// aka HELLCAT

never before has ava starr needed to care for another person but herself. her entire life, from the tragedy onward, was characterized by a desperate, insatiable need for SURVIVAL, a sharp-toothed, gnawing hunger crying out in pain. AGONY.      (  it hurts. it always hurts  ).     yet even her own self-care, she knows, is a two-person job. whether it be bill foster. or janet van dyne. or maria hill. or anyone else — it’s a challenge to be completely, irrevocably independent when she awakes most mornings feeling like nothing more than a fading ghost, a shell of a person — when steady hands need to brush her teeth or hold her fork because ava, herself, cannot. so perhaps there is a sort of  VINDICATION  in all of this — this role reversal — patricia, in her drunken stupor, strewn on the bathroom tile, needing, of all people, ava’s help.

❝  — im not sweet. or nice,  ❞ mumbles she after a moment — stumbling towards the medicine cabinet as she all but drags the latched trish walker along with her.  ❝  — and i’m definitely not good, trish — but i — just want to help you. you’ve done so much for me — you’ve taken care of me. now i can return the favour. ❞  it takes a moment, perhaps two. if not a little longer for ava to muster the will to control her phasing entirely — for the cabinet to open via pallid fingertips, and for the ibuprofen to slide out of the bottle, then. for a glass to fill with tap water. were she in her suit, perhaps these simple tasks may have posed less of a challenge, but trish needs her now, and so she relies on whatever inner strength remains in her fractured soul.  ❝  — here,  ❞ offers she, palm extending with the little capsule and the filled glass. a moment later she’s settling them both back onto the rickety floor of her lacklustre apartment loo, toilet lid ajar as ava makes one quivering-fingered attempt to fasten the hellcat’s hair into a bun, then sighs.  ❝  — do you want to talk about it? why you drank so much tonight? is it about jessica —? ❞

“ liiiees! slander! you’re the NICEST, avie! ava! you’re taking care of meee!!! so! nicest! the end! yay! “ the redhead is half strewn on the floor--- rolling onto her ass and back with a burst of giggles. she can’t comprehend--- especially not in this state--- why ava wouldn’t think she’s nice. and sweet! did someone tell her that before----?

“ ---did someone tell you you’re not sweet and nice? cus they’re lying! and i’ll come after them! hellcat! rawr! “ trish accompanies the animal like noise with a swipe of her hand--- fingers bent like claws. hellcat would get them! prove ava is nice! by--- beating them up! and showing them evidence! of how great she is!

“ ----ohhh. ava thank youuu but i’m an addict! no more drugs for me! “ 

maybe she. doesn’t recognize that the pill is ibuprofen in her current inebriated state. maybe she sort of wishes it was something stronger. maybe because--- “ buuut if you got it for me--- “ she’s taking the pill now and swallowing it dry. follows with water-- then blinks. pauses. looks. confused.

“ hm? i was having fun!--- “ about. jessica. her face all. trish. groans. a loud noise--- head hitting her knees.

“You want my opinion?” Jason asks as he stands there in front of the bench, raised to be a detective himself. He might not be great as Tim, but he was still good at putting pieces of a puzzle together. 

“I think the demon one sounds more interesting.” Jason replies before lifting his beverage to his lips, taking a sip of the coffee. 

“oh, it’s all mom.” hugo confirmed. despite having his father’s colouring, he looked far more like pepper than he did tony. looking over at patsy, the little dancer grinned. it was funny how, for a boy so giddy and silly, two of his biggest interests were things that took themselves very seriously – and this meeting with his potential employer was indeed very serious. it was a little foreign for him, but he wanted to impress all the same.

nodding a little, hugo sighed. “i just don’t think big, serious, tough lawyers are gonna take delicate, five-two me seriously. you know?”

「 FUCK SENTENCE STARTERS. ⋮  @hcllacious . 」⋮

「   ❝  →  fuck, i’m so wasted.  ❞  」⋮

how is she supposed to help her drunk friend when ava can barely manage to keep her held upright —? it takes every, reserved ounce of her focus to keep herself TANGIBLE, patricia’s arm strewn over ava’s shoulder as the ghost hobbles them towards her manhattan safe house. one elevator ride later and the familiar ding invites them into her humble abode, but ava takes little more than a cursory glance around before trudging them towards the bathroom. care, compassion, concern dull the assassin’s eyes as she nudges her companion towards the vacant toilet lid ──  trembling fingers carefully pulling back patricia’s tattered locks, sticky with liquor and ─  some other bodily fluids she has no desire to place. ava sighs.

❝   ──  can i  ─  get you anything else, trish? some water ─?   crackers ─?   ❞

It had taken a long time for Wren to feel any semblance of normalcy, and she tended to be rather standoffish any time that people made her feel otherwise. Especially if she didn’t know the person particularly well. Bending over to pick up the soccer ball, her shirt slipped up her back, revealing part of a nasty scar. Wren didn’t even notice until she looked up and caught someone staring.

Her expression hardened into a glare. “What?” she snapped.

well. that was certainly defensive, wasn’t it? patsy had been minding her own business--- taking a walk through central park to ease her nerves--- (long day! long long, long day and there was no jen around to drink and moan at. how was she suppose to cope with things if she couldn’t drink and complain?!) and well. she hadn’t meant to stare of course. it just happened! it was a large scar--- pretty garish---

         “ ---sorry. sorry! just--- that looks pretty bad. i’ve got a few like that. there’so only so much scar remover cream can do, huh? “  the redhead tilted her head in a little smile--- hands raised in a ‘its okay’ motion. 

“i’ve gotta go to a meeting today,” hugo began, talking aloud but clearly interested in getting the opinion of the person beside him. it was an important thing, this wretched meeting, and as charming as the little dancer could be, he sometimes hated having to put on his serious ‘lawyer face’. it could be terribly boring. “tell me – does this look nice, but like i’m still serious?”

❝  ───    so i take it the heroic hell’s kitten only showed her face here to give me another lecture? funny how drinking makes me the bad guy   ─   but killing my mother? makes you a hero. huh. sounds like bullshit to me.  ❞

years ago patricia walker might have told her to curb her sarcasm. years ago jessica jones might have listened. but jess will be damned if she bases her current actions on the memories of years ago ( there’s before killgrave. and there’s after killgrave )  .  no — this jessica has no time for formalities. no time for pleasantries with her once best friend. once person-turned-whatever trish is now  ( a stranger? another costumed hero with whom jessica is doomed to have a run in at midnight in a dimly lit new york city alleyway?  )

❝  ──   you contact my partners in order to keep tabs on me now?  ❞

lips curve down into a scowl ──  true to her nature, the investigator takes a blatant swig of her bottle ─ a swig which turns to a gulp and a moment later she’s chugging.  every swallow resonates off the battered walls of alias investigations, where chipped paint does little to cover the marred runes of fight after fight, murder after murder, death after death. ( she used to wonder when trish would be next. when every awful fucking thing that plagues jessica’s life, leaving those around her to rot six feet under, would finally claim the last breath of the one person she always cared for. she used to wonder. she did. but she doesn’t anymore ──   not since trish became one of those very killers ) .

❝  ──────  do you wanna shove your face up my ass, too? you’re definitely kissing it enough.  ❞ crude? maybe. warranted? well. it’s been years, sure. but a grudge is a grudge when the only person you’ve trusted decided to do the unthinkable.

❝  ── besides.  im not hungry. got all the sustenance i need right here ─  ❞ there’s a sloshing of whiskey in a bottle in response. ❝  ──  so why don’t you go fuck right back off to where you came from, trish?  ❞

it’s deserved. patsy--- trish--- knows it’s deserved.        ( she’s always trish to jessica. it’s their special thing. was---? is. she still calls her trish. she’s just grateful she hasn’t started to call her patricia or walker yet. ) it’s well deserved but--- it still hurts. every word feels like a knife to her heart.             (a stab in her back. except. she did that to jess, didn’t she? damn it, patsy. ) and the pain is blatantly apparent on her face. it’s a little shift in her posture--- the crinkle of her brows. a twitch of her lips as a frown starts to take over her expression. she’s quick to try and push it back. swallow it down. forces a neutral expression onto her face and breathes in. then out. 

         “ ---they’re my friends too, jess. not just your partners. claire’s helped me out before and luke and i are close. you know that. “ she’s breathing the words out now and dragging a hand through her hair while walking forward. she’s ignoring how jessica clearly wants her out of her hair. out of her place of business. it’s fine. if she really wants her out--- well. jess can drag her out. make her leave. trish wants to try and--- well. she doesn't know what she wants to try and do. fix this? she's tried over the years. build a bridge again?         ( she wants to try and get her best friend back. but jess---- god. she's always been stubborn. always been a bit of a bitch--- but it was okay before. she was trish's bitch. )

         " mmmm if i was kissing your ass i'd come in here saying how happy i was about how well you're doing. i'd lie, jess. because you're not doing well. clearly. by you being on the bottle. again. " could she say anything? how many times had she fallen off the wagon or almost fallen off?         ( but that was talking about her. they're not here to talk about her today. ) she's placing the bag on the desk in front of jess. arches a brow as she sits down in her clients' chair. the smile is back on her face. forced. strained. but. there.

                ❝  ──────   alias investigations.  ❞

her tone is quipped, arguably laced with agitation. brows pull together and lips draw taut, fingers deftly screwing the lid off a bottle of whiskey — she brings the glass lip to rest between her teeth, tilts her head back, then swallows.    ❝  — i’m busy,  ❞     jessica drawls with a throat burning fire. she takes a blatant moment’s pause to recline back in her chair, legs propping up on her wooden desk with a decisive  thud.  she then proceeds to do ──  absolutely nothing in order to quell the roll of her eyes as her head tilts and she follows up with an irritated,

                              ❝  ───  what do you want?  ❞

         " busy what? killing your liver, jess? what’d luke say if he saw you back on the bottle, huh? or claire? they’d chew you out. “ she’s never shocked anymore when she sees jess back to drinking. shocked? no. disappointed....? that’s another thing entirely. not that she’d ever voice it like that. she’s sure jess knows what patsy--- no trish when she’s with jess--- thinks of her drinking anyway.          ( doesn’t approve. but jess told her a long time ago she has no say in her life anymore. not after how things had ended. ) 

         “ ---luke mentioned you hadn’t come home in a while. “ her tone is sad--- concerned--- sympathetic. a lot of morose feelings that are easily identifiable in the expression she gives jess as well as she walks into the office. the door clicks behind her. “ i wanted to make sure you were still eating--- not working yourself to death. “ trish is smiling--- sadly sure but still smiling--- as she hoists a bag of takeout up to eye level.

        “ i brought food. “

what up this is my precious baby angel pATRICIA WALKER please love her. be gentle. she’s the loml.