Dick gets his drink mixed up with another persons in the library while visiting Barbara.
He was drinking some kale smoothie thing, for health and stuff, and he set it down to grab a book from the shelf. There was another guy next to him, who also had a smoothie in the same kind of shake-n-go bottle.
They swapped by accident.
Dick checked out his book, said goodbye to Barbara, and took a sip of his smoothie.
That's the last thing he remembers.
He wakes up two days later pinned down by a practically feral Jason, who's eyes are glowing a sickly Lazarus green, with Bruce, Tim, Cass, and Duke all showing signs of losing a fight. He's sore everywhere, and Damian is nowhere to be seen.
"Uh...." his voice cracks, and he's suddenly aware of how fucking painful his throat is. "Hi? What's going on?"
"...Is it really you, Dickwing? I swear to God if it isn't and this is another-"
"Jay I really don't know what's going on, man."
Jason doesn't believe him. Dick is cuffed with anti-meta cuffs and escorted to the cave, where Bruce demands test after test and Dick tells them the last thing he remembers.
Apparently, after taking that sip, his eyes had turned to Lazarus green, and he had beelined for the mansion. Along the way there, he had run into the Riddler.
He had broken most of the Riddler's bones.
That was when everyone had been called in to subdue Dick, who for some strange reason kept gunning for Damian. Hence, Damian was upstairs and not allowed down until they were sure Dick was okay again.
It's concluded that Dick drank some alternate form of Lazarus Water, lost his mind, proceeded to take everyone out with enhanced strength and speed except Jason, who had entered a Pit episode just to keep up, and worked through it two days after consumption.
But who the fuck transported a material as dangerous as modified Lazarus Water in a fucking shake-n-go bottle?
Danny, however, is a little sad that his ecto-shake was stolen by some rando at the library.
Their kale smoothie was pretty good though.
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Something I love is that Daniel fixes his mistake.
In ‘73 his original sin is that he jumps in and rants mid-interview about how he deserves the dark gift and Louis doesn’t understand the meaning of his own story. He interrupts in order to haphazardly ‘explain’ Louis’s own story to him and impose meaning on an incomplete narrative, which you shouldn’t do as a journalist and can’t successfully do anyway without knowing the whole story.
Present day, he interrupts again - this time stopping an emotional spiral - and tells Louis to keep telling the material details of his story. Ignore the existential implications and focus on getting all the pieces together. “Sidestep the big picture; get the story straight first.” Finding meaning comes way later. Meaning doesn’t mean anything if parts are missing. You’re going to go to pieces and lose yourself completely if you don’t hold on to the narrative thread. Let the tale seduce you.
The man is totally and completely a journalist now, and he’s right. Memory is a monster.
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thinking about a whumpee on a forced march through rough terrain
hands tied in front of them, on foot while their captors are mounted, sleeping out in the open, forced to beg for adequate food and water
maybe they're barefoot, a captured royal in silken robes
maybe they're in a torn suit or soldier's uniform
maybe they were stripped at the start, increasing the exposure to the elements, the humiliation
are they a terrified mess from the beginning, or do they try to endure with dignity? how long before they're stumbling, barely putting one foot in front of the other? how long before they fall?
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something happening on a mission, something personal that has soap spiralling; panic and rage making him reckless, thoughtless, and ghost has to draw the line
“you’re compromised johnny; you know what that means?”
“you’re not pulling me out,” soap immediately snarls. he turns on him and ghost barely recognises him; venomous fear turning his eyes to unyielding ice. "you're not sidelining me; i need to be in this-!"
but ghost has never been afraid of venom; spat or dripped straight from bared fangs.
he snakes out a hand grip the back of his neck, jerking him in a rough shake. "if you can't think, you can't be a soldier," he growls and he flinches like he's been struck.
his lips quiver as they twist in a sneer and he wrenches, trying to free himself of his hold.
ghost doesn't let him.
"it means you give your body to me because your head ain't fucking attached to it anymore."
soap stills, body trembling beneath his hand as he sucks in shaking breaths.
he tightens his grip, pulling him closer and digs his forehead hard into his. “it means you give yourself to me so i can have the weapon that you are and use you the way you're meant to be used."
the ice in soap's eyes fractures.
ghost’s voice drops to a whisper, spoken only to johnny, not this facade of vengeance and pain, and wills it to reach him through the glaciers.
“so i can keep you safe ‘til it’s done and i can bring you back.”
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