#add Jazz

[fanficmaniatic]

OKEY so the trailer happened. Use me as the "Get Little Nas X/ Janelle Monae to voice Jazz in the sequel"

[messymerr]

Drew this because it was on my mind and i think it fits. A means to practice more on drawing bots eh, references are so important

Bonus :

I made Bee's speech a mix of the OG Comic and a clip of the Movie. Here's the reference

[keferon]

Snow bots au anyone? :D

They're back together a year later because it's snowing again❄️

All right! For context: I imagine them hanging out every winter in some kind of resort (a resort that Blurr owns. Because his bar business has expanded that much over time.)

[emacrow]

Alfred's day off came as he went for a visit that cause suspicious in the batfam.

Alfred was looking rather energetic and enthusiastic as he was fixing himself up in the mirror, cleaning any lint and dust on his casual clothes.

The batfam has been noticing he is getting more excited that he even made everyone's favorite lunch in record time as today was one of alfred rarest day off.

Tim on the other hand is thinking that alfred might be dating someone, because he saw alfred bring light blue letters that had a soft jasmine smell.

Bruce believes Tim finally lost his marble because when does alfred had the time to date around.?

Until Dick mentioned that even old people get lonely and tend to matchmake in the form of letters like the good old days..

Which right now the batfam and Bruce leading them are currently spying on Alfred far enough where they think he wouldn't noticed them stalk- observating him.

Alfred was picking up a couple of presents, one that had plants, another had old Techno theme, one with birds, a fire theme one and a space theme present that he loaded his car with along with a stuffie bear.

Steph thinks that he could be visiting relatives at that point..?

While Bruce was remaining quiet with a calculating glint in his eyes.

They follow alfred all the ways to the one of the barely remaining clean parks, where a another young man sat with a orange hair little girl in a light greenish blue dress, a sleeping baby girl in a bassinet on a picnic blanket with a purple clock theme pattern, as he watches 4 toddlers playing and squealing around a oddly colored puppy.

Two toddlers look like a bait-adoptable bait even if both has stripes of white in their hair and one had red eyes, one toddler had blonde hair with the tips being black with purple eyes and a lightest greenish skin tone, and the remaining toddler was Egyptian African American looking with how he playing with a odd toy phone that look Egyptian theme before being dragged along to play by the green dog snatching his toy phone.

Alfred brought the presents along sitting down with the now seemingly much older man..

Jason seemed to noticed that nobody else is noticing that that guy holding the clock like staff is literally shifting from young, to adolescent, to young adult, and elderly man beside himself when he voiced his concerns.

They weren't close enough to hear what the two were saying, but the little girl with the orange hair was speaking mostly before looking up with tearful green teal eyes at alfred who went to comfort the girl.

[raynewolferune]

Meta Jazz, the Arkham Intern Therapist Pt1

Update 5/16/2024: Congrats guys, gals, and others! You have planted the seeds and they have grown. Today I wrote another 46 pages on this story (the first section was only 9 pages ya'll). I'm working on splitting it up into smaller sections so I can post it now because tumblr said no to doing it as one piece. I'll be using the tag #Meta Jazz Arkham Intern Therapist if you want to follow it.

Original Note: I'm going to go ahead and apologize for how OOC Bane is in this. It originally was Joker but I couldn't see Jazz tolerating his proximity for more than a single millisecond so Bane it is.

~*~*~

The hardest thing about being a Meta in Gotham was responding appropriately during a Rouge's attack, Jazz mused to herself. Or perhaps that was just the hardest part about being a Meta intern at Arkham while studying psychology at Gotham University. Or maybe it was just her, she considered watching the guards and Dr. Rylie whom she'd been shadowing for the past 2 weeks wide eyed, pale, and shaking as theybstared at Bane behind her. It must just be her, Jazz decided, newbie guard Kyle Jennings was definitely a Meta after all. She should probably give him some tips on hiding his enhanced strength considering how often he broke mugs, door handles, and other delicate items used in daily life.

"Weapons down or I'll snap her skinny little neck." Bane growled out, shaking her slightly for emphasis. She very much doubted that. Liminials were built different than the standard Meta, stronger, faster, better endurance, and senses even if they could mostly appear to be standard humans on the outside.  As such, their bones and muscles were much were much denser than regular humans or even Meta humans. Technically, she could be considered "invulnerable" much like the Kryptonians are.

"Back up! Let him through!" Dr. Rylie  shouted at the guards. "She's my student! Let him through!" His voice was higher pitched than she could recall hearing it before.

Ah. That was panic.

Jazz sighed involuntarily and glanced over her shoulder at Bane. Why the man had grabbed the only person close to his own height nearby was a mystery to her - no, nevermind, he clearly meant to use her as a shield - but it made looking him in the eye more difficult than necessary.

"Mr. Bane, remove your hands from my person, please." Jazz stated calmly, channeling what Danny called her inner mom as she spoke. "I will give you to one to comply."

Bane looked stunned for a moment then laughed.

"Five."

The laughing continued. Jazz could sense a stir of uncertainty through her colleagues as they looked on.

"Four."

"Did you really think that would work?" Bane snorted out, arms tensing more around her.

"Three." She continued, indifferent to his words from her experiences raising her brother. Once the count down starts you mustn't respond to anything the kids do or say until they comply or the count is done.

"What cab you even do if I don't?" Bane asked darkly breathing directly in her ear. She kept her face expressionless despite the urge to express disgust.

"Two."

"Jasmine..."  Kyle whispered halfway across the hall from her looking on with a pained and horrified expression. Gun tilting towards the floor. Sloppy.

"One." She finished and Bane gave a derisive snort.

Then she was moving. Hauling the enormous man up and over her shoulder using the arm that had been wrapped around her neck. Bane hit the cold tile hard enough that the tiles, subfloor, structural supports, and part of the concrete foundation buckled beneath him. His shoulder popped out of joint, his wrist cracked - a hairline fracture by the sound of it -  and his breath was punched out of him from the force of impact. She released his arm as soon as his was embedded in the tiles and moved forward. Kneeling over him, support most of her weight on her left foot resting on the broken ground, her right knees pressed firmly across his throat without supporting any of her weight. The position put more strain on her muscles than she would've liked but at least Bane couldn't risk fighting back without crushing his own neck in the process. He could hardly throw her while flat on his back with a mangled arm.

"Now," Jazz began, looking directly into the behemoth's pained eyes. "Do you know what you've done wrong?" She asked like she would have done with Danny as a child.

"Yes, Ma'am." Bane choked out. Jazz heard movement and murmuring behind her. She didn't turn to look.

"What did you do wrong?" She asked. It was important to make sure children correctly understood why they were in trouble after all. There was a long pause as Bane appeared to cast around for the exact right answer as if he feared getting it wrong. A bad habit Danny still uses as well, Jazz thought to herself.

"I tried to hold you hostage," He choked out in a rush, words tumbling over one another as he tried to get them all out. "I scared you coworkers and it was very disrespectful."

So he'd gone for the grab-bag response. It wasn't wrong per sey but it did indicate a past history of abuse. The type of answer given by someone who expected to be harmed or ignored if they gave the "wrong" answer. Danny tended to use that method also and their parents had always been negligent at best.

"And are you going to do it again?" She asked giving him a Look as she did. Bane's eyes widened and he tried to frantically shake his head as much as possible with the pressure on his neck.

"No, Ma'am." He promised fervently.

"Alright then," Jazz said giving him a warm smile. She gestured vaguely towards the guards without turning to look at them. "Kyle here is going to take you to see the nurse and then back to your room then. I'm sure you'll behave for him?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I'll behave." Bane said. Jazz stood slowly asking sure not to put any additional pressure on his neck as she did. Kyle came and stood next to her as the giant of a man slowly pulled himself to his feet then led him away with 5 other guards.

Jazz heaved a sigh. Well, time to find out whether or not she could play all that off as normal, non-Meta human behavior.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Multiverse Police

I've seen the idea that GIW is actually SCP foundation somewhere, and lately, I've been thinking a lot about Fenton Happy Ending, so I bring you this. Behold, GIW/SCP, Team Phantom, and Fentons are working all together, and the whole wide multiverse fears them.

So, a giant green Lazarus Pit that looks more like a vortex than an actual Pit randomly opens in, say, Ohio. Because I heard a lot of weird shit happens in Ohio. The world is worried, JL gets sent there, but they are not exactly sure of what to do with it. Nothing comes out of it, and, well, no one is volunteering to just jump inside it - Batman made everyone read his files on Lazarus Waters, and they are reasonably wary.

But then a thing appears literally out of thin air on top of it. It looks like a spaceship, kind of, but more sci-fi than what real spaceships look like. And before anyone says anything, a large green - Lazarus green - dome appears, effectively covering both the ship and the Pit and cutting the heroes off.

The heroes are Confused (tm). And worried. And no one has an idea of what the fuck is going on, for all they know it could be some kind of yet another alien invasion.

Then, two figures on the hoverboards - one read and one teal - come out of the ship, flying over the Pit. They are followed by drones, and they all look like they are... scanning the Pit? A few more people, wearing black visors and shiny white suits that look like they are packed with all kinds of tech, slide down on the ropes straight inside the Pit. It sure looks like they are very familiar with it and have a good idea of what they are doing, working as a team.

One of the figures on the hoverboard, the one in a teal suit, notices the heroes on the other side of the green dome. She - because both of them look feminine enough - slows down and flies down to the ground, landing in front of Superman and taking off her helmet. It reveals a rather young, no older than twenty years old girl with fiery red hair tied in a bun, with eyes the same color as her suit. She smiles at them.

"Hi, you must be the Justice League?" She asks politely, and as Superman gives her a nod just out of surprise at her friendly attitude, she touches her ear, "Mom, this is DC sector universe. Pretty sure it's not a dimension we've been before, though." She turns back to Superman, "You don't recognize any of this, do you?"

Batman intervenes before Supes has the time to answer, "Who are you?"

The girl nods and taps her ear again, "Yeah, they definitely don't know us. So mark it as either an unfamiliar dimension or an unfamiliar timeline." Then she turns to Batman and smiles.

"You can call us interdimensional police. And since all the Batmans we ever encountered never believed us, I'm going to send you a copy of the files your other versions complied all together, so you can read and add more if you feel like it."

She touches her wrist computer, and, a few moments later, Batman's comm comes online with Oracle's voice:

"B, I'm getting a shit ton of files on... Multiverse Law Enforcement?.. out of nowhere. What's going on?"

Now, JL is baffled. Some of them - Flashes and Bats, for example - knew there was a whole wide multiverse going on, but to learn the multiverse has police? That's new.

Meanwhile, the redhead continues:

"The green thing behind me is a natural portal to the Infinite Realms, the dimension between dimensions. Which is really not what is supposed to be happening, so we are in the process of fixing it. It will take from ten minutes to a few hours, depending on what's on the other side, but the portal will be gone soon, and then I'll have to ask you some questions."

"Questions about what?" Asks Flash, and the girl waves her hand in the air.

"Oh, well, about the portals? If one so big is opening up, it means a few smaller ones had to exist in this dimension already. Our tech is not picking them up if they are smaller than a certain size, but you must have seen them before. I believe in the DC sector, you call them Lazarus Pits? We can take care of them later, too."

The second hoverboarder flies closer to them and revs her engine.

"Jazz, talk to them later, Tucker and Agents are done. Fentons are about to get Dannies down, so you need to either come up or leave the shield."

The girl - Jazz - looks surprised.

"Dan, too?"

"Yeah, it's the Toothy Jungle on the other side. They wanted to ask Ember, but, eh, what's her guitar gonna do to plants, even if they are sentient?" The red hoverboarder shrugs, and Jazz tilts her head, looking back to the heroes.

"I think I'll stay with them. You know it gets violent when Dan goes down, so people get antsy about us. I don't want to give the wrong impression."

The other girl huffs, but doesn't argue.

"Okay. Get out of the shield, then, and for Ancients sake, keep your comm open. Danny has an aneurysm every time you turn it off." With that, she flies away, back to the ship, and Jazz taps her hoverboard so it folds down into a hexagon shape no bigger than a backpack. Then, she steps through the shield, joining the JL on the other side of it.

"Are you not scared we might take you hostage?" Asks Wonder Woman just out of curiosity, and Jazz smiles pleasantly at her.

"Don't judge a girl by her looks. I don't want to brag, but I did fist fight Superman once and won."

----------

So basically, after Amity Park got sucked into Infinite Realms, the whole town just kind of collectively decided they like it there. And somehow they reached a happily ever after with both Danny's reveal to his parents and GIW, and then Clockwork showed up and was like, you guys want human food supply, running water and electricity, right? Well, I can do that, and so much more, you can be the ultimate perfect town. And for the price? You gonna go on adventures from time to time and fix the multiverse when shit hits the fan in various dimensions and universes. Doesn't that sound like fun?

And Amity Park, who's seen so much weird stuff over the years that it greatly affected their idea of common sense, goes yeah, that does sound fun! Let's go, people!

So here they are, appearing in different universes and doing damage control. They are, like, the superheroes for superheroes.

I'm probably going to write a part 2 to it, I want to show off Danny and Dan and Dani too. Halfas on the loose, JL is mildly concerned and kind of scared, and Jazz is just like yeah, that's just another regular Tuesday :)

I love Jazz being a badass, yes. Also, if you didn't get it, the other one on the hoverboard is Val, the drones are controlled by Tucker, and the people on the ropes are GIW agents.

| next -> |

[stealingyourbones]

I desperately need more mentor uncle figures and mentor brother figures in DPxDC to fill the interesting relationship dynamic gap that father figures stories can't always fill are u picking up what I'm putting down. Hell, just a regular friendship relationship with absolutely 0 familial dynamic.

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

As per usual, it’s DP crossover with (probably) DC, although you could probably adjust it for other fandoms

ANYWAYS

A little kid and his mother are trick or treating in another city, perhaps at some kind of event rather than knocking on doors, and the kid is dressed as Phantom. It’s very adorable, with his little ghost-shaped bucket and clearly homemade and already stained costume—listen, white only works if you can just fly over street grime or phase it out of your clothes—and his slightly I’ll fitting wig. The kid is SO happy to be out and about dressed as his favorite, and maybe even showed it off to Phantom back in Amity Park before his family left.

The hero, insert whoever you wish here, is probably in civvies and just enjoying the event. The kid, meanwhile, is so glad when people ask who he is so he can explain, and so- the hero gets to hear ALL ABOUT the local town hero who is probably pretty small time despite the kid’s clearly exaggerated stories. The hero certainly never heard of him, but the kid’s mom confirms that Phantom really was the town hero, despite some mixed reviews of the poor guy.

“Did you manage to show him your costume?” the hero asks.

“Yeah! We went down to the cemetery to leave flowers and I got to show him my costume.”

Wait. Cemetery? Maybe it was part of theme, because Phantom had to be named that for a reason, but… it sounded like…

The kid ignores the suddenly VERY still hero and instead turns to his mom. “Momma, do you think we should bring him candy? He doesn’t get to trick or treat like we do, and I can work super hard to get him a bunch!”

The kid’s mom just smiles. “We could, but maybe we should bring him something homemade. I bet he’d like something more filling, teen boys like him have a hollow leg.”

The kid wrinkles his nose. “Like Vernie with the pizza bagels?”

“Like your cousin, yes. We can make some cinnamon rolls and take them to his memorial, maybe bring some of the apples from your grandpa’s garden…”

The hero is pretty much forgotten as the two-part family wanders off, not quite intentionally forgetting the hero is there so much as the hero somewhat accidentally ended the conversation when they just froze and didn’t ask anything further.

Not that the hero didn’t want to. But they’d learn something very serious.

One—there was a small town hero they’d never heard of. Two—that hero was apparently a teen. Third—most pressingly, the teen hero was both beloved enough to have kids dressing up as him and dead enough to have a grave.

This… might require some phone calls.

[confessedlyfannish]

Writing Prompt #12

Bruce is reading the paper when the pour of Tim's coffee goes abruptly quiet. It would be hard to pinpoint why this is disturbing if it wasn't for the way the soft, tinny sound the vent system in the manor makes cuts out for the first time since being updated in the 90s. The pour, Bruce realizes, has not slowed to a trickle before stopping. It has simply stopped. And there is no overeager clack of a the mug against the marble counter or the uncouth first slurp (nor muttered apology at Alfred's scolding look) immediately following the end of the pour.

Bruce fights the instinct to use all of his senses to investigate, and instead keeps his eyes on the byline of the article detailing the latest set of microearthquakes to hit the midwest in the last week. Microearthquakes aren't an unusual occurrence and aren't noticeable by human standards, which is why this article is regulated to page seven, but from several hundred a day worldwide to several hundred a day solely in the East North Central States, seismologists are baffled.

Bruce had been considering sending Superman to investigate under the guise of a Daily Planet article requested by Bruce Wayne (Wayne Industries does have an offshoot factory in the area) when everything had stopped twenty seconds ago. That is what he assumes has happened (having not moved a muscle to confirm) in the amount of time he assumes has passed. His million dollar Rolex does not quite audibly tick but in the absolute silence it should be heard, which confirms the silence to be exactly that—absolute.

While Bruce can hold his breath with the best of the Olympian swimmers, he has never accounted for a need to remain without blinking without being able to move one's eyes. Rotating the eyeballs will maintain lubrication such that one could go without blinking for up to ten minutes. But staring at the byline fixedly, he estimates another twenty seconds before tears start to form.

These are the thoughts Bruce distracts himself with, because he doesn't dare consider how Tim and Alfred haven't made a (living) sound in the past forty-five seconds. About Damian, packing his bag upstairs for school after a morning walk with Titus that was "just pushing it, Master Damian".

There is a knife to his right, if memory serves (it does). In the next five seconds—

"Your wards and guardian are fine, Mr. Wayne," the deepest voice Bruce has ever heard intones. For a dizzying moment, it is hard to pinpoint the location of the voice, for it comes from everywhere—like the chiming of a clocktower whilst inside the tower, so overpowering he is cocooned in its volume.

But it is not spoken loudly, just calmly, and when he puts the paper down, folds it, and looks to his right, a blue man sits in Dick's chair.

He wears a three piece suit made entirely of hues of violet, tie included. He has a black brooch in the shape of a cogwheel pinned to his chest pocket, a simple chain clipped to his lapel. Black leather gloves delicately thumb Bruce's watch (no longer on his wrist, somewhere between second 45 and 46 it has stopped being on his wrist), admiring it.

"You'll forgive me," the man says with surety. "Clocks are rather my thing, and this is an impressive piece." He turns it over and reveals the 'M. Brando' roughly scratched into the silver back. He frowns.

"What a shame," he says, placing it face side up on the table.

"Most would consider that the watch's most valuable characteristic." Bruce says, voice steady, hands neatly folded before him. Two inches from the knife. To his left, there is an open doorway to the kitchen. If he turns his head, he might be able to get a glance of Tim or Alfred.

He doesn't look away from the man.

"It is the arrogance of man," the man says, raising red eyes (sclera and all) to Bruce, "to think they can make their mark on time."

"...Is that supposed to be considered so literally?" Bruce asks, with a light smile he does not mean.

The man smiles lightly back, eyes crinkling at the corners. He looks to be in his mid thirties, clean-shaven. His skin is a dull blue, his hair a shock of white, and a jagged scar runs through one eye and curving down the side of his cheek, an even darker, rawer shade of blue-purple.

The man turns the watch back over and taps at the engraving. "Let me ask you this," he says. "When we deface a work of art, does it become part of the art? Does it add to its intrinsic meaning?"

Bruce forces his shoulders to shrug. "It's arbitrary," he says. "A teenager inscribes his name on the wall of an Ancient Egyptian temple and his parents are forced to publicly apologize. But runic inscriptions are found on the Hagia Sophia that equate to an errant Viking guard having inscribed 'Halfdan was here' and we consider it an artifact of a time in which the Byzantine Empire had established an alliance with the Norse and converted vikings to Christianity."

"The vikings were as errant as the teenager," the man says, "in my experience." He leans back in his chair. "I suppose you could say the difference is time. When time passes, we start to think of things as artistic, or historical. We find the beauty in even the rubble, or at least we find necessity in the destruction..."

He offers Bruce the watch. After a moment, Bruce takes it.

"The problem, Mr. Wayne, is that time does not pass for me. I see it all as it was, as it is, as it ever will be, at all times. There is no refuge from the horror or comfort in that one day..." he closes his hand, the leather squeaking. And then his face smooths out, the brief severity gone. He regards Bruce calmly.

"You can look left, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks left. Framed by the doorway, Tim looks like a photograph caught in time. A stream of coffee escapes the spout of the stainless steel pot he prefers over the Breville in the name of expediency, frozen as it makes its way to the thermos proclaiming BITCH I MIGHTWING. Tim regards his task with a face of mindless concentration, mouth slack, lashes in dark relief against his pale skin as he looks down at the mug. Behind him, Bruce can see Alfred's hand outstretched towards the refrigerator handle, equally and terrifyingly still.

"My name is Clockwork," the man says. "I have other names, ones you undoubtedly know, but this one will be bestowed upon me from the mouth of a child I cherish, and so I favor it above all else. I am the Keeper of Time."

"What do you want from me?" Bruce asks, shedding Wayne for Batman in the time it takes to meet Clockwork's eyes. The man acknowledges the change with a greeting nod.

"In a few days time, you will send Superman to the Midwest to investigate the unusual seismic activity. By then, it will be too late, the activity will be gone. They will have already muzzled him."

"Him."

"There is a boy with the power to rule the realm I come from. Your government has been watching him. The day he turned 18, they took him from his family and hid him away. I want you to retrieve him. I want you to do it today."

"Why me?"

"His parents do not have the resources you do, both as Batman and Bruce Wayne. You will dismantle the organization that is keen on keeping him imprisoned, and you will offer him a scholarship to the local University. You and yours will keep him safe within Gotham until he is able to take his place as my King."

This is a lot of information to take in, even for Bruce. The idea that there could be a boy powerful enough to rule over this (god, his mind whispers) entity and that somehow, he has slipped under all of their radars is as frustrating as it is overwhelming. But although Clockwork has seemed willing to converse, he doesn't know how many more questions he will get.

"You have the power to stop time," he decides on, "why don't you rescue him? Would he not be better suited with you and your people?"

"Within every monarchy, there is a court," Clockwork. "Mine will be unhappy with the choice I have made," he looks at Bruce's watch, head cocked. "In different worlds, they call you the Dark Knight. This will be your chance to serve before a True King."

Bruce bristles. "I bow to no one."

"You'll all serve him, one day," Clockwork says, patiently. "He is the ruler of realms where all souls go, new and old. When you finally take refuge, he will be your sanctuary." He frowns. "But your government rejects the idea of gods. All they know is he is other. Not human. Not meta. A weapon."

"A weapon you want me to bring to my city."

"I believe you call one of your weapons 'Clark', do you not?" Clockwork asks idly. "But you misunderstand me. They seek to weaponize him. He is not restrained for your safety, but for their gain."

"And if I don't take him?" Bruce asks, because a) Clockwork has implied he will be at the very least impeded, at worst destroyed over this, and b) he never did quite learn not to poke the bear. "You won't be around if I decide he's better off with the government."

"You will," Clockwork says, with the same certainty he's wielded this entire conversation. "Not because he is a child, though he is, nor because you are good, though you are, nor even because it is better power be close at hand than afar.

"I have told you my court will be unhappy with me. In truth, there are others who also defend the King. Together we will destroy the access to our world not long after this conversation. The court will be unable to touch him, but neither will we as we face the repercussions for our actions. I am telling you this, because in a timeline where I do not, you think I will be there to protect him. And so when he is in danger, even subconsciously, you choose to save him last, or not at all. And that is the wrong choice.

"So cement it in your head, Bruce Wayne," the man says, "You will go to him because I tell you to. And you will keep him safe until he is ready to return to us. He will find no safety net in me. So you will make the right choice, no matter the cost."

"Or, when our worlds connect again, and they will," his voice now echoes in triplicate with the voices of the many, the young, the old, Tim, Bruce's mother, Barry Allen, Bruce's own voice, "I will not be the only one who comes for you."

"Now," he says, producing a Wayne Industries branded BIC pen. "I will tell you the location the boy is being kept, and then I would like my medallion back, please. In that order."

Bruce glances down and sees a golden talisman, attached to a black ribbon that is draped haphazardly around the neck of his bathrobe, so light (too light, he still should have—) he has not felt its weight until this moment.

Bruce flips the paper over, takes the pen, and jots down the coordinates the being rattles off over the face of a senator. By his calculation, they do correspond with a location in the midwest.

"You will find him on B6. Take a left down the hallway and he will be in the third room down, the one with a reinforced steel door. Take Mr. Kent and Mr. Grayson with you, and when you leave take the staircase at the end of the hallway, not the elevator."

The man gets up, dusts off his impeccably clean pants, and offers him a hand to shake.

"We will not meet again for some time, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks at the creature, stands, and shakes his hand. It feels like nothing. The Keeper of Time sighs, although nothing has been said.

"Ask your question, Mr. Wayne."

"I have more than one."

"You do," Clockwork says. "But I have heard them all, and so they are one. Please ask, or I will not be inclined to answer it."

"What does this boy mean for the future, that you are willing to sacrifice yourself for him?"

There is a pause.

"So that is the one," Clockwork says, after a time. "Yes. I see. I should resolve this, I suppose."

"Resolve what?"

"It is not his future I mean to protect," the man says. "It is his present."

"You want to keep him safe now..." Bruce says, but he's not sure what the being is trying to say.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork repeats, stops. His expression turns solemn, red eyes widening. In their reflection, Bruce can see something. A rush of movement too quick to make heads or tails of, like playing fast forward on a videotape. "Superman reports no signs of unusual seismic activity. With nothing further to look into, you let it go in favor of other investigative pursuits. You do not find him, as you are not meant to. He stays there. His family, his friends, they cannot find him. His captors tell him they have moved on. He does not believe them, until he does. He stays there. He stays there until he is strong enough to save himself."

Clockwork speaks stiffly, rattling off the chain of events as if reading a Justice League debrief. "He is King. He will always be King. He is strong, and good, and compassionate, and he is great for my people because yours have betrayed his trust beyond repair. He throws himself into being the best to ever Be, because there is nothing Left for him otherwise. We love him. We love him. We love him. My King. Forevermore."

The red film in his eyes stall out, and Bruce is forced to look away from how bright the image is, barely making out a silhouette before they dull back to their regular red.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork says slowly, "To this future."

"Because of what it means in the present," Bruce finishes for him. "They're not just imprisoning him, are they."

"They will have already muzzled him."

Clockworks is right in front of him faster than he can process, fist gripping the medallion at his neck so tight he now feels the ribbon digging into his skin.

"Unlike you, Mr. Wayne," and for the first time, the god is angry, and the image of it will haunt Bruce for the rest of his life, "I do not believe in building a better future on the back of a broken child."

"Find him," the deity orders, and yanks the necklace so hard the ribbon rips—

Clack!

"sluuuuurp!"

"Master Timothy, honestly!"

"Sorry Alfred!"

[leftexpertbread]

I got inspired by @1244950 interpretation of Bayverse and Transformers Prime interactions with each other. Especially Bayverse Optimus with him finding out about TFP MegOp and everything. Hilarious stuff.

I'm glad that someone loves Bayverse Optimus a lot to actually take a look into his character in a different light other then just lable him as a "cold blooded sociopath". It baffles me actually.

So have my love for the Bayverse franchise. No matter how bad they are, they're the reason I'm in the Transformers Fandom.

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x dc AU: the watchtower gives out very strictly limited passes for visitors. They don’t need the world knowing that their HQ is in space after all, but sometimes family needed to visit.

Batman was the one to install the day pass system back when Dick was Robin- he needed the excuse to send Dick home to Alfred after a certain amount of time has passed and it just stuck. Unless you were a full time member, day passes were the best you got. Engineers and other supportive staff that weren’t members weren’t afforded day passes however- but Jazz is determined to be the one exception.

Jazz Fenton has been a psychologist for the JL for a year now (she just had a very productive performance review, thank you very much) and it’s been killing her to not tell Danny her office is in space. They do weekly dinners that he portals in for, and he knows that she takes a Zeta tube to work, but he’s technically not allowed to know that her office is a satellite. So, she sets a meeting with the man who started the system in the first place.

Batman is hard to read for most but she’s been his therapist for a while now, and she can tell he’s at least considering her request. Dinah couldn’t speak more kindly on Jazz and she’s been an asset to the JL in many ways since she was hired. Jazz’ arguments aren’t preposterous either- she’s submitted all of his identification papers, his background check, his job description and all of his friends names. She assured him that Danny will be able to keep a secret but when pressed she doesn’t reveal if he has any of his own.

Turns out, months of back and forth and negotiations were going be basically worthless- the second Danny got his little wrist band day pass, made it up via the zeta tube and got presented the view of Earth from the observation deck: he immediately transformed. Like zero caution, just went ghost and hyper fixated on the stars.

“You could have mentioned your Brother being Phantom. He’s been an ally to us for a while.” Batman grumbles in the way that only his family and she can tell through his deadpan.

“Yeah, I just thought that would’ve been a second visit conversation.”

[gilbirda]

Danny is the rightful Ghost King, but since he's not of age he needs a regent who is a) his species, b) his family, and c) an adult. The only adult haftas are Vlad or this Red Hood guy from Gotham that he's never heard of. Since Vlad is not going to happen looks like it's Red Hood, now how to make the guy count as family...

Jason has had a lot of weird shit happen to him over the years but a woman tracking him down as Red Hood to propose a temporary political marriage so he can be regent of a death dimension until her brother is old enough to rule in his own name is a new one for him. Of course he accepted. The only other option was apparently a creepy uncle figure. He's read enough romance to know a forced marriage of a woman to her creepy uncle never ends well. A forced marriage of a woman to a crime lord doesn't usually end much better, but he's ignoring that for now. He's going to woo and romance his spit fire of a wife with respect, spontaneous poetry, his damn good cooking, and by not being a Darcy. And he is going to rock not just this whole regent thing, but also and more importantly the mentoring her brother and his new ward on how to rule this dimension. Competence is always attractive. He runs a tight ship in his crime empire, surely running a dimension can't be that much harder.

He actually already has a plan on how he's going to handle the whole 'The USA declared war on the dimension he's regent of' thing. It's simple really he goes to the next family dinner and causes chaos. The faces everyone will make will be glorious when he drops that he's lord regent of a dimension, the USA is at war with his dimension, and it's such a shame that no one can meet Jason's wife or ward till there is a peace treaty. Then he just needs to sit back and watch the entertainment as his siblings realize he has forever won the position of favorite child by being the first married and first to give Bruce a grandkid. Also you know the chaos of Bruce willing to wage a one man war if necessary so he can meet his grandson. Jason figures it will take at most a month for the government to cave.

And like a cherry on top he's going to get on a medical treatment plan for the pit. Everything is looking great for him.

[obsessedwithstarwars]

Bruce: How was your class trip Damian?

Damian: It was quiet and productive Father.

Bruce: I’m glad to hear it. What was your favorite part?

Damian: I learned how to escape an Iron Maiden.

Bruce: …

Damian: …

Bruce: Explain please.

Damian: A boy Drake’s age taught me how to escape an Iron Maiden.

Bruce: How did he have that knowledge?

Damian: He claims his family has a dungeon full of medieval torture devices. I believe he may require further investigation.

[beeartsy]

Man I sure hope this au gets some fluff, they deserve it

Having said that

Every time @keferon draws I scream

[lonelyzarquon]

[olberic]

yeah