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confessedlyfannish · 22 days

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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!"

#i feel like I'm going to reread this and want to add other stuff #but I also just want to post it and get it out there #fun fact i scribbled a bunch of lines down at 2am bc i didn't want to forget them #im bad at multiple drafts #my writing #dp x dc #dp x dc au #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom #batman #i live to make everybody dramatic #but also i subscribe to a world where clockwork doesn't know how NOT to be dramatic #lol he's a ghost from all of time he doesn't know how to speak to humans and tailor it to the century let alone the decade #and his favorite little girl who calls him clocky loves how he speaks so #he doesn't need to change for nobody #nor feels inclined to #also I feel like as god he's way more inclined to threaten to get what he wants than like...be vulnerable #jazz: let's unpack that #clockwork: we never do #jazz: are you saying that because it's true or because that's what you want to be true?#clockwork: ...#also I cannot take credit for BITCH I MIGHTWING #wish i could #that is cash money right there #shoutout to 11thsense

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egophiliac · 4 months

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happy new year Ego!!! Just wanted to let you know that I absolutely adore your twst fanart and the tags are just an absolute pleasure to read! You are my greatest inspiration for my personal twst art and I just wanted to thank you for your wonderful masterpieces <333 if possible, may I ask what are some of your headcanons for the diasomnia family? If not for diasomnia then any other characters are fine as well!

thank you, and happy new year! 💚💜💚 that is amazing to hear; it's always a little bewildering but super flattering that other people like my silly little doodles so much!

I don't think I really have any really solid headcanons and also canon keeps validating me left and right (FLUFFY DOMESTIC DIAFAM IS REAL). mostly just kind of...impressions and general thoughts, if that makes sense! lately though I've been kind of obsessed with thinking about Lilia's hair, and specifically when/why he ended up cutting it. (l-look, we're bouncing around the timeline and I gotta make decisions about these things when I draw, it's relevant) (I mean I would probably be weirdly fixated on this anyway, but.)

I think I've settled on the idea that he kept it long until he went to NRC, partly because 1) I like drawing The Ponytail, and 2) I think he thought of NRC as a chance to reinvent himself a bit! he gets to go and be a wacky carefree teenager for a few years and have fun! (officially he's there to keep an eye on Son #1, but how much trouble could he get into, really.) so he gave himself a Cool Teen Haircut to go with his fresh new Cool Teen Persona!

also maybe he had some reflection on his hair's troubled past with three kids...

...and had to weigh his vanity versus the fact that he was going off to be around hundreds of kids on a daily basis, and. the choice suddenly seemed obvious.

#art #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland spoilers #twisted wonderland episode 7 spoilers #twisted wonderland episode 7 part 6 spoilers #twisted wonderland book 7 spoilers #twisted wonderland book 7 part 6 spoilers #this is my blog and i'm going to write a million words about lilia and you can't stop me #but anyway i do genuinely get the impression that he's using Pretending to Be a Teenager as a chance to be even sillier than usual #he's a very silly man he's just being EXTRA silly #supported by his recent birthday card where he says he was specifically trying to cast himself as an adorable little brother-type #because he wanted the other students to give him free shit and save him seats and things like that #it worked for about a week before he turned out to be way too good at stuff and everyone just kind of ended up in awe of him instead #and he was like DANGIT. I'VE RUINED IT FOR MYSELF.#(then he and epel went on to talk about their hypothetical vtubersonas because the birthday cards are INSANE but anyway)#i'm bad at headcanons :( sorry!#unless it's dumb things like...what pokemon they would have or whatever #(malleus would have some kind of special fancy-colored dragapult) (but i digress)#i have a hard time putting things into words. just know that i love the grampa bat and his weird kids very much.#my brain is also still kind of fried from the last couple of weeks #i am however starting 2024 off the way i intend to continue it: in deep contemplation of anime hair #(sorry if these look weirdly aliased) (i realized about 3/4 of the way through i was using the wrong brush and i didn't want to restart :U)

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lastofgallifrey · 8 months

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twelve spending 4.5 billion years punching through a 20ft thick wall of azbantium, a material apparently 400x harder than diamond, dying repeatedly in the process, all so he could get clara back... like whether you see them as platonic or romantic you cannot deny that he quite literally loved her to death

#me when i'm mentally ill #he had a duty of care or something #funny ass way to say i love you so much i'd spend 4.5 billion years dying and destroy time itself so we could explore the universe together #there is a rot in brain that is just Them #they still get to me BAD #tears in my eyes #sobbed #sobbing #will continue to sob #doctor who #twelveclara #clara oswald #twelfth doctor #12th doctor #peter capaldi #jenna coleman #the doctor #whouffaldi

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ofswordsandpens · 4 months

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while I do like the added dialogue between Sally and Percy in the minotaur scene, namely Sally's speech to Percy telling him to hold fast, I really wish the scene had more of the urgency that it did in the book. Like Grover's heavily injured to the point of incoherency, Sally and Percy literally have to drag him up the hill, and that's when they're overtaken by the minotaur. In the show, having them all come to a grinding standstill and Grover being fully alert like "sorry I know we're being chased by certain death but your mom's human so she can't come :/" was kind of adflksadfjasdf

oh and in the book Percy doesn't immediately pass out. Instead, Percy doesn't let himself until he's hauled Grover over the boundary line and all the way to the big house because he needs help and it's only then does Percy finally collapse. and idk just the imagery of it all -- Percy crying for help, for his mother -- it always stuck with me and I wish they hadn't taken it out.

#listen I know even the book Sally was like /I can't go on the property/#but theoretically Grover could have granted her permission the same way Annabeth does for Tyson in som #Grover was just literally passed out and could not #so having Grover be awake and just be like /yeah that's a bummer huh/ made him seem strangely apathetic to it lmaoo #also I'm not saying the scene was bad!!! my gripes are mostly personal preference #I think the added dialogue with sally and percy was beautiful and could have been woven into a more book accurate portrayal of the scene #sally jackson #pjo adaptation #pjo #percy jackson #grover underwood #mine

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yardsards · 8 months

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hot take but you all NEED to stop telling people to kill themselves.

yes, even *those* people. i don't care if you're talking to some monster who puts live puppies into a wood chipper for fun, don't say that shit.

because mx. puppychipper isn't gonna be affected by your words.

but you know who might be affected? some innocent third party reading the words you said on a public website.

because telling people to kill themselves says "suicide is a punishment for being a bad person. bad people, upon realizing they're bad, should simply commit suicide instead of working to atone for their actions."

and that is NOT a message you wanna be normalizing to anyone, but ESPECIALLY people with depression (who, let's be real, make up a higher than average chunk of this site's userbase). whose mental illness is already telling them that 1: they're an inherently terrible worthless person no matter what they do 2: death is an appealing option.

is reading "kill yourself" once or twice gonna make them do it? nah, probably not. but reading it multiple times a day every day is gonna make their mental health worse. it's probably not good for your mental health to be saying that kind of thing, either.

just knock that shit off. the world is already so hostile to people with mental illness, and managing mental illness and unlearning unhealthy thought patterns is already so difficult. you don't need to be out here making it worse.

#eliot posts #suicide mention #animal abuse mention #i guess #ive said similar before and i just said this in the tags of another post but it deserves its own post #i am fucking TIRED of reading this shit so often #i frequently block people for saying it #sometimes i report ppl over it too if they're shitty in other ways too #i luckily don't have the ''i'm a worthless piece of shit and deserve the death penalty'' flavour of depression #but i do have the ''life is endless suffering and i want to euthanize myself'' variety of depression (or. technically bipolar.)#and reading the phrase kys Feels Bad Man w my mental illness #and i have froends w the first type and i worry about them #and one of em has told me it does affect them quite negatively to read kys #so yeah! fucking stop it!

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royalarchivist · 1 month

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[A sad violin song plays over an image of a sad hamster]

Pac: This doesn't have anything to do with me – I wear a blue sweatshirt, you're crazy, this mouse doesn't even have a sweatshirt, this hamster! [Reading chat] Am I a depressed hamster?

[ Transcript continued ↓ ]*

–

Pac: Actually– that's fine! I embrace that idea – of course I'm going to be depressed, are you crazy? [He hits his desk, then starts counting off people on his fingers] Fit is gone, Richarlyson is gone, Ramon is gone, Bagi and Empanada who were always there when we were there are also gone, I haven't seen them! It's just me and Tubbo, and sometimes Philza shows up.

Pac: I lost Chume Labs, I lost the Favela, I lost Murder Mystery, I lost Ilha Chume Labs, it's crazy! Look at how much I've lost, and I've gained nothing! Of course I'm going to be depressed, are you crazy?! How am I supposed to be happy?!

Pac: [Reading chat] "You have us Pac," that's true, thank you. No, that's true, sorry.

* NOTE: Please note that this is an incomplete transcript, as I was primarily relying on Aypierre's translation mod at the time and if I am not confident of the translation, I do not include it. As always, please feel free to add on translations or message me corrections.

#Pactw #QSMP #Pac #March 18 2024 #As much as I love keeping people updated about Pac / the other Portuguese-speaking creators #I think I might not make as many transcribed posts for their clips anymore #I just don't think I'm qualified enough to be transcribing things for a language I don't know #like yeah we have the Qlobal Translator and Aypierre's translators to rely on #And I'm always upfront when I'm not 100% sure about a translation #but I've been thinking about it a lot and it kinda makes me feel a bit icky. Idk.#I might be overthinking this but I just I don't want to spread around translations I'm not super confident about #esp. since I know a lot of people cite my clips in analysis posts or link them to other people as resources #and 90% of the time I'm like ''Hell yeah I love seeing people getting a lot of use out of the archive''#but sometimes I get a bit anxious like ''Did I do a good enough job translating this''#''Am I ruining someone's entire perception of a conversation or character because I left one word out or mistranslated something?''#And like I said that's normally not a HUGE concern since if I'm not certain about a translation I just won't post a clip. but you know #idk it might just be the anxiety talking but I really really don't want to spread bad info #Happy to hear other folks' perspective #I'm really grateful for people like Bell and Pix and others who translate clips and I always try to reblog those #but we don't have a ton of people posting clips & translating things on Tumblr since we're so English-centric #which is part of the reason WHY I like sharing clips of the non-English-speaking CCs #but at the same time I want to do an accurate job representing what they're saying #Maybe I'll just start posting things and give a TLDR context of what they're talking about but not a transcript #that way native-speakers can hop in and add translations if that's something they're comfortable doing #and if not then well. at least I'm not sharing something that isn't super accurate #idk I'm just thinking out loud a bit in the tags #But I'm open to hearing other people's thoughts on the matter #Anyways giant rant aside. q!Pac is NOT doing ok rn

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puppetmaster13u · 2 months

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Prompt 232

Once more thinkin of These Series of AU/Prompts, where the Class pulls a Tiamat. Becomes Giant Hydra Dragon. But with some inspiration from @radiance1's Blob King AUs. Specifically also the dragon ones.

Now, the nine of them are admittedly far older than they once were. Far older than most of the people outside the cage they were tricked into all those years before, exhaustion seeping into their bones as their ectoplasm was siphoned away.

Yet no matter how much the GIW drains away- if they're even called as such anymore- they never run out. If anything, at least from what they've noticed, unable to do much of anything else in this pit, this tank of green and red, they seem to be making more.

Their recollection of being separate, of having separate bodies have long since slipped away in exchange for keeping memories of their families and friends long gone now. Perhaps they're in the zone, as ghosts, but perhaps not.

Days feel like both seconds and years, words falling away as their Core hums as one. Sometimes a Blob ghost manages to find its way inside- the trap designed not to stop things from getting in, but to prevent them from leaving.

They always disappear whenever the ecto is taken away, not having enough to continue holding on to a physical form. But... the blobs don't stay gone. Their own ecto brings them back, tiny forms almost mimicking their own.

It's something to distract them, something to actually do besides growl at the figures beyond the barriers around them. The blobs don't speak, don't make more than squeaks, but it's something. Almost like dozens of toddlers floating around, becoming more and more draconic in shape with every siphon.

Do their captors realize, they wonder, how they've made them all stronger than they were even before? Do they realize what they've done, creating this loop of ever-growing power?

No, Star giggled, pink and gold scales shimmering as she bobbed her head in amusement, Paulina's darker purples following.

They don't know, Wes agreed, dark amusement echoed by both Sam and Dash, fangs flashing amidst the liquid. The trap would not be able to contain them for much longer, they all knew. They could feel it, how the siphon stuttered with every run.

It wouldn't be long now. They had waited three hundred years for the chance to escape- they could wait for a few days more.

...

Though they won't complain about an early prison break if those alarms are anything to go by.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #prompts #the class pulls a tiamat #blob ghosts are dragons au #It's not the league who has broken into the lab and I almost feel bad for the villains who opened the blast doors #Reminder of who is part of the hydra: Danny Sam Tucker Wes Dash Paulina Kwan Valerie & Star #I am tempted for the hydra to give off scp 682 / undead vibes when they first burst free from the now cracked open doors #Like it gives off the vibe of These Doors Being Closed For A REASON #There's also the fact that the hydra was said to guard an entrance to the afterlife and I'm not NOT saying there's parallels with the porta #I'm also not saying the ennead wouldn't eat a GIW person or three on the way out #And while a rogue or several might have opened the door something That Big isn't going to go unnoticed #Especially if it's bursting out of the ground or out of a mountain #Morally gray ennead because they've lost everything save for their lil blobs & aren't afraid of taking a little retribution #go wild

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