn't have hit him. She knew that. Whatever he'd done, whatever he'd said, she was just lashing out because of earlier. He just had a way of finding that thing that pissed her off in the moment and pricking it repeatedly. Like an asshole.]

[ukase]

[He waited a mental set of time for the room to be quiet and then deepened and slowed his breathing, twitching his hands and feet occasionally.

She was waiting around longer than he thought she would. Drunk Jones was more impulsive sometimes.]

[assholic]

[This was what she did. She drank and she followed people and hid out until she got what she needed. All she needed now was her camera to feel really like she was back home. Even the position, curled up on the windowsill, was pretty familiar. Cramped and uncomfortable, but oddly comforting in that weird familiarity.

So much so that she didn't realize she'd been falling asleep until she was actually falling -- out of the window. A quiet little shriek heralded her waking, and it was instinct more than conscious ability that had her flight kicking in just before she hit the ground.

She's style, she's grace, she's falling right on her face, she's Ms. America...]

[ukase]

[Somewhere in the act of pretending Rumlow actually fell asleep, breathing softly where he lay. That only lasted as long as it took for Jones to fall out of the window that she had taken to roosting in, and he jerked awake with the sound of her hitting the floor.

He pushed himself up to his feet, clenching his hands into fists as if he might fend off an attack. He blinked blurry-eyed at her and then memory grudgingly came back. Right, she was supposed to have left. So was he.]

You're a fucking mess. Come and sleep on the bed. [He was already crawling back on the mattress, curling up on his side and leaving an obvious space where she could totally big spoon him.]

[assholic]

You're a fucking mess.

[Mumbled grouchily as she rubbed at her nose, scowling up at him before using the window sill to pull herself up. At least it hadn't been out onto the ground. It was still wet out there. That would have been a mess. She pushed up to her feet and continued to scowl down at him, seeing the fact that yes, he actually left a spot for her without seemingly attempting to ala back turned to her like he was sulking. Wasn't she the one that was sulking?

Right.

She slumped down to the floor, leaning her back against the wall and trying to put her muddled thoughts back together. Why, oh why, was she like this?]

[ukase]

[Well, she wasn't in a hurry to join him, and he figured that as long as she wasn't puking on the floor, it was no longer his business where she ended up as long as it wasn't dead. That would be super inconvenient for them both but mostly her.

He pillowed his head on an arm and faced the door out, waiting to see what she might do and when she was going to just up and leave.]

[assholic]

[She was too mad, both at him and at herself to just allow herself to crawl into bed with him, no matter how tempting it was. So she just settled in with her legs splayed out in front of her, head falling back against the wall. She'd passed out like this many a time. At least it didn't smell like piss.]

[ukase]

[He waited until she had passed out or he thought she might have passed out by the wall. Then he turned over to investigate the state of her consciousness, wincing as his bruising cheek settled on his arm.]

[assholic]

[She had definitely settled into a state of sleep, fitful and uncomfortable though it was. The corner would have been better, but she figured maybe she'd have a better chance of keeping him from trying to crawl out the window. Drunk logic was the best logic. She'd forgotten about the door.

Still, she stayed because whatever happened to him, good or bad, was her responsibility this evening. And she might hate it until it ground at her conscience like shards of glass, but she didn't shirk from what she needed to do. Unless it was emotional. Then fuck that shit.]

[ukase]

[Rumlow crawled from the bed when it seemed she had lost consciousness and stretched, padding over quietly and then reaching down to scoop her up from where she had settled. Yeah, it was a risk; she could punch his head off.

However, he planned on stumbling his way back to the bed with her so there was less chance of her needing a chiropractor in the morning.]