#i'm posting this like 2am my time

[carlosfreckles]

New chapter !

[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!"

[triglycercule]

alright,,,,,is this newyears gift,,,,,, i dont no. but maybe it's late enough that i'll be able to forget that i drew this 😁😁😁😁 mttpoly doodles. whoever sees this sees this

[affluent-havoc]

Togami Time! Byakuya Time works too but I like the alliteration of the first. Spoilers ahead of course!

For Byakuya's casual attire, I gave him that very standard rich man polo. I did spice it up a bit with a black, fairly slick turtleneck underneath that hugs his body. I decided to also have his polo tucked in for extra style points along with the addition of the belt. I like giving this man belts after all. Unless he's in his fancy pajamas, he's wearing a belt the majority of the time! And, of course, his clothes, though a bit basic in a way, cost a lot of money. Sorta honed slight bits from his bad ending attire oddly enough. It wasn't much but just that sorta sporty look in a way. I dunno what the jacket he wore would be called but it gives me slight sporty vibes. Thus, Byakuya's giving off some flamboyant golfer energy which, to be fair, he probably knows how to golf for the most part. For his business attire, I initially drew a more elaborate design (no worries. it'll be seen at some point!!) though I toned it down a lot more for work. He may be fashionable but he's also a man of practicality in many regards. Thus, he's got a pocket watch and a basic suit with some flairs. Specifically, I gave him some emerald colored brooches in his hair and on his tie, hinting back to how he likes the Scarab Brooch in game. After all, with age, I feel the main facets of his interests wouldn't change. The guy is still into those dark academia type stuff. Also, the gold elbow pads are just cus. I dunno. They might be a bit much but I felt a bit bad for just putting him in a suit at the same time! Some other bits I wish to mention about his business attire is that, though he does wear this for work, for my future AU, I see him working a lot at home as well! He's still quite involved with the Togami Conglomerate, but he's found a nice balance where he only needs to travel to other countries sometimes, not the majority. Byakuya deserves a break after all the stuff he went through both pre-tragedy, during the tragedy, and the clean up post-tragedy. That clean up is still occurring still (it's about a decade after dr3/the anime) so there's still work to be done. Byakuya has a bit less to do with the whole "helping to rebuild the economy thing" though since I like to think that, with his influence, he helps with that. Back to his work though, he mostly does this in a designated office area in his condo. He also does this in his mansion sometimes though crashes out into some of the other's places to work as well or just because he can. Speaking of that, though he does live in his condo, he likes to roam a lot and sometimes ends up staying over with the others. It started out as a one time deal before it slowly became the thing he does. His primary targets are Kyoko and Makoto in their apartment and Toko and Komaru in theirs. He does go to Hiro's place as well though to "make sure the idiot isn't causing trouble" and he also goes to Hina's too though less than Hiro's. He'd mostly just be in Toko and Komaru's place if he wanted to check up on Hina cus, though they are friends, the two still like to butt heads. Plus, in this AU, Hina doesn't even live that far away from Toko and Komaru anyway. I headcanon that they all live fairly close from one another cus they all still like spending time together. Thus, thems the rules in this AU. However, despite this man's resilience to not stay at his own damn condo, he's not mooching off of any of them... for the most part. He makes sure to repay anything, sometimes to an annoying degree like him making himself coffee in the morning and then just chucking money in their face before they can say anything. Either that or the man just goes and orders a fancy ass dinner while saying that he "ordered too much" which is just his weird way of showing that he cares for them all. That's not to say that he does that all the time. He understands fully that none of his friends are here for his money. The man can sometimes do it anyway out of habit though he's less bad with this than he was years ago.

For his body type, it's fairly basic, perhaps a little average. A little squishy in some areas which ironically makes him kinda huggable despite him still being aloof in nature. His slight squishy qualities are practically hidden to those who don't know him though. Besides, though he is squishy, that is not to say he should, by any means, be underestimated. He shares this quality with my Kyoko design in some ways (gotta love the togiri parallels) Basically, though he's not super muscular, he could still kick ass. Besides, I feel he wouldn't be one to try and get super buff and all anyway. He probably COULD gain some very good muscle though. He probably just doesn't want to. Additionally, I have him in slightly different glasses. For one, they are to differentiate him much more from his canon design. I also thought the chains would be cool and that the rounded frames would be a nice contrast to all the spikes I gave him in his hair. It also compliments his slightly softer appearance as well, being an older man as well pushing 30. Gives him more of a sense that he's got a bit of fallibility. That he's still a human at the end of the day! He also is a bit nicer with age as well though still Byakuya Togami of course!

Out of all the elements I changed about my favorite guy, I think my favorite aspect is his hair. So many cute tufts! Plus, I am a sucker for him having long hair. I also feel I made a good balance between making him look like he could totally pull off the Polaris thing again and having him still look like a guy. But also, he's a bit androgynous as well! Hope you all enjoy this loser's design! The next design will be very soon! (1) | (4)

[seventh-district]

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!"

[magentagalaxies]

creation of adam but it's this photo of me handing scott the martini before his buddy cole set in the KITH toronto show

[atalienart]

Well... what can I say :|

[psalmsofpsychosis]

Honestly, courage starts with doing philosophy debates in the chat and having 6 typos per sentence and not going back to fix a single one of them, like i AM making sense. i AM fprcing you to focus on the content of my thoughts and not the aesthetics of the words. We ARE having a profound exchange and you WILL interpret the absolutely incoherent string of words i just put on your screen, this is a test of your intelligence and also our fucked up friendship that you did not ask for. If you dont understand a single thing i'm saying, try again after a good dinner and banging your toe to the dinner table

[peridots-pixiwolf]

sketches from @mipexch 's whiteboard a couple days ago!!

also feat. a very small reference to @onlineviolence :]

[silverselfshippingchaos]

this is ash @ j.oongi

[kreftropod]

To the Anon who sent me an ask saying I "should feel fucking awful" for "giving you hope": I'm sorry about your situation, truly. But what did you want to achieve by sending that ask to me?

For context I reblogged a post earlier, mentioning that I hadn't double-checked the info yet as I was at work (my memory is shit, so I reblogged it to remember to check it later). I did check it later, found that the links didn't confirm what the OP claimed, and decided to delete the reblog as I had no reason to keep it on my blog anymore.

I'm going to assume that you're an adult, Anon, and as such it's your own responsibility to check sources and not trust random strangers on the internet (such as me). If you had checked the sources yourself, you would have been able to see that the post didn't add up (lawsuit too new to be approved yet, and the amount of money OP mentioned seemed taken out of thin air). I'm sorry that I didn't sit down and tell everyone that I, a nobody, decided to delete the post from my personal blog. It would perhaps have been a courtesy to do so, but it isn't a responsibility you can demand of strangers on tumblr of all sites.

Again, I'm sorry about your situation and about you getting your hopes up over something I reblogged, but lashing out against a stranger doesn't help anyone. I promise I didn't reblog, and later delete a post without telling you, just so I could hurt you personally.

I do hope you have a kinder new year than the one we're both currently suffering through. Cheers mate

[azurecanary]

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

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

[watery-melon-baller]

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

[missingn000]

[tellthatbrokebitch]

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-