#wally was too old/sick to want to play the last couple years

[semiotomatics]

okay but what if i convinced my mum we should get another cat

[longitudinalwaveme]

A Pipe Dream

The Flash stars in: A Pipe Dream

Dramatis Personae

Wally West, the garrulous, impulsive, and friendly third Flash

Joan Garrick, Jay Garrick’s wife, who is patient, loving, and supportive of everyone

Iris Allen, Barry Allen’s wife, an inquisitive daredevil reporter

The Pied Piper, alias Hartley Rathaway, a Robin Hood-esque thief

The Top, alias Roscoe Dillon, an arrogant, elitist, and top-obsessed criminal

Weather Wizard, alias Mark Mardon, an overconfident, rather stupid robber

Heat Wave, alias Mick Rory, a dim, shockingly gentle pyromaniac

Script

Act I

(Joan and Iris are onstage)

Iris: So, how’s Jay?

Joan: He’s doing well enough, I suppose, but, to be honest, I’m a little worried about him. He keeps claiming that he’s retired from crime fighting, but every time I turn around, he’s wearing that silly hat of his and racing off to fight bank robbers or carjackers or giant, murderous, telepathic gorillas. It was one thing when he was fifty, but now he’s 99 years old, and the doctors say that his heart won’t be able to take much more of his running at super speed.

Iris: What does he say about that?

Joan: That (strikes a heroic pose) “ it will be a pleasure to die in the line of duty.”

Iris: (Laughs) That sounds just like Barry.

Joan: I know, and it’s not funny. Our husbands spend so much time saving everyone else that they never stop to worry about themselves.

Iris: I guess that’s true-but hey, that’s part of what we’re here for, to make sure our husbands take some “me time” occasionally.

Joan: In speaking of husbands, how’s Barry?

Iris: He’s not doing so well. He came down with the flu a few days ago, and I’ve been going crazy trying to keep him from leaving his bed so that he can go fight crime.

Joan: Oh, I’ve had that happen with Jay before. Once, when he had pneumonia, he heard about a shoplifting ring, and I had to call in Ted and Alan-you know them as Wildcat and the original Green Lantern-to physically restrain him so that he wouldn’t leave the house to go stop them.

Iris: Well, I haven’t had to resort to calling the Justice League to restrain Barry yet, so things could be worse.

Joan: You’re right. Things could be worse. We could be having to deal with two sick speedsters each. Or a sick Superman!

Iris: Man, that would be a nightmare. I have no idea how that Lois Lane woman does it.

Joan: Maybe Clark just doesn’t get sick. After all, he isn’t a human, so maybe our diseases don’t affect him and he’s as invulnerable to getting sick as he is to everything else.

Iris: Maybe so.

(Enter Wally)

Wally: Hi, Joan. Hi, Aunt Iris. (Sneezes) How are you?

Iris: Hi, Wally. We’re doing all right. How are you?

Wally: I’m fine, but Linda and the kids all have the flu (Sneezes) and the twins also both have strep. (Sneezes) It sure is lucky that I don’t get sick, or we’d have a real mess on our hands.

Iris: Um, Wally, are you sure you’re not sick?

Wally: Yeah, I’m sure. (Sneezes three times) I never get sick. I had perfect attendance all throughout school, and you can check my records if you don’t believe me.

Joan: Can you at least try to take it easy, Wally?

Wally: I can’t do that! Jay’s retired and Uncle Barry has the flu, and someone has to protect the city! Besides, I can’t deny my adoring fans the chance to see me because I have a few sniffles. (Sneezes) I’ll be fine!

Iris: (To Joan) Is there a single superhero in the entire world who actually rests when they get sick?

Joan: Speaking from experience, I don’t think there is.

Wally: I said that I’m fine! (Sneezes) So, do you want to get lunch? I’m starving!

Iris: Wally, it’s 8:00 in the morning!

Wally: Okay, so let’s get brunch!

Iris: But I just ate breakfast!

Wally: I don’t follow. (Sneezes) I just ate breakfast, too, and I’m already hungry again.

Joan: Wally, dear, you have to consume 980,000 calories per day just to survive, so you have to eat almost constantly. We simply don’t have the appetite or the metabolism to keep up with you.

Wally: Oh, right. I forget that fact a lot-especially (Sneezes) since my kids inherited my metabolism and have to (Sneezes) eat even more than I do.

Iris: It’s all right, Wally.

Wally: So, um, do you want to go to McDonalds with me (Sneezes) and watch me eat? With Linda and the kids all sick, I’ve been cooped up in the house for a week, and I’m going stir-crazy!

Iris: I suppose so. After all, with Barry sick, I haven’t been able to get out much, either.

Joan: I’ll go, too. After all, if you really are sick despite your claims, someone needs to keep an eye on you so that you don’t run yourself into the ground.

Wally: Great! I love you guys so much, and I can’t wait to sink my teeth into (Sneezes) 340 Big Macs! I love McDonalds food!

Iris: (Shakes head) Never change, Wally. Never change.

(Exit All)

Act II

(The Pied Piper is onstage, playing an instrument. Enter the Top)

Top: Top of the morning to you, Piper.

Piper: Oh, good, you were able to make it. Did you have any trouble getting here?

Top: No. There is not a person in this city who would dare inconvenience the Top.

Piper: What about our friends in the red pajamas?

Top: Don’t make me laugh, Piper. The old one is feeble and retired, the young one is impulsive and stupid, and the only one that poses a threat has the flu, and therefore cannot be on top of his game. They could not bother me if they tried. What of you, my friend? Are you still in tip- top shape, or has your life spun out of control?  

Piper: I’m as fit as a fiddle, Roscoe. The Flashes have no reason to hunt down a peaceable man who steals money from drug lords and self-absorbed starlets and gives it to the poor. In fact, if I could only make them realize that the real villains are the members of the 1% who enrich themselves at the expense of the poor, we would be good friends.

Top: But I heard you were homeless?

Piper: I am.

Top: How, exactly, did that come to pass?

Piper: Well, after my last heist, I was going to buy an apartment for myself, but while I was on my way to buying it, I saw a very pregnant woman with two small children crying, and when I asked her what was wrong, she told me that she was trying to escape from her abusive boyfriend but that she had no money, and so I gave her the money and told her to use it to make a good life for herself and her children, and so I was unable to buy anything.

Top: You gave all of the money away?

Piper: Of course! They needed it more than I did.

Top: You, sir, are a fool. This is the fifth time that you have given up a permanent home to help some wretch-the fifth time!

Piper: Roscoe, you of all people should understand what it is like to be an outcast. How can you criticize my desire to help others that the world has forgotten?

Top: Because I am a genius, something that decidedly does not apply to the people for whom you constantly risk your freedom and your own safety.

Piper: Roscoe, my early life was spent in scandalous luxury, luxury that my parents took at the expense of the poor who helped build their empire. It’s only fair that I go without to help them now. (Pause) So, do you know if anyone else is coming to our little meeting?

Top: No. I do not concern myself with the behavior of lesser men like them.

(Enter Heat Wave)

Heat Wave: Hi, Piper! Hi, Top! Seeing you two really warms my heart! (Hugs Piper)

Piper: Mick, I love hugs, but…I….can’t….breathe!

Heat Wave: Oh, sorry. (Releases him)

Piper: Hi, Mick. How have you been?

Heat Wave: I’m okay. I was burning up with fever a couple days ago, but I’m all better now.

Piper: I’m glad to hear that. Do you know if any of the others are coming?

Heat Wave: Captain Cold won’t be here. He’s got a bad case of the chills , and besides, he’s still in prison, and so is Mirror Master. They say hi.

Piper: And what about Glider?

Top: My love is on vacation in the Bahamas. She won’t be able to come.

Piper: Wait. I thought you said that you didn’t know if anyone else could come!

Top: Did I? Oh. My apologies.

Piper: (To Heat Wave) Do you know if Digger is coming?

Heat Wave: He won’t be coming. He broke his leg and told me that he didn’t feel like messing with crutches when I brought him chocolate and flowers.

Piper: Okay, and what about Mardon?

Heat Wave: I don’t know. Last I heard, he was feeling a little under the weather.

(Enter Weather Wizard)

Wizard: Nope, I’m as right as rain!

Piper: Hi, Mark!

Wizard: Hi, Piper! Hey, Mick.

Heat Wave: How’ve you been? I heard you were sick.

Wizard: Nope. I’ve just been taking it easy.

Top: What a surprise.

Wizard: What’s that supposed to mean?

Top: It means that you are a lazy fool who hasn’t done a day’s work in his life.

Wizard: Am not! Why, I stole an entire tractor-trailer full of sports cars in an hour once!

Top: Yes, by sitting on your couch and allowing a tornado to detach the trailer from the cab of the truck and deliver the loot to your house.

Wizard: So? You can’t fault me for conserving energy!

Top: “Conserving energy”, my foot.

Wizard: What’s the matter, Top? Are you jealous of my power?

Top: No. I simply think it is wasted on a man who uses it only to commit petty thefts.

Wizard: (Raises weather wand) Petty? (Waves wand) I’ll show you petty! (Thunderclap)

Heat Wave: Whoa there, Mark, let’s not get hasty. I don’t want you to do something in the heat of the moment that you’ll regret-like destroying this building with all of us in it!

Piper: Mick’s right, Mark. It’s too dangerous to get into a fight here.

Wizard: (Lowers weather wand) Fine. But if you expect me to take his stupid comments forever, you’re chasing rainbows, Piper.

Piper: (to Top) Roscoe, please don’t antagonize Mark. You really don’t want him to make you face the music .

Top: I am not afraid of him, Piper.

Wizard: Well, you should be, because if you don’t start respecting me, our little truce will be nothing more than the calm before the storm!

Top: Whatever you say, Mardon. Whatever you say. (Pause) Shall we get down to business?

Heat Wave: Yeah, we should. Who has a plan for our next heist?

Piper: I do, actually, so if you don’t mind, I’ll be calling the tune on this job. You see, some friends of my parents are importing some very fine jewelery, and I think that those jewels will make for a tidy sum for the poor….

Act III

(Wally, Iris, and Joan are sitting at a table)

Wally: Boy, that was delicious! (Sneezes) I don’t care what Uncle Barry says-McDonalds has the best food in the world!

Joan: It isn’t exactly the healthiest food, you know.

Wally: Yeah, I know-but with the way I burn calories (Sneezes) , it isn’t going to hurt me any!

Iris: Um, I’m not sure that’s how it works, Wally.

Wally: Well, even if it isn’t, I’m young and it tastes good, so who cares?

Joan: I do, for one.

Iris: And so do I.

Wally: Good grief! When are you two (Sneezes) going to stop treating me like a little kid?

Iris: Wally, I watched you grow up. It’s going to take awhile for me to adjust-especially when you keep acting like a crazy teenager.

Wally: I don’t act like a crazy teenager! (Sneezes) I act like a crazy adult!

Joan: Wally, there isn’t much difference between a crazy teenager and a crazy adult.

Wally: Oh, yeah? (Sneezes) Prove it!

Joan: The Trickster.

Wally: Yeah, you’ve pretty much got me there. (Sneezes) Sorry I’m so annoying.

Joan: It’s all right. You’re not annoying most of the time, dear.

Iris: Just some of the time.

Wally: I love you guys. (Sneezes) So, what should we do next?

Iris: We could go shoe shopping. I’ve been needing a new pair of heels.

Wally: No! Not shoe shopping! Linda’s taken me on enough shoe shopping trips to last a lifetime! (Sneezes)

Iris: I was only kidding, Wally.

Wally: Good. Oooh, why don’t we get ice cream?

Joan: You can get ice cream. It probably isn’t a good idea for us to get it.

Wally: Yes! (Disappears, then returns with ice cream and cake)

Joan: Where did you get the cake from?

Wally: China. (Sneezes) They make everything there these days.

Iris: (Laughs) You ran all the way to China just to get cake?

Wally: Well, I was aiming for Hungary, but I overshot.

Joan: How did you overshoot Hungry? You have a full-time residency there.

Wally: Huh? (Pauses, then laughs) Oh, I get it! That’s hilarious, Joan!  

Joan: Why thank you, Wally. I think you and your aunt are rubbing off on me.

Iris: I’m glad we decided to do this. Barry’s a dear, but when he gets sick, he can be a bit of a nightmare.

Wally: Wait, Uncle Barry can be a nightmare?

Iris: Believe it or not, yes. Now, he’s not rude or whiny, but he keeps trying to leave his bed and stop crimes instead of resting so that he can get well, and it’s very irritating to make him stay put, because he gives me these really sad puppy dog eyes when I tell him to stay at home.

Wally: Hah! I knew he (Sneezes) had a weakness besides punctuality!

Joan: All three of you have that weakness, Wally.

Wally: I do not! (His phone rings) Sorry. I need to take this. (Pulls out phone) Hello, Commissioner? The Rogues? What are they doing? Mmm-hmm. Uh-huh. All right. I’ll be there as soon as possible, Commish! (Sneezes) You’re welcome. Good-bye. (Puts away phone) Sorry, guys, I’ve gotta run! The Rogues are trying to steal some jewelry, and I need to stop them.

Iris: No problem, Wally. Go get them!

Joan: And be careful!

(Exit Wally)

Iris: You know, just once, I would like to have an outing that isn’t interrupted by criminals, the Rogues, telepathic gorillas, or aliens who want to take over the world.

Joan: I fully agree with you, Iris. (Pause) Would you like to go shoe shopping with me while he’s gone?

Iris: That sounds terrific, Joan.

Commercial Break!

Act IV

(Enter the Rogues, running)

Piper: (Yelling over his shoulder) Thank you for your generous donation to the poor, Mr. Englewood!

Top: Oh, that was terrific fun! I’m feeling on top of the world right now!

Heat Wave: You’re right, Top. There’s nothing like a nice heist with all of my bestest friends to give me those nice warm and fuzzy feelings.

Wizard: Tell me about it. I’m on cloud nine!

Top: What are you going to do with your money, Piper? I am going to buy a nice suit and some new tops for my collection.

Heat Wave: I’m going to buy some presents for all of my friends so that I can warm their hearts. I’m sure Captain Cold will love a new parka.

Top: I was not asking you, you imbecile.

Heat Wave: Oh. I’m sorry, Top.

Top: Just be sure it does not happen again.

Wizard: I’m going to buy me a new car so that I can finally get a girlfriend!

Top: That will never happen, Mark, and I was not asking you either.

Wizard: Well gee, thanks for destroying my ray of hope, Roscoe.

Top: Moron. (To Piper) Well, my friend? What are you going to do with your share of the loot?

Piper: I’m going to donate it to a charity for sick children. The cries of joy that will produce will be music to my ears.

Top: You are giving away your money again? (Pause) I do not believe you.

Piper: What’s so wrong about wanting to help people?

(Enter Wally)

Wally: Because you’re going about it all wrong, Piper.

Wizard: By the four seasons! It’s the Flash!

Top: Not to worry, Mardon. This one is a mere child. (To Wally) Spin.

Wally: Whoa! (Stumbles, but keeps his balance) You should become a ride at Disney World or something, Top, because you make me just as dizzy.

Heat Wave: It’s time for you to take the heat, Kid Flash! (Fires at Wally, who narrowly dodges)

Wally: No thanks!

Wizard: (Waves his wand) We’re too powerful for you to stop, Flash. Why don’t you take a rain check?

Wally: No way! Defeating a bunch of clowns like you will be a breeze!

Top: Perhaps. Then again, perhaps not. (Spins out of Wally’s way)

Heat Wave: This situation is too hot for you to handle, Flash! You should leave before you get hurt or something.

Wally: Get hurt by one of you? Yeah, right. (He sneezes, and Top grabs him from behind)

Top: You were saying?

Wizard: Nighty night, Flash. (Raises his wand, and Wally sneezes again, causing the wand to go flying out of his hand) My wand!

Wally: (Breaks free) Nice try, Mardon. (He handcuffs Wizard and Top to one another)

Heat Wave: Hey, nobody hurts my friends like that!

Wally: (Taps him on the shoulder) You need better friends. (Handcuffs him to a lamp)

Piper: Flash, I’m not going to fight you. I abhor violence, as a general rule, and I know as well as anyone that my musical hypnosis doesn’t work well on you. However, before you take me away, I want to ask you something. Mr. Englewood hardly needs more money, and everyone knows that his factories are some of the most hazardous in the country for his workers. Why is it so wrong that I take money from him and give it to children who are dying from preventable diseases because of lack of money? You can’t argue that he deserves it more than they do, and he’s wealthy enough that he won’t even miss the money we took from him. Can’t you at least let me give the money away before you take me to jail? Please?

Wally: Piper, if I’m being honest, part of me wants to let you, but here’s the thing. I can’t let you break the law in order to help people. I’m sorry.

Piper: That’s all right. You’re just doing what you were told is right. I can’t fault you for that.

(Wally handcuffs him)

Wally: A word of advice, Piper? If you really want to help the poor, and I think you do, I think you’ll find it more rewarding if you do it on the right side of the law.

(Exit Wally)

Wizard: Well, that was a bust.

Top: For once, Mardon, we agree about something.

Heat Wave: Hey, guys, look at the bright side! At least we’re all still together.

Wizard: True. Nobody can call us fair-weather friends!

Heat Wave: And you know what’s even better? When we go back to prison, we can see Captain Cold again!

Top: I’m thrilled.

Wizard: Aww, don’t be such a downer, Top. You should learn to see the silver lining.

Top: I hate you both.

Piper: (Aside) All I wanted was to give the poor justice. Why is that a crime? The idea of people like my parents helping the poor is just a pipe dream...isn’t it?

Act V

(Iris and Joan are onstage. Enter Wally)

Wally: Hi, Iris! Hi, Joan! (Sneezes)

Joan: Oh, hi, Wally. Are you all right?

Wally: I’m okay. (Sneezes) But I think you were right about me being sick. I just took my temperature, and I’m 114 degrees. (Sneezes)

Joan: 114? How are you still alive?

Wally: Because the baseline body temperature for speedsters is 107 degrees.

Joan: Oh, that’s right.

Iris: Were you able to stop the Rogues?

Wally: Yep! (Sneezes) They’re being transported back to prison now, and all the jewelry has been returned. (Sneezes)

Iris: So, what do you want to do now, Wally?

Wally: I want to go home and sleep. (Sneezes) Running around sick won’t help anything.

Iris: Yes! A hero finally sees reason!

Wally: (Sneezes) Oh, and one more thing? Would you mind (Sneezes) donating money to the Children’s Health Foundation? I have a certain….friend who would really appreciate it.

Joan: Of course we will, Wally.

Wally: Thanks. You two are the greatest! (Sneezes)

[jeremiah-valeska]

Birthday Surprise || Discord

Summary: Jeremiah kidnaps Dick and forces him to relive his childhood trauma. Trigger warnings: Death, Trauma, Abuse, Dark Themes, Violence Written With: @flyingboywonder

Jeremiah

It was perfect. Just how he pictured it to look. How he remembered it to look. "When you're awake, you're going to love this!" Glancing up to the stands where he had Dick placed in the audience. (The Audience consisting solely of the members of his Church. All in everyday attire.) He said busting into uncontrollable giggles. He placed his hand on his chest. His gloved hand over his red ringleader's coat. An exact replica of the one Haly used to sport years ago. "Dick! Common, Dick, wake up!" He called from where he stood. "We're getting off schedule." He mumbled before walking into the audience and scooting past a few of his people so that he could sit in the empty spot next to his best friend. Reaching over, he jostled him a bit. Trying to wake him. Leaning close and whispering in his ear. "It's the most important day of your life and the drugs should be wearing off... you should probably wake up. And... pay attention to me..." His last few words were very breathy and he reached a hand up to brush the hair from Dick's face.

Dick

He could feel warm breath against his ear, could make out the words Jeremiah was saying. He vaguely remembered them hanging out together, having a couple of drinks, watching TV. And then... It was a blur. His eyes slowly opened, trying to adjust and focus on what was around him. "J-Jeremiah?" His voice was croaky, and his head felt a little dizzy. "What's going on?" he asked, head turning to look at the other man. There was a glint of excitement in his eyes, then Dick looked towards the stage. Haley's? That wasn't possible. The circus had been gone for years. Was this a dream? He'd dreamt of his childhood hundreds of times -- dreamt of the night he'd lost his parents. Watching them fall over and over again, unable to catch them, or tell them what was going to happen. "Am I dreaming?"

Jeremiah

"Ah! There you are." He said with a smile, clearly proud of himself. "For a moment I was scared I may have used a little too much. Do you feel alright?" He asked, placing a hand on his forehead to check his temperature before pulling back and swiping the air.  "You're fine." A large and manic grin stretching across his white face. Twitching a bit like it might have been too big of a smile for himself to even handle. He checked the watch on his hand quickly before letting out a gentle huff. "We have time... I suppose. You see, Dickie. Ever since that day we got to talkin' about your parents I realized something. See I wasn't there. That's why you don't feel about me the way I feel about you. I couldn't be there for you... I couldn't hold your hand or tell you that it'll all be alright on the most important day of your life." He reached forwards and grabbed Dick's hand between his own. Silvery eyes widening. "But I can be now. I just... I want to be connected to you."

Dick

Used a little too much? Jeremiah had drugged him. Something that was very much not okay with Dick. "What do you mean, do I feel alright? I just found out someone I considered a friend slipped me something. What do you think?" Listening to the other speak, it was obvious that there was something very wrong with him. He wasn't the same person that he'd once known at the circus. "Most important day of my life? It was the worst day of my life. Why would you want to connect to me through that?" He tried to pull his hand away from Jeremiah, but he was still a bit weak from whatever he'd drugged him with. "There's other ways to connect to me than kidnapping me and bringing me to a place that haunts me."

Jeremiah

He pouted when Dick started to talk back to him. "Best Friend. Don't be inconsiderate, Dick. How else was it meant to be a surprise if I didn't knock you out... besides... it shouldn't give you any long lasting effects. That I know of." He said, unable to prevent a sick chuckle from escaping.  "Why?" He asked taking a hand back and placing it on his chin in thought. "Well, Dick. You see... I thought of it... Over and over and I realized that Anthony Zucco held a more important place in your heart than me." He said, pressing his hand against Dick's chest and looking into his eyes as though he was pleading with him. Trying to get him to understand. "As well as your super powered friends. Zatanna... Wally... They're all so much more important to you. I want to be important to you! Me!" He raised his voice, gripping the fabric of Dick's shirt. His lip quivering. "If you can't love me, then we can be bonded in other ways. I'll be important to you once the night is over... You'll see... I won't be so insignificant to you anymore."

Dick

Best friend? Was that what this was all about? Now Dick was starting to understand how Bruce felt when it came to Joker. "You could've just blindfolded me and said you had a surprise. There are other ways to do things. Drugging people without their consent should never be an option, Jeremiah." The mention of Zucco made his blood boil in his veins. How dare Jeremiah bring him up. "Don't say his name," he hissed, trying to get up from his seat. He knew that he was feeling a little groggy, but he couldn't move. Looking down, he noticed that he'd been bound to the chair. "You could've been important to me! I cared about you!" he yelled, fidgeting in his seat, trying to get free. "You want me to love you? You drugged me and tied me to a chair, built a whole replica of Haley's! You want me to relive the worst night of my life!" Panic was rising in his chest, his heart pounding and his breaths becoming ragged. "Let me go, Jeremiah! I want to go home!"

Jeremiah

"But then there's the complications that come with the blindfold. What if you peaked, then the surprise would have been-" He whistled and gestured like he was throwing something into a hoop. "Out the window." He said, pulling his hands back into another shrug. Dick's reaction to Zucco's name made Jeremiah shift back from him like he was scared he might bite him before his lips twisted again into a smile. He shook his head like he was shaking them of silly thoughts. "See, that's how you should react if someone's important to you!" He said. As if this proved any point. In his delusional mind, everything that he was doing and saying made perfect sense. "Don't pretend I ever could have been more then the childhood friend you've pitied all our lives." He said giving him a frown, "There would have always been someone above me if I didn't do something grand." He told him, raising his voice as though he was speaking to an audience. All at once, his cult turned to look at them as if they recognized his commanding tone. "Anyway, show must go on and all that." He said waving his hand around and getting up. "Sit tight, Dickie! I have to play understudy for the ringleader." He said, scooting his way out of the audience seat and sauntering down the stairs and to the stage.

Dick

"It's not because he's important to me! It's because he killed my parents!" He tried his hardest to understand what was going through Jeremiah's mind right now -- what would lead him to do a thing like this. Dick thought that he knew his old friend, but clearly he'd been hiding a dark secret from him. "I don't pity, Jeremiah. Or at least I didn't, until now. I thought you were a friend. The one last connection I had to the good part of my past, but you've ruined it. It's tainted now." He was right. There would always be someone above him. His daughter for one, and his girlfriend too. Wanting to be the centre of Dick's attention was a crazy desire. "The show doesn't have to go on! You could just let me go home to my kid, to my... To my Zee." He was practically pleading now, his eyes filling up with tears. Tears of both of anger and fear. "No!" he yelled, watching the crazed clown walking to the stage. "I don't wanna do this, Jeremiah! Please! If you care about me, you won't make me do this!" Dick fought against the restraints, but it was no use. Maybe if he closed his eyes... Yeah, that's what he'd do. He squeezed them shut tight, clenching and unclenching his fists as he tried to calm himself. "Do it for Mar'i. Get through this for Mar'i," he whispered to himself. "Do it for Zee. For the Titans... For your family." You can do this, Dick. Bruce's voice rang clear in his head, and he focused on it. "I can do this," he breathed. "I have to."

Jeremiah

His eyes darkened for a moment, "Since he killed your parents, he's important to you. Can't you see it's one in the same? Jerome killed my parents and voila! He'll always have a place in my heart." Though he wasn't sure if it was fair to use his twin as an example. It didn't matter. Dick and himself were the same. Both orphans who came from the same place and rose to where they were today. Successful. The only difference being: Jeremiah didn't have what Dick had. Important people in his life. All he had was Dick and he had to share him. How was that fair? "Your Zee?" He half turned on his walk down and his teeth grit together hard, the next words were spoken through them. "This is why I have to do this. You've always put her in front of our relationship." He turned back and stepped onto the stage, turning in a dramatic fashion on the stage and tipping his hat. Dick should be happy that this was all he was doing. Out of respect for him... he wasn't eliminating the competition. And, oh. How he thought of it before. How he'd do it... Instead of killing them all while the spell took place he was putting on a show for his ungrateful best friend. "Ladies and Gentleman! Boys and girls! Children of all ages! Welcome to the circus! Hear the music! Laugh at the clowns! And be thrilled by the daring feats of our Acrobats!" The audience irrupted into cheers and he looked up with a smile on his face. Finally catching Dick. Who's eyes were closed. "DON'T CLOSE YOUR EYES! You'll miss out on the big surprise!" He made a gesture and one of his cult members moved next to Dick and pried his eyes open for him. "Let's give a warm welcome to THE FLYING GRAYSONS!"

Dick

He felt sick to his stomach. The way Jeremiah was talking was enough to make him want to throw up his breakfast. "It's not the same. Your brother is a psychopath, and I'm starting to think that you are, too. Maybe it's a twin thing," Dick hissed. He wasn't helping his case by upsetting his old friend, but he didn't care. They were truths that he needed to hear. If he realised just how alike he and Jerome were, perhaps it'd be enough to make him stop this insanity. "She's my girlfriend. I don't know what you expect from me. Normal friendships aren't like this, Valeska... Are you in love with me? Is that what this is about? We can talk through it if you are, you don't have to go this far." His words were falling on deaf ears. It was clear that Jeremiah had a plan and he was going to see it through, no matter how much Dick tried to put a stop to it. Hearing the other man starting to shout like he was the star of the show, he shook his head, desperately trying to ignore it. Suddenly, though, his eyes were being pried open, forcing him to look at the stage. "No, no, no. Please, let me go," he begged. He'd never sounded more broken. A man and a woman walked onto the stage, and his heart sank. "Momma?" She looked exactly like her, and the guy looked exactly like his father. It wasn't them. It couldn't be. "STOP!" He threw himself as far forward as he could, but the hands on his face pulled him back. Dick was starting to lose control, tears streaming down his face, his body writhing as much as the restraints would allow. "I'm going to kill you, Jeremiah!" he screamed. "You're gonna die, just like Zucco!"

Jeremiah

He tried to continue the show and ignore the screaming of his best friend as he sat in the audience but when Dick asked if he was in love with him, he felt himself freeze and tense up. Trying to swallow the lump in his throat that was choking him. "You kn- you know..." He stammered, losing his cool for a moment. He wasn't in love with Dick. No. They were just best friends. At least he thought they were, right now Dick was acting like they weren't and he had to push through it, knowing that the connection they would have after this would be stronger then what they currently had. Dick would think of him all the time because he'd think of this night. He'd always be a thought, lingering in his mind. He pushed though the brief moment and wiped a bead of sweat from his face. "And introducing! The youngest Acrobat we have! Dick Grrrrayson!" He announced getting back into character. Gesturing to the young boy who just walked on stage, he couldn't have been more then 9 years old. Meanwhile, the real Dick Grayson was screaming from the audience that he was going to kill him. "I like the passion, bestie! But how about we cheer for this little guy here instead of making promises you can't keep! Poor thing's gonna need it!" He said as the family behind him started getting to their places. He had them put under a spell from Zatanna's book. Forced to follow his every command.

Dick

Jeremiah's answer didn't satisfy him. But he knew better than to push it. Everyone around him had been telling him that Jeremiah had a crush on him for months, but he refused to listen, and now he was the subject of all his attention. Hearing himself being introduced, he focused on the little boy on stage. Curly black hair, bright blue eyes, and a wide smile. Was this innocent little kid going to die because of him? "Let the kid go! He hasn't done anything wrong. Let them all go!" His eyes were stinging, and he was so, so angry. But beyond the anger, there was terror and sheer panic. His chest was heaving, and he gritted his teeth. He wished that he could get free, that he could get onto the stage and warn these people. Dick wanted to save them because he couldn't save his parents. He didn't get to warn them on time about Zucco's plan, and because of him, they were dead. And now these people were going to die, too. "You need to get out of here! He's sending you to your deaths!" They didn't move, and Dick let out a scream of frustration. Knowing how this was going to go made his whole body shake, his hands unable to fiddle with the binds keeping him down. The more he tried to squeeze his eyes shut, the rougher the henchmen were with him. There was no way out of this. Nobody to help him. Hadn't anyone noticed he was gone yet? He sank back in his seat, exhausted from fighting, and from the drugs. "Just... Don't make me watch this. I... I can't."

Jeremiah

Jeremiah turned to watch the family go to their spots before Dick caught his attention again. He was still fighting this? Still screaming at him like he hadn't already made up his mind. He had been working on this for months. Transforming Amusement Mile into a replica of Haly's. Finding performers that met the builds and appearances of his parents. Casting the perfect kid to play Dick... and even rebuilding his Church so they would have an audience. He did all this work and Dick thought he was not going to go through with it? His eyes narrowed. No, that would be a waste of money and a waste of months of work. "They can't hear you, Dick!" He called up to him. "They're under a spell-" He sighed dramatically and shook his head before coming back into the audience. The Ringleader didn't need to be there for the rest of this anyway. He gestured for his cultie to get out of his spot before reclaiming it. Taking a seat besides Dick. Watching as he started to give up. "Shush," He said softly. "It'll be alright. You survived this the first place and you can do it again. You're amazing." He offered his comfort, placing a hand on Dick's leg. "We'll finish this together... and then once it's all done... every time you think of them... you'll think of me."

Dick

Under a spell? Where had he even found magic? Dick knew that Zatanna would never help him with something like this. Any sane person wouldn't. "Even if they can't hear me, I still had to try," he muttered to himself. His shoulders tensed when he saw Jeremiah leaving the stage, coming back towards their seats. "I only survived because of Jim and Bruce. Without them, I wouldn't be here." His stomach was churning. Bile was burning the back of his throat. "Connecting you to this isn't a good thing." His voice was void from emotion now, and he didn't even bother to move his leg when he felt a hand rest on his upper thigh. He didn't want to be touched, but Jeremiah wasn't listening to anything he was saying, so what was the point in fighting it? "My parents dying broke my heart. I tried to bury the pain for years. You're bringing it back to the surface. I won't be me after this." It was his last hope at getting Jeremiah to change his mind. "You love me as I am. Want to be the best friend of this version of me. You're about to ruin who I am, all because you want to be important to me. But you won't be, because you'll have killed this Dick Grayson."

Jeremiah

"Jim and Bruce were very kind to you. Jim said something to you right after. What was it...? There will be light?" He replied, looking up at the performance they were starting it now while the little boy stood and watched. Not in on the action. He wasn't trained like the performers and Jeremiah didn't want that ruining the bit so Little Dick was instructed to just watch and to scream if his "parents" were to fall. "I'm prepared to fill both roles for you, so don't worry about that. I'll make sure it's exactly as it should be. I'll be there for you..." He said. "That's all I want. To be there. I'm so uninvolved. So forgotten about that I have to insert myself more into the story... you understand." He said, like it made sense. He leaned back in the chair, listening to Dick talk. He frowned. Feeling a small sense like he might be doing the wrong thing here, he shook his head. Bringing his hands up to hair. "No, no, it's fine. It's fine." He said, "It's all going to go according to plan." He said to himself, a manic edge to his tone. He shook himself out, trying to get rid of the doubt. "I'll love you in anyway that you are." He corrected him after a long moment. "It's you who doesn't care about me. You won't die. They will," He gestured up to the performers. "But you won't."

Dick

How did Jeremiah know what Jim had said to him. Did he know every little detail of his life somehow? "How do you know that?" Dick asked, needing to know who was giving out such private information. "You can't just replace Bruce and Jim. You can't be a father figure to me." He was so confused, so utterly overwhelmed by everything that was going on around him. Jeremiah confirmed that the people on stage were going to die, and Dick thrashed around to get out of his binds once more. Luckily, all his fidgeting had paid off and they came loose. "Not if I can help it," he growled, pulling the ropes off. The first thing he did was make a fist, then punched his old friend in the jaw. "You're sick, Jeremiah. As soon as I'm done saving those people, I'm putting you somewhere secure. You're never going to hurt anyone again," he told him, jumping over the seats and running towards the stage. "Stop!" he yelled at the people. "I'm coming to help! Don't climb up there! Jeremiah, stop the spell!"

Jeremiah

He smiled pridefully when Dick asked how he knew that, "I did my research." He quipped. Deciding to keep his tactics to himself, after all, Dick didn't need to know everything. All he needed to know was how far he'd go for him. "I was my own father figure, why can't I be yours too? I could offer you advice or play catch with you in the yard." He said with a chuckle. "Listen, Dick. I'm only doing this because I love you. You're all I have... and I don't like sharing." He admitted looking towards the stage and eyeing the performers. They were good but they weren't the Graysons. They didn't have the grace that Dick's parents had. He remembered watching them with Dick, sorta like what they were doing now. Only, Dick loved him then. They were all they had and he hadn't been replaced yet. His heart yearned for that feeling again. "Mhm?" He said, a bit confused. When he turned his head to look at Dick, he was greeted with a fist to the jaw. His head shot back with the force of it and when he looked up, Dick was leaping over the seat. Swiftly, he took out his gun and aimed it at his friend. Finger lingering over the trigger, trembling... but he couldn't do it. Instead he tossed it aside and ran after Dick. Was he ever fast... "Dick, wait! I can't stop it! What do I look like, your girlfriend??" He shouted back at him, Dick was already climbing up the ladder to get to the trapeze artists. He followed suit, quickly enough that he was able to grab his ankle. "Come down, you're going to get yourself killed. There's no saving them!"

Dick

Had Jeremiah gotten into his files? He'd made sure to have them triple secured so that villains couldn't get any private details. Maybe he'd forced someone to talk. It wouldn't be hard for a guy like him. He was smart and had a lot of connections. Maybe it was Jerome. He was close to Zatanna, and he knew that she trusted him. Paranoia was starting to cloud his judgement. Dick needed to shake it off and think clearly, but that was hard to do when you were being forced to relive the worst moment of your life with someone you believed was a trusted friend. "Everybody has to share the people they love. If you don't, that makes you a toxic and controlling person. I won't be controlled. Not by you, not by anyone." As soon as Jeremiah's head shot backwards, Dick felt a little bit of regret. Resorting to violence with sick people wasn't something he was fond of. But there wasn't any other choice right now. It was punch him or sit idly by while people got hurt. "What do you mean you can't stop it?! You started it! You have to know how to undo it!" As he climbed the ladder to reach his fake parents, he felt Jeremiah's hand wrap around his ankle. "Let go!" he yelled, looking down at him. "I'd rather die a hero than sit and do nothing. I don't give up. You should know that about me." With a frown, he kicked Jeremiah hard in the face, scrambling up the ladder when he felt his grip loosen around his ankle.

Jeremiah

He didn't see it that way. That it would be controlling. He thought, if anything it would be the two of them against the world but perhaps Dick would understand some day. After all of this was over and done with, after he got his audience to leave so the two of them could be alone. Then he could comfort him like he would have wanted to the day this really did happen. Instead of having to stay home ant get beaten for something he really didn't remember if he even did. His past was foggy to him, but it didn't matter where he was. The point was that he wasn't there when Dick needed him and now he was. "My magic guy's a little busy!" He replied. Not elaborating. Dick wouldn't like what he did to the city. To his friends. Dick told him to let go and he clung tighter to him. "Oh I do. I know you! As you should know I wouldn't give up on you! I need you to tell me something; Can't you feel it, yet?!" He screamed up to him. "The connection between us? Can't you? Please, tell me you--" He was cut off when Dick kicked him hard in the face and he couldn't help but let out a yelp in pain. For a moment he was seeing stars and he had to let go of Dick and focus on hanging onto the ladder as it swayed a bit form the force of the hit. Blood ran down his face like a faucet from his nose as he came to. Dripping onto the ladder. He glanced back up and watched as Dick hustled upwards. Quickly pulling himself after him, they were nearing the top when his foot couldn't get a grip. Slipping on the blood from before. "Dick!" He shouted after him. But the rope that held the False Graysons began to tare too...

Dick

He didn't know what the other man meant by 'a little busy', but he had a feeling that it wasn't by any means anything good. Jeremiah asked him if he could feel it, and Dick didn't know how to respond, on account of not knowing what it was. "All I feel is anxiety and anger. I should be with my family and friends, celebrating my birthday, but you're putting me through this!" As he reached the top of the platform, he tried to reach out to grab the hand of the woman. But it was too late, she'd jumped. He looked up at the rope, wondering how long he had. Hearing his name being called, he turned to see Jeremiah holding onto the ladder by one hand. Dick had to make a choice, and his rage was affecting his judgement. He took one last look at his childhood friend before dashing forward, just in time to watch the performers fall to their deaths. "No!" he screamed, grabbing a rope hanging from the ceiling. It wasn't very long, but he didn't need it to be. He swung off the ledge, then let go, gliding through the air with the greatest of ease, putting his tumbling skills to good use before he reached the ground. Dick landed a little off balance, but that wasn't surprising with everything he'd been through that night. He avoided looking toward where Jeremiah would've fallen, focusing on the bodies of the man and woman instead. Clutching his stomach, he doubled over and vomited. It must've been the shock, and the fear. There was so much blood. After using a shaky hand to check their pulses, he let out an anguished cry. "I'm sorry," he choked out, getting up from the ground and ignoring the pain in his ankle. Suddenly, he remembered the little kid, and spotted him on the other side of the stage, staring blankly at him. "Kid... It's gonna be okay, don't look at them," he told him, making his way over. "I'm Dick Grayson, and I'm going to take you somewhere safe." Picking the little boy up, he held him in his arms, trying to shield him and making a break for the exit.

Jeremiah

He could feel his hand slipping as he dangled off the ladder and warm blood from his nose gushed into the opening of his lips. Staring up with blurry eyes at his friend who looked down at him coldly.  Although he didn't have his glasses on and the lights were so... bright. Perhaps he was misreading his best friend's expression. Dick left his line of sight swiftly without extending a hand to help him and all he could think was: Oh. I suppose we're even. He wasn't there in Dick's time of need so Dick, in turn, wasn't there for him. But he really did believe for a moment there... Dick might choose me for once. Disappointment filled his chest and weighed him down. His fingers, that were curled around the step of the ladder wouldn't hold him anymore and in an instant he felt himself dropping like a stone all the way to the ground. Hearing the thud of the two bodies a split second before the thundering crack of his head against the flooring. His eyes still open and staring up towards the stage lights which reflected colourfully in his dull silver irises. Blood that had been in his mouth trickled down the sides of his face and dripped into the pool by his head. Creating a long red grin on his stark white face. He thought he heard Dick say something somewhere not too far from him. Promising that he'd take him somewhere safe before the world itself turned dark.

[happymeishappylife]

DC CW Shows

I finally caught up on all the DC Universe shows. Quite an accomplishment for me considering I was 2 seasons behind. It feels good to finally get caught up to speed, but some of them are starting to feel like chores getting through them, rather than fun entertainment. A concern that gets amplified by the fact that the producers want to add on 2 more shows to the line up. So I felt like it was a good idea to breakdown my thoughts on each of the shows and what I liked/didn’t like. Plus then I will break down my thoughts on Crisis, because I have a lot of them. I’ll also rank these as I go as far as which ones I liked best, beginning with least to best. So let’s begin:

#7 - The Flash

I used to love this show so much. The first two seasons were a lot of fun and I loved all the characters so much. Thanks to the writing though, I can’t honestly say I don’t like this show much at all anymore and that’s kinda sad. Part of the reason is it became soooo angsty. Like the reason The Flash was great, was it was the antithesis to the angst on Arrow which made it so refreshing to watch. Now it’s like everyone must suffer some sort of pain over the tiniest things or worse, they become entrapped in characters and situations like its been haunting them for years when it only got introduced a couple episodes ago. At this point the only characters I care about are Caitlyn/Frost, Joe and Cecile West, Wally (when he’s on, which is like never), and Ralph. And that’s painful that Hartley won’t be returning to fill that role anymore because he was the only one who still could joke and laugh around like old Team Flash.

Season 5: Overall season 5 had a pretty solid storyline despite some of the angsty writing. After a while though I got pretty sick of fighting Chicada over and over again, especially Grace’s version. My one big pet peeve with it though was the relationship of Nora to Barry and Iris. I’m sorry. I can’t honestly picture any 20-30 something meeting their adult daughter and automatically assuming the role of an actual parent and treating her like a preteen. That always felt super weird and uncomfortable. Not to mention it happened almost automatically with little to no hang ups on ‘is this really our kid? Should we trust her?’ Plus then it created angst between Barry and Iris which I’m really over at this point in the series because their relationship was never my favorite to begin with.

Season 6: A hot mess. Granted, because of Crisis and Covid-19, the season probably didn’t get a fair chance to play out to it’s full potential. But cutting the season into two arcs didn’t do it any justice. Especially because instead of having character growth, I felt like a lot of the characters regressed. Take Barry for instance. The whole first part of the season is him prepping/training the team to take over for him after Crisis since he believes he is going to die. Only when he doesn’t, he assumes the role of leader still without actually leading. He stops telling his team members key details and putting aside the fact he killed the speed force, he stopped being a hero. The whole fight scene with Mirror-Iris, was so bizarre to watch. Yes, Barry would never hurt the real Iris, but she’s not and instead he just stands there and gets stabbed over and over, crying at the end that she’s not there. It’s really hard to watch.

#6 - Arrow

Arrow used to be in my top 3 slots as last I left it. The storylines were still on point. But leading up to Crisis and the show ending, there were some things that worked for me and some that didn’t. Still, kudos to the team for standing their ground and saying that we’ve told all we can tell, let’s put this show to bed and give it a close it deserves. It made the ending super emotional, but at the same time satisfying despite, Oliver’s death in the universe. My only complaint is the fact that the producers can’t put it fully to bed and now want to reboot Arrow all over again with Mia and the canaries. Don’t get me wrong watching strong women take more of the leading roles is awesome, but not to tell and retell the same storylines.

Season 7: The first half of the season when Oliver was in Iron Heights was not my favorite. Mainly because as it continues to develop it was like all the reasons he got put in Iron Heights to begin with no longer mattered. Diaz is still on the lose, he’s still playing his games in prison, and really what was the point? Now the second half of the season where we focus on his rehabilitation into society and working with the SCPD to track and take down his sister Emiko, was actually good. Too bad it got horribly overshadowed by a time travel flash-forward storyline to introduce and make us care about Mia.

Season 8: Obviously this season was the closeout season and the season leading up to Crisis. But I liked the way they treated it. They gave cameo spots and guest starring spots to former faces like Thea (she’s still freaking awesome), Tommy, Moira, and even Merlyn came back. My only complaint was that all of sudden we did have another time travel situation on our hands to meet our future kids. Thankfully I felt Arrow overall took that development better than the Flash, which since that was only a couple episodes and not a season, says something about the writing. Plus the post-Crisis pilot for the Green Arrow and Canaries felt a little out of place given everything that happened and a little insulting.

#5 - Supergirl

There’s parts of Supergirl I still absolutely love to pieces and the writing that are still doing it the justice that started the show by telling storylines of not only heroism, but commentary on today’s events to help push for progress. I love the whole cast of characters and think the acting has been great. My only complaint is with Season 5 and the fact that the show is beginning to find its tipping point of being less than stellar. I mean, I still enjoy it, but it’s beginning to show its where and tear so I’m worried what’s going to happen as it continues forward. Especially as it gets hyperfixated on Lex Luthor, who don’t get me wrong is a fabulous villain, but isn’t that Superman’s arch nemesis, not Supergirl’s?

Season 4: What a great commentary to tell throughout the season that parallels the feelings and conversations being had about immigration in our own world. I thought the idea of the Alien Amnesty Act squaring off against Ben Lockwood and his Agents of Liberty was not only great commentary but great story telling. I also loved that we got to introduce Nia Nall into the series because she’s fantastic and has become one of my favorite characters. I even love the twist reveal of how Ben Lockwood isn’t the enemy, it’s really Lex Luthor and his communist Supergirl clone. Plus Jon Crier plays an amazing Lex Luthor.

Season 5: Don’t get me wrong, the stakes and the storylines with Leviathan and Obsidian North, I do think are important and worth telling, but they detracted from the main storyline that developed at the end of last season which was Lena and Kara’s new relationship. Yes, it was still hit on and explored, but by far that was the storyline I was interested in seeing the most, not Ramah Khan or Virtual Reality horror stories. Also, while I like Lex, thanks to his antics during Crisis, the second half of the season felt hijacked and became this witch hunt. Don’t get me wrong, I can’t wait to see what he and Lillian are doing, but I wish it played out more in the shadows and less of the actual screen time. I’m also glad Lena is back on Kara’s side again. But Brainy better not be dead! He’s one of my favorites even if his motives during this season were hard to watch.

#4 - Batwoman

I actually really, really, really liked Batwoman’s first season. Getting to know the badass that is Kate Kane and watch the horror’s of Gotham play out week to week was such a refreshing change of pace. After all, The Flash and Supergirl are undeniably heroes and must carry those burdens(?) as they fight for truth and justice. And Oliver was a vigilante, but while he took down drug lords, weapons dealers, etc. the stakes of being a vigilante in Star City is nothing compared to wearing the cape in Gotham. I loved the cast and seeing the stories play out of their past and how they connect to each other and also how some of them discover who Batwoman is, was fantastic. Even as creepy as Alice is, I enjoyed seeing the performance of the completely unhinged and psychotic villain take the stage to play out her twisted fantasies. I also appreciate the openness that Kate brought to being an out and proud lesbian, even revealing her super identity to a teenager to prove that it does get better and lesbians can be awesome is super freaking powerful. I even like that with the shortened season, it didn’t feel like we got robbed of an awesome storyline, but now we get to why this ranks fourth on my list instead of higher: Ruby Rose left the show and we get a whole new Batwoman. I get that this is out of the hands of the producers and the writers and I am super sad to see her go. But its hard not to feel like we lost a whole season of introduction and development to just reset and begin again. I’m not sure how they will handle it, but I do hope that a lot of the cast stays and stays in their roles. Especially Luke and Mary who are a great team. Mary is also like my all time, instant-favorite character because not only is she super wicked smart, but she has so much humanity in her so I hope she still continues on the show.

#3 - Stargirl

 Yes, yes, this show is still airing which is why I can’t speak to the overall season arc in finality yet, but I absolutely have been loving this first season. Again, what a refreshing new reality to step into and what a great new storyline to pursue. This rag-tag group of teenagers becoming the new Justice Society of America is a fun telling and already, the stakes of the Injustice Society are so high! Like I was expecting that it was going to be like the other shows where slowly by slowly we meet all the bad guys in different seasons, but instead it feels a little flipped since we don’t have all our new heroes on the stage yet. Still I love Courtney and her relationship with Pat as she discovers these secrets of his past and their new home of Blue Valley. I love her recruiting reasoning to bring Yolanda and Rick into this crazy plan and even her acceptance of Beth becoming the new Doctor Midnight. Plus, the show keeps surprising me because on one hand, giving these teenagers these powers to help them redeem their self esteem is a great storyline, which is why I was expecting them to force us to like Cindy since the beginning of that episode was leading up to maybe becoming friends with her, but no. Turns out she is the super bitch and super villain of the show and that’s kinda awesome. Also I like how because their teenagers, their secret identities aren’t really that secret, which makes it’s kinda fun, but also dangerous. We’ll see how the last 3 episodes play out, but I can’t wait.

#2 - Black Lightening

Talk about real gritty, dark, and powerful storytelling. I enjoyed the first season, but these last two have been a real punch in the gut in good ways and the writers have been outdoing themselves to provide heartfelt, real, honest emotions and discussions to the world of superheroes, compared to the other shows. And it’s hard, but the gruesome nature of the show also highlights some of the real struggles going on in the Freeland Community which of course highlights the issues in our own world around the Black Community. The whole spinal chord ripping scene will haunt me forever and not only because they keep replaying it, but because of how insane that was. The cast is also great and I love that at the end of Season 3, it’s not just a family of super heroes, but a group of powerful metas squaring off against the government and the most dangerous threat of all so far: Gravedigger. Gives me goose bumps just thinking about it.

Season 2: Now that the whole family knows the stakes of what they have gotten themselves into with Tobias and revealing the girls have power, I love the way we got introduced to the ASA and the pod kids as a menial threat while still struggling to take down the perceived ‘bigger threat’ that is Tobias. Jennifer also having trouble coming to terms with her powers and how to use them I think was a great way to explore that not everyone wants to be a superhero, especially in antithesis to Nyssa who is a full on badass as Thunder and Blackbird. Watching Khalil’s story in this go from obedient lap dog to a runaway and finally a victim of Tobias’ violence was hard, but I felt was justified throughout and made him that character you want to root for, even when not everything he’s done has been great.

Season 3: What a harsh turn of direction. A full on occupation of Freeland, house arrest, killings on the street, and an underground railroad of metas or suspected metas completely changed the tune of this show. Watching each of the Peirces struggle to find out who the ASA is, what their doing, if their actions are justified and if the Marcovian threat was real was really fascinating to watch. The showdown with the Marcovians too with a whole team behind them was also a nice change of pace, even if their mission didn’t end the way they expected. I think the amplified stakes though of what happened and what’s to come will continue to develop into an incredible show, minus one now big problem I have, but I will detail that out below when we talk about Crisis.

#1 - Legends of Tomorrow

You can fight me, but Legends of Tomorrow is the best goddamn shown on this network for one simple fact: They don’t take themselves seriously. There is no real angst and because of that it makes the adventures so fun and so hilarious that its such a great break from all of the other shows. Plus, because they keep swapping new and old cast members into the show, it always feels new. Kinda that Doctor Who spirit, which I love. That and because there are hardly any rules to a time travelling group of heroes who don’t really want to be heroes, you get ridiculously themed episodes like Bollywood Musical or TV Crossovers. It is what makes the show a total blast.

Season 4: As the team gears up to track down magical creatures throughout history, you get the introduction of permanent team member, John Constantine who I freaking love for his cool, aloof character and yet sarcastic and sassy contrast to the sunshine and bro-squad that is Ray and Nate. I also love that the season not only was about capturing these magical creatures, but fully rehabilitating Norah Dhark into a good guy now accidentally turned fairy godmother. To be honest, I definitely did not see that one coming. I like that fighting the demon lord also helped transition the show from Season 4 to 5 to fight hell spawn creatures. Quite a leap from the original Legends concept, but again that’s what makes this show so fresh.

Season 5: Part of the other fun of Legends is getting to see old characters get reinvented. I loved the storyline with Charlie and her reveal to be Clothos, one of the 3 fate sisters and the reason the ancient loom got destroyed. I also loved Tala Ashe’s portrayal of Zari in a different timeline because the difference between tech-geek, super smart Zari and social influencer extraordinaire Zari were well done. Plus we got another awesome bro-squad member in Behrad who I hope sticks around for a while. The only bummer was saying goodbye to Ray Palmer. Ray has been one of my favorite characters in the Arrow-verse and seeing his exit was sad and partly because I think it could have been handled better. Like don’t get me wrong, seeing him have to get approval from Damian Dhark to marry Nora was entertaining and I’m glad he isn’t dead like Dr. Stein or Leonard Snart, but I just feel like the exit was a bit rushed. The good news is, it opens the door for Ray to return and I hope we get to seem in the future.

Alright...... To end this long spiel, let’s talk about Crisis on Infinite Earths and what that now means for all these shows. Because unfortunately.... it can’t be ignored. And I’m sorry to sound pessimistic, but to be honest, Crisis wasn’t my favorite story and was too hyped for the end result.

The only show who came out better for Crisis, in my opinion, was Arrow. Mainly because the story of Oliver’s last sacrifice to reboot the universe was the only one that made complete sense and doesn’t complicate the show after it happens. Granted it could be because it was used as the show’s exit, but still. I used to love crossover episodes and getting the whole team together, but now because there is soooo much going on in each show and such a large cast, these big multi-night and multi-universe shows just feel scattered because you are constantly hopping around and between each of the characters and all the individual storylines don’t matter. Like remember when Barry and Oliver would actually talk about what they were up against? Miss that. That and Oliver, Barry, and Kara stole the show even when it was other shows turn to shine. Like Kate was hardly in it, even in her own episode and the Legends weren’t in it at all. It was just Sara and Ray which was disappointing because as Crisis was their season opener, you missed a real chance to have the Legends save the day. Don’t get my wrong, there were some great moments during crisis and I liked the nod to past versions of the DC characters, including Brandon Routh getting to play Superman again, but overall it just made chaos for things that don’t make sense post-crisis.

Like yay, all our favorite heroes are in one place and created the justice league to help each other, but once Crisis is over, nope sorry, no one can be bothered to borrow a hero friend. Like that makes sense for some shows, Batwoman for instance isn’t that close to everyone and her storyline is so rooted in her own family drama, that ignoring the other supers made sense. The Flash’s stakes weren’t high enough to involve anyone else, so fine. And Legends of course travel through time and so aren’t around, fine. But Supergirl’s takedown of a longstanding secret group of people capable of bending Earth’s elements to create catastrophic events, isn’t enough to at least reach out to Cisco or Luke for help tracking them? That seems underwhelming. Plus where are the aliens in all the other cities now? Or the metas in National City? That’s a pet peeve, but more so because of the biggest twist in Crisis:

Pulling Black Lightening into the Arrowverse. Like the shows writers and producers, I think Black Lightening works better outside the Arrowverse which was the intent and goal from the get go. Pulling Jefferson Pierce’s family and world into the same Earth as all the other shows, no longer makes the shows storytelling as strong and maybe it was because this was a last minute decision, but there is just no justification post Crisis as to why they had to come in. I mean, The Flash and Black Lightening have metas related issues, you would think that alone would be a prime source of teaming up. Especially when Cisco goes out on a worldwide quest to document metas, you’re telling me skipped over Freeland? And where’s our favorite Kyrptonian to fight for truth, justice, and the American way as Freeland is being occupied by the ASA? Oh, what too busy going after Lex Luthor? Sorry, I’m not buying that Kara Danvers ignores racial injustice. Like I get that maybe it was a way to be able to use Black Lightening later in cross-over events, but the fallout from bringing them in this season with everything going on is a huge mistake in my opinion. And heck, having shows exist outside each other is probably a good thing. Too many and these crossover events don’t feel fun anymore, they just feel chaotic. I think I’m with the Legends on this one: the crossovers aren’t worth it anymore.

[camsthisky]

Teach Me to Dream - Part 5

Determine Your Reality

Part 1 | Part 2  | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Next arc >

Summary: Dick’s eleven. Not thirteen and eager to prove himself. Not seventeen and mourning a brother. Not nineteen and wishing his best friend wasn’t dead and Bruce would look him in the eyes. He’s only eleven. So why does he remember all of that?

ao3 | ff.net

“I thought you said you wanted to do this,” Bruce says, his brows furrowed in what Dick knows to be concern, but others might interpret as frustration or anger. It takes years of practice to nail Bruce’s emotions—Dick’s had practice, of course, but he’s not sure it completely counts—and Dick tries not to wince at the very blunt statement.

Dick says, “I did—I mean, I do. It’s just—”

Just what? Too hard? He’s already been over every possible outcome that could result from telling Bruce. The worst, the best, he’s pretty sure he knows them all. He’s played it out in his head, analyzed the situation. Just like Bruce taught him to do. He’s going to do this. He has to. Only—

It’s hard to get the words out. Usually, he has no problem talking—well, he hadn’t before, buut now it’s impossible to even start at this point.

Bruce’s eyes soften a bit. “I’ll wait.”

“It’s—” Dick cuts himself off again, biting his lip. He’s so frustrated. He just wants this moment over with. He wants Bruce to know. “It’s kind of complicated.”

“Complicated how?

“I…don’t really know how to put it into words,” Dick admits.

He rubs his forehead. His brain is full of these—these memories, he can say, but will Bruce understand everything just by saying that? He can say, Bruce, I remember the future. I remember how I died, but he doesn’t think that will really work, either. It’s too blunt. Dick swallows the lump in his throat and keeps his gaze on the bed.

This is hard. He hadn’t expected it to be easy, but he hasn’t felt this helpless with words since he was five, still tripping over the stilted English syllable of half the circus’ mother language. In fact, he loves words, even if he doesn’t pick them apart the way he used to—

Dick stops, backtracking on that train of thought, because there’s something about it that doesn’t seem quite right. Seven years old, loving words, and—oh. That’s not right, is it? Yes, Dick is fascinated with English, sometimes warping and twisting them around until Alfred gets that displeased grimace on his face, but—he hasn’t stopped. He’d just asked Bruce last week why it’s upset and not downset when you’re feeling sad or discontented—or down. Doesn’t make much sense.

But, he hasn’t stopped. He will, when things get hard—

“So,” Jason says, dropping down next to him. “I heard something from the Replacement this morning that has me questioning my entire reality.” He pauses, looking over at Dick, like he’s expecting Dick to say something, but Dick’s busy. The world’s gone to hell and he doesn’t have a lot of time to spare on small talk. “You listenin’, Goldie?”

“Yes,” Dick says, but he doesn’t spare Jason more than a glance before he’s looking back at his laptop, trying to figure out their next step. It’ll have to be a big one, because right now they’re getting stomped on.

Jason hums, like he doesn’t quite believe Dick, but he won’t call him out on it. Dick’s grateful for that. “You see,” Jason continues, “I was making a joke about ‘feeling the aster’ and our little Timmy had no idea what I was talking about.”

“What’s your point,” Dick sighs.

“My point,” Jason says, sitting up straighter and angrier, which is all he seems to be nowadays, “is that you’ve changed. You don’t do those little word thingies that annoyed me so goddamn much.”

Dick slams his laptop shut, his shoulders tense. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Jason. I’m sorry I had to grow up and smell the roses? I’m sorry that I’ve been too distracted with saving the world to cater to your specific needs? I’m sorry I’m not like how you remember me?”

“You don’t smile anymore,” Jason tells him, and his voice is quiet and even.

“There’s not much reason to smile,” Dick says angrily. “I’ve been mourning you and Wally and I’ve been kicked down so many times, I’m surprising myself each time I get up again. I just—I don’t know what you want from me.”

Jason doesn’t seem to know, either, because he doesn’t say anything. They just sit there in their quiet, basking in each other’s presence. Yes, Dick had mourned Jason. Yes, Dick doesn’t smile much anymore. But at least Jason’s here now.

There are fingers snapping in front of Dick’s face, and he flinches backwards. And then he realizes what just happened to him, and things slide into place.

Bruce is frowning at him as he lowers his arm, and Dick’s heart is hammering in his chest. He doesn’t know what it had looked like to Bruce, but he hopes that it hadn’t been totally and completely obvious that he hadn’t exactly been present for the moment. He’s never had one that long in front of other people—at least, not while being able to stay coherent at the end of it.

“Sorry,” Dick says, because Bruce is still eyeing him. “That’s—it happens sometimes, and I don’t know how to stop it.”

“It didn’t,” Bruce tells him. “Not before.”

“It started two nights ago,” Dick starts—and he pretends like he’s presenting a case. Present the evidence, the facts, and it might be easier for Bruce to swallow. It takes the pressure off somehow. Like he’s channeling Robin, and maybe a little of Nightwing and Batman, too. It makes this a bit easier to try to distance himself from the situation. Use the mask.

Still, he’s not like the other from the memories. He can’t quite filter things as well as the whispers tell him to, so he’s sure that this isn’t going to be perfect. There’s still a chance of just completely breaking down.

“What’s ‘it?’” Bruce asks, his voice quiet. “You’re going to have to give me a little more than just that.”

“Um.” Dick takes a deep breath, and he tries something that he’s been thinking about for a few minutes now. It’s from his memories, and he thinks this might be his best shot of explaining all of this. “Do you, uh, remember when we were marathoning Star Wars? When you were too sick to get out of bed?”

Bruce raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything more than a simple, “Yes.”

“Do you remember what you said? After we finished the last one?” Dick asks.

“’I wish I could still watch these with the same curiosity I had when I’d first seen them,’” Bruce quotes, and it’s word for word. Perfect. Even though Bruce had been down with a bad case of the flu at the time and had barely been able to string together a coherent sentence for almost two days.

“And after you said, ‘The ending is dampened a little when you already know what happens,’ when I said that I wanted to watch Star Wars every movie night for the rest of the year,” Dick says, leaning forward a bit. Because this part is the part that will determine if Dick’s labeled as insane. “Well, imagine our life is Star Wars.”

Bruce’s lips twitch. “Our life is not Star Wars.”

“It’s imaginary,” and Dick’s starting to get nervous now, his stomach rolling and his words coming out with barely a thought about how they’ll sound. “Please use what little you have and pretend that our life is Star Wars.”

Bruce stares at him a moment, assessing him, and Dick can almost see the gears turning, trying to figure out where Dick is taking this. “Okay,” Bruce concedes, and he sounds honest and accepting, and Dick takes that as a good a sign as any. “Our life is Star Wars.”

Dick tries not to shake. He spreads his hands over the duvet underneath him, trying to ground himself somehow before Bruce truly understands what’s happening here, right underneath his nose.

“Alright, so it’s like this,” Dick whispers, and his voice has a slight tremble to it that he’s not sure how to rid himself of. He clears his throat and tries again. “I’s like I’ve—like our life is Star Wars, except I’ve already seen how it ends, and it’s not good. Lots of people die, and it keeps, uh, keeps replaying over for me. Except instead of seeing it all at once, I’m watching it all out of order, and it gets confusing. But I still—the ending’s been spoiled for me.”

Bruce is quiet for a long time. Too long. And Dick can’t make himself look up at Bruce. He’s not even sure his analogy even made any sense. He’s still clutching the blankets underneath him, but he’s proud that he’s managed not to tremble any further than that. Even though it feels like he’s waiting for a death sentence to drop down on his shoulders—or. Another one.

“I think,” Bruce says slowly, after a long while, and when Dick glances up, his eyes are steady and intense, “that you’re going to have to start at the beginning.”

It takes a couple tries, but Dick keeps at it. This is important, and he summons whatever strength he can from himself and from the other. He can do this. He has to.

“I have these memories in my head. Of the future,” Dick says. “I’ve seen a lot of things that haven’t happened, but seem like they could happen. I know things that I shouldn’t. And the memories are really intense. They’re—they’re really scary.”

Dick’s voice breaks at the end of it, and yeah. He’s failed at distancing himself. The tears are right there. His eyes burn. He’s standing right at the edge of something, and Dick doesn’t want to look down in case he sees what he’s brought upon himself. He just hopes it’s not a death drop from one life where’s he happy, to another where he’s stuck in Arkham because he’s insane.

“Dick,” Bruce says, and his voice is strained. Dick squeezes his eyes shut. “That’s not possible.”

“Clark’s an alien,” Dick tells him. His breathing picks up slightly and his eyes open in desperation, and he’s this close to breaking down. He continues. It’s important, he reminds himself. It’s important, and he needs Bruce to believe him. “Wally and Barry an run like a bajillion miles an hour. J’onn is an alien. Jason died and came back to—”

No. He hadn’t. Because Jason hasn’t died yet.

He remembers—

“I know it’s hard,” Bruce tells him, hugging Dick to his chest, “but you can’t blame yourself. You weren’t even there.”

“But I should’ve been,” Dick sobs. “He asked me—I should have gone with him!”

Jason died. But then—

“Jason’s dead,” Bruce says. There’s grief in his face, but it’s not reflected in his voice, and Dick doesn’t understand what’s happening anymore. Jason’s dead? But he’d just seen Jason last week, working with Roy on some adventure. Now he’s dead? “He was taken out on Darkseid’s orders.”

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Dick says, pushing away his own grief, because it’s been stacking up for a while now, and he doesn’t have time to deal with it. Jason, Wally, Barry, Kaldur, Jaime, Artemis, Tim, and now Jason again. And Dick’s already mourned Jason once, and he doesn’t think he can keep doing this. So he pushes it all away. “Why target Red Hood? He’s not a hero.”

“Ra’s Al Ghul told Darkseid and Vandal Savage about his involvement with us,” Bruce says after a moment. He’s staring at Dick like he’s waiting for another break down. But Dick’s run out of tears. He doesn’t have any more time or capacity to grieve for anybody else. He’ll grieve when this is all over. Either that, or he’ll die, and he knows which one is more likely.

“We’re abandoning the Cave,” Bruce says. “Talia and Ra’s both know where everything is, so we’ll use the newest Safe House in the sewers and hide out there until we can regroup.”

Fine. It’s not like half his childhood wasn’t spent in this place. He’ll get over it.

“I’ll go start packing,” Dick tells him, because there’s nothing more to say. It’s necessary to stop Vandal Savage. To stop the Light. To stop Darkseid. It’s necessary, but hell, he wishes it wasn’t.

Dick brings his hands up to cover his face and tries to just breathe.

It’s hard to switch between the him and the memories and him. Dick Grayson, eleven-year-old acrobat living with these things in his head, playing like a movie whenever the think it’s most convenient. He feels like each memory unwinds him, undoes him just a little but more each time they take over.

Those memories, he’s so apathetic. He never wants to be that person, the one who had watched his friends and family die around him and then died himself, but he’s not sure he really has a choice at this point.

He understands what’s happening. He does. But it’s hard to accept, to swallow down the fact the memories are trying to swallow him. He keeps thinking that things have happened when they haven’t, like when he’d thought he’d stopped messing with words, or when he’d thought Jason had already died and come back to life, when he knows that Jason is probably nine-years-old right now, living in Crime Alley without a single clue how messed up life will get.

And if this is going to keep happening, if this is going to get worse, Dick doesn’t know if he’s still going to come out as him at the end of it.

“Dick?” Bruce asks, his voice a touch gentler, and there are hands pulling his own away from his face, and Dick can only look up at Bruce with tears in his eyes. He doesn’t want to fade away and become someone else. He doesn’t want these memories to take him over.

So Bruce has to believe him. He has to.

“I’m not lying,” Dick tells Bruce, twisting his hands so that he’s clutching Bruce’ wrist tightly. Not enough to hurt—though the memories tell him how to, even without the strength to back it up—but enough to force stubborn, butt-headed Bruce Wayne to consider him. “Please, Bruce. You know I’m not! I would never make something like this up!”

“I know you’re telling me what you think is true,” Bruce says, “but we have no idea to know for sure.”

It’s not a I think you’re insane, so Dick takes it. There sounds like there’s more than just that, though, so Dick waits for whatever the verdict will be. He doesn’t know how to convince Bruce any more than he already has. For all that he knows now, there’s so much more that he doesn’t, and he knows that this is screwing him up big time.

He feels—skewed. Off track. Not himself. It’s not a feeling he likes.

Bruce finally sighs and says, “Dick, I think that what you’re saying is impossible, but if there’s anything that I’ve learned from working with the Justice League, and being with you, things that are impossible, don’t always stay that way.

“When you came to the Manor,” Bruce tells him, an intensity in his eyes that Dick can’t look away from,, “I thought that you would turn out like me. Refuse to accept help, refuse to be a child. But you proved me wrong. You were this happy child who was willing to open your heart up again, even right after your parents died. And then you did what Alfred had been trying to do for years. You made me happy.”

Dick can’t see. There are tears blurring his eyes, and he lets go of Bruce’s wrists to wipe at them. He’s never—not in his own or the memories—ever heard Bruce say anything like that. Sometimes Dick still felt like some burden Bruce had taken pity on. But to hear that? To hear that he makes Bruce happy just by being who he is so impossibly heart-warming.

And so impossibly sad.

“I’m sorry,” Dick cries. “Sorry.”

Bruce leans forward and helps wipe the tears from his cheeks, and this time Dick doesn’t mind. Not like he had yesterday. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, kiddo. I don’t understand what you’re going through, but I believe what you’re saying. I believe you.”

“But,” and Dick can barely get the words out now, he’s crying so hard. “But, Bruce. You said I made you happy b-because I’m me, but what if these memories mean I’m not me anymore! I—I—”

“Come here,” Bruce tells him, and Dick wastes no time settling in Bruce’s lap. Bruce tucks Dick’s head under his chin and rocks him back and forth. Bruce has been so touchy these past few days, and Dick knows that that’s probably only because of how weird Dick’s been acting, but it helps. It feels like warmth and love and acceptance wrapped up in Bruce’s arms, and Dick never wants to be let go again. As long as he can keep feeling like this.

“I love you, Bruce,” Dick says, eyes still burning.

Bruce doesn’t say anything. He’s never responded before when Dick’s said it, but Dick knows. This time, however, Bruce clears his throat. “Dick. Hey, kiddo, I’m going to say something, and I just want you to listen for a minute, okay?”

Dick nods, and Bruce takes a deep breath.

“Whatever’s happening to you,” Bruce starts, whispering, “we’ll figure it out. You’re my partner, and partners don’t leave each other hanging, right? And just because you have these…memories. It doesn’t mean that you aren’t you, Dick. It just means that you’ve seen a lot more than other kids your age. That’s—going to be scary, but remember that you have me and Alfred to help you.”

“Sometimes I get stuck in them,” Dick admits, keeping his voice quiet. “And some of them—Bruce.” Dick’s trying not to cry again, but he feels like his heart is about to beat right out of his chest. He can’t breathe—

Savage’s eyes glint down at him, and the blade sinks into his stomach—

“Bruce, I remember dying.”

And like a flip has been switched, Bruce stills, the room goes completely quiet, and there’s a tenseness in the air that hadn’t been there before. Dick’s own body has practically shut down on him, like the shock of saying the words out loud, of admitting them and making them real, has thrown Dick into some kind of delayed shock.

Which can’t be right, because he’d already been in shock over this. He’d had three panic attacks yesterday, he’d sobbed his eyes out, he’d accepted that this is real. But this doesn’t make sense, because it’s all crashing down on him again. Bruce knows, and this is real. Whatever’s happening to him, this is Dick’s reality. Watching himself die over and over again and living with the knowledge that he fails when the entire world is at stake.

“I’m not going to let that happen” Bruce says, and Dick jumps, twisting around to look at Bruce’s determined scowl with wide eyes.

“What?” Dick can’t help but ask. “What do you—What are you talking about?”

“You said you remember dying,” Bruce says, and it’s calm, but there’s anger-rage-betrayal-determination-fear in his eyes, and there’s no talking him down from the decision that he’s already made. A decision Dick doesn’t exactly understand. “I’m not going to let that happen.”

“How are you going to stop it?” Dick asks, too bewildered, to awed, to even think about what the repercussions of this could be.

“I’ll take care of it,” Bruce promises, and Dick feels the tension drain out of his shoulders and make way for relief, because that’s enough for Dick. “And I’ll take care of you, okay? I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

Dick nods numbly. “Okay.”

A few hours later, Dick and Bruce are lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Dick’s, well, he’s worn out. He’d started at the beginning, telling Bruce everything that had happened, everything that he’d seen in the memories, and Bruce had listened. Getting through his death had taken a while, and Dick had had to stop more than once.

But, finally, everything is out in the open, and Dick feels exhausted.

But he also feels—better. Not okay, not by any means, but better than he had before. He thinks it’s because it’s Bruce. Bruce is Batman, and he’s one of the most capable people Dick has met when it comes to extraordinary things. He’d helped form the Justice League for goodness sakes. Bruce knows now, and they’ll figure this out. Together.

He feels silly, though. For thinking that Bruce would be anything less than accepting. Even if Bruce hadn’t believed him, why would Dick think that Bruce would ship him off to Arkham? A prison? No, if anything, Bruce probably would have had his head checked at League Headquarters by the Martian Manhunter or those high-tech machines. Bruce wouldn’t have sent him away.

Bruce heaves a sigh. “How are you feeling?”

Dick shrugs, even though he knows Bruce can’t see him in their positions. “Not as bad as before. It helps that it’s not just in my head anymore.”

“I think we could do with some TV,” Bruce says, pushing himself into a sitting position and turning to Dick. “Star Wars?”

“Sure,” Dick says, because it’s easier to agree than argue for something else when he feels so…drained. “Can we watch it on your laptop?”

Bruce is staring at him again, though, the corners of his lips down into a frown. “Dick. Do you want to watch Star Wars?”

Dick falters. “I said it was fine.”

“Rephrasing the question, what do you want to watch?”

Dick stares and then breaks off eye contact at the weird feeling welling up in his chest. It’s almost foreign after days of heartbreak and anger and rage, but it’s not one he’d easily forget. Happiness. He’s happy. And Dick lets himself smile for the first time since he’d woken up, unable to breathe as an entire future played out in his head.

The smile is small and edged with so many of the other emotions that have managed to stay with him since he’d first gotten these memories, but it’s a smile, and he feels something more like himself than he has in two days.

It’s like waking up Christmas morning to the smell of Alfred’s pancakes and hot cocoa, and the sound of Bruce’s warm, deep voice as he converses with Alfred, waiting for Dick to finally wake up so they can open presents and just…just be happy.

“Can we watch those old funny black and white movies you like?” Dick asks, sneaking a glance at Bruce. His eyes meet an expression of warmth and joy, and it makes him smile even wider. “Please, Bruce?”

“Of course,” Bruce says, and the warmth in his eyes is echoed by his voice, and Dick can’t help but think that maybe Bruce is right. Maybe they really will figure this out. Maybe they really will be okay.

[camsthisky]

Teach Me to Dream - Part 1

< day 9 | day 11 >

Prompts are listed here.

Day 10 - Put your characters in the weirdest AU you can imagine.

Summary: Dick’s eleven. Not thirteen and eager to prove himself. Not seventeen and mourning a brother. Not nineteen and wishing his best friend wasn’t dead and Bruce would look him in the eyes. He’s only eleven. So why does he remember all of that?

ao3 | ff.net

It starts with a dream.

A terrible, heart-wrenching dream, and he wants to cry his eyes out and curl up under his sheets just to block out the world. It’s a dream that has him waking up with a jolt, eyes wide and terrified as things he’s never experienced play through his mind. There’s so much, and it bombards him all at once. He can’t make sense of any of it, and it’s horrible. He wants it to stop.

It takes a few moments, but he’s finally able to dig through everything swirling around in his head and he remembers who he is.

His name is Richard—Dick. He’s eleven years old. He’s the ward of Bruce Wayne. He’s Robin.

Dick has faced the Joker, the Riddler, Mr. Freeze—most of Gotham’s underworld, really—and nothing, not even the psychotic clown, terrifies him as much as the new memories swirling around in his mind. He’d take the criminals any day, he thinks.

Because at least criminals are something he can fight. The dream, the memories, they aren’t something he can punch in the face or outmaneuver. There’s nothing to stop them from taking over his head and make him forget who and where he is.

So he hides under the blankets, shivering and trembling with trepidation far greater than he’s ever experienced before, and some part of him is broken and sharp-edged in a way he hadn’t been when he’d fallen asleep the night before.

Who dreams of something like that and stays sane? Who dreams of nine years worth of future memories and doesn’t come out different on the other side?

Certainly not Dick Grayson.

After what has to be hours, Dick peeks out from under the blankets. He doesn’t feel so overwhelmed anymore. His head is still running around in circles, but he can’t quite comprehend his own thoughts, so he tries not to pay attention to it.

He looks around his room with new a new sort of perspective. His eyes catch on the Flying Graysons poster opposite his bed, and memories he hadn’t known he’d had hurl into him. Dick can’t take a breath properly without choking, and this isn’t a panic attack. This is something else entirely. Something worse.

His parents are falling, and Dick can only watch in horror as they drop down to their deaths, their bodies hitting the ground. Someone’s screaming, Dick realizes after a moment, and it takes even longer to realize that it’s him. Dick is the one screaming.

And then he’s flying, but it isn’t with his family, because the Graysons are dead, and they’ve been dead for five years. Jack’s in trouble, though, and flying is the only way Dick can think of that will help.

Dick knows Jack, knows the circus like the back of his hand—or. He did. Before. But whether the circus is still the same or not, Dick knows that Jack would never have changed so much that he’d turn to criminality. He’s a ring master, not a thief.

So Dick’s putting everything on the line, but even with his successful infiltration, there’s a part of him that wonders if he’s doing the right thing by interfering with something that’s so obviously personal. Batman will be so upset. He shouldn’t be here.

And yet, all of Dick’s memories scream at him. He needs to save Jack, if not for himself than for his parents. The old man had been like a grandfather to him, as near and dear to his heart as Bruce and Alfred are.

It’s hard to deal with, and Dick’s feeling sick on top of it all.

He’s not flying anymore. Somehow he’s gone from missing M’gann’s hands by mere centimeters to feet planted firmly on the ground, staring at the colorful poster of his family’s old poster hanging there like a memorial. Dick feels sick to his stomach, and this time it has nothing to do with his illness.

His comm beeps, bringing him back to reality, and Dick hesitates only a moment before he answers it—it could be Bruce, or another Leaguer, and then Dick would be in so much trouble—but it’s not. It’s Wally.

He’s not sure whether to be relieved or equally as wary.

“Dude, where are you?” coincides with “What. Happened.” And the memory changes again. Dick is sore and aching and despairing at what he and Kaldur have been driven to, because he’s done exactly what he said he didn’t want to do. He put the mission first.

The stupid mission. How did it all become about the mission? How had he let himself get this far? Kaldur and Artemis and L’gann, and Garfield and Jaime and Bart. They’ve all become sacrifices of a war Dick’s been forced to wage, and he hates how, if he had to, he’d do the same thing over again. Because it’s the only way he knows might work.

But Wally stalks towards him with something more than anger in his eyes, and Dick wonders if this is the last straw. The mountain is gone, and now so is their friendship. He’s done it now. Years of slipping further away from each other have taken their toll, and now, when he used to look at Wally and hear the “Dude, that’s what a best pal is for,” all he hears now is the “Why can’t you just trust someone for once!”

He hates how right Wally is, too.

But Dick has never been one to back down, so he ruins the best friendship he’s ever had, and says, “It was necessary,” like it doesn’t make his heart shatter into a thousand pieces.

Wally’s eyes glint in his rage, and he opens his mouth—

Dick surfaces from the memories gasping for air, like he’s been underwater and he’s coming up for air. Confused and unable to make sense of anything, Dick lies there. He’s lost his sense of reality. Is everything just a memory? A dream? Is anything real? Is he real?

He doesn’t think so. Not anymore, at least. But he doesn’t know how to prove that he either is or isn’t, so he abandons the contemplation of his entire being and crawls out of bed. He pulls the covers with him, and then sneaks out his bedroom door.

And, so, it’s not really sneaking, per se, but it’s something akin to it as he pads barefoot down the hall, softly and cautiously with all the training he’s ever been offered, blankets sliding after him. He’s not quiet enough to qualify Batman’s brand of sneaking, even with whispers of something in his head showing how he can be even quieter as long as he steps just like this, but Dick doesn’t mind.

It makes him feel like himself to ignore what the half-formed memories tell him. He can barely comprehend them anyways, so he doesn’t pay them attention, instead turning the doorknob to Bruce’s bedroom and slipping quietly into the room.

Bruce is snoozing on away on the bed, and Dick tries not to sigh in relief as he contemplates waking Bruce up.

On the one hand, it’s approaching four in the morning, and Dick imagines that Bruce probably just got home and into bed within the last couple hours. He’s not going to be happy to be shaken awake with less than two hours of sleep under his belt, especially when he has to be up by eight in order to get to work on time.

Besides, Dick is supposed to be old enough to handle the nightmares himself, now.

On the other hand, Dick’s too raw and hollowed out, too young and yet too old to understand what he’s supposed to do with these memories in his head, showing him a future he doesn’t know will come true—or maybe his brain just came up with the whole thing, which means that he’s just really, really screwed up.

In either case, he needs some sort of comfort from the man who took him in and loved him, so he creeps closer to the bed. Waking Bruce up is the only way Dick thinks he might be able to make sense of all of this.

Bruce doesn’t shift when he approaches, so he’s probably tired enough that his paranoia has switched off, and Dick tries not to feel too guilty.

He finally gets close enough to make out Bruce’s face in the gloom, and it’s just his luck that the memories kick-start. Dick sees another million things that have nothing and yet everything to do with Bruce, it’s pure agony trying to make sense of more than a few things.

“I know it’s hard,” Bruce tells him, hugging Dick to his chest, “but you can’t blame yourself. You weren’t even there.”

“But I should’ve been,” Dick sobs. “He asked me—I should have gone with him!”

“And then what I would have is,” Bruce swallows, tightening his grip on Dick, who has collapsed in his lap like he’s seven instead of seventeen, “what I would have is two dead kids, Dick. This isn’t your fault.”

Two sons dead would literally kill Bruce. Hell, one dead is already killing him, and it’s killing Dick, too. How is Bruce even coherent right now? Dick’s head is a mess and he can’t get himself to function because Jason’s dead—

And then.

Wally’s dead. A swallow past the lump growing in his throat almost makes Dick choke, but he doesn’t. He’s Nightwing right now, even if he won’t be for very much longer, and he can’t afford to—can’t afford—

“Nightwing, report.”

“We defeated the Reach. I’ll have my report written by morning—” he wouldn’t, he can’t, not yet “—and you’ll have every detail of what happened then.”

Batman doesn’t comfort him. Not like he had back then, when it was both of them hurting. Now that it’s just Dick in agony, Batman just looks at him. Doesn’t see the hurt, only everything that Dick had done wrong while half the Justice League was on trial. He doesn’t say anything else, either.

So Dick says, “Wally’s dead,” his voice flat. It doesn’t hurt any less to say it loud, but Dick keeps going. “Mount Justice is gone. My friends hare me. I’m leaving, and you’ll have my report by morning.”

Batman doesn’t look sad when he tells Dick, “It was necessary.”

And Dick hates himself when he says, “I wish it hadn’t been.”

The next morning, Dick send his report to Batman, detailing the Invasion and Wally’s death, and then he’s gone. Dick Grayson disappears, and no one knows where he is, not even Bruce Wayne. It doesn’t take a long time for people to realize that he isn’t coming back.

Dick blinks back to reality, tears in his eyes as he tries not to let the emotions of the memories overwhelm him again. Bruce’s face had really sparked all that emotion? It was so strong and Dick hadn’t felt emotion like that since—well, since.

Part of Dick wants to jump on top of Bruce and wrap his arms around the man he sees as a father and never let go, but the other part of him, the older part of Dick that he doesn’t understand and thinks he never will, wants to scream. He wants to scream and cry and yell how could you do this to me? How could you let me become everything you told me never to be? and Dick has no idea what to do next.

He may have skipped a grade, but these feel like adult problems, and Dick’s eleven. Not thirteen and eager to prove himself. Not seventeen and mourning a brother. Not nineteen and wishing his best friend wasn’t dead and Bruce would look him in the eyes. He’s only eleven.

He starts sobbing, loud enough to startle Bruce awake.

“Wha…Dick?” the man asks, bleary-eyed and not at all prepared to deal with a sobbing child at four am. He sits up, bewildered beyond belief, and he holds out his arms, offering comfort easily, even without knowing what’s going on. Even though he’s exhausted.

Dick snatches up the offer before it can be rescinded. He climbs onto the giant bed and all but falls into Bruce’s awaiting arms, ignoring Bruce’s soft “oof” at the force Dick puts into it. He curls his small arms around Bruce’s neck, and Bruce’s own arms fold around him and pull him into his chest, like a protective wall against the world, working much better than his abandoned blankets had.

“Dick?” Bruce asks again. “What’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?”

“I don’t know,” Dick confesses tearily.

He hates that he doesn’t know whether those memories are just a figment of his imagination or whether it’s something he needs to watch out for two, five, nine years down the line. He wonders if he’ll even get that far before screwing things up.

“You don’t know?” Bruce asks, and he sounds confused, still half-asleep, and the guilt of waking him up wars with the need for comfort. “What do you mean?”

But Dick doesn’t know how to explain it. He doesn’t know how to make sense of anything in his head right now. And he certainly doesn’t know how he’s supposed to be a real person anymore. He doesn’t know anything anymore, and it’s frightening.

Dick sobs harder, and that seems to stop Bruce’s questioning for now, which is good, because Dick doesn’t have answers for him. He doesn’t even know where to start.

“Hey,” Bruce hushes. “Hey, it’s okay, Dickie. You’re alright.”

He’s not. He’s so far from alright. But he lets Bruce try to rock him back into a fitful slumber, jerking awake every time a new memory surges up to engulf him again. Dick is shaking, trembling, and Bruce tries to hush him and murmur reassurances, but they both realize pretty quick that neither of them are going back to sleep anytime soon.

Dick zones out while Bruce dozes. He can’t make sense of anything, really, and he’s so tired, but he’s too afraid of what he’ll see if he closes his eyes longer than a blink. But even with Bruce curled protectively around him, even despite his most valiant efforts, the memories don’t stay away.

He doesn’t try to make sense of them buzzing around in his mind, though, because from what he’s peeked at so far, he doesn’t think any of it will be pleasant. It seems his whole life is just doomed to get harder and harder. Like he’s cursed or something.

Dick doesn’t know how long he sits there staring at the ceiling in some sort of numb state, but it’s long enough that the sun is peeking through the curtains and Alfred is opening the door by the time he shakes back to himself.

“Master Dick?” Alfred calls softly when he realizes Dick’s awake, bewilderment apparent in his voice, and Dick’s stomach does enough flips to make even him sick. Bruce doesn’t stir, though, so that’s a plus. Still, it would be nice to have Bruce awake, if only so Dick doesn’t have to face Alfred alone. “Master Dick, are you quite alright?”

Dick bites his lip, but he doesn’t trust himself to say anything. He might start crying again, and Alfred’s not someone he should dump all of this new baggage on.

Alfred leans over the bed, catches Dick’s eyes, and gives the boy the most concerned look he’s ever received. “Master Dick?” he asks softly, and Dick’s plunged back into a memory, this one tinged with an undercurrent of fear and desperation instead of just sadness and despair like the others.

“Master Dick?” Alfred calls, and his voice is as soft and gentle as his touch as he smooths back Dick’s sweaty hair.

Dick can’t recall where they are. Not in the manor, he knows. There’s a reason they can’t go back there, but the reason is lost to the fever currently rampaging through Dick’s system. At twenty, you’d think Dick would know better than to ignore a warning about those cuts. Now he’s down, poisoned, and Bruce is missing. It’s just him and Alfred, somewhere he can’t recall.

“Please, Master Dick,” Alfred says, still sounding so quiet and worried. Something metal presses against Dick’s chapped lips. “You need to eat something. You won’t be able to regain your strength unless you do.”

Dick doesn’t open his mouth. He can’t. If he does, he’s going to start screaming from the pain, and he can’t scream. There’s a reason, he knows, but it’s lost, just like the reason to why they can’t return to the manor.

“Did he eat anything in the past couple hours?” someone asks from across the room, something like a door closing a second after. “He looks worse.”

“No,” Alfred sighs, and the metal retreats from Dick’s lips. “He refuses to eat, and we don’t have enough IVs left to keep him hydrated for very much longer.”

“Have you heard from Bruce yet?”

Another sigh. “I’m afraid not.”

Where is Bruce? Dick can’t remember the answer to that, either. He can’t remember why it’s Alfred petting his hair and trying to get him to eat and not his father. Dick feels almost angry at the fact that Bruce isn’t here to press worried lips against his forehead and assure Dick that Batman will take care of everything and that’s it’s okay, Robin, you earned a rest.

Those words don’t sound quite right in Dick’s head, though, and it takes him a few minutes to realize why. He’s not Robin, not anymore. The endearment has been passed on like a title, and Dick isn’t sure the last time he was actually called by that name by anybody, let alone someone who knows what it means.

There’s a clatter that echoes around them, and through half-open lids, Dick sees Alfred stiffen and turn towards the entrance.

“Not good,” that someone else murmurs—Leslie, he thinks when he sees her, it’s Leslie—and then the room explodes into sound and chaos, and Alfred—oh god, Alfred. Dick doesn’t know where Alfred is, he doesn’t know where Bruce is, and he feels like someone’s ripping through his skin with a knife.

That, of course, is when Dick realizes they are. Someone’s stabbing him, carving into him—

—and Dick fights, lashing out at those hands holding him down. But he’s too dehydrated and sick for this, and he can’t fight off an army of enemies that want to hurt him, and they manage to grab him again.

Dick’s looking into the eyes of the man who is going to kill him, and there’s a glint of glee that makes Dick’s stomach churn with fear. He can hear Alfred yelling in the background, but no one comes to save him. No Alfred, no Bruce, no Leslie. No Wally and no Jason and no Tim, either, because they’re dead. No one is coming to save him.

“This is gonna hurt,” the man says, a knife glinting in the dim light, and then—

Dick screams, lost in the haze of memories, and he’s writhing in agony against the pain of blades drawn across his skin again and again, and it’s only when Bruce holds him down that Dick realizes he’s not in the midst of an enemy attack—

“Dick!” Bruce yells, fighting to pin Dick’s arms to the bed without hurting him. “Dick, it’s okay. You’re okay, you’re fine! It’s—ow—it’s okay!”

—he’s in Bruce’s bed, surrounded by the terrified expressions of the people that took him in and gave him a home after he lost everything. Alfred is here. Bruce is here. He’s safe.

But he’s not okay.

Dick starts to cry again, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes as Bruce rests his forehead against Dick’s, his eyelids fluttering shut as Dick watches him murmur something under his breath. Dick’s crying too loud to understand what he’s saying, but he’s also crying too much to ask.

Bruce finally looks up at Dick, pulling away from him slightly to swipe a thumb at the tears. “You’re okay, kiddo,” Bruce breathes. “You’re okay.”

He’s not. He doesn’t get why Bruce keeps telling him he is when he’s so obviously not. Nothing about this is okay, and he needs Bruce to get that. He needs him to understand, even when he’s not sure how to say that he’s not.

“What’s wrong with me?” Dick sobs, his words barely audible, and Bruce gaze snaps to his own.

“Nothing’s wrong with you. It was just a nightmare,” Bruce tells Dick, but even Dick can see that Bruce doesn’t believe his own words. It seemed more for Bruce’s benefit than Dick’s. “You’re alright, Dick. You’re alright.”

Dick wishes Bruce would just stop saying that. He’s not okay, and he doesn’t know if he ever will be again.