#but nobody wants you bad as i do

[alwayssunnyinhawkins]

Sc4red Of My Gu¡tar by Ol¡v¡a is so me in that I'm avoiding getting back into writing poetry (and in general) because I just know all of my poems would be about L.

And if they aren't they'd be about my brother soooooo.

[adaki]

GIRLS NITE OUT >_< ((clockwork could not make it)) (wip)

[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!"

[umblrspectrum]

hi im back

[truly-sincerely]

Obsessively reading everything in game by and about Gortash and the dude is

On a philosophical trajectory that ends in immortality thru technology / the machine

Doesn't have an original bone in his body, but he can backwards engineer anything

Halfway to being a decent scientist but doesn't have the education and is deeply impatient

Overconfident in the veracity of his own results and conclusions

Accurately predicted that the brain would metamorphose and become more difficult to control and then did nothing about it

Outsources his propaganda / arts and humanities

Charming, but he got there in a Pavlovian way (learned from trial and error and probably doesn't consciously know how he does it)

Vindictive af (learned / reinforced)

Darwinian (in the worst way)

Sociopathic, obviously, but extremely Rationalist about it

Never asks questions he doesn't know the answer to and probably thinks this makes him sound more authoritative

Completely incompetent as a strategist (but doesn't know it)

Not nearly as narcissistic / full of himself as he pretends to be

Thinks what he wants is praise but it's never enough because it's not actually what he wants (he wants to be wanted)

Bane makes him feel wanted (conditionally)

Durge made him feel wanted (unconditionally)

Understands intellectually that Durge got ambushed, but he feels abandoned

See also: thematic parallels between Gortash and

Silouv Yali (the Adamantine Forge & the construct Grym)

Oliver (in the shadow-cursed lands)

Astarion and Gale, obviously

[black-and-yellow]

[softhe4rted]

on loneliness jenny slate / japanese breakfast, posing for cars / corinne von lebusa, big glow / dadushin / alejandra pizarnik, tr. me / fka twings, home with you / avocado_ibuprofen / fiona apple, left alone / anne carson, “the anthropology of water”, plainwater / kiki smith, free fall / alejandra pizarnik, diaries

[starry-bi-sky]

okay a few more danyal al ghul au memes because i think they're funny to make. with bonus yaelokre danyal memes!

yaelokre! danyal 🤝 threes! danyal: being five years older than damian

yaelokre danyal comes from my oneshot right here. however, i would frankly recommend reading the version i put on ao3 because it's been edited and includes more content! shout out to my boy, he's got amnesia </3

Do i think that the LOA has technology in it? Absolutely I do. LED lights but in 3000k warm white instead of the jarring bright sterile white, if they've got glass windows they're those solar panel glass panes my college natural science building uses that detects sunlight position, which in term controls the lights, which in turn saves energy. Amber lights for outside, solar panels. Just. anything environmentally sound and friendly, they've got it, they use it.

Do i think they've got computers and tvs lying around for casual recreational use? ....that i'm not so sure about. For this au? I'm gonna say nooooottt really. That stuff is typically reserved for like, mission planning, debriefing, research, etc. Frankly danny probably does know how to use a computer, however i thought it was funny if he didn't. so the meme is staying in lmao.

If they're not training, they've probably like, got a greenhouse or two somewhere on base they can help with. The LoA's whole thing is balance, harmony, restoring the natural world with extreme environmentalism. All that jazz. Probably plenty of ponds, recreational areas outside, gardens, just, stuff to do that's not technology based. My most basic understanding is that these people are the world's deadliest hippies. They can't be training all the time, that's neither good for morale nor for their bodies, so when they're not training... they're off doing shit. If Ras has kept this thing running for thousands of years then it’s gotta be pretty lit enough that nobody’s revolted lmao.

[al-luviec]

something simple to try to get out of art block (it didn't work)

[alwayssunnyinhawkins]

I actually hate everything ever because why am I desperately waiting for it to hurry up and get later so that I can be tired enough to go to sleep so that I can hurry up and get ready and go to college and see L <////3

Kill me.

Also, as of the 20th of this month: basically all of my friends *officially* know that I like him (they figured anyway due to me being the least subtle person ever</3) and have said that, and I quote, "it's a two-way thing", that he's flirting back with me etc etc

So! That's fun :) I have far higher hopes than with Ca, but not in the way of being in the position of getting let down more just that I feel more certain about things which is nice

I also stopped messaging with Ca like a week ago/just under and so far so good because he's not tried to contact me again and my innate sense of nostalgia and regret hasn't kicked in for even a second either lmao but yeah

I'm feeling good about this! (Famous last words.)

[vynnyal]

Turns out Sunlit Trail isn't quite done just yet, so after all that they just send you to a dead end 😂

[somegrumpynerd]

Bitty update! Or I guess bitties (bittys?) update since there's apparently two of them now.

I didn't expect to see much of them after that last encounter since they seemed pretty unhappy about me getting too close, but I kept leaving out food and keeping my eyes peeled just in case. A lot of people have been saying to leave jerky but I haven't been able to find any so I've been leaving out bread and ham, is this okay for them?

Anyway, the other day when I was on my lunch break I saw the horror bitty scurrying around again. He saw me and disappeared which I expected, but then he came back and just kinda sat across from me and ate?? I didn't want to say anything in case it spooked him so we just sort of ate lunch together in silence, but I did try and take a sneaky picture

Is this good? Is this normal for bitties? When he was finished eating he just got up and walked off and I didn't see where he went, but I assume he's not super scared of me if he sat and ate so close right?

Also I found this cute little ketchup jar, I've been keeping it in the fridge since it's been warm in work and I thought they'd like a cool treat. Well I found it like this the other day so I guess that's a yes lol

[spaciebabie]

at first getting diagnosed with cptsd was like, "yay my trauma has been validated (it always was valid)!" and i really thought that was going to be it, but then i started to do research as i do whenever i realize i have something and learned that!! the way i experience socialization is!! quite horrid actually!!

[front-facing-pokemon]

[elviraaxen]

I'm probably not the first to admit this but goddamn was I a narcissistic prick when I wasn't on stimulants

[yuwuta]

PETITION!!!!!! FOR THE ATLA X JJK STUFF!!!! OMG NOW I HAVE A BRAINROT love this idea sm.....

i have SOOOO many ideas you have no idea how near and dead atla is to me… i could rant about this day and night…. reader’s bending or non-bending abilities always change in the au for me, but i feel very strongly about everyone’s bending abilities teehee…. except satoru… i can pickle many aus for satoru bc that’s pookie <3

firebender reader that captures airbender yuuta to take him back to the fire nation as a reward and honestly he should fight back, he could fight back, and he probably shouldn’t blush when you’re rough with him, but you’re really pretty and stubborn and sure the ropes you put around his hands and ankles are really tight but it could have been worse. and you haven’t burned or scarred him, and you even give him some of fish you capture and cook along the way, so maybe you don’t really hate him that much. it’s so much of yuuta nervously rambling as you two travel and you not responding, but that doesn’t stop yuuta, nor does it deter him from thinking that you’re not all bad. clearly you’re strong and determined and you believe capturing him with worth something so he kinda…. let’s it be (also he thinks he’d lose a fight to you) and somewhere along the way he gets the courage to point blank as you why you’re taking him and i’d love to say he talk no jutsus you into not turning him in but also love the idea of someone else attacking you and yuuta turning on the airbending to choke them out which is insane bc you’ve done nothing but capture him but who’s to say that’s not a form of love too xoxo

or we can consider you and megumi growing up in the south pole together, it’s a small town so it’s not a coincidence that you two become friends, even if megumi is a little gruff at first. you two do everything together, even though your water bending abilities start to differ as you get older—you become much more mischievous, while megumi becomes focused on precision and healing. it’s why, despite the tradition being father and son to go out hunting, toji takes you out to sea to go ice fishing and you always run back home to megumi with your capture in hand, damn near tackling him every time and happily proclaiming you caught his favorite; and every time he tells you to calm down and not cause a scene, but you don’t, and toji and his mom chuckle as you tackle him and megumi tries to blush and wrangles you into a seat inside while he helps his mom with dinner. and really, all is well until some snobby prince from another town claims that your family is indebted to his and that you’re betrothed as collateral and everyone finds out very quickly that even though megumi spent all his time focusing on healing, that he’s still toji’s son and can make one hell of a tsunami if it calls for it. (and when the storm, literally, passes, megumi huffs as he digs through his belonging and stuffs a necklace in your hand and all you can do is blink and wonder what’s going on while his mom snickers in the background and winks at you “i think that’s a proposal, dear.”)

orrrrrr even though i firmly believe in airbender satoru superiority, i do make an exception for stealing yue’s plot line and making satoru a waterbender and prince who’s hair is only white because he blessed and saved by the moon spirit when he was very young. ofc, that’s not enough to make him nearly as humble as he should be, and satoru spends all his days ignoring his princely duties and bothering you and a nanami instead, ditching his masters and servants in favor of pouting at you to teach him your skills instead because satoru wholly believes his duty is not to serve as the bridge between his people and the moon, but instead to annoy you and hopefully make you mrs half-moon someday