nysalogs | Gravity -- why hath thou forsaken me?

Entry tags:

Gravity -- why hath thou forsaken me?

Who: Jessica Jones (

assholic) & Clark Kent (

apricitous) & OPEN
What: New ability rearing its head
When: December 07 - December 14
Where: Closed log @ her and Clark's home, randomly around Wyver.
Warning(s): Language? Will adjust if needed

Whether it was the Orbiters enhancing something she already had or something new creeping into her system, Jessica Jones was now capable of more than just 'falling with style'. Her morning with Clark and how well that had gone (/sarcasm) was making her a little concerned about having to leave the house. As to what that meant to others?

They might come across a scowling woman clutching onto a doorway. Or a tree. Or maybe she's reached out and grabbed someone -- perhaps a little too hard? Anyone noticing this might also notice that during these times, her feet might not always touch the ground, and if she's grabbed onto someone, that someone might feel an odd upward tug.

God help anyone that makes her jump. She'll remember you. She'll owe you.

[Feel free to PM about specifics or pp me @

junglewere. Open prompts for anyone in Wyver, but she can be pinged/messaged by people in Olympia if anyone happens to gossip.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

There's a blur... and then the plate is clean. And arms go right back where they were as he tilts his head expectantly.

She couldn't help it. It just came out of her mouth without her being able to stop herself. "That must either come in really handy, or make people really disappointed."

... Oh no. She did not.

Except she did. She was going to just blink at herself, then tilt her chin up as if she'd meant to do that, taking another sip of cooling coffee.

"I can also make it vibrate."

He just lets that hang in the air because it wasn't as if the city had invented sex, after all.

"Not that that's here nor there with what we're talking about."

She was going to have to put her hard earned money into buying new mugs, because that was the second one she just broke in her hand. Thankfully, she didn't cut herself this time, but he could have the joy of the gaping look of surprise she gave him before that silence-cutting crack. "Well."

It was a good thing that she had a mess to clean up, because it kept her from looking where she shouldn't be looking. Goddammit, Clark. She had to live with you. "What were we talking about?" She'd forgotten.

Clark was no stranger to shame, but it had nothing to do with sex or not talking about sex or anything related to sex. The comment had done it's job, though, of snapping Jessica out of that particular funk.

"We were talking about the next phase in you learning how to fly. Think we should try it out here? I think the ceiling's a little higher here."

She almost put a coffee-smeared hand on her face, stopping at the last minute and opting to roll her eyes at him instead. "You're a jerk, you know that?" A kind of attractive, shameless jerk -- a fact that kind of only made him more attractive. She didn't like shy or bashful. She had no use for it. She said what she wanted. And if he kept that up...

"What if I don't want to learn how to fly? What if I just want to go buy a diver's belt and maybe invest in getting fat?"

He just nods to the first, because he's been called much worse, and leans back to cross his legs at the ankles.

"One, a diver's belt won't work because you're affecting your personal gravity and it will just adapt around the belt. And two, same thing with getting fat, even ignoring the difficulty there given your metabolism."

He doesn't say "try again" but the headtilt says it loud and clear.

"I could try." No, she couldn't. She would always be a rail. Even without her drinking problem. Still, it was the stubbornness that had her squinting up at him before she gathered all the bits of the cup in a towel and threw them out, then went back to mopping up her mess. Great. She had coffee all over her pants. Now she'd have to do laundry again. Thanks, Clark. Goddamn alien vibrating tentacle dick...

After a moment of musing, she thought she came up with something. "I could get a grappling hook." That should at least keep her from flying off, right?

He'd actually been referencing his tongue, but it wasn't incorrect regardless.

The grappling hook gets a rather withering look. Seriously, Jessica? Seriously?

Yeah, well, Jessica didn't get oral enough for her mind to go there. Bigger picture, Clark. Apparently a much bigger picture. Stop harshing her fantasy. God.

"What? If I start floating off and I'm outside, I can just... shoot a tree." Yeah, she was still kind of stuck on the previous topic and her brain was having a hard time getting out of that thought-rut. Clearly it was time to go change her pants. She just walked past him, ignoring him and blatantly not looking at anything that may or may not vibrate.

Clark just breathed in deep, turned, washed his dish properly, put it in the drying rack, and went to go to the living room.

"I'll be here whenever you feel like working on it."

...GRAPPLING hook. Goodness.

She stuck her tongue out at him through the door. He couldn't see it. She could do what she wanted. Then she took her pants off, threw them on the ground, and stood there, hands on her hips, scowling. She was right back where she'd started, and he was probably laughing at her. With his stupid vibrating body parts. She'd hate him if he wasn't so goddamn nice.

Sticking her tongue out at the wall again, she grabbed her clean jeans and yanked them on, muttering under her breath before finding her socks to put on, then her boots. Then pulling off her shirt, because she might as well do a full load, and putting on a bra and a new shirt. Look at her, acting like an adult. Then she stomped back out into the living room. "Don't you have to work. Or like... be bright and shiny somewhere?"

He doesn't even look up.

"Switched shifts with someone else for the day. My shift's Saturday, now."

"When did this happen?" It better not have been today, Clark. He better not have shifted his schedule for her.

"A couple of days ago," he says as he finally does look up. What the hell, Jessica? Why do you care? "It's easier to go shopping during the weekdays. And I wanted to try and get a few things for people."

"Oh. Right." Jesus, Jessica. The world did not revolve around you. Even if it felt like it was crumbling down on her head at any given moment. She went to go sit in what was now 'her' chair; Clark got the couch to himself, big boy that he was. She tapped her fingers on the armrests, looking anywhere but at him. "Guess you're into that whole holiday shit, considering you've decked the place out."

That just gets an even nod. Yes, he likes the holidays. He's not really Christian, per se, but he likes the holiday for what it's become. His parents were, theoretically, Methodist, but he was never brought to church other than for holidays and bake sales and that was more about the community.

"As long as you don't try to spread your holiday cheer all over me, I don't care." No gifts, Clark. She didn't like getting stuff. She could get stuff on her own. Alcohol stuff. And more jeans. "So... shouldn't you be out doing that? The early boyscout gets the cookie, or some shit."

"It's six in the morning?" Which isn't so much a question as... seriously?

"Isn't that late for farmer types? Shouldn't you be up with the cocks..."

No, wait, bad phrasing. That was just making her think of that thing she shouldn't be thinking of. And now it was time to get up and get an actual drink of actual alcohol-- except pushing up from the chair and trying not to think of super vibrating rumble dicks apparently distracted her enough that she pushed up... and then kept going. "Oh... for fuck's sake."

His eyes are still, technically, on his book. But he glances up at her.

"Would you like my assistance?"

She has her teeth clenched, face pressed to the ceiling. She doesn't look down at him when she answers. "Would you like to suck my dick?" She pushes off from the ceiling, moving back down halfway to the floor, then just sort of... hovering there. Well, that was better than bouncing back up.

He's still on the couch, book still in hand.

"You'd have to ask me out for drinks before I considered it. Lucky you, I'm a cheap date."

The book closes.

"I'm not your nanny. I'm not going to tell you what to do. But if you want my help, you have it. So... do you want my assistance?"

She tries to grab for him, but she's just windmilling in the air, kicking her feet and getting nowhere. She huffs, slumping, which looks utterly ridiculous in midair. "I hate you."

"As you like." Book is opened again. "Well, if you change your mind, I'm here."

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Haha, that face.

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