riverviewlogs | i can't remember the good old days.

Entry tags:

i can't remember the good old days.

who: Jaybirb and YOU!
what: Intro log; catch-all for October.
when: Right meow.
where: Around Quarantine - see prompts for specifics.
warnings: Will update as needed!

are all the good times getting gone? (working; ranting and raving)

[Jason would be a lot more surprised about turning up in Quarantine if this weren't more or less his exact brand of luck. It figures that after watching his team of Outlaws get sucked into a portal to who knows where, Jason would find himself in a fairly similar position.

Artemis and Bizarro aren't here, though. He's checked the network. Saw at least one other name he recognized, too, and decided against sending a message. What good would it do?

He throws himself into his work instead, this ridiculous job he's been assigned as a bouncer for some factory-turned-club called Ranting and Raving, and that's a Z-grade pun if he's ever heard one - and believe him, he's heard plenty. He pulls as many shifts as he can stand, because it gives him something to do that isn't driving himself crazy(er) over what happened in Gotham just before he turned up here, and the cacophony of beats is loud enough to drown out whatever thoughts do manage to spring up. It's not ideal employment, but there's enough inherent threat assessment to hold Jason's interest; he knows which telltale signs to look for that cry concealed weapons, intoxication, trouble.

The fact that he looks like he's already done a few rounds with a rowdy crowd doesn't hurt his image, either - deep bruising over his right eye, a split lip, small stitches over his eyebrow and cheekbone. Jason's had enough practice to know how to hold himself to hide the bruised ribs that he refuses to treat properly, because - well. He deserves that pain, doesn't he?]

No sandals, no hats. Look, pal, I don't make the rules here - I just make sure you follow 'em.

they come and go and go and come and go (brooding; community housing, floor 9)

[He'd say he's slept in worse places, but that implies that he actually sleeps, so.

It's not a bad room. There's privacy, but sometimes it feels like the walls are slowly closing in on him, and Jason escapes to the balcony, if it's not already occupied by anyone else on the floor. He can lose track of the excess time here, staring out at the unfamiliar skyline. His expression defaults to a deep frown when he thinks no one is watching him.]

i've got a lot of friends who are stars but some are just black holes (wildcard)

[Want to run into Jason somewhere else? Hit me up at

fibroplastic or journal PM to discuss!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[OK WELL. That sure is a thing that just happened to Jason, and he's a little too stunned to move at first, memory calling up that kiss from Artemis - what's it been, days ago? a week? and then she'd disappeared, along with Bizarro, Jason had watched the sky over Gotham while they vanished, and -

- and Jason punches that thoughtspiral back down again, because he is absolutely Not going to think about that. Not now. There's a mystery to solve, and he could use the distraction.

He moves to the railing of the balcony and watches Loki retreat back down the side of the building, but not even Jason is dumb enough to try going after him with no cables on a good day, much less a day when he's managing busted ribs. It's not his favorite method of gathering information, but searching the records online is probably the fastest way to track his new-old friend down. Lucky for Jason, "LOKIOFASGARD" isn't a terribly subtle username. And if it turns out he's messaging the wrong guy? No harm, no foul - he can just pretend he misdialed.

So about an hour and a half after Loki leaves the balcony, there's a text message sent his way. The sender is listed as @j.doe.]

i already have a best friend. he hates me.
guess that makes me 2/2.
i'm not who you think i am.

[Your move, Lokes.]

Edited 2018-10-11 01:55 (UTC)

[ You ready for this, Jay. Are you. ]

Jason Peter Todd, second son of Bruce Wayne AKA :) Batman. Red Hood of the Outlaws. Brother to Dick Grayson AKA Nightwing, Tim Drake AKA Red Robin, and Damian Wayne AKA Robin Why Are You Like This.

You don't remember me but I've known you from four points in your life, this makes the fifth. I gave you a bike last time you were here. You returned it before you left. I have a lock of your hair in a drawer. We both love chili hotdogs, and once we were close to in love.

I'm your friend, whether you like me this time around or not.

[He’s surprised there’s a reply at all, surprised it’s not just some variation of fuck off, and exponentially surprised at the proof Loki provides. The facts about his adopted family aren’t necessarily incorrect, just out of date; Jason has no illusion that he’s in any way a welcome member after what happened with Bruce in Gotham just before he was whisked away to his current location.

That bit about once being close to in love, though - that part sounds incredibly fake to Jason’s shattered self-esteem. Who could ever love a violent fuck-up like Jason Peter Todd?

His hands shake as he types out his reply:]

i don’t know you. i can’t say whether i like you.
whoever the jason you loved was, i’m not him.
i’m sorry.
if you know me as well as you think you do, you’d know that being my friend is a really terrible idea.

[He almost wants to offer to meet with Loki, apologize for all the other incarnations of himself he’s had the misfortune of knowing. But that too would be a terrible idea, wouldn’t it. Maybe it’s better to just let Loki be angry with him until he forgets Jason exists, in this reality or any other. Maybe that’s the kinder option.]

[ Big baby, as ever. ]

Don't be so dramatic or stupid, you're obviously upset because of something. No need to lash out at me because you got mauled: your ribs hurt, I noticed.

You don't get a choice whether I'm your friend. :) Come visit the Sanctum Sanctorum sometime when you aren't moping.

Edited 2018-10-11 17:45 (UTC)

[Great. Another stage three clinger. Just what Jason needs.]

i don’t know what or where that is.

[It’s a weak excuse, but Jason’s already done more internet research than he’d like for one day. Also when is it likely he won’t be moping?]

Edited 2018-10-11 18:37 (UTC)

IT'S WHERE THE SORCERER SUPREME AND GOD OF MISCHIEF LIVES

AKA ME

>:|

[... As Alice would say, curiouser and curiouser. What has Jason gotten himself into now?]

ok, that explains the what, but not the where.

[He needs an address if you want him to come over!!]

Edited 2018-10-11 19:29 (UTC)

Go to Trixie, ask around.

[ He is the least helpful, making it a challenge for Jason's rude ass. ]

[Jason is not gonna play this game. He’s not. He’s -

That’s what he tells himself for the next hour, at least, as he spends those sixty minutes rereading Loki’s texts, driving himself stir-crazy with the gaps in his understanding of how any version of himself would have created conditions to lead to where he now finds himself. Weighs his options.

Searches out the address for Trixie.

Finds the bike parked downstairs. Decides it won’t hurt to take it for a test drive, and Trixie’s as good a destination as any.

Let’s be real; Jason was always gonna play this game. You can’t dangle a mystery like this in front of his nose and expect him to ignore it. He’s had too many years of detective training.

It occurs to him, as he fakes a smile and asks one of the staff inside Trixie where to find the Sanctum, that if Loki knows Jason as well as he claims, he probably knows he wouldn’t be able to ignore this particular sort of carrot, and that really, really pisses him off.

So. He’s no longer moping but scowling by the time he reaches the front door of the Sanctum and knocks loudly. Is there a doorbell? He’ll ring that, too.

Hope you’re happy, Loki.]

[ Quite a few servers at Trixie know of Jason and text Loki ahead of time so that he has plenty of opportunity to set the house up. The door swings slowly inward with a theatrical creak to reveal the main stairway, dark and dated like the house's exterior.

At the top of the stairs a light flicks on, indicating Jason should head up to the artefact museum. There's all sorts of weird shit in there from unobtrusive music boxes to rocks (golems) protected by noise-cancelling bubbles, skeletons locked away in glass cases, all manner of potions and wands and staffs in cabinets ...

Total wizard haul. ]

[Totally creepy wizard haul - Jason can practically smell the magic in this place. He wonders, briefly, if he’d be able to summon the All-Blades here, and he can’t decide on whether he wants to hope this place will give him an opportunity to find out.

At any rate, he’s not touching any of this stuff, thanks. He may not be the smartest Robin but even he’s not dumb enough to muck around with unknown magic things. He treads carefully and quietly through the room, eyes sharp for signs of movement, until he decides he’s had just about enough of the cloak-and-dagger bullshit.]

I gotta say, I admire your dedication to the Real Haunted Houses of Riverview aesthetic. Who’s your decorator?

[Come out, come out, wherever you are, Loki.]

[ Loki has the creepiest laugh when he wants to, the echo of his voice fans around the room, untethered. ]

Take your beef up with Stephen Strange, the former occupant. He left his house to me when he left through the portal just like you did ... ah, on second thought, that might pose a problem ...

[ Earth-616's Stephen only did so once, however, unlike Earth-19999's Strange who seems, like his universe-mates, to be on a revolving door.

Loki is abruptly behind Jason with a clear voice, leaning on a glass counter with his chin in a hand, a green hoodie and jeans exchanged for the Asgardian glitz he wore for their first meeting. Hah, "first". Yet again. ]

I prefer pastels, myself.

[ He doesn't blink much, the glow of his eyes a simmer in the dusty old hall. Serpentine. Just a little too pretty when still to pass for human. Gods are weird. ]

Stephen Strange, [he repeats after Loki, ears cocked, trying without much luck to pinpoint the origin of his voice. With a name like that, no wonder.] Any relation to Hugo?

[It’s generally not a good idea to sneak up on Jason, but to his credit, he manages not to have any weapons drawn when he turns around to face Loki, getting quite the eyeful and taking a moment to just absorb the entire spectacle. Jason won’t deny it’s an impressive appearance, but it’s not enough to melt the scowl out of his expression.]

Are we at the “trading favorite colors” part of the meet cute already? Mine’s red. Tell me you already knew that.

Not if Hugo's from your dimension. Then again, who knows for sure?

[ Black nails drum on glass, a smirk lengthening across his lips. Maybe he'll unhine his jaw and eat Jason because there's no denying what walked into Loki's house is a snacc. ]

Mine too. [ He straightens at last, strolling around the furniture to offer a hand. Loki's voice softens with something less subtly barbed, sincerity leaking in around the corners of his smile. ] Thank you for coming, Jay.

He is. Real nutjob, too. Funny how that worked out, with a name like Strange.

[Jason has a sense that there is a chance he’s made a grave (ha) mistake in coming here. All he has is Loki’s word that he acquired so many secrets about Jason’s life from another version of himself, and how trustworthy is the word of the god of mischief?

Jason knows how to recognize and assess threats; he learned that skill long before he and Batman ever crossed paths. But there is a small part of him that, despite understanding the potential threat in front of him, just doesn’t care, and that part of him is loud enough to outshout his sense of self-preservation.

He takes the hand offered, grip solid but gentle, a test.]

Your invitation was pretty hard to refuse. But I’m guessing you knew that, too.

[ His smile wavers, an equally gentle hand slipping free of Jason's as Loki leads the way through the maze of cabinets and cases. ]

I've belittled and harassed you since I stalked you to your balcony, it's true. I'm the God of Lies but I'm not pathological about it, that's sort of the point of knowing when to tell the truth or embroider it. I promised never to lie to you, not in a hundred lifetimes, whether you remember me or not, and I intend to keep my word. I asked you here to show you something.

[ He stops by a cabinet with drawers, pausing before tugging it open. Inside are locks of hair pinned down, three bunches tied with a ribbon, and five individuals laid out alone. The tag on the largest bunch reads Jason's name, mostly black with a little ginger and white mixed in (other locks read Tim, Dick, Angela, Thor, Thor199999).

His tone softens. ]

It's ... so I can locate them via scrying. It's easier with an ingredient like that. Something ... personal.

[There’s not much that ranks as a more personal keepsake than a lock of hair. Jason knows just enough about how magic works to know that giving someone something so intensely personal requires a huge leap of trust, and a seizing sensation locks up his chest when he sees his own name labelling hair that sure looks an awful lot like his own. He quietly stutters on a breath, blue eyes widening momentarily as he studies the display. Tim and Dick are names he recognizes, of course; the others, not so much.

It all feels a little bit like coming back from the dead and knowing the world has moved on without you, and Jason’s already experienced that once, which was one time too many, in his opinion. He’s been in Riverview a matter of days, and he’s been presented with evidence of a life that could be his but isn’t, and this understanding leaves him feeling thoroughly disoriented, like a stranger in his own life. Like a ghost who doesn’t know he’s dead and continues to walk the same paths and inhabit the same spaces he did when he was alive.]

So you wanted me to come over so you could show me your extremely creepy custom GPS, [Jason deadpans, making a show of being thoroughly unimpressed.] OK, I’ll bite - why?

[ Loki has too many emotions on a good day. They scream and rant and shriek and laugh, everything spills out and he knows he does it, it's the chaos that he embodies. It doesn't rule him, however, and when he gets very quiet that's when he has to exert the most self-control over the broiling stars and snakes in his belly, the white noise in his head forcibly turned down so he can process.

A neutral expression sits in place as he stares at the locks of hair, a little sadness seeping through because he's old but young too and bad at this. Loki isn't the best at lying when it comes to himself.

Lifting his eyes to Jason, his jaw sets unhappily. ]

I thought about leaving you alone and I couldn't do it. I can't. So it was that, or shoving everything in your face because I can't pretend not to know you or have you feel something about me, and here we are.

[They're a lot alike in that respect - too many emotions, and with Jason, he tries to hold them in and they come out violently. Had Loki and the previous Jason bonded over that? If Jason knew that's how Loki is, too, he'd certainly wonder. As it stands, what he knows about Loki is next to nothing.]

Well, Sorcerer Supreme, God of Mischief - if you wanted me to feel something about you, you certainly did a good job of making that happen. [Jason huffs a quiet breath, not really a laugh, and folds his arms across his chest.] 'Cause what I'm feeling is a little confused and a lot more pissed off. [And scared. Jason isn't the one in control of this situation, and he hates feeling like anyone's got the upper hand on him, much less in such specific and intimate ways as Loki has demonstrated. Jason shrugs, affecting nonchalance when what he feels is anything but.] So what else've you got? What's so important about me that you can't leave alone? You've got my attention - show me everything.

We were best friends.

[ That's all that comes to mind as he frowns, searching for something more impressive a moment later. Loki glances around, uncertain. ]

I can do whatever you want.

[ Pretty much. He would only offer for a very small number of people with whom Jason shares the honour of commanding a god. Loki doesn't look much like one as he brings up a hand with green lights burning above it, not knowing how to navigate "everything". ]

[Jason is not entirely unsympathetic to what Loki must be feeling at this moment; he’s always had more empathy than he likes to let on, something he keeps carefully hidden behind the walls he constructs and the masks and body armor he wears and the sharp words that roll off his tongue as easily as breathing. Something about the way Loki offers that We were best friends slips past the walls and burrows deep in his heart, and Jason can’t help thinking about how he’d given up his memories once, and Roy had been so steadfast in remaining at his side. This feels awfully similar.]

Just - [he exhales a shaky breath, rubbing a hand over his mouth] - explain it to me. Help me understand - why were we best friends? How? I’m not - I’m not the kinda guy who has friends. I’m not the kinda guy anyone gets to be close to in love with. Hanging around with me is a fast-track ticket to getting hurt or killed or worse.

[He has to stop for a moment, take in a deep, steadying breath, eyes shut to the memory of Roy almost dying on a live broadcast, of Artemis and Bizarro exploding over the Gotham City skyline. The pain of those memories crawls over his expression, just for a moment; then he takes another breath and pushes everything back down again, opens his eyes and pins blue on Loki once again.]

I’m not anything special. Hell, I’m about as far on the opposite end of that spectrum as you can get. So why does a god care so much about where I am and what I’m doing and what I’m feeling? Why do you want to be my friend? Why is that so important to you?

Edited 2018-10-16 03:09 (UTC)

[ Loki's answer is simple as the fire in his hand dies down, eyes steadily on Jason who looks more than a little rattled. ]

Maybe if we become friends again, you'll understand.

[ He turns away, hands trailing over cabinets. ]

Are you hungry? I'm a good cook, this is me offering.

[Jason has built
his sense of identity on the foundational truth that he is unwanted, unloveable, unfit for basic human social connections like friends and family. Being presented with such strong evidence to the contrary feels like being struck by an earthquake. Of course he’s rattled.]

No. [He probably should be hungry; he can’t remember the last time he ate. Maybe it was yesterday. Right now, Jason’s stomach protests at the thought of food. He purses his lips, mouth suddenly dry.] No, I should - I should go.

[Loki didn’t lie, but he also didn’t answer the question satisfactorily, and Jason imagines he won’t. No sense arguing about it, then - what can a mortal really do to convince a god to bend his will?

Jason turns to leave.]

[ There is quite suddenly a wall of red descending on Jason. Loki yells and his kneejerk reaction, before the scarlet wave descends, is to rush over in a panic. ]

Cloak, stop!

[ It is a cloak: the sentient Cloak of Levitation, in fact, and contrary to first impressions it isn't trying to smother Jason in its velveteen iron-like grip, dragging him downward like a living tornado.

It wraps around him in a hug. ]

Get off him, that's inappropriate touching! Cloak!

[Oh, OK, this is how Jason dies a second time, strangled to death by a magic cloak. This is fine???

At any other time, Jason’s instinct would be to fight this thing off - maybe draw the All-Blades and slash it to ribbons, maybe just try to wrangle it into submission with brute force. But Jason is in no shape to fight with injured ribs, and he is tired, has been lost in a haze of defeat for days. He sinks to the floor on hands and knees, then sits back on his heels as he glances up to Loki.]

Think I could make a case for a lawsuit?

[This is his life now, he guesses!]

Edited 2018-10-16 15:17 (UTC)

i can't remember the good old days.

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