#yeah seriously Totter Park is kind of a whole lot of nothing

[victorluvsalice]

-->And it’s a good thing I did, because when I arrived at the park, I realized, “wow, this place is pretty shit.” Like, I was prepared to buy some stuff to make the weenie roast successful (like a campfire), but there is NOT a lot to this park at all. It’s kind of sad. I mean, I know the pier's not far from the lot, but still. :(

-->But it wasn’t my goal to fix the entire park today – it was my goal to set up a weenie roast! To that end, I went ahead and set up one corner of the lot as a sort of impromptu campsite – we had a campfire surrounded by fun and colorful camp chairs; a BBQ and a couple of picnic tables; a horseshoes pit; and a telescope! Plus I went ahead and slapped on the “Sunny Aspect,” “Convivial,” and “Party Place” lot traits, to help out more. :p Right after that, though, I realized “oh shit, Smiler should have brought their guitar!” and wondered if I could head back to the house to grab it –

Nope. Right after I got out of build mode, I got the pop-up asking if I wanted to start the event. 21 Sim-minutes late. *rolls eyes* Weenie Roasts, man...but I said yes and then just popped back into Build/Buy to get a public-use guitar (and a cooler, since the game said I needed one). Sorry Smiler – I’ll try to remember to put it in your inventory the next time you guys use the old campfire!

-->With the venue set up and the guests arriving (I was a little worried they weren’t, but eventually found them walking in from the far side of the lot – Sara never showed up, admittedly, but we got Cletus, Aleah, and Knox!), I had Victor fulfill his Grill Master duties by making some mushroom steaks while Smiler and Alice sat around the freshly-lit campfire roasting marshmallows (aka one of the few bits of Sim food that “doesn’t count” when it comes to Smiler’s “Withered Stomach” weakness). Once Victor was done with his steaks, I directed him to go and roast a hot dog over the fire with Alice while Smiler encouraged their guests to hang out with them. Everything seemed to be going okay for a second –

-->Aaaand then everyone glitched out and popped out of their seats. *gritted teeth* Weenie Roasts, man... I persevered, though, and got everyone back around the campfire to hang out and add logs –

And that’s when teenage spellcaster Teulia appeared right over the campfire on her broomstick, landed, and spontaneously joined the party. O.o She didn’t interact with the others much, and ended up leaving well before the end, but – still. *shrug* Weenie Roasts, man?

-->Never mind – I was a WOMAN on a MISSION by this point, and that mission was to COMPLETE A WEENIE ROAST, DAMN IT. So as Aleah wandered off to the barbecue to start making herbal concoctions, I had Victor and Alice try roasting hot dogs again while Smiler chatted a bit with the others and played with the fire. I waited with bated breath to see if the pair would be successful –

And they were! :D Both successfully created hot dogs, meaning two out of three weenies had been roasted for the main goal. Pleased, I had Victor go and get some juice to start working on the “get drinks out of the cooler” goal, then had him and Alice go hit the toilets while Smiler chatted with Cletus (learning officially the guy is a Slob) –

[yoichooseno]

Jaytim Fic

Inspired by a post by @awful-aus (awful au #196) (not sure if that blog still exists but oh well)

Jason stopped at the edge of a manicured lawn. The lawn, and the mansion that lay at the other end, belonged to the wealthy Drake family, so it was no surprise that the garden was kept to an absurd degree of perfection. The lawn itself was neatly trimmed and gloriously green. Not a single weed dared to grow here. The edge of the lawn was bordered with a flower garden, separating the green grass from the evenly paved sidewalk. It was like something out of Pleasantville, where everything was uniform and, of course, pleasant. Uncomfortably so.

The whole neighbourhood was a fantastically snobby collection of high class sons and daughters, all of whom were busy raising the next generation of high class sons and daughters. Too busy to notice those outside their comfortable circles. It was nothing like Jason’s neighbourhood.

In Jason’s neighbourhood, lawns were short and gray, meeting broken sidewalks meeting asphalt riddled with potholes. The houses were decrepit, struggling to stand upright, and the people inside were in much the same condition. Many houses were of the cardboard variety and sagged in the rain. Many of the children wore filthy rags, barely holding together long enough to even say the word “clothes” before tearing to expose skin purple with bruises and cold. Life in these neighbourhoods was not considered living.

Every Sunday, Jason walked briskly through the posh neighbourhood. And every Sunday, he stopped at the edge of the Drake’s lawn. He would gaze at the flowers for a short moment, feeling their fragile petals with his calloused fingers, glance to make sure no one was looking, and neatly trim a single flower from the bush before continuing briskly down the street. This Sunday was no different from the last, or the Sunday preceding it. Every day was the same. Wear the same clothes, for there weren’t any others to wear. Eat the same food, for there wasn’t anything else to eat. Move quickly, because loitering here was dangerous. The cops would be called if Jason so much as sneezed the wrong way- the upper class were afraid of people like Jason. People who wore jackets with holes in the elbows, jeans that were too short, and shoes with holes in the soles. People who walked with their hands in their pockets and with cigarette smoke trailing behind them. People who were different.

Every Sunday was the same. On this Sunday, as he had many Sundays before, the Drake heir was waiting, watching from the window seat in a living room hardly anyone ever used. The only exception to the sameness, the muscle memory and the routine, followed Jason’s gentle plucking of a peace lily.

Tim Drake, having watched Jason on enough Sunday mornings to know that he would hurry off soon, leapt from the bench in the window and ran to the front door. Throwing it open, he saw Jason already departing.

“Hey, you! Wait!”

Jason kept walking. Tim wondered if maybe the strange boy, so rugged and alien in this pristine wonderland, hadn’t heard him. He darted to the middle of the lawn.

“You, you in the leather jacket! Stop!”

Jason froze- and then quickened his pace. Tim quickly followed suit.

“Hey, wait a minute! Seriously, mister, what do you think you’re doing stealing my flowers?”

Over his shoulder, Jason called back to Tim in a low voice. “Flower. Singular. Its not like you’re going to miss one lousy flower.”

Gaining on Jason now, Tim threw out a hand to catch the stranger’s shoulder. “Mustn’t be so lousy if you take one every Sunday,” Tim huffed.

Now the boy stopped, and he turned, and he stared. “You’ve seen me? Every Sunday?” He bit down hard on his lip. His lips were cracked and dry. They matched the malnourishment evident in the hallows of his cheeks and his neck. Tim couldn’t see it from afar, but it was heartbreakingly obvious up close.

Tim’s hand fell from his shoulder, resting instead on his hip. “Of course I have. I’m aristocracy- I haven’t anything better to do than watch out the window all day. Even that is more exciting than the social obligations. Now, what are you doing with my flower?”

Jason looked down at the white lily in his hand. “She- It’s… for someone very special to me.”

At these words, Tim’s face lit up. “I’ve got to meet her.”

“Pardon?” Jason physically tottered backward in surprise. “Meet who?”

“Whoever you’re stealing my flowers for,” replied Tim, looking exactly like the excitement-deprived noble he was. “Obviously I have to see if this girl is enough to warrant weekly flower theft.”

Jason could almost laugh. “You’re telling me you want to tag along to meet the person I steal flowers for? Really?” Jason ran his free hand through his hair, smiling to himself in quiet disbelief. “Wow. Aristocrats really are desperate for some fun,” he added in a half whisper.

“Well, are you taking me or not?”

Jason snapped back to the face before him, grinning up in the shade provided by Jason’s tall frame. “Not.”

The grin slipped from Tim’s face. “Why not?” Tim demanded.

“Because,” Jason scowled, tucking the flower into a hidden band inside his jacket. “You’re being ridiculous. As if I would let you come with me. I don’t even know you.”

Tim seemed to consider this for a moment. “Alright. That’s fair. How about this- if you agree to take me to meet her, I’ll take you out for lunch first and we can get to know each other.”

Jason wanted to take the shorter boy by the shoulders and shake him. Could he not see how intrusive and creepy he was being? This was completely inappropriate. There was no way Jason would accept his stupid offer.

And then his tummy rumbled. How long has it been since I’ve eaten? Two, maybe three days since I’ve had a full meal. I think I had a granola bar this morning, thought Jason. As he thought again of the rich boy’s offer, about to shake his head, his stomach released an angry growl. Jason was starving.

“My treat,” Tim added.

Jason sighed. He couldn’t believe he was about to do this. “Okay.”

Tim beamed, his bright smile lighting up his whole face. “Great. Let’s go. Oh, and by the way, my name is Tim.”

“Jason.”

Tim held out his hand, and Jason shook it firmly. He wouldn’t say so out loud, but Tim was surprised at the rough feel of Jason’s large hand. He couldn’t imagine what kind of work might produce such tough, ugly blisters.

In the car, which Jason insisted he get to drive since he did not want to put that much power in Tim’s hands, Tim babbled away about this and that. Jason wasn’t really paying attention. The hunger pains were intense and he thought he might be sick if he didn’t eat soon. At 19 years old, Jason was pretty well used to the ache of constant hunger. But, like anything else, it occasionally hit with considerably more force than usual. He struggled to focus on the road and the directions Tim was giving.

“Turn right just up there.”

Right. Okay, focus, Jason. Turn right. Use the turn signal, turn the wheel, and pull into the parking lot. Then you can eat. Jason forced his muscles to obey him. He collapsed at the wheel as soon as he put the vehicle in park.

“Woah, man, are you okay?” Tim’s hands fluttered nervously in the air over Jason, unsure of how much he could do without breaking his boundaries. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten? How much water have you had today?”

Jason turned to face Tim, head still resting on the wheel. “Not enough?” Jason guessed. His voice was weak and broken. Tim, who never gone hungry a day in his life for reasons other than punishment, could feel a twinge in his heart as he watched Jason loll around.

“Okay, you stay here. I’m going to go get-”

“If you say help, I will drive this car off a cliff.”

“I was going to say food.”

Jason’s stomached rumbled and he convulsed, clutching at his tummy. He was clearly dehydrated and underfed. Tim pushed open the car door and stepped out, long legs propelling him toward the open doors of the small cafe.

When Tim returned, Jason was upright and holding a forced smile on his rigid face. “I’m fine, see?”

“You’re not. Eat.” Tim pushed a bag toward Jason. He took it from Tim’s fingers, eyeing it with heavy suspicion. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Did you poison this?” Jason sniffed it gingerly.

“What?!”

“It’s an honest question.” The semi permanent defensive scowl returned to Jason’s face.

Tim struggled to hold onto the fact that Jason must have come from some place awful, and tried not to sound offended when he spoke. “No, I did not poison it. I’ll even have the first bite to prove it.” He motioned for the bag and, upon having it passed back, took one of the two muffins from the paper bag and took a bite. Jason watched him the whole time. “See? Not poisoned.” He passed the bag back to Jason.

Tim waited until Jason had finished eating, watched for the return of colour to his cheeks, before he started to ask questions. He made sure that Jason drank at least half a bottle of water, as well.

“So, tell me about yourself. Do you live with your parents?” Where is your home?

“I don’t live at home, no.” I don’t have a home.

“Do you have a job?” Can you afford to eat?

“Yeah, I take tires off of cars.” Illegally and usually in alleys. “And I work part time at an ice cream place.” That I found out about when I was carting drugs from a local dealer to the owner of the shop.

“Can you tell me about the girl?”

Jason hesitated, mulling over the right words in his mind. “Funny. She could make anyone laugh. Hard working. At one point, she was working three jobs. And passionate. Fired up about everything. Once she got ranting, she couldn’t stop if her life depended on it.”

Although Jason become quiet, Tim smiled. There was real, genuine love in Jason’s tone as he described the mystery flower girl. Tim hoped she would describe Jason with the same affection. “I can’t wait to meet her”

“Yeah…”

“So,” Tim carried on, “do you have a motorcycle?” Can you please explain the tattered leather jacket?

“I used to.” I sold it to pay for utilities, and then got kicked out of the house a month later.

This went on for quite some time, and the boys never pulled out of the parking lot. When it seemed appropriate, Tim would offer his own answer to a question so that Jason would not feel trapped in a one sided conversation. When Tim had asked all he could think to ask, he asked one more question.

“Can we go see the girl now?”

Jason, who had actually loosened up considerably, tensed. He shut up like a clam and broke eye contact, refusing to connect again. He only focused on the road, and getting there from the parking lot.

“Is.. That a yes?”

“I think you should go home.”

“Now? Are you kidding? No way. I hate to break it to you, but, unfortunately, I’m now emotionally invested in your well being. And whether you like it or not, I can tell that this girl plays an integral part in your life. I have to meet her.”

Jason turned to Tim with incredulity. And a slight shock of admiration. “Are you always so stubborn?”

“Yes.”

Tim’s absolute answer and the accompanying nod of his head made Jason smile. He fought the tug at the corners of his mouth and he lost. This spoiled rich kid wasn’t half bad.

As they drive across town, Tim watched Jason. From this angle, the malnourishment was slightly more conspicuous and the furrow of his brow did nothing to dampen the shining of his blue eyes. His dark, dark hair burned in the afternoon sun, and the corner of his mouth dimpled as he chewed the inside of his cheek in thought. Tim was intrigued by Jason in every way.

“Do you still have the flower?”

Jason let go of the wheel with one hand to pull open his jacket, exposing the flower in its hiding place. It was slightly wilted from sitting in there so long, but the peace lily still screamed of its beauty, its purity.

Tim turned from Jason’s face to the front windshield and started in surprise. Jason was heading for the entrance to the cemetery. At least, Tim thought it might be the cemetery. He had never been before, and from here, he could see only tall iron fences overgrown with vines and green leaves turning over gold edges in the crisp end -of-summer breeze. As they pulled forward, car rumbling over the gravel, Tim could almost make out the roofs of mausoleums. They really were at the cemetery, weren’t they?

A small gasp escaped his lips. “Is this- Jason, are we at the graveyard? I thought we were going to meet the girl!”

“We are.” Jason stopped the car. He turned stoicly to face Tim. “Tim, come meet my mom.”