akawhiskeymess

[akawhiskeymess]

kazofdirtyhands​:

He had to be businesslike. That was the job - no personal. No warm and fuzzy. No friendship. If anyone understood that, he suspected Jessica Jones did, based on how she’d reacted to seeing him in the alley that day. No, he certainly wasn’t here as a friend, to cry out his life story over a bottle of whiskey.

Though, the bottle portion of that did sound appealing. 

Kaz had tried to see if there was anyone else who would be better for the job. Other people who investigated. But from what he knew, she was damn good at it - and didn’t ask questions. That was what he needed. No nosy reporters or people who might question his motives. Even if he never used this information, he didn’t want it spread all over town - hell, he didn’t want anyone to know he was digging for it. 

“I have a job for you.” He said, sliding a photograph across the table. It was a grainy picture of a woman in a revealing dress, ornately done hair, a heavy diamond necklace gracing her neck. Taken from the window of the room while she was in her office. One of his people had taken it quite a few years ago, when Kaz was trying to gather information on Heleen, before he’d hired Inej. Before any of the incident with one of her clients occured and Kaz learned the full story. “From what I’ve learned about you, you’re quite adept at gathering information. Not just photos, either. I need information on this woman. Evidence of her crimes. Comings and goings. Habits. I believe it will be beneficial for both of us.”

~*~

Jessica gave him a long look, but before she could say anything he had slid the picture over. She picked it up, frowning. Something about the woman immediately set her on edge, made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. “Looks like a rich bitch,” she pointed out, though that much was obvious. She hadn’t agreed to the job, and she had no reason to, but already she was thinking about what that would mean. Where a woman like this might spend her time, what kind of security she might have. 

She picked up her glass and tilted it back, but rather than motion for another she slid it away. “What the hell do you mean you’ve learned about me?” she asked. “Apparently you missed the fact that I’m not a private eye. I’m a reporter. And barely that, mostly I take pictures that end up on page twelve if I’m lucky.” She wasn’t saying no though, and they both knew it. 

Sighing heavily, she drummed her fingers on the bar. “Do I get to ask who the hell she is? Or what you want me to find out? Because it seems like you’re looking for more than generic blackmail information,” she said pointedly. “And what do I get out of this little arrangement?”

[akawhiskeymess]

Jessica doesn’t do costumes ok. 

[akawhiskeymess]

oflilacsandgooseberries​:

Sometimes a flower is just a flower and the best thing it can do for us is to die. The words echoed in her head as she glanced down at the woman struggling in the garbage. She didn’t know where the thought came from, but the sentiment certainly rang true in her mind. It’s what life had taught her – some weren’t meant to survive. Her father had certainly been content to let her be tossed to the side like trash. The woman’s scowl was a nice touch and Yennefer returned the look with a bored raise of an eyebrow. “I think the entire town has seen enough,” she retorted. They were near the lounge and she could see some of Brekker’s men watching to see if Yennefer needed any assistance with the unruly woman. With a wave of her hand, they disappeared from sight. “Is this a new journalism technique – lying in the garbage?”

~*~

Jessica glared up at the woman, and instead of struggling to stand, spread her arms wide. “Does it look like I give a shit what anyone thinks of me?” she shouted. “Like I give a shit what you think?” It was that overly calm demeanor, the superiority dripping from every word. Smug. I could slap smug, she thought vehemently. “It’s a new ‘leave me the hell alone’ technique. So far, it’s not working,” she said, rolling her eyes. Now she pushed herself up, brushing away bits of old napkins and cigarette butts. She locked eyes with the other woman. “Why do you ask? Is there a story here I should be looking into?”

[akawhiskeymess]

akahellcat​:

We leave. Trish didn’t know why the suggestion made her heart leap in her chest, like it was something she’d been waiting for Jessica to suggest – that the two of them get out of the small town and start over somewhere else. Somewhere safe. But Trish knew in her gut that she was supposed to be here in Echo Springs and starting over somewhere else wasn’t in the cards for her. “How much have you had to drink already?” she asked with a hint of teasing in her town, trying to keep out the edge of concern that wanted to come out at the sight of her only friend barely able to stand on her own. She didn’t touch Jessica, but she stood close enough to reach out if she needed to. “You’ve lived here your whole life, and… I…” She was tired of starting over. Tired of the stares and the gossip that swirled around her every time she tried to settle somewhere new. Tired of being tired. But it wasn’t just that. It was the three little letters haunting her from the docks and those files – IGH. It was a mystery that needed to be solved. A mystery she needed to solve. “I spent most of my savings on rehab, so I’m not in the best place to pick up and move again, unless I want to cash in on my life story and make a movie about it.”

~*~

Trish was standing close. So close, that if it were almost anyone else, Jessica would’ve knocked them on their ass. But it felt... strangely okay, having her here. Right by her side. Jessica smirked at the question and took another swig. “I don’t think the answer would be very good for your sobriety,” she pointed out. She didn’t even know where they were headed right now -- if they were even walking in a specific direction. Did it even matter? She bit her lip, mulling Trish’s words over. She had grown up here, she had buried her parents here. She had never lived anywhere else. But it didn’t feel like home. It never had. “I Saw The Light, the Patsy story,” Jessica quipped, looking over at Trish. “Why’d you do it anyway?” she asked. “Go to rehab. Walk away from all that shit?”

[akawhiskeymess]

It was that woman. The one who looked like she never went out in the sun, from the cafe. Janice? No. Jessica Jones. A mutual acquaintance of Brekker’s. Great. Harold shoved his hands into his pockets, and sighed. They were standing far enough away from the public that he felt like he didn’t have to put on his mayoral persona, and he had a sneaking suspicion that this woman wouldn’t fall for it anyway.

“Nah,” he said, casually. “It’s not an attack. It’s those Kevinian people. The ones who live in the woods.” He stood on his tiptoes to see over the crowds. “The Chief of Police told me. That’s one of the things about being Mayor. You get the inside scoop.” He flashed Jessica a smile. “They’re just walking through town. God knows why. The police don’t want everyone gawking at them, so they cordoned everything off. But it’s nothing to worry about.” He paused, before turning to her properly. “You’re Jessica Jones, right? I don’t think we introduced ourselves when we met last time.”

~*~

 She’d asked the question sarcastically, but his flippant answer was still unnerving. When she first saw the commotion, the lights and cop cars and the crowd gathering, she thought it was another body. But the thought of pushing through that crowd made her skin crawl. She’d been counting on the mayor to know what was going on -- he might’ve been aggravating as hell, but he had the connections she didn’t. For once, he didn’t disappoint.

“The cops are doing just a fabulous job at stopping the gawking” she said, rolling her eyes. But secretly, she was relieved. She wasn’t thrilled about The Community, but they seemed mostly harmless. Which was more than could be said for most religious weirdos. She turned towards the mayor and narrowed her eyes. It wasn’t exactly difficult to match her up to her articles, get her name that way, but she didn’t like the way it sounded coming from him. Like he was trying to make her nervous by mentioning her full name so casually. “I didn’t think you’d care,” she said jauntily. “I’m just a lowly reporter after all. Don’t you have a full schedule coming up with bullshit excuses on why the killer hasn’t been found yet?”

[akawhiskeymess]

karazoreldanvers​:​

Kara was frowning, looking at the board in front of her with all the information she knew about the bodies in the woods. And what she knew? Was nothing. Arms crossed, she muttered, “hm? Yeah, sure…” Something was up, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Kara tilted her head, frown deepening for a second before the words registered. “Wait!” she said, holding up a hand before Jessica could leave. It was just the two of them at the office, because gods forbid that the editors work as much as their employees. “What’s wrong with this picture?”

~*~

All she wanted to do was find one of the bars that she wasn’t currently banned from and have a nice long drink. Or rather, a nice long weekend of drinking. Cheapest shit on the shelf, that’s all she needed. And she was almost out clean, but Danvers held up a hand at the last second. Jessica sighed, but she stopped, turning to look at the board the other reporter had set up. Photos of the bodies and crime scene tape, maps of the woods with pushpins indicating dump sites, coroner's reports with notes scrawled in Danvers’ careful handwriting.  “I don’t know,” she said, shrugging. But she couldn’t look away from the puzzle in front of her. Her brow furrowed. “None of them are from here,” she said, tapping a photo. “Not a single one. No one knows who they are, where they came from -- so what’s the point in dumping them here?” 

[akawhiskeymess]

akahellcat​:

luckily for me, i have all my best ideas drunk. ​

Jessica Jones was drunk, and Trish was learning that it was a more common occurrence than she’d originally hoped for in her first real connection here in Echo Springs. Because of course the only person who treated her like a normal human being would be a borderline-alcoholic. Borderline only because they didn’t talk about it. They didn’t talk about Trish’s well known past and they didn’t talk about whatever it was that made Jess drink so that whiskey was just part of the woman’s natural scent at this point. “Sure you do,” Trish said as she reached out a hand, just short of touching the woman in case the brunette decided to tip over. “And what’s tonight’s great idea?”

~*~

Jessica saw the hand reaching out, but it didn’t make her stiffen or flinch. She was probably just too drunk to care (but she was never too drunk to care about that). It didn’t mean anything. Just like the fact that Trish’s face had started to slip into her dreams -- not her nightmares, but her dreams -- didn’t mean anything. She took another swig from her flask, pointedly looking away from the other woman. “We leave,” she said, swiping a hand across her mouth. “We get the hell out of this shithole town, leave it as far goddamn behind us as we possibly can.” She smirked wryly, an expression that didn’t really reach her eyes. “Before we wind up as one of those bodies on the edge of the woods.”

[akawhiskeymess]

@oflilacsandgooseberries​ “some people just aren’t born to stand on their own.”

“Oh, screw off,” Jessica snapped, scrubbing her face with one hand. “Is that supposed to be funny?” The trash bags squeaked as she tried to push herself up. Her hand slipped, and she was back down in the pile of them. “This is goddamn disgusting,” she muttered. “Who the hell just piles their garbage on the side of the goddamn road?” She got her hands under her again and managed to push herself up successfully. The other woman was still standing there. “What, you haven’t seen enough?” she asked, scowling. “You want to take a picture? It’ll last longer.” 

[akawhiskeymess]

@kazofdirtyhands​ “we’re gonna have to work together.”

“Really,” Jessica deadpanned. She didn’t even look up at him from her drink. “That’s not exactly the impression I got from our last interaction.” When she’d found him curled up in an alleyway, and he’d tried to strangle her. There was something about him, something she just couldn’t figure out. The logical goddamn thing would’ve been to walk the hell away and stay gone, but... It was like her day job, some stories just wouldn’t let her go. 

And Kaz had a hell of a story. That much was obvious. Jessica turned to him now, eyes steely. “Christ, fine. Spit it out already, so I can get back to my drink,” she said, leaning back. “What exactly are we working on?”

[akawhiskeymess]

They say everyone’s born a hero. But if you let it, life will push you over the line until you’re the villain. Problem is, you don’t always know that you’ve crossed that line. Maybe it’s enough that the world thinks I’m a hero. Maybe if I work long and hard, maybe I can fool myself. – JESSICA JONES

[akawhiskeymess]

@akawhiskeymess @allonsywho @teethonedge

BIRDS OF PREY SENTENCE STARTERS   —  quotes pulled from the 2020 film. feel free to make alterations.

i had to find a new identity. a new me.

you made me wanna be a less terrible person.

how do you feel about pet names?

i’m not proud of what i did.

so… we broke up.

psychologically speaking, vengeance rarely brings the catharsis we hope for.

i’m the only one who can protect you! 

luckily for me, i have all my best ideas drunk.

if we’re apologizing for shit, i should tell you something.

i underestimated you, and i’m sorry.

chillax. no one knows we’re here.

it’s not a party without a little drama, am i right?

you’re really not as complicated as you think.

what a way to start my new life.

i’m gonna get you outta here.

for the first time, in a long time, i’m all on my lonesome.

you said they wouldn’t find us.

i don’t have rage issues!

we’re gonna have to work together.

if you don’t mind, i’m going to leave now.

some people just aren’t born to stand on their own.

i thought you were different.

christ, you’re boring.

isn’t this fun? it’s just like a sleepover.

you’re just a silly little girl with no one around to protect her.

i lost all sense of who i was.

paying is for dummies!

if you try to run, i will kill you.

hate to be the one to break it to you, sweetheart, but you are not done.

i’m just a terrible person, i guess.

oh hey, you’re the asshole no one likes.

i really like how you were able to kick in those tight pants.

[akawhiskeymess]

inejofwraiths​:

*

Inej’s brow quirked at the woman’s question. What kind of question was that? Perhaps it had something to do with Star Wars. To be fair, it was a series of movies that Inej had never seen before. They weren’t exactly popular in her country. She knew it was more popular in America, but she still wasn’t particularly interested. Perhaps she could rope Kaz into suffering through them with her. Then again… Maybe not. 

The town of Echo Springs was a curious place. Inej wasn’t sure what it was particularly. It was just odd. The bodies that were showing up in the woods didn’t help matters. “Do you think they’re trying to cover it up?” She asked out of curiosity. Perhaps she’d mention this to Kaz. “I’m willing to help if I can,” she offered. Inej looked back out towards the men in the alleyway and nodded. “Let’s.” 

~*~

Jessica shook her head. “I don’t think they’re corrupt. Just incompetent,” she explained. She knew that much from personal experience. The cops who’d handled her situation had been less than helpful — but they hadn’t seemed malicious. It wasn’t like they were trying to protect the man who’s face she could never picture. They just didn’t want to try to do their goddamn jobs. And that story seemed to be repeating itself now. Only this time, it wasn’t just one life being ruined. It was multiple lives, being ended. And if she couldn’t get her own justice, then she could at least try to get some for those poor goddamn people in the woods.

She didn’t say this aloud. They didn’t even know each other’s names, let alone their motivations for looking into this. Still... something felt familiar here. And when the other woman spoke, offering her help, Jessica nodded, trusting in it. For now, anyway. “I’m Jessica,” she said. “Jessica Jones. You are?”

[akawhiskeymess]

karazoreldanvers​:

***

Kara’s nose crinkled at Jessica’s lewd statement. She should have expected it coming from Jessica Jones but it still managed to take her by surprise. Sometimes she wondered if Jessica just liked saying those things to get a rise out of Kara in particular.

She mustered up some amount of composure and put a smile back on her face. “No. I just eat a lot of pizza,” she said. There was the occasional salad, but you would never catch Kara Danvers eating something like kale. “And a daily walk in the park.” Those walks sometimes came with frequent stops to pet the many dogs that she would meet in the park, but she was still exercising technically.

~*~

“Right,” Jessica drawled, giving Kara a look. The woman did have a big appetite, Jessica had seen it in action at office parties. Where she put it, that was a mystery unto itself. “Does it seriously never bother you how goddamn pointless those meetings are?” she asked, jerking her thumb back towards the conference room. “They never ask our opinion about a goddamn thing, but if we don’t show up, they dock our pay. How the hell does that make sense?” She shook her head. “If they’re gonna force us to show up, we might as well get something useful out of it. Like sleep.” 

[akawhiskeymess]

akahellcat​:

***

You don’t have to apologize for existing. She looked back at the stars for an excuse not to let Jessica see her face. The woman couldn’t possibly know how much apologizing Trish had left to do. She wasn’t sure she could ever apologize enough for the things she’d done with her existence.

“I would be lying if I claimed to love the small town life,” she said with a roll of her eyes and a slight grin. “No woods to hide bodies in the middle of the city either.”

~*~

The silence was very telling, but Jessica didn’t pry. She knew what it was like, to have secrets and shame. She knew the weight that pressed into your shoulders, threatening to break you a little more each and every day. They couldn’t have been more different, the two of them. From looks to backgrounds to jobs. And yet, here they were. And in some ways, it felt like she was looking into a mirror, some things reversed and flipped, but some things perfectly reflected, crystal clear and startling. 

“Can’t say I blame you,” she said quietly. Echo Springs was all she’d ever known, but it never felt like home. Never felt right. “You going to stay here long, or... heading back as soon as you can?”

[akawhiskeymess]

snowflakesandpawprints​:

“Well I’m glad we agree there,”

Yuri had always been more of a worker than a socializer, sure he would like to have more freinds… any freinds… and maybe someone who was more than just a freind… but if he didn’t have that in his life, well….

“Ah, I understand, I wish I could help you out with that but unfortunately I don’t have a liquor license… not that I have anything here anyway but um… even if I did I wouldn’t be able to help…. sorry…”

Maybe he should get a liquor license though, it’d probably make him less awkward to be drunk.…

“Oh not very long, just a couple of months if I remember correctly, that’s pretty neat though, that you’ve lived in one place all your life,”

~*~

Jessica laughed, the sound rough and scoff-like. “Have you ever even been drunk?” she asked, arching a brow. “Because something tells me it’d be a real goddamn sight.” She waved off his apologies, shaking her head. “I buy in bulk and carry my own supply,” she assured him. She shrugged a shoulder, and picked at the sample box. “I guess. Some people would opt for tragic instead of pretty neat, and they’d have a point. It’s not like this is the most impressive town in the world.” 

[akawhiskeymess]

akahellcat​:

***

“Probably just saying that to avoid the embarrassment,” she said with a shrug. “Like all the guys that get awkward picking up underwear for their girlfriend. Like I might judge them for being a semi-decent human being. And if they want to wear women’s underwear, I’m not going to judge either way.”

At the mention of that name, Trish glared at Jessica and leaned over the counter. “My manager is the only one who knows,” she hissed. That and the store owner. “If my co-workers find out? I might discover the next level of retail hell.” Thankfully the store was nearly empty, but she could see one of her co-workers across the room eyeing her with suspicion. Trish was never one to make much small talk with the customers.

~*~

“You caught me, I have a secret, undying love for socks with little umbrellas and sandcastles on them,” Jessica said, her tone flat but her smirk firmly in place. “That’s nothing. You ever seen a guy buy tampons for his girlfriend? Or even just put them on the conveyor belt? You’d think he was going to melt just from touching the shit,” she said, laughing roughly. 

She arched a brow. “Really?” she asked. But she held up her hands. “Okay, okay. They’re not gonna hear it from me. I just thought... I don’t know, even I watched it when I was growing up,” she shrugged. She paused, biting her lip. “What time you done here?”

[akawhiskeymess]

saxons​:

As Harold stared at the fob watch, running his fingertips over the indented symbols, he listened to the drums, and imagined them inside his skull – a pulse in the back of his brain, a flickering, beating, thing. He could feel it. He couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t. It was as if he’d woken up one day, years and years ago, and just noticed the noise. Not that it had never been there. He’d just never noticed it. Like a mole on his skin, or an unexplained bruise, or a cut. It had been there – that drumbeat – but he’d only realised when he heard it. Ticking away in his head – sometimes loud, sometimes soft, but always there. That one, two, three, four. One two three four –

He gripped the watch, and felt like if he could just open it, something would happen. Something magnificent, something insane and glorious and completely inevitable. But it wouldn’t open. He was like a squirrel with a nut, like a stupid ape with a puzzle to solve. But as he listened to the drums, he could have sworn they weren’t just in his head – they were inside the watch too, like a heartbeat, quick and doubled, pulsing inside the fob watch, behind the silver face of it. Maybe, if he opened it, he would see a twitching, tiny, heart, instead of a clock face. It was easy to imagine that. It was so easy to imagine so many things. They came to him at night. Images. Darkness; and small, pathetic, fires, sputtering against the blackness, with hunched over figures beside them, sobbing and screaming like toddlers. A tiny doll inside a lunchbox, compressed down to fit and placed in there. A pile of bones with flesh half-gnawed off still clinging to them, human teeth marks clearly visible on the meat. Crazy, incongruous, scraps of images, jumping and flickering like old films.

Harold Saxon knew madness. It lived in his head – a pulsing, beating, alive, thing. And he nurtured it like a pet. Every time he deliberately wore his green signet ring when he hit Lucy – to leave a cut, of course – every time he tapped along to the noise, or twitched his head in an involuntarily movement when he heard it – as he capered through life, laughing when nothing was funny, smiling at suffering, and always hating everyone – he let it grow a little more. That madness. That heat.

But a part of it was inside this watch. He was sure of it. He stared and stared at the thing, sure that the symbols meant something – if he could just understand them. And then the woman spoke, and Harold was there again, in the cafe, still mayor of this stupid town. He looked up, and met her gaze. His first thought was that she was pretty. His second was that she’d been incredibly rude.

“No, not really,” he replied, casually. “Why? I’m guessing you mind?” He tapped the edge of the watch on the table top, before slipping it into his coat pocket, where he felt it press heavily against his hip. “What are you reading?” he asked, without warning, his quick gaze darting to the paper in her hands. He stood up, walked quickly around behind her, and squinted at it, catching a few words of the headline – Hell’s Kitchen – Bus accident – He lost interest, and instead walked around to the chair opposite her, and dropped like a stone down onto it, like a marionette with its strings cut. “Morbid,” he said, raising his eyebrows and nodding at the article. And then, as he got a good look at her, he realised he knew her. Sort of. He decided to tell her.

“I know you,” he said, resting his elbows on the table and leaning forwards to stare at her, trying to place her. “You’re a… reporter, aren’t you? You were at my last speech. You had a camera. Same jacket. Do you own any others?” He wrinkled his nose in judgement, and let it go, pleased with himself that he’d been able to place her.

~*~

“Oh wow, I’m shocked,” Jessica deadpanned, her face stony. The mayor was considered charming, but all Jessica had ever seen when she looked at him was sleaze. More than usual for a politician, that is. But it was more than that, more than him being another politician doing bullshit things and coasting for a few months on the public tax dollars. It was something about how he carried himself, how he smiled and laughed so loudly, like a hyena trying to convince everyone it wasn’t dangerous. It was his suits, though they never seemed to fit him very well, they still screamed I play by different rules than you do. It was that cold, distant look in his eye when he thought no one was paying attention. The disdain she sometimes thought she saw in her photos of him. A look like that, it wasn’t just arrogant or superior — it felt dangerous.

“Yeah, I do actually,” she said. “So if you could just shut the—“ Before she could finish, he had reached over, snatching the article from her hands. Her jaw fell open and the fury surged through her. Saxon didn’t seem to care, or even notice. He came over, sat down like a freakin’ muppet, and gave his dismissive summary of the article after barely glancing at it.

“My clothing is none your goddamn business. Give that back,” she hissed, holding out her hand. But knowing him — or at least, guys like him, because most guys were just goddamn like him — he probably wouldn’t give it just because she asked. Or because it was hers, or from any shred of decency in him. The more she asked, the more fun this game would be for him. And that just made her even more frustrated. She tried to snatch for it, but missed. 

She sat back and took a breath, though it did little to soothe her nerves. “They say there’s no such thing as bad publicity, but I promise you, I can generate some,” she seethed. “Mayor Makes an Ass of Himself in Local Cafe makes for a great headline, don’t you think?” She clenched her jaw tight and held out her hand again. “You’re not a king, and you’re not a toddler. Quit acting like it, or I swear to god I will call you Mayor Shithead in every goddamn headline I write from now on.” Not that her editors would let her. They probably still had their Vote Saxon bumper stickers. But he didn’t need to know that.