#i'm posting this like 2am my time
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carlosfreckles · 3 months ago
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New chapter !
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confessedlyfannish · 7 months ago
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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!"
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seventh-district · 15 days ago
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Sam: "Look at me. Hey- look at me a second. I know. I know you're tough. I know how strong you are. You have every right to be proud of that. But being able to handle somethin' doesn't mean you should have to. Least of all when I'm right here trying to help. Please let me help. If not for you then for me, because I don't like knowin' you're hurtin', especially when there's somethin' I can do about it."
Me, shaking my head, fighting back literal tears: "B-but it's gonna give you another headache!"
#redacted sam#redacted audio#redacted asmr#redactedverse#redacted fandom#[Sam's name doubles as a link to the specific lines i quoted btw. just for full credit/transparency & for anyone who wants to (re)listen]#Sam's deep-seated need to heal vs my inability to accept help would be a battle for the ages. unstoppable force vs immovable object#wait Sam already mentioned the force vs object thing to David during the inversion didn't he lmao 'they call /me/ Immovable Object'#he does suit Immovable a little more than Unstoppable i guess. i mean he can def be both imo but ykwim. anyways i digress#listen. i'm not a Marriage kinda guy. but good god the way some of Sam's lines make me wanna take a fucking knee and propose#i'm love him ur honor. he is comfort incarnate#can't believe i waited so long to listen to the Valentines Vampire Attack audio. it's got so much of that sweet sweet hurt/comfort#very reminiscent of their 2nd audio given all the healing he does for them & the consent checks before moving clothing and whatnot#which makes it a top favorite for me bc that's probably my most replayed Sam audio. and the one that initially hooked me#i didn't put off listening to it bc i thought i Wouldn't like it btw i just procrastinate everything for no real reason#listening to it now tho actually worked out well bc i could uh. definitely use it. so maybe i was subconsciously saving it for hard times#this post isn't a joke btw it really does hurt to hear him put himself in pain for the sake of healing Darlin' :(((#anD PAINKILLERS DON'T EVEN WORK ON HIM!!! ough man i would struggle so hard to accept his healing if i were in Darlin's shoes#like yeah there's other reasons i'd struggle to accept it too but him being in pain as a result would be one of 'em. the Guilt bro i can't#rp audio stuff#Seven.txt#(Seven blorbo-posting at 2am when they should either be doing something productive or sleeping?? more likely than you might think)
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atalienart · 1 year ago
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Well... what can I say :|
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peridots-pixiwolf · 1 year ago
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sketches from @mipexch 's whiteboard a couple days ago!!
also feat. a very small reference to @onlineviolence :]
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bakerstreetdoctor · 1 month ago
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Marlborough: so uhm hiii, I heard you're pretty cool and stuff, hehe, so wanna tell me about your future plans, which country do you wanna conquer next etc 👉👈
Karl: why's this linguistic failure speaking french to me. What do you mean you're a successful commander when you're dressed like this. Where's the dirt and grit
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Voltaire: Saxony 💛 🖤 didn't ❌ make Karl 🇸🇪👑 weak 🫠 he rode 🐎 out three 3️⃣✖️ per day 🗓️ got up 🛏️ at four 🕓 in the morning 🌄 dressed himself 👗 didn't ❌ drink wine 🍷 only sat at the table 🍽️ for a quarter hour 🕒 but everyday he exercised 💪 his troops 💂‍♀️ and didn't ❌ know any other pleasure 🤩 but making Europe 🇪🇺 quake 🫨
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coquelicoq · 2 months ago
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lost power for five hours last night WHILE sick AND it was dark and i was soooo bored 😩 tried to nap to no avail. had my candles going and was doing a crossword by flashlight but there's only so long before that becomes annoying. so i dug out one of my old i spy books i haven't looked at since childhood and spent like 45 minutes finding all the objects. it actually turned out to be the ideal way to experience that book, because the flashlight beam forced me to focus my attention on small parts of the image at a time. went back to twiddling my thumbs after that but at least it killed 45 minutes.
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rinbylin · 8 months ago
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remembering tonight "变得不适应因为它们原本来自江河大海 世上本不应该有池塘" (said by a monk character) and thinking about the sea being repeatedly suggested to be the place with the last traces of lxy - and llh - in this world
#rough tl: 'they found themselves out of place bc they came from the rivers and sea. there ought not to be ponds in the world to begin with'#(it's just going home)#lz 1994 is not a perfect film to me but it's got some banger lines that GET IT.#once again this is not anything new i'm saying about lhl/llh but everyday i ruminate and think. oh they understand OKAY.#they know what they're doing. it's all in the narrative and the motifs#mainstream cnet reading of lhl/llh has always taken a buddhist lens. and thinking about that one cfan who specifically said chan/zen:#the journey of liberating yourself is. smth you can attain in ordinary mortal life but it's also smth that warrants continuous reiteration#it rings so true to lxy's life. you think you've shed pretensions of your old life and indeed you have gained new perspective and clarity#until it stops serving you and you realise it's not enough and it's time to move again#if the idea of llh is built on the denial of the idea of lxy#then towards the end of the show lxy realises this distinction is one-sided and imagined#if what 'llh' had offered to him is the taste of liberation and freedom then clearly it had run its course. face it. it's time to move#he experiments with his identities like he experiments with his cooking. the last one's alr good enough. why stick to it#anw there's no coherence in this post. just tacking thoughts all to this like a board so that i'll eventually write a proper post. maybe#lhlmeta#lhl#my posts#GOOD NIGHT IT'S 2AM jfc not again
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azurecanary · 10 months ago
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Sometimes a bad BAD post will just catch me with the wrong mood at the wrong time of day, and, like a werewolf on the full moon, i am transformed into the most petty and vindictive motherfucker to stride across these halls
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solradguy · 2 years ago
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I need to sleep because it is 2:30am but I am smiling at pictures of girls (my round daughter Thunderdome and Jack-O')
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sherlock-is-ace · 10 months ago
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watery-melon-baller · 2 years ago
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woukd like to file a formal complaint for getting sick right now. I am in the midst of finals week. my project is due on Friday and I need to work on it. could i not have waited a few days. im drinking all the fluids and resting why is my body still unhappy. im doing all the things. please let me recover so I don't fail my fucking class <3
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missingn000 · 2 years ago
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tellthatbrokebitch · 1 year ago
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pairings so far for the zombie au are: byler, hopclair (i think that's el and lucas' shipname???), eventual elumax bc ofc, ronance, vee poly with jargyle and stonathan, jopper, possibly dustin with an oc but almost might just leave him single but also that feels exclusionary but also they don't all NEED to be paired off but also-
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singsweetmelodies · 2 years ago
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rereading my own fics in the backseat of the car with gf napping on my shoulder is the best way to do it ngl 🥺❤️
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wondercloud · 6 months ago
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just discovered this obscurely underrated david character named martin lamb from a tv show back in 2018.
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tell me how this fella's the prettiest guy i've ever seen in my life. he looks (and acts, just watch his scenes) like a (cute) little freak. but tell me how i fell in love with him the SECOND i saw his face. i had a whole menty b realizing how underrated he is. it genuinely hurts. and he only got like, 2 minutes in the whole show. what the hell.
he's like this perfect combination of cale, alec, and that driving instructor guy from learners, chris. what an insane combo. i am so done for. WHY DO I HAVE TO KEEP FALLING FOR SUCH OBSCURE CHARACTERS. GOD. HELP ME.
ALSO ALSO ALSO. i haven't watched the entirety of his scenes because i'm saving it for later but he seems socially anxious. HUGE social anxiety sufferer vibe. which makes this all the more personal to me. you don't get it. he's literally me i'm afraid. (actually maybe not because i haven't watched all of him yet.. he could literally be some really effed up guy so yeah maybe not..) but SO FAR, the first few minutes of his scenes have showed that he's literally just like me fr.
stay tuned for updates.
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