#i want him to be more threatening

[superbellsubways]

been wanting to implement the spider limb concept on my design for a while. finally drew it out

[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!"

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 266

Back on my Danny & Ras frienemies/rivals/maybe-lovers-nobody-can-tell-their-signals-are-very-mixed train. 

See, Danny has gone through time a lot. Often. It comes with being Clockwork’s charge-son-thing and honestly he finds it fun. And several times he’s used this time travelling to get some training in. Enter Ras, stage left, also a teen at the time and also learning swordsmanship from the same person. 

And they… utterly despise each other. They would kill the other for an apple slice, if the other one would die! But also, only they can kill the other, as it is obviously their right! 

And well, they keep running into each other. It has been a hundred years, surely the other would die by now? But of course their rival would live through utter spite. Probably to spite them specifically. 

The amount of times they have ended up sparring- trying to kill each other or not- the moment they see the other is actually ridiculous. But time is also passing. And… Danny understands, not having another to talk about things people are forgetting, or have already forgotten. 

How they ended up actually talking without a murder attempt was a long story that included a demon, a dragon, a pair of fae, some bandits, and a lot of alcohol, but it happened. And then it happens again. And again, and now it’s just kind of normal to share a drink after their spars, talking about things that no longer exist, and things they miss. 

Sure Danny can go back in time again, but he knows better than to do it willy nilly. He’s matured, he’s been an adult for a hundred years now, he knows there’s consequences for messing with time, even with Clockwork’s blessings. 

The first time they got married was technically for an undercover assassination. Well, Ras was there to assassinate someone, Danny was there to grab an artifact that should Not be in the realm of the living. And they got divorced after, it was fine. 

They just, also got married again when they met a few years later, for another job. And… okay, so maybe they have gotten married over a dozen times now and only divorced like half of those times. Half of those were for the bit or while drunk! 

And even if technically they’re married or shared a bed, it’s not like they're exclusive! As Ras’ daughters’ existences attest to (adopted in one case or not). They don’t exactly have a label for their relationship, despite others asking for one or trying to put a name to it themselves. 

Now Danny knows Ras isn’t exactly a good dude, or at least on the side of ‘good’ as he’s a literal assassin. But he also knows that good? Bad? Rather relative. He had gotten labeled as a villain when he was just trying to help all that time ago after all, and really who was he to tell someone else how to live their life? 

Which brings him to now, where he’s run into his old frienemy-rival and his youngest daughter. Who has a braindead teenager and a small toddler. Which is fine, really- but also, Talia dear, why are you using a brain dead teenager to guard your three year old son? 

…

Okay, Talia dear, Ras (Derogatory), why are you using your brain dead son and grandson to guard your younger son and grandson? Do you not have the Pits, which you were soo proud about Ras? Yes, he will spar with you, but for Realms’ sake, heal, what’s his name? Ah yes, go heal Jason and he’ll actually stick around for a few years, deal? Good. 

[bertoyana]

charles and erik with each other: oh dear, oh dear. gorgeous 🥺👐 charles and erik with the villain of the week/the x-men: K1LL YOURSELF 🔥🔥🔥

X-Men: First Class (2011) | X-Men Apocalypse (2016)

[ionlydrinkhotwater]

OK but I really love how unhinged Neil comes off in other people's POV cause looking back at the first three novels he was so damn weird

Take what happened in Colombia

Imagine what Andrew was thinking

Holy crap this binder WTF?!?! OK he's sus as hell I've gotta test him, I'm gonna mess with the tags when I refold his clothes but like...I doubt even he's THAT crazy

*Neil barges in and starts shouting in FRENCH*

OK so he IS that crazy (and French?!)

OK I'm gonna spike his drink and get some answers in a minute just gonna leave him with Aaron and Nicky for a sec while I satisfy my Gay panic this runaway has inspired in me with Roland and then I'll just...WTF DID HE JUST PAY A GUY TO KNOCK HIM OUT?!

OK I'm gonna pick up some breakfast and when I get back to the house I can interrogate the....OK ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME THIS DUBIOUS TWINK CRAWLED OUT OF THE BATHROOM WINDOW?!

OK so he's not around let's get back to Palmetto he probably got a ride from one of the upperclassmen

OK he didn't...did he run away? I guess that makes some sens... OK wait he HITCHHIKED?! THE FUCK?!

OK THIS ASSHOLE SPEAKS GERMAN TOO?!

OK he's on the run from the mob...there are a lot of holes in this story but at this point I'm gonna take his word for it that he's isn't a danger to my people cause I don't have the energy to continue to pursue this anymore. This fucking guy is more unhinged than what I was prepared to deal with this weekend.

[addicted-to-the-knife]

he's so important to me

[j-rye]

bun ny bunny bu nny bunny ? @wolfertinger666

[ofswordsandpens]

"the Gabe and Sally dynamic in the show is abusive" and "the way they've portrayed Gabe in the show is distinctly different from his book counterpart and fans can criticize that" are two discussions that can coexist

[aroaceleovaldez]

i think a lot about how early-series, demigods are referred to pretty equally as "demigods," "half-bloods," and "godlings," - the last used particularly by gods at demigods - but after that "godlings" is almost exclusively used to refer to minor gods.

something something i am literally always chewing on the concept of the line between immortals/demigods/monsters/etc being thinner than it appears

[remus-poopin]

The “A very frosty Christmas” chapter in HBP is so interesting to me in terms of understanding Lupin’s relation to the werewolf community. The standout line to me is this:

“‘I am not complaining; it is necessary work and who can do it better than I? However, it has been difficult gaining their trust. I bear the unmistakable signs of having tried to live among wizards, you see, whereas they have shunned normal society and live on the margins, stealing — and sometimes killing — to eat.’” (HBP, 334)

The framing of this is interesting, he didn’t say: “wizards have shunned them from normal society therefore marginalizing them so they have to steal and sometimes kill to eat”, no he puts the werewolves in the active role as if they are making a sort of choice. It effectively takes the blame off of the wizards that oppress them.

I think he might feel that it is a choice they are making. He has tried very hard all his life to fit into wizarding society. Everything he does is in an attempt to appear non threatening. He has made a choice to not live in the werewolf colonies, he’s made a choice to hold jobs, he’s made a choice to socialize with other wizards, he’s made a choice to appear civilized, he’s made a choice to conform into wizard society-

yet he is still not accepted.

The issue is not the werewolves disregarding society but a society that fundamentally disregards their humanity.

On some level he must know this yet the way he speaks about his community is dripping with a sort of self loathing that pushes for a drive for assimilation (something you can find in most groups of marginalized people).

He holds these views of achieving social mobility through the appearance of civilization while being walking proof that werewolf assimilation is futile, so he has to construct mental barriers to avoid being crushed under the weight of his own hypocrisy.

[pa-pa-plasma]

hey i feel like we're really sleeping on that time Danny possessed Vlad & framed him for assaulting a minor

Editing with the clip because people don't believe me. Episode is 41: Eye for an Eye.

[zivazivc]

Did Les ever dated in the past? Also is he with anyone recently?

Les quit school really early, like 10-years-old early, and he started working soon after, so he didn't really have friends his age. That kinda puts a buffer on a teenager's social and love life. Though there was something that happened at a house party once, that was, uh... a bad experience, and it left him with a lot of issues. Also, partially because of this, he's not really someone who acts on his crushes. So he never dated before.

But at one point the band spent a few months in the same location (dunno the reason yet, but maybe they weren't getting enough gigs and they had to take up some part time jobs for a while), and Les developed a crush on a bartender at a nearby club.

She's the only OC of mine who's visually a bigger weirdo than Les, and he definitely saw a little bit of himself in her, and hoping for someone with some shared life experience, it's what initially attracted him toward her and vice versa.

So they had a thing going on for a short time. It never developed into anything serious because sadly they are very alike, which means they are BOTH morons who are shy about making the first move. And after a while they came to the agreement that they were better as just friends.

Floyd with his persistent crush was not happy about the possible romance at first, but he ended up being happy for Les, and he finally decided to give his hopeless longing a rest, since the only good it was doing was growing a rift between his and Les's friendship.

Funny enough it was Floyd backing down which allowed the two to grow closer. Les lowered his guard since he no longer had to overthink if Floyd would interpret anything he did or said as some kind of flirting or act of love, and he no longer had to brace himself for any uncomfortable romancing coming from Floyd either.

They were already good friends since the start but they became much more casual with each other and began to understand each other on a deeper level as years passed. As Floyd got older and more mature, and became an equal with the rest of the bandmates, it was actually Les who fell for him, hard. He didn't really do anything about it though, but Floyd eventually realized this and you know he did something about it. Though Floyd's crush had gone from looking at Les as this cool experienced older guy when he was younger to now seeing him as a shy innocent teddy bear compared to his lewd self ksjhdkjs.

So technically they became each other's first proper all-encompassing relationship. And by that I mean that besides the lovey-dovey obvious stuff, they were also best friends and helped each other grow a lot. Also Floyd by the time they got together, already started a habit of hooking up with strangers at parties, so being with Les forced him to slow down and progress through a relationship slowly and at a healthy pace for someone his age (since you can't really get anywhere with Les without a lot of patience). And Floyd got Les to become comfortable with opening up and talking about his deep-rooted feelings. They talked about issues they faced, many of which were related to Les's childhood trauma, instead of him just ignoring or suppressing it all. (Floyd also opened up about his own family trauma with Les obviously, but he talked about it even before they got together.)

The relationship, especially at the start, could still be considered questionable from an outsider's perspective, but so was the band's lifestyle in general. They were good for each other during that period while they were growing up and figuring themselves and each other out, which is what matters I think.

It was honestly mainly Floyd's undiagnosed bipolar disorder that made the relationship suffer toward the end of Floyd's days in the band. It created a lot of trust issues between Floyd and Les, and also Floyd and everyone else, heck it even made Floyd distrust himself, since he and none else knew or understood what was happening with him. This led to a lot of misery and anger that he mostly ended up directing at Les, and it was what eventually made them break up and Floyd leave.

[allmightyscroll-swag]

Oop, I realized I never actually posted about this, but!

Anyone remember my separated Donnie au? Code name: Violet skies? Well I'm remaking it! Rewriting it, even !!

Here's Foot Recruit/aka Donnie!

Draxum, quite begrudgingly, ends up raising the four turtles with Splinter: whom saved him when a part of the lab's roof collapsed, while he was holding onto two of the turtles. Splinter brought the both of them to the sewers, and it all happened from there.

The turtles grew up not too different, safe for extra actual training and knowledge of both the hidden city and things mystic; until Leo and Donnie turned 14. Donnie went out one day with Raph, and didn't come back.

Two years after his disappearance, when the series events begin, they find him in the Foot Clan. Now called just Foot Recruit, with no memory of them — and a good 6 years worth of memories of living with the foot clan.

[nqn]

doodle from last night! i blame @boxwinebaddie for getting me excited about goth/jersey again ♥

[blighted-lights]

someone needs to grab me by my neck and stop me from making a meta post about idw soundwave and the cassettes and about how his insistence that they are equals (or at least some of them are equals) is in direct contradictory with how he actually interacts with them/how their dynamic is written throughout idw. because as much as i do think they are generally a group that cares and relies on each other (minus ratbat, who has 0 reason to gaf about any of them and vice versa), i,,, ough. its messy.

i do not think this is a weird character writing moment, i actually think it's SUPER interesting to think and talk about. but i can't,, i shan't,,, unless ✍️👀

[frobby]

i think a core component of the okumura twins relationship is that if you told them before the series what happens in the future, they would worry about each other before themselves