#If I return to this save it's gonna be confusing since both Todds are identical and have the same names lol

[vargaslovinghours]

Y’all are being subjected to my Sims 2 tests, so there

The other set of Vargases came over for a visit and Scriabin picked up Shmee and started talking to Scriabin through him. Very normal, very usual

I downloaded some circle-glasses recolours and hghghh they look so good! Closer every day to his final details! Getting ever closer!

Edgar too! I made him a custom hair with a lighter undercut - I’m mostly happy with it, probably could’ve shifted it a shade closer to his skintone but the texturing was weird no matter what :P And his stripey shirt! I wish Body Shop didn’t have that hands-on-hips pose lol, it looks so much better in-game, but that’s all the better :)

I got some new clothes for Todd as well! As soon as I saw this ‘fit I was like “Oh that’s 100% Todd there he is.” Scriadad hug ♥ So cute

Foot-dancing together stopp it’s so cute!!

The way he looks at them stoppp <3 <3 They kept doing this right up til they left for home haha, Todd’s giggles are the cutest

Used SimPE to save him to the Body Shop, I now have infinite copies of The Boyyyy ♪

Moved him in with his “parents” as just shadow people basically, they’re not gonna matter in a bit as long as I remember how to get the Social Worker/Adoption process to work properly. Get her Todd!!

Wanna play? :D

Menacing :(

Look, Todd, your new dads are here! Initially I wasn’t sure who I wanted to adopt him, got lots of options; the first passes, the married couple with their own Todd, Johnny?? He definitely doesn’t have the facilities for a child lol But these are the ones that showed up on their own, so the married Vargases are the winners!

Scriabin cares more about him than his actual parents ;; A stranger off the street shows him more care! Not that it’s a high watermark

Look at him being a good dad!

Weh, he just wants friends ;; Poor baby

Best timeline, thank you

While we wait for CPS, let’s get some other interactions in! Nny is mean so he tended to prank the other two with a nose flick - mostly Edgar lol ♪ Now kiss

“Oh please don’t break all my bones~ :3” I love Todd looking up at them haha <3

Pffft, I think he was talking about the other Scriabin and just how attractive he is. Classic Scriabin. Alternatively, also funny to imagine him bragging himself up about how he’s just so handsome that Edgar can’t help but love him hahaha ♪

Allow me to tickle you with my KNIFE! >:D

Get a load of this guy lol

He ended up passing out at one point - I forgot which motives make CPS show up >.> - and completely 0%’d his comfort, but for some reason stargazing increased it?? It’s the same ground wh

Is two not enough to satisfy your butterfly bloodlust child?? He ended up with three, I had him release them before he was picked up by the Social Worker - success!

He rolled a new Want as soon as Todd was taken away - “Wants to see Ghost of Todd” Woah, dark! :0

And here he is on the married Vargases’ lot!! Success!! I did it right!! Heck yeah! :D Unfortunately they were uh, indisposed at the time. Good job guys pft

Goes right for Shmee, he really is Todd <3

#The Sims 2 #My queue is too backlogged on main! And I /have/ been working on a lot of Vargas-specific Sims 2 retextures so it's fine lol #These are still tests - as said up top lol - so these events are ''non canon'' to what will eventually be my actual Vargas family #The beats will be similar tho! It's mostly just a lot of tweaking at this point to get everything just where I want before the domino falls #Edgar Nny and Todd are all so close to done - Scriabin still needs a bit more work lol of course he's the problem member ♪ #It'll be worth it tho! >:3c Handsome lad <3 #Did find out some interesting things with the Social Worker/Adoption process :0 Most importantly that adoption basically wipes everything #Wipes memories and family relations and changes the last name! So I'll have to go in with SimPE to change his name back once I'm there #I love SimPE haha ♪ I mean it's just an extension of how much I love TS2 but I just ughsjkhagf it's a good program! #It's extremely powerful and easy to get lost in if you don't know where to look but it's also incredibly user-friendly if you do know #Like - it's as easy as ''Open this sub-menu. Click this button. Rename this. You're all done'' it's just jdsflf Sims 2 my beloved <3 <3 #I decided to cheat down the Casils' relationship with Todd before everything else - thus why his father is menacing him for the prank #I've seen Sims with not high enough friendship to not take a water balloon as a fun invitation but not between a parent and child! #It's subtle but the parent being mad and the kid cowering :( It's sadly appropriate for Todd #I stuck the Casils in a box to wait things out and they ended up glitching frozen in bed - they're effectively dead by Motive but can't move #So they can't die /or/ live - feels fitting #If you'd like to recreate CPS taking your child away without straight up torturing them! - Hunger. You just need hunger lol #Alternately you can also have them miss class if you'd prefer to feed them - both will result in being taken away after long enough #If I return to this save it's gonna be confusing since both Todds are identical and have the same names lol #I do have a bunch of new clothes! Second shopping trip :D #There's something oddly fitting for the Vargases to adopt twin/clones lol - fun shenaniganary until the Final Version comes to pass #Although now that I think of it I Could also give them a toddler!Todd hmmmmmm #It's an idea :)

[taiblogcomics]

If At First You Don’t Succeed, Try Trigon Again

Hey there, Knight Fever. I hope you liked the Halloween review. In fact, I hope you had a good Halloween overall. Because now it gets bad again, since we're back to reviewing Red Hood~

At least the cover's still kind of Halloween-y:

Not gonna lie, this cover is pretty metal. If we'd reviewed this one for Halloween, it probably would have been fine. It's not perfect, though. Like, the background's pretty lazy. Pure white? C'mon, that's like a background I would make. Secondly, looking at this picture, can you tell me which of these is Trigon's thumb? Like, if his hands aren't symmetrical in the comic proper, I call false advertising. And lastly, speaking of Trigon, why is he in this comic? I know it's a shared universe, but why is Trigon in this non-Teen Titans comic? Like, this isn't even the version of the Outlaws that had former Titans as members~

We start the comic strong with a flashback of Artemis in civilian clothing saving a baby from an explosion. I am pretty tired of comics starting on a full-page splash, but if you're gonna do that, at least do it with something cool. Artemis passes of the infant to another medical worker, then heads back in herself. She intends to hold off the invaders to give everyone else time to get away. Fortunately, she gets a little help with this, as amidst the wreckage, she discovers for the very first time her signature weapon: the axe, Mistress. I don't know why it's there, but it's very convenient!

We return to the present, where the Chamber of All has just opened up, turning the landscape into a sprawling labyrinth of staircases, doorways, and faces. It's another two-page spread, but it's visually awesome. Jason Todd exposits about its origins and nature, and Bizarro just looks confused. In short, the labyrinth is infinite while also being restricted to this one location. Despite the supposed infinity of the labyrinth, the Untitled possessing General Glory finds them quickly. Bizarro asks if there's any way to help Glory, and Jason promises to cut the monster out of him. This happens in between turns of the page, but since the All-Blades only cut mystical threats, the Untitled is destroyed without hurting General Glory.

Miles away, Artemis and Mistress have a pleasant reunion. It was the transport to an alternate universe that separated them. And while now "free", Mistress knows a weapon without its wielder is purposeless, and has been seeking her out this whole time. Essence sneers at their touching reunion and charges in, only for Mistress to grab her by the throat (she's in human form, remember). She asks Essence for a reason not to kill her right now, and Essence chokes out that she's the only one who can keep Jason from betraying them to the Untitled. This is such a stupid idea that Mistress decides not to kill Essence for even suggesting it.

So the trio of women decide to all team up and get over to wherever Jason is. Mistress can transport them, but before they can go, they overhear some bum muttering about salvation. Recognising the voice, Essence grabs him and reveals his identity. It's S'aru! Hey, who remembers S'aru~? Because I sure don't. Like, I remember he was some sort of another All-Caste guy, but not to what specific capacity. Either way, you know, we brought back the Untitled, might as well call in all the remaining NPCs related to them.

The group of them teleport to Jason, who's surprised to see Essence, since he trapped her in her own sword last they met. But there's no time to deal with that. General Glory starts going over what he learned while having a monster bonded to him. See, the Untitled have existed since forever (literally), and when the All-Caste formed and started killing them, they made a deal with the devil. And not the usual sort you see in comics, where they trade their marriage to save a dying aunt. With an absolute, big-time, ultimate devil: Trigon of Azarath himself.

Well, there's not a lot they can do. But they do have to do something. Bizarro's admiration for Glory's ability to keep fighting despite his age lets them bond (with Bizarro even getting in a good dig: "Yes. Me get it now you have shouted."), and they come up with a plan together, while both Jason and Essence make up, and Artemis and Mistress return to woman-and-weapon status. S'aru leads them to a secret door that will let them get the drop on the Untitled, and Bizarro volunteers himself through. He can hold off Trigon long enough for the rest of them to... do something else. It's not stated here.

Since we had a good line from Bizarro, I'd like to also point out a dumb one from Jason before the comic ends. Since Bizarro's going in alone, he tells his friends to "shoe". Jason points out that the term is "shoo". Except... those are both pronounced the same out loud. What, did he read the subtitles? How could he tell? Anyway, Bizarro leaves his friends and ends the comic by re-creating the cover as a solo act~

Well, the cover’s cool and Bizarro retains his status as my favourite character in these. I think that’s enough to overlook the more minor flaws this comic has. Really, there’s not a lot else to say about this issue. If the conclusion is as good as this build-up, it should be a pretty nice story arc. Shame there’s no Brain in this issue, though~

#comics #reviews #Red Hood and the Outlaws #Red Hood: Outlaw #Taiblog

[violetsmoak]

Appetence [7/?]

AO3 Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/20251420/chapters/47997634

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: Red Robin is investigating the disappearance of a friend and stumbles into a spot of supernatural trouble. He doesn’t expect to be saved by Jason Todd, miraculously alive five years after his death and now with the inexplicable ability to commune with the dead. Meanwhile, when Jason returned to Gotham he meant to maintain a low profile and not get involved with Bat business. That was before he found out how hot his Replacement is.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: N/A

First Chapter

Author’s Note(s): Apologies for the wait. As you may know I had an adventure with my dropbox wherein I backed up all my files because I had to restore my laptop, and all of the files ended up mixed up in the wrong folders and I've been tracking down files one by one for the past week. I hate technology. I mean, I guess I should be happy the files didn't get deleted, but it's still a pain in the ass to re-organize manually.

Beta Reader: I’ll get back to you on that.

________________________________________________________________

Tim stares at the business card in his hand long after Jason disappears, thumbing over the false name and phone number with a reverence once reserved for clandestinely captured photographs.

Victor Shelley, Paranormal Investigator.

He wonders if Jason was trying to be funny choosing that name. Given what Tim’s heard about him in the few instances where Dick or Alfred talk about him, and what he saw for himself in the past, he thinks it’s entirely likely.

God, Dick and Alfred.

He knows they’re going to be just as blindsided about this as Bruce when they find out.

If they find out.

Guilt flickers through him now at the promise he made to Jason.

Why the hell would he promise a man he doesn’t really know—a man he’s spent a grand total of an hour and twenty-three minutes in conversation with—that he won’t let his adopted father knows he’s not dead.

That he hasn’t been dead for years.

That he’s in Gotham right now.

Tim wishes he could say it was one hundred percent his shock at Jason being alive, but that would be lying to himself. His mind flashes back to Jason’s face, his slow smirk and the smooth, deep voice, and he swears, letting his head fall against the counter.

Apparently, I promised him because he’s pretty.

It’s a new feeling for Tim. He’s never been easily swayed by looks, but something about Jason is attractive enough to put him off-guard, or at least loosen his lips more than normal.

I thought I was over this…

“I know that face.”

Tim startles and glances up at the bartender—Trista—who he had forgotten was there. He’d forgotten he was sitting in a bar, to be honest.

“Judging by the ass on that man, I can guess what it’s about,” she continues in a wry tone. Then she’s sliding a shot of amber liquid toward him. “Here. To steady your nerves.”

Tim stares at the alcohol in numb confusion.

“That’s on the house, but only because he talked more with you tonight than I’ve seen him do with anyone since he got here,” she goes on. “We’ll both pretend I don’t know you’re underage.”

Tim is too flustered by everything she’s just said to do anything other than accept the shot under her knowing gaze. Then, he beats a hasty retreat from the bar as fast as humanly possible without it looking like he’s running away.

Distracted, he returns to his apartment in the Theater District, trying to parse the events of the night from an objective viewpoint. He’s not entirely sure he didn’t dream it all up, considering whatever that incubus did to him, and so he runs tox-screens on his blood and gives himself a full physical just to make sure.

Other than spikes in several hormone levels—adrenaline, dopamine, and serotonin—his results are normal. Nothing that would really alter his perceptions of reality, the way Scarecrow or Poison Ivy’s concoctions tend to do.

That confirmed, he should be able to leave the matter alone for now. There are more pressing matters to deal with—Dante’s continued disappearance being one of them.

But thoughts of Jason continue to assault Tim’s thoughts.

Something has been bothering him since his conversation with Jason, something he wondered before but couldn’t ask because Jason got skittish and made a run for it

How the hell did Constantine cross paths with Jason anyway?

Aside from his inexplicable presence in Gotham at some point in the past five years without attracting the attention of Batman, what would interest him in a teenaged John Doe with no identity or memory?

Sliding into the chair in front of the computer in the Nest, Tim calls up the autopsy report, even though he doesn’t really need to see it. He memorized it years ago. Still, if he’s going to investigate this, he needs concrete facts, not just his memory.

It’s not difficult to create a timeline of events, between Jason’s official death and now. Or to search a list of John Does at various hospitals in Gotham within the last five to ten years, whose condition upon admittance matches the description of Jason’s injuries at death.

He finds the information he’s looking for within twenty minutes.

As it turns out, things didn’t happen quite as neatly or quickly as Jason’s story suggested. His stay at Gotham General was a lot longer than he let on, and Tim’s stomach twists as he reads the medical reports.

Various physicians left their comments on the patient, a young man of about fifteen or sixteen, severely beaten and malnourished, picked up several miles from the hospital.

The file includes a mugshot of a heavily bandaged youth, head shaved from what records indicate were several procedures to repair brain bleeds, skull, and facial fractures. Bruises and swelling make his features almost unrecognizable, except to someone who has memorized pictures of that face since he was ten years old. Someone who knows the cut of that jaw and the color of those eyes, however bleary and vacant they are as they stare into the camera.

“God, Jason…”

Tim reads over the doctors’ notes that span the course of a year, cataloging how well the boy is healing considering the heavy damage he sustained, and how he would be considered a miracle patient but for the fact whatever happened to him caused significant brain damage.

Clear psychological damage, hearing voices, incapable of speech, easily upset.

On several occasions, the boy became unaccountably terrified, screaming and yelling and trying to claw out his own eyes. Sometimes it even became violent, and in his struggles, he put three doctors, a nurse and two orderlies in the emergency room.

I’m surprised it was only that many people. Considering his training, he could have done a lot more damage.

Eventually, he always had to be drugged and restrained.

Demonic possession, maybe?

It’s not the first thing Tim would think of, but if Constantine’s involved in all this, it would make sense. And coming back from the dead like Jason says he did, it had to have side effects.

Except, there’s no mention of anything superhuman or beyond the realm of possibility regarding Jason’s strength. Surely the doctors would have made note of anything beyond the abilities of a normal, scared teenager—especially in Gotham, where strange behavior was a sad norm.

No mention of anything resembling supernatural or metahuman abilities anywhere here.

Jason was eventually placed permanently in the psych ward and likely would have stayed there for the rest of his days, except the hospital’s budget was cut in his eighth month there. Space issues required moving patients to other hospitals, and—

“Oh, no. No-no-no, tell me they didn’t,” Tim murmurs, heart sinking as he scrolls down the page of the report, knowing exactly what he’s going to find.

They sent him to Arkham.

If Tim was horrified before by the notion of Jason’s resurrection and his condition afterward, it’s nothing to how sick he feels to learn that his predecessor was sent to the cesspool that is Arkham Asylum.

He needs to turn away from his computer for a few seconds and breathe, close his eyes and concentrate on not hearing the lilting, singsong voice and tinny voice in his head.

Hush, little baby, don’t say a word, Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird.

Ever since his kidnapping, it’s the one place in Gotham Tim won’t venture—he’s not sure what would happen if he did. Whether he’d suffer a crippling attack of flashbacks, or march into the high security ward and slit the Joker’s throat with one of his birdarangs.

If Bruce realized Tim honestly can’t decide which would be the worse outcome, he knows he’d be benched for the rest of his life. He might not be Robin anymore, but the Family would find a way.

It’s fear of that more than anything else that helps him get a handle on his panic, tethers him back to reality better than anything else. Tim takes another series of deep, grounding breaths, before he feels confident enough to be able to get back to his research into Jason.

At least they didn’t put him anywhere near the Joker, it seems, he notices as he goes through the room assignments and Arkham floorplans. That’s about the only good thing about it, though.

Jason’s ward was for the non-communitive patients, the ones the experts considered untreatable. The ones that get forgotten about in the mayhem of the monthly outbreaks and pandemonium.

Tim’s stomach clenches tight again as he remembers incidents and dates over the years where Batman visited inmates at Arkham to interrogate them on the latest escapes or crimes happening in the city, or just to test the security there. Based on the location of Jason’s cell and Batman’s usual route, there are times when the two were only a floor apart

Tim’s heart aches for them both.

They were so close to each other! If only they’d known—!

And just as suddenly as Jason was transferred to Arkham, all records of him vanish. There’s no information about patient transfers or deaths or releases; instead, like many a nameless patient to be lost to the asylum over the years, he just vanishes.

People don’t just vanish. And in this case, I know he didn’t.

Tim goes on to cross-reference the potential dates of Jason’s disappearance with any visitors to the asylum. It doesn’t take much to identify the only visitor to the asylum for a span of weeks as a certain Chandler Ravenscar—names which another quick search link to aliases used by John Constantine in the past.

That brings Tim to a whole other avenue of research, refocusing him investigation on Constantine himself and his movements over the past years. He tends to keep to the UK, but every now and again travels to various mystical hotspots around the world.

There’s a backlog of security footage to weed through, occultist forums discussing the man and his exploits. Half of what’s written about him online is clearly conspiracy theories, a quarter of it related to some punk rock band called Mucous Membrane and something to do with the Reagan assassination. Those who have actually worked with him either seem too terrified or pissed off to say much about him.

Even harder is finding a video of the man; cameras and other surveillance devices appear to stop working around him. It’s even more of a challenge to catch a glimpse of the teenaged assistant that starts being mentioned several months after Jason’s disappearance from Arkham.

A chance freeze-frame from an airport in Beijing, however, is all Tim needs to confirm it’s Jason.

It’s hours later when Tim sits back, exhausted but now having at least a general timeline of what happened.

One thing is for damn sure—I can’t take this to Bruce.

The story is too painful, too unbelievable. If it doesn’t break him all over, it will have him lashing out at Tim for making up stories about a touchy subject. There’s enough tension between them both right now that he’s likely to question anything suspect Tim brings to him.

Or he would insist it was a trick, that someone had faked all of this. He wouldn’t take Tim’s word for it, would investigate himself, prepare himself for an interrogation when what Jason needs is to have a face to face with his adopted father and mentor.

And Jason’s story still has too many holes in it for Tim to tell it, begging more questions than answers.

Like why Constantine took you from Arkham in the first place. And also…there’s one other thing that doesn’t make sense.

Well, a lot of things don’t make sense, but this stands out.

Tim goes back to the hospital records, scanning for the section where he remembers reading the information.

John Doe’s injuries in the medical files are all consistent with those in Jason’s autopsy, with every scar and broken bone accounted for and described.

Except for an autopsy scar.

That would have been the first thing medical professionals remarked upon when Jason was admitted, but it’s not mentioned anywhere. Which must mean that somehow, Jason no longer has it.

So why did that heal and nothing else did? Could it have something to do with what brought him back?

There’s a sudden dull, clunk in the background and the slide of elevator doors, and Tim glances up to watch Stephanie Brown stride into his base of operations.

“I was on the way out and Babs sent me to check on you,” she tells him. “Apparently someone missed work today without calling in and isn’t answering their phone.”

Tim startles at that, glances at the clock in the corner of his screen and swears when he realizes she’s right. He was supposed to be at Wayne Enterprises an hour ago. When he glances at his cellphone, he sees twelve text messages and three missed calls from Lucius, Dick and Bruce.

“I didn’t even notice,” he groans. He was so caught up in finding out more about Jason that he lost track of time. He quickly taps out a group message reassuring them he’s fine and will be in soon.

“At least being flaky is characteristic of billionaire teenagers,” Steph says as she wanders over.

Tim quickly minimizes his search and swivels around in his seat to face her. “Why are you even awake this early?”

Given the way she spends her nights, Steph made a point of having all of her classes in the afternoon. She’s possibly less of a morning person than Tim is, to the point where even coffee doesn’t make her a little more human.

“Blame my new roommate,” she grumbles, and that earns a surprised look because it’s the first time he’s heard of this. “Right, I didn’t tell you, did I? So, a couple of weeks ago this cat shows up on the fire-escape outside my window. And I didn’t mean to feed it, but it looked so sad and pathetic and I had to, so now it won’t leave me alone. What am I supposed to do? I don’t have time to be a pet owner.”

“Cat’s don’t actually take that much care.”

“That’s what they want you to think. And then one cat becomes two, and two becomes three and the next thing I know, I’m going to be the crazy cat lady on the block,” Steph complains. “And not to cool, sexy, Selina kind of cat lady but the sad, single shut-in.”

“You could never be a shut-in. No four walls can keep your raw joie de vivre inside,” Tim says in a flat tone.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend.” She frowns in confusion. “Are we in an on-again or an off-again right now? I forget.”

Tim remembers Jason’s cocky grin and muscular thighs and his mouth goes dry. “Off. Definitely off.”

Steph’s eyebrows disappear into her hairline. “That was weirdly assertive. Am I sensing a pretty girl behind that sentiment? Do I need to give a shovel talk?” Something occurs to her and she scowls. “It’s not that Lynx chick, is it? Trust me when I say that would be a bad idea.”

“There’s no girl,” Tim mumbles. “Trust me.”

“Okay,” she allows, slow and still somewhat dubious. “But you’d tell me, right? If you were seeing someone? Only so I don’t go crossing lines or causing jealous rage or something.”

“There’s nothing going on, yes I would tell you, can we please move on?” Tim huffs. “Tell me about your cat.”

“He’s not my cat.”

“You fed him, he’s your cat.”

“Stop changing the subject. You’re being evasive—there so is a girl.”

“There’s no girl!” Tim groans, half tempted to tug at his hair. “Who could look at another woman after being with you?”

“I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or as an insinuation I was so horrible that I turned you off women for good,” Steph says, eyes narrowed in suspicion. A beat later, she tilts her head to one side as if something has occurred to her. “Wait. That’s it, isn’t it? It’s a guy. This someone’s a guy. You know you can tell me, right? That would totally be okay—would actually explain a lot, actually—you know, you liking guys—”

“One guy does not equate guys.”

“Oh my god! There is! There’s a guy!” Steph squeals. “Who is it? It’s that friend of yours, that went missing, isn’t it? Dante something? That’s why you’ve been so obsessed with finding him!”

“I’m determined to find him because he’s my friend,” Tim counters, a bit irritated. “The same way I’d be determined to find Ives or Bernard or anyone I cared about. And I’d be doing that right now if someone wasn’t distracting me.”

Two someones, but she doesn’t need to know about Jason’s role in it.

“And I’d believe that if you weren’t looking at me like you wanted to jump out of your skin. There’s something going on here, Ex-Boy Wonder.”

“There’s nothing going on.”

“Lies!”

“For something to be going on, you have to actually spend more than an hour with someone. You have to have known them for more than an hour.”

“Not if you have chemistry,” Steph points out. “Sometimes, it’s just like. Bang.” She grins. “And then you have to bang.”

Tim rolls his eyes.

“Do I need to give you the safe sex talk?” Steph asks with concern that’s only half teasing. “The gay-sex safe sex talk? Because to be honest, I don’t think I’d be able to do it with a straight face.”

“Steph, that was awful. As a former Robin, you should be ashamed.”

“And as a former Robin, you should be better at lying. So, spill. What’s going on?”

Tim studies her, chewing on his tongue; he knows she won’t let it go unless he gives her something. “Okay. Fine.”

“Hah! I knew it!”

“Not that. This is…something else,” he says. “Sort of.”

“Okay?”

“What would you do if…say you found out something really important to a person you care about. But you promised someone else you wouldn’t tell anyone about that something because of…reasons. Personal reasons.”

Steph crosses her arms. “Is this about me?”

“Not everything is about you.”

“Then it’s about Mystery Boy.”

“It’s not about—” Tim gives up, and then sighs, because it’s just easier to give her that one. “Fine. It’s Mystery Boy. He asked me not to say something that’s really important. I figure it’s because he wants to say himself in his own time. Except. Except it’s a huge thing.”

“Starbucks discontinuing pumpkin spice lattes’ huge, or ‘Hush trying to destroy B’ huge?”

“Closer to the second. Not dangerous like that,” he adds quickly when he sees her face. “It’s just…serious stuff that could hurt if it’s not handled the right way. Or if certain parties found out later and thought they were having stuff kept from them.”

“Well, now I’m curious…”

“I’m not telling you.”

“I know that. I’m just saying.” Steph sticks out her tongue at him, but then becomes contemplative. “I guess I’d keep my mouth shut. Or try to, at least. Stuff like that always tends to come out eventually. But if you’re worried it could hurt someone, maybe you can convince Mystery Boy it’s in his best interest to tell someone.”

“Yeah, that didn’t go over too well.”   

“Well, whatever you do, don’t get into your micromanaging, control-freak headspace,” she tells him. “That’s one of the things that torpedoed you and me, and if you want things to work out with this guy, you should respect his wishes.”

“I never said anything about wanting anything to work out with anyone,” Tim protests. “I just met the guy.”

“And somehow he got you to promise not to tell something that’s apparently really important. Which means you already value him somehow, and that only happens to you when you really like someone. Also, you might be able to straight-up bluff Batman or Ra’s al Ghul, but I know how you look when you like someone and don’t want anyone to know it.” There’s a beeping noise and Steph digs out her cellphone. “And with those pearls of wisdom, I have to get going. My mom found the cat and she’s having a conniption.”

She turns to leave, pauses once she enters the elevator and turns back around, jabbing a finger at him.

“Shower, eat, go to work, stop obsessing about stuff you can’t control—and don’t try to control stuff that’s not your business.”

Tim bristles. “Yes, Mother.”

“Oh, you did not just go there,” she growls as the elevator doors close and Tim grins until she’s gone.

He knows that Steph’s right, to a certain extent. This whole Jason thing isn’t his business—he was only ever an outside observer, a legacy after the fact. And even if it was his business, it’s not his predecessor’s sensibilities he should be protecting.

Ill-advised crush aside, he doesn’t have any connection loyalty to Jason Todd. He does owe Bruce—he should be going straight to him about this.

Except…

Except, Tim really doesn’t want to be added to the list of people who betrayed Jason’s trust. Especially given how fragile it is given their short acquaintance.

Tim groans and leans back against his chair, wishing for an easy solution. He’s usually able to figure out what to do, even when it comes down to the hard choices.

“Stop obsessing about stuff you can’t control—and don’t try to control stuff that’s not your business.”

Steph’s right.

He’ll do as Jason asked.

Or, at least he’ll give it a week.

If he hasn't figured out any other way to deal with the situation, he'll go to Bruce.

In the meantime—he has an investigation to get back to.

⁂⁂⁂

Next Chapter

#jaytimweek2019 #jaytimweek #jaytim #fanfic #prompt: supernatural #jaytim fic #tim drake #drama #mystery #angst #romance #instant attraction #steph being awesome #tim being nosy

[riverballad]

when the damn thing breaks i’ll be there to take you home

(chapter 1/4)

ko-fi

read on ao3

Jason returns to Gotham in a rusted up, Barbie-pink RV. What ensues is possibly the most dysfunctional 33 hour-long road trip in history.

They hear the damn thing before they can make out its figure, blaring quick and bright into their line of view; it shudders up the driveway’s curved incline and splutters to a halt in front of Wayne Manor with an almost theatric expulsion of smoke.

It’s gaudy and garish and, quite frankly, garbage, but it’s enough to make the corner of Bruce’s mouth tilt upward, his figure a looming shadow from his perch in the upstairs study, expression obscured by tightly-drawn curtains and a carefully held cup of coffee.

Now, the others would question him about it--or, more accurately, berate him-- if they didn’t know any better. But Jason is, well, as Jason as ever, brows pulled low in a perma-scowl, hand curled precariously near the holster of his gun, and Dick knows enough about Jason and cars and Jason-and-cars to make the others hold their collective tongue. That is, in front of the kid.

But behind one’s back, the gang had long-since established, mockery was fair game.

Thus, as to be expected, when Jay finally enters the residence, it’s to a sharp hush followed shortly thereafter by a shoddy attempt at silence as the others muffle giggles into shirtsleeves or between folded lips. Jason’s boots echo defiantly against the shining marble floor.

“Master Jason!” Alfred exclaims, in mock-astonishment, as though he hadn’t heard the kid rumble up from half a mile away. “This is a pleasant surprise, indeed.”

“Hey, Alfred,” Jason says, visibly loosening. His features brighten ever-so slightly before returning to their instinctive frown which can best be described as something close to a frown as they make their way past the foyer. His vision settles on his three brothers who, gathered on separate couches in the sitting room, each sit with unnaturally-stiff postures, mouths tight and shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

Jason narrows his eyes as the silence stretches out before the four of them in a long, torturous line until, finally, one of them speaks.

“You are,” Damian says in place of a greeting, “not dead.”

Behind him, Tim sniggers. When he sees his older brother’s dark eyes flit towards him, he coughs, lamely, into his fist. Nice save.

“Correction: I’m not dead yet.” Jason says wryly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his ratty jacket. The brown leather creaks. Tim lets out another loud cough that sounds suspiciously like “Day’s not over.”

“Hey,” Dick says, rising from the velvety chaise before Jason can swat at the third Robin. He claps a hand over his younger brother’s shoulder and grins toothily in his direction. “So, Barbie. How’s Ken?”

There’s a beat. Then, as if possible, Jason’s frown deepens even more. As his eyebrows lower, behind them, Tim cackles violently.

“Y’know what? Whatever.” Jason shrugs deeper into his jacket. ("Security blanket, much?” Steph would tease him when she saw him in it later.) “Whatever. When you're all finished with your little bit, make sure everyone gets in the car.”

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It’s ability to cram all seven of them into the dingy space leaves Tim and Steph insisting, loudly, that Jason’s new ride is a “clown car.” (“It’s true,” Dick corroborates impishly. Jason’s grip on the steering wheel tightens, but the man stays silent.)

“Okay, when I said ‘make sure everyone gets in the car’, I meant like you and Alfred and maybe the new one.” Jason says to Dick, jabbing a thumb to his right at Duke, when everyone’s already wearing their seat belts.

From the front row’s passenger seat-- which Duke had wrestled from Damian’s furious grip on the basis of “One who calls shotgun first, gets shotgun. That’s, like, in The Bible”-- Duke deadpans, “Uh, thanks for that glowing invitation, man.”

“No problem, kid.” Jay shoots back with an identical tone.

After a beat, Duke inquires, “So….wait. Where are we going exactly? And with, uh, a lump sum of zero luggage.?”

“If this is a mission,” Cass pipes up from the back of the vehicle, speaking for the first time since they merged onto the freeway almost an hour ago, “I agree with Thomas: we are unprepared for this. I don’t even have my suit.”

“Me neither.” Tim seconds, absently, without lifting his gaze from its fixed position on the cards in his hands. When he catches Damian sneaking a peek from his side of the small table, Tim glowers, pulling the cards-- which seem to be the entire Uno deck-- closer to his chest.

“We’re not going on a mission.” Jason grinds out.

“Okay. Right. But, like, if we were to maybe , hypothetically be going on a mission,” Tim says as he draws four from the deck, “then we’d maybe , hypothetically needs to swing back by the Manor to get our gear.”

“We are not going on a mission .” Jason repeats. Dick snores loudly from the seat behind him.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So-- wait. We’re going on a mission?” Steph cries excitedly when she wakes with a start hours later. They’ve reached a particularly hilly stretch of road and the RV, in all its “old-and-gold glory” (Dick’s words) shakes like “an insufferable animal” (Damian’s. “ Pot, meet kettle ,” Jason had countered.).

“No .” Everyone snaps immediately.

“Again,” Jason sighs. “We. Are. Not. Going. On. A. Mission.”

The man’s shoulders relax ever-so-slightly, a shift in demeanor imperceptible to everyone other than Dick who leans over the center console and whispers, “Jay. Psst, Jason .”

“Hmm?” Jason hums, his eyes fluttering a little in an effort to keep them open. The RV swerves as it’s driver fights the heavy exhaustion that pulls at his limbs.

“Let me drive.”

“Really, Todd. Who knew you’d be as bad at driving as you are at combat.” Damian snarks, lifting his head from the red neck pillow Cass had convinced him to wear after Jason had slipped her ten bucks. She wasn’t one to side with Todd, really, but she’d gotten sick of Damian dropping his heavy head on her shoulder.

“Oh my God, Shut up .” Jason moans, slurring his words a little.

“You first.”

“Christ, y’all are weird.” Duke says wearily. “I’m not tryin’ to get in a crash here, Jason. C’mon, Let Dick drive.”

“Seriously.” Steph mumbles, still half-asleep. Jason shoots her his best attempt at a menacing look in the rearview mirror (which fails spectacularly; his eyelids, despite his best efforts, droop heavy and low over his eyes).

“Ugh, Fu-- fine! Jesus.” Jason surrenders finally, pulling the RV to the road’s rough gravel shoulder, causing the entire vehicle to rattle as he shifts into park and undoes his seat belt. He sags a little before wrestling with the car door, and steps out to the rush of sticky-sweet humidity of western Pennsylvania. A road sign, bright green against the darkening sunset, tells them they’re 50-some miles from Pittsburgh. Dick steps out too, shouldering past his weary brother and into the driver’s seat as Jason collapses into the backseat.

“Any of you guys gotta pillow or something? My back’s killing me.” Jay asks, turning his head behind him to look at the others. Damian pulls his neck pillow closer round himself, his eyes narrowing. Cass is sleeping soundly, cheek pressed against the window. Tim and Steph fiddle on their phones silently, bodies hunched over the small table.

“Wow, great. Thanks guys, you’re a real help.” Jay says wryly, starting to turn back around. He winces-- his neck’s been at a weird angle all drive, he realizes-- and grits his teeth.

“Hey, Jason? You’ve got a GPS or something?” Duke calls back to him, “Dick and I are kinda driving blind here.”

“Just-- uh, just stay on I-80 West,” Jay replies groggily, “That’s gonna be another 300-something miles.”

At this, there is what can only be described as “mass hysteria”.

“What?” Tim, Dick, and Steph cry.

“Oh, shut up.” Jay says, closing his eyes again and curling against the door. Out the window and obscured by a row of tall and wide atlas cedars, the sky burns in soft reds, oranges, and yellows. It kind of looks, Jason thinks as he drifts to sleep, like how he used to mix up Trix yogurt when he was a kid.

Suddenly, smack in the middle of the night, Jason jolts awake. It’s dark out now, and the once-deserted freeway is now alive with the bright tail lights of cars. They’re as good as parked now; the traffic is so dense that there’s no use wasting the car’s battery or gas to move two inches a minute. Inside the RV things are equally as hectic: Damian who, having somehow wrangled the front seat from Duke’s insistent grasp, is tossing insults at Tim with incomprehensible speed and fervor.

“Oh, yeah? That’s what I thought you’d say, you tiny fucking demon!” Tim throws back.

“Hey, language!” Dick absently chastises from the driver’s seat, eyes fixed on the book he’s reading. The RV jostles forward and stops once more just as quickly.

“Literally wha-?” Jay tries, but it’s drowned out in the chaos of the moment.

“Hey, both of you! Shut up !” Jay yells. They stop for all of three seconds (Jason counts) before they tumble back together in a mess of fists and kicks and shouts. Part of Jason is urging himself to step in-- they’re just kids, after all. They could get hurt. Or, a possibility as pressing to Jason, they could screw up the car. Somehow. Who knows with the two of them. On the other hand, they both deserve it for how obnoxious they’ve been since-- well, forever . But before Jay can decide whether or not to act, the two of them break apart with a yelp.

“He-- shit ! Damain bit me!” Tim shrieks, clutching at his forearm with melodramatic flurry.

“Well it’s not my fault you’re a bastard !” Damian retorts, his voice rising. The way his arms are folded across his chest makes the child look infinitesimally smaller. (Sometimes Jay really forgets the little Devilspawn is, well, a kid ).

“Ha, funny coming from you !” Tim spits back, with so much anger that Jason, despite all his confusion, feels laughter bubble up in his throat.

“Wow. I hate both of you. So much--” Jason says finally, staring fixedly out the window.

“Hey--” Tim starts.

“So. Much.” He finishes, “ Anyway, where are we? And what time is it?”

“Maybe you need a watch, Todd.” Damian offers unhelpfully, settling-- with much contempt-- back into his seat.

“Seat belt, Damian.” Dick orders, like the goody-two-shoes he is, as Jay is telling Damian that well maybe he should go ahead and die. “You too.” Grayson adds a moment later without looking around to check. Jason grumpily complies, opening his mouth to re-ask his question before Duke steps in to supply an answer.

“Eleven-something o’ clock and we are in,” He peeks down at his phone screen, which casts a pale blue glow across his face in the darkness. “...Indianapolis? Yeah, Indianapolis.”

“Great, we’re a third of the way there, then.” Jason declares, “And-- and my phone’s outta juice. Anyone got a charger.”

“No, ‘cause Drake broke the spare one.” Damian says roughly, his lower lip sticking out.

“Hey, what--"

"Anyway," Damian interjects with uncharacteristic (and suspicious) speed, "Grayson's hogging the spare.”

“You know as well as I do that the driver gets to pick the music!” Dick calls.

“Yeah, that’s, like, in The Bible .” Tim laughs, elbowing Duke in the stomach with bravado.

“Wait.” Jay interrupts, tearing his gaze up, “But there’s no music playing.”

“He tried to play “Dancing Queen” for the fourth time in a row . Then he ,” Tim says, jabbing a thumb in Damian’s direction, “ripped the AUX cord in half.”

“I don’t recall.” Damian says snootily, uncrossing and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Jay,” Dick interrupts once more, turning in his seat to face the younger brother. “You mind telling me where we’re headed now? ‘Cause-- not that we’re gonna be moving anytime soon, it looks-- but I stay on I-80 we’ll be lost in corn country.”

“That’s the plan.” Jason says airily. “Actually, I’ll get behind the wheel, now.”

“You, like, just woke up.” Duke points out from beside him.

“Didn’t stop me from driving a shit-ton of miles earlier.”

“Wait,” a hushed voice interjects. Cass-- having woken sometime amidst the commotion-- stares groggily at her brothers, eyes struggling to stay open, her freshly-cropped hair a dark and messy halo around her head. Steph, still asleep, is curled into the other girl’s lap, legs askew. ( Steph-spreading , they’d dubbed it). “Can we swing by a motel or something? I’d like to sleep in a real bed.”

“Me too.” Tim chimes after, a sentiment soon echoed by the rest of the (conscious) group.

“Fine.” Jay relents, after much pestering.

#batfamily #fic #bat family fic #dc comics fic #jason todd #jason todd fanfic #dick grayson #dick grayson fanfic