akaknightress-blog
JESSICA JONES.
ind. jessica jones.
written by michi.
2771 posts
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
Last Seen Blogs
hatredofsound
peace and quiet
spaceclassifiedsection
Space!Classified Ads
vosricemill
Zhengzhou VOS Machinery Equipment Co., Ltd.
pink-jumper
PINK JUMPER
unitaegguk
𝖙𝖆𝖊𝖌𝖌𝖚𝖐
Text
silverheartsilverskin:
routine, routine, routine. get up, work, come home, power nap and go out to try and save a city that doesn’t give a damn abut you or the work your doing. occasionally, the routine would get interrupted. love life, bills, real life duties vs masked ones—-needless to say with sight of jessica jones sprawled out in her loveseat in the living room, the regular routine would be put on hold. bright eyes flicker to the door, a brief check if jones broke the door like she had been known to do before–but no damage, on the door. jones? covered head to toe in cuts and bruises.
DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT.
that cracked a smile across anastasia’s face, enough to hide the worry settling beneath skin. what had jessica gotten herself into now?
“ i see you found the spare key. it’s fine, just a, ah… call, would’ve been appreciated. ”
locking the door with a flick of her thumb and forefinger, purse settled ontop of shoes with a drawn out sigh, anastasia’s lips were pursed in a tight line. she’s not surprised to see jessica, granted what they were. together, sloppy kisses and hands tangled in tresses, then suddenly not—a ghost in eachother’s busy lives. peeling off her coat as the private eye spoke, brows quirk in the slightest with curiosity.
hanging her coat up, cue her turning to face jessica once more, hand resting on her hip and head cocked to the left.
“ so, you’re here, to talk… about me? ” piercing blues narrow with a tired smile, hand pushing from the wall as she wandered down the hall, slow to cross to and settle on the arm of the couch a few feet away from jessica. worried eyes now had the chance to really take in the damage the other had been put through.
“ what makes me so different? i, i get it, jess. but you do this thing where you’re into me, then you’re not. you wanna get to know me, then you don’t. i’ve always been an open book to you, you could ask me anything and i’d tell you—but then you ghost on me. i wouldn’t call that fucking up per se, but it shows i’m not a priority, which i get, everyone has different ones. ” anastasia managed a chuckle, crossing her arms lazily beneath her bust. those big blue eyes might as well be burning into jessica’s soul.
“ what is it that you want, jessica? what do you really, really want between us? ”
gazing back into those piercing blue eyes proves to be a challenge she can’t consistently overcome. all while ana speaks, jones keeps her eyes locked on the floorboards, save for the occasional, quickly stolen glances. hands are knitted together between her thighs & she can’t keep still as anxiety peels away at her core until there’s just a pit in her chest. nothing that ana says is particularly harmful or aggressive, but it’s the fact that it’s all true & that jessica has no excuse for it that makes her feel so violently suffocated by the conversation already. foot is bouncing up & down with the clicking of her heel as a backdrop to their discussion, head is swiveling this way & that as she tries to find something to focus her attention on, but most of all? she’s quiet. very quiet. even when she speaks, it’s barely above a whisper.
any explanation jessica might be able to provide seems like it’d only be taken as an excuse. “ that’s completely fucking wrong. “ she finally manages to say. “ i’m never ... “ a frustrated sigh, “ i don’t stop wanting to understand you better. i don’t just ... suddenly not feel drawn to you. none of that is true. “ even if it’s how it looks, jess knows that it isn’t the case. “ i’m a goddamn loser, ana. & i mean that in an extremely, depressingly literal way. i’ve got my business, yeah, but everything leading up to that & everything about me is a big fucking zero. “ she shakes her head. “ that was fucking stupid. god, that sounded like the dorito in chief. “
one hand clasps around the wrist of her opposite arm. a nervous gesture, but less so than keeping her hands tucked between her thighs. “ i’ve fucked up just about anything i can fuck up. i’ve been fucked up most of the t imes where i could be. i’m toxic. i’m an alcoholic, that’s always fun for everyone that knows me. “ tongue slips out to wet her lips before pressing through the rest of what she has to say. “ i’m like a goddamn hurricane that just sweeps everyone up away with me. i’m a black fucking cat, ana. “
hand running up against her face to obscure a shuddering sigh, jessica ends with a bit of clarification. “ that’s how it feels, at least. then i ... think myself into a hole. when i’m down there, it doesn’t feel like anyone can or should deal with my shit. i don’t want to implode & take anyone else -- you -- down with me. i’m just a fucking coward -- i’m afraid of the pain that ... comes with -- “
whatever it is they are.
“ -- you bring out the best parts in me. & i’m also worried that my best might still not be enough to justify the baggage. so i avoid shit. like these conversations. do you really want to know why you? “
jones’ face twists at the thought. “ you want me -- jessica jones -- to go on about how great i think you are? “
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
“ something smells like shit & it isn’t me this time. maybe it’s the bar. looks like that spot over there got stained with vomit over it’s unfortunate life span. god damn, i think someone needs to burn this bar down. “
yeah, she’s a little bit drunk but it’s an improvement over how she used to be. “ i’m getting some of those shitty fucking cheese sticks if you want any. don’t worry, they’re on me. you’d be pissed if i convinced you to pay for ‘em anyway. “
from behind the bar -- where the owner had been standing just a few feet from jess, within earshot, comes a big, giant “GO FUCK YOURSELF, LADY!” which gets a somewhat sadistic cackle out of the private investigator before she launches into an equally toxic, & dispassionately delivered, response. “ what? it’s true, asshole, maybe you should clean your bar & check out how to make real cheeses ticks on youtube! i’m buying the shit anyways, right?! gordon ramsay has a goddamn youtube channel but you’re buying shit out of wawa freezers and gas stations! “
#( so this is mostly me trying to get back into jess mode )#( if anyone actually sees this or remembers i exist )#( you're more than welcome to reply to this )
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
busted lip oozes red, absorbed into the towel wrapped around a bag of ice.
from top to bottom, she’s beat up. sitting in the corner of ana’s apartment
when she comes in, a cup positioned in front of her to occasionally
spit blood in. it’s already got a good little collection going.
bundle of ice pressed against her face, jessica mumbles
out a brusque welcome -- her version of one, at least.
“ -- don’t look at me like that. “
that, in & of itself, is telling. everyone knows jones doesn’t
normally give a shit what anyone might think about her.
“ i’m fine, just got off work is all. sorry for dropping by without saying shit. “
withdrawing her cracked android phone from skinny jean pockets, it gets tossed
onto the coffee table next to the mug of blood & saliva. “ but i felt like seeing you.
to talk. “ cue a sniff as she diverts her attention, anything to fill the silence that
would have been there otherwise. jess isn’t really used to this sort of thing. “ about
you, i mean. i’m always so caught up in my own shit, “ she gestures to her beat up
face, “ but ... “ there’s a pause of frustration with herself, & she worries her tongue
against her cheek, “ look, i’ve fucked up a lot. i’m just trying not to again. with you.
i don’t know shit about most of the people in my life, i don’t want it to be that
way between us. “
@silverheartsilverskin
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
“ i’m not pissed at you. “
words come shallow, & jessica sounds defeated. “ i’m not. “ she quietly echoes,
reassuring him. “ it’s just ... “ raw throat swallows a mouthful of saliva,
head cants away from scott. “ it used to be him i seen. in my dreams.
sometimes when i’m awake. but it’s not anymore. “
fingertips drum nervously atop her knee as she struggles to be as close to
forthcoming as she can manage. admitting what ails her never feels flattering,
& although she knows there’s nothing to be ashamed of, she can’t help but to
feel overwhelmingly abashed. eventually, she forces out the words.
“ i see hope. hope shlottman. “
1 note
·
View note
Text
throbbing fists unravel at the sight of a blind man. boots scrape against concrete
as she drags herself towards the vigilante, the scent of liquor wafting off her person.
behind her on the ground is a bloodied man, injured & cowering against a dumpster.
“ what? “ comes a slow, slurred question. “ it’s not what it looks like. “ already, her
words are combative. defensive. “ a girl said no but he decided to say yes. “ jessica
cants her head back, hacking up a ball of saliva & phlegm, spitting it at the man on
the ground. “ -- tried to say yes. “ she corrects, moving to push past the daredevil.
0 notes
Text
jaw’s on loose from a good right hook, numbed to the bone & oozing red. matching this purge of emotion -- this release -- is nigh impossible, extraordinary circumstances notwithstanding. it was a hodgepodge of toxic bullshit stirred into her melting pot of trauma, drama & a bottle of jack that got her washed up at a seedy bar & half beaten asleep. not knocked out, mind you, just exhausted to the point where anyplace would do.
the pale skin of her hands are decorated in superficial cuts. scrapes on her forearms are beet red, & the smell wafting from her breath is distinctly unflattering. jessica jones sits disconnected from her world, isolated in her mind & drowning in liquor in a corner of the bar by herself. others look like they know to stay away, even the desperate men looking for a lay.
0 notes
Text
“ -- stop ... “
jessica reaches down beneath the blankets & between her legs,
gently easing anna’s head away from her. it isn’t that her lover
isn’t loving efficiently -- nor is it that there’s any less passion
there. “ i’m ... sorry. “ words hesitantly break past her lips,
eyes diverted & obviously ashamed, embarrassed. after a
moment, she stands & disappears into the bathroom, the
door shutting partway behind her. the shallow echo of
running water can be heard, along with a handful
of subdued, pitiful sniffles.
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
LIKE for a DRUNK STARTER
*Disclaimer: Mun is not responsible for any douchebaggery, forwardness, bodily fluids, gross showing of emotion or psychological breakdowns of one Jessica Jones. Side Effects may include emotional, physical or intellectual harm to consenting participants. Must be this tall to ride.
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
LIKE for a DRUNK STARTER
*Disclaimer: Mun is not responsible for any douchebaggery, forwardness, bodily fluids, gross showing of emotion or psychological breakdowns of one Jessica Jones. Side Effects may include emotional, physical or intellectual harm to consenting participants. Must be this tall to ride.
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
“ look – i’m not a bad person.
i’m just a dysfunctional asshole. “
4 notes
·
View notes