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#clockwork au
sgt-seabass · 1 year
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How would Nick react in clockwork au if puppy was blearily saying James’ name in her sleep?
𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔
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✧˚ · . Nick wants all of you. And he will do whatever it takes to claim your soul.
pairing — mob boss!prime alpha!nick fowler x omega!reader w/c — 1.9k this is a dark fic. 18+ only. AU masterlist. listening to — ♫sleepless warnings —general dark elements (dark AU), a/b/o dynamics, manipulation. a/n — thank you for the ask and interest in the AU! i hope you enjoy. jessica chastain is not a representative of the readers looks i just wanted a gif of nick kissing a forehead lol. not beta read, we die like men.
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The first time Nick heard it, he thought it was ghosts whispering that damned name in his ear.
The second time Nick heard it, he realised it was a scarier reality than phantoms.
You were calling for James in your sleep again, an occurrence that happened regularly.
Even after all the work Nick had put into making you his, there was still that subconscious part of you that held onto the past. Even though you smiled at him in your waking hours, someone else had a space in your heart.
It wasn’t like it was unexpected. Nick knew he would be crazy to assume you would have no residual feelings for your lost life. But it still hurt. His omega, calling for someone else.
He wondered what you dreamt. Did you dream of James in a world where he survived? Or were they memories of the past? Did he treat you well? Were you happy?
There was a quirk in your lips, a slight sway of your hips. Were you dancing with him?
Nick considered calling Steve. Doctor Kemp always seemed to have a way of making omegas comply, plus he was one of his greatest allies. But Nick knew that the heavy-handed approach wouldn’t be appropriate here. While Steve’s suggestion of having other alphas use you worked to break you down beautifully, accessing a soul was a task that required a delicate touch.
Slipping from the bed, Nick left you in your peaceful slumber, dreaming of the man you would never have. In nothing more than black sweatpants and a navy sweater, he sat in his chilly office.
For a while, he just kept the lights off and pondered.
If his younger self could see him now, he wondered what he’d think. This was certainly not the life Nick had intended to lead.
But the world was cruel, and so he became crueller. To escape hardship, he became the creator of it. A devil walking the earth. 
Around you, though, he wanted to be good to you. He would never forget when he heard you laugh for the first time. Nick had accidentally tickled your sides while brushing past you, and the sound that came from you was glorious.
Nick sighed, pouring himself a scotch from the decanter. He’d burn the world, but keep you safe always.
After he’d finished his glass, the familiar burn of liquor pooling in his belly, Nick turned to the only other person he trusted the opinion of.
Hal Carter. The alpha worked on Ari’s ranch. While Ari bred omegas using alpha studs, Hal trained them and kept them calm. He was gentle. Those girls were taken well cared of, which was to be expected when they needed to produce pups.
It was an art how Hal could smile and exude calming energy to those around him. His words were always smooth like silk, rolling off his tongue so naturally you can’t help but listen. It helped the omegas stay calm, and they all trusted him. He was still one of the bad guys; all the alphas in his circle were. But he was the best of the bad. Scott Huffman, the one who would take Ari’s bred pups in and raise them on his ranch, he was a close second.
Within thirty minutes of texting him, Hal turned up on the mansion’s doorstep. The sun was barely rising, only subtle hues of gold beginning to grow.
“Thanks for coming so early,” Nick ushered Hal inside, bringing him to the office while the rest of the home remained in a dream state.
“I normally get up by dawn to go hunting anyway, s’no trouble.” Nonchalant as ever, Hal sat himself down in one of the office armchairs in his green plaid shirt and blue jeans.
Nick poured himself another scotch, plopping two ice cubes into the crystal glass. “Want a drink?”
Hal raised a brow, scoffing. “Unless it’s orange juice, no. I ‘ain’t drinking.”
“I can do that,” Nick said, disappearing from the room and returning with a tall glass of juice, a slight shudder of nervousness in his hand when he gave it to Hal.
There was a rawness in the air, as if Nick wasn’t playing a game. He was putting his whole deck of cards on the table for Hal to see. It was hard to trust, but Nick didn’t have anywhere else to turn.
Nick sat in the armchair opposite Hal, swirling the liquid in his glass, and Hal quirked his head. “Look, as much as I love catching up with you, why did you ask me here so urgently? Is something wrong?”
Nick went through the long explanation of your past, how you came into his care, and how you were acting now. Hal listened attentively, face staying blank as the horrors were laid bare. After explaining, Nick sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I want her to dream of me. Dream of her alpha.”
“So, what you’re telling me is you’ve killed her alpha, kidnapped her, had her gang fucked, chased her, and choked her until she passed out, yet you expect her to dream of you?”
There was a beat of silence before Hal spoke again. “Do you really act like her alpha? She’s not a toy, Nick. And she’s not just a pet. You have to be gentle.”
“I don’t know how to be gentle,” Nick sneered, crossing his arms defensively. 
“Bullshit. Every alpha has a gentle instinct deep down. Be the alpha your sister and mother would have wanted you to become.”
Nick growled and stood, throwing the glass at the wall behind Hal’s head, the crystal shattering into a million shards across the dark hardwoods. It was ballsy bringing up his family. The other alpha flinched slightly, but he wasn’t afraid.
Nick puffed his chest, gritting his teeth so hard they were ready to shatter. “That’s a cruel thing to say. You’re pushing it, Hal.”
“It is cruel. But it’s what ‘ya needed to hear. The world is fucked, but her world doesn’t have to be. You’re the one bringing that upon her. You want her to dream of you? Give her memories good enough to dream about. You’ve broken her down, and done the harsh things you needed to. Now you need to build her back up. Without that affection, she will just continue to crumble time and time again. Don't you want to see her smile?”
“More than anything,” Nick grumbled, sitting back in his chair with a hardened expression. He wanted to feel your happiness through the bond. It was like a drug.
Hal drank the last of his juice, setting the glass down gently on the side table. “Then, there you go. Just work to make her smile for you more. Life is good with a happy omega, Nick.”
“She hates what I do, though. And I can’t - and won’t - change that.”
“Then make her existence with you good enough to outweigh that.” Hal proposed the idea like it was easy. Just treat you right, and it would all fall into place.
But was it really that easy?
The chase had changed you. You were more receptive to Nick and seemed more content overall. But he could still see the flickers of fear that lay dormant, ready to wake at any time. And James— Well. Your subconscious hadn’t let him go yet.
Perhaps Hal was right. Maybe you were broken enough that you’d adapt to this life with some positive reinforcement.
After Hal had left, Nick ordered the staff to make you breakfast before he wandered back up to the bedroom, the morning sun beginning to peek past the blinds. Nick took his jumper off, wanting to feel your skin on his. 
You shifted a little in your sleep when the bed dipped from Nick’s weight, his arms looping around you and pulling your naked form close. “...Alpha…?” You asked blearily. It wasn’t often you got morning cuddles like this. Normally, Nick was already working by the time you rose.
“Morning, omega,” Nick kissed your forehead, spooning you so his warm, firm chest was flush with your back. “Nice dreams?”
You stiffened for a moment before nodding, curling into his hold comfortably. “Yeah.”
“Good. I need you full of energy today,” Nick said as he kissed your neck gingerly, a soft contrast to his tight hold on you.
Nick ran his hand up and down your side, fingers running over the bruises he’d left on your skin the day prior when he fucked you rough over his desk.
“Are we playing hunt the whelp?” Your voice wavered nervously. So meek, so small. Nick nearly growled at the thought of hunting you, but he held it back.
Nick cleared his throat, shifting a little, so his hard-on wasn’t too obvious against your ass. He was trying to focus, all his energy going into being nice. But Nick could tell you knew he was turned on, your own arousal signalling through the bond. “No, no. We’re going shopping.”
You perked up at that, turning to look at Nick. Your curious shining eyes had his heart skipping a beat. “Shopping? Like, going outside?”
“Yes. We’re going into town. I’ll buy you whatever you want.” 
The excitement that flooded the bond was overwhelming. Nick had never felt anything like it. You were happy. But there was some anxiety there too. “Won’t people recognise you? What if something goes wrong?” You asked with a growing frown.
Nick shhed you, gently running his finger over your frown and pushing your lips up at the edge so you were smiling. “You’re the safest omega in the world. Plus, Beck and Mace will be there too.”
Your expression turned into a genuine smile. And Nick smiled back.
“Sit up. I need to check your head.” Nick turned to the bedside, getting together his dabbing alcohol and bandages. You always seemed to end up with some injury after Nick had a bad day. It wasn’t overly intentional, but his anger often turned into dark arousal that left you sore and battered but pleasured too.
You’d banged your head on the desk yesterday when Nick shoved you down and caught your forehead on one of his fountain pens. It left a cut, but Beck dismissed it as minor, needing to be covered with a plaster.
Nick pulled away the bandage with you sitting cross-legged in front of him. He hummed, content at the sight of the healing cut. “Looks good, pup. My good girl, healing so well.”
Nick could feel the heat radiating from your skin as he gently cleaned the cut before placing a fresh bandage on the wound.
“Ah, just in time.” Nick put his things away as your breakfast was brought in. Pancakes with maple syrup and strawberries.
You seemed like a fish out of water, and Nick understood that. He was flipping his demeanour for you. This was new for him, but not entirely unwelcome, especially when he felt your ease through the bond.
Nick sat with you, cutting up the pancakes and feeding you small bites. Every so often, you would meet his gaze, a little twinkle in your eye that wasn’t there before.
It wouldn’t always be like this, and Nick knew he had a long way to go in putting your pieces back together.
But it was a task he knew he would never fail. 
He would have all of you.
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navybrat817 · 4 months
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Your Clockwork series is incredible! I shouldn't love Nick, but I do. I can't wait for the next part!
Oh, nonnie. While I appreciate the kind words, that is not my series. That wonderful series belongs to @sgt-seabass and I encourage you to leave some love there.
Love and thanks. ❤️
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velvetcake96 · 2 years
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Ed has one recurring nightmare, that the eye that still hasn’t healed will cause him to become infected. That he’ll forget about his loved ones, or even worse, he’ll hurt them. However, Ling is always reminding him it’s just a nightmare and help him through the heartache.
@edling-week Day 5: Myth, Heartache, Summer
I think this counts as heartache...
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ep-10 · 3 months
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zylev-blog · 5 months
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Bruce was sitting in front of a fire. He had just gotten done cooking his dinner, and had began eating. A teen he didn’t recognize sat next to him. Bruce barely paid the teen any attention; in this time period, kids were more fiercely independent than the teens of his age were.
“So,” The teen drawled, getting his attention.
Bruce internally growled. He didn’t want to make small talk. Just as he was about to tell the teen off, the teen continued speaking.
“What’s Bruce Wayne doing in 1732?”
He choked on his food. He hadn’t heard that name in years. He had gotten stuck in the past during a League mission, and apparently, nobody could save him… or maybe they didn’t know when to look. He had covered his tracks well, since he didn’t want to disturb the timeline too much.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He deflected.
“Oh? So we’re playing it like that?” The teen hummed, swinging his legs. “You won’t be born for over two hundred years, in a city that doesn’t exist yet, to fight crime as the vigilante known as Batman.”
The teenager was a time traveller. Hope sparked him his chest. Maybe… maybe he could go home. “You’re a time traveller.” He chose to ignore the part where the teen knew he was Batman.
“Yeah,” The teen said. “I’m Danny. I’m from your future, about, uh, five years after you vanished? Dick adopted me. Found me dead in an alley and brought me back to life. Brought me into the fold, and stuff. I have powers, and one of them is to travel in time. You wouldn’t believe how hard it was to find where you went.”
The teen looked like adoption bait. He could understand why Dick would’ve adopted him. But then again, he was still stuck on the part where Dick had adopted a kid at the same age he had adopted Dick.
“Are you here to take me home?” He asked.
“If you want to.” Danny hummed, “But uh, can’t be to the time you left. Timeline disruptions and all that, yknow? I can take you to my time. It’s like… ten years after you vanished.”
“Please.” Bruce begged. And how far had he fallen to beg a teen?
Danny grinned. “Dad’s going to be so jazzed!”
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proneterror204 · 3 months
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Dan-el god of death 2
Danny was so exited! Clockwork had sent him to an Alien planet! Well technically he was the alien, but he was on another planet! From the looks of it their culture had just entered its medieval era and was ending a massive war. Danny was sent to cleanup all the resentful undead and evil cults, but surly Clockwork wouldn't mind if he experienced some culture. Right?
Due to Clockworks amulet he could translate their language and his name came out as Dan-el. Which was close enough. Apparently alot of the people had seen his fights with the undead. He hung around and taught them somethings and learned about their culture, religion, and most important their stars. Till one day he looked around and had an "Oh Shit" moment when he discovered maybe he had gone to far and taught to much. He had to leave.
Clockwork sent him back to Krypton( Why did that sound so familiar?) multiple times. Each time Danny found himself in new era's. Then Danny noticed something. As the people, Kryptonians, thanked and praised him, he started to feel it. He started to notice that he was getting stronger in and out of time travel. He wondered why?
Clockwork told him. He told of how Krypton had dubed him the god of death. How they told the legend of his deeds on and off Krypton. His fights with Plasmius and Pariah Dark, his half death, and his powers. All went down as in Kryptonian mythology of Dan-el the god of death. Then he learned of Krypton's fate and the last Kryptonians. (Danny cried)
A week later as Danny lay in bed failing to go to sleep, he felt it. Someone still believed.
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Trope blender strikes again!
Since the formation of the Justice League Dark to deal with supernatural threats, Diana had been acting as the team's 'Superman' for lack of a better term.
It was, however, not a position she was entirely suited to, as ironically enough when engaging supernatural threats she was better suited to the same role that Batman played in the Justice League, engaging with superior training, tactics and specialised tools while also acting as battlefield tactical command.
With the lack of any other candidates however, she made do. But not for long.
Thanks to a wandering little girl, Diana had gained a new cousin and uncle who were refreshingly free of the hubris of the Greek pantheon, as well as an unexpected (and terrifying) meeting with her Grandfather who was far different from the stories, she supposed death and a few millennia would calm someone down. She was pleased however to add some paternal family members she could enjoy calm moments with.
Her Uncle was willing to help, however his backlog from the previous King in addition to the repairs and ongoing negotiations for reparations with the United States government made her feel guilt for placing further demands on him.
Her younger cousin however was more than happy to "get out of the house", her Father's comments about the expansiveness of a TARDIS castle completely ignored.
Ellie was already training with her old friend Pandora (So many happy reunions) so Diana was more than willing to take her to Themascerya for an initiation to the Sisterhood of Amazon's. Danny was ecstatic that his daughter was making friends.
Now Ellie as Banshee is JLD's front line fighter and Diana is the tactician, a dynamic duo of their own. Diana is so proud of her little cousin.
Which is why today was very..... Strange.
~
Basically the JLD have to head to the Watchtower for some threat, Ellie is super pumped because SPACE and Diana is excited to take her smol bean cousin to the Watchtower for the first time.
Batman and Co arrive and Drama TM occurs because "Holy shit that little girl looks like a Talia with blue eyes", Damian starts accusing and mouthing off, Ellie freaks because her Dad has warned her about the League of Assassins, so she freaks and bails.
Diana is explaining who Ellie is, how they're related when Uncanny Valley Danny in human form comes out of a portal in his "Royal Casual" work attire. Loose jeans,button up with vest, fluffy slippers with a coffee mug in hand. He's facing Diana, paying 0 attention to who else is there beyond "cool space station".
"Hey niece, why is my daughter running through my castle screaming about killer birds?"
"Ah, I believe she is referring to Robin being a former member of the League of Assassins." Diana replies.
Batman and the rest of the Justice League are tense, assessing this possible ally who RADIATES power and death. Anyone affected by death can feel it like static in their teeth during a lightning storm. Those who have been into the Lazarus Pits feel safe yet the overwhelming urge to KNEEL BEFORE YOUR KING.
"Well shit, someone actually escaped from the Fruit Loop Supreme? Anyone who gets away from my asshole grandfather is alright by me." Danny replies as he turns to look at the various heros, taking a sip from his mug.
"Danyal?" A faint hopeful whisper as Damian takes his mask off to look at his Brother (HOW, HOW? HE LOST HIM HE'S HERE HOW?) His dead twin somehow here and changed so much.
*Slurp*
"Well shit, didn't expect this."
This entire time Bruce's brain is making crunching noises.
It's not the extra son that's apparently God of the Afterlives. It's not the granddaughter.
Diana is his son's niece. Bruce had sex with his grand niece. Barbara is right, he needs therapy.
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DPXDC prompt: What frightens those who feed on fear?
The answer is: Gotham. Because it's so cursed that even Ghost Kings do not try to take it over, despite the city's valuable resources.
So, the reason why many heroes, villains, and ordinary citizens of Gotham seem 'incapable of dying' is very simple - residents of the Infinite Realms are in absolute horror of such neighbors and try to get rid of them by any means if they appear on their territories as ghosts.
And so, any intelligent ghost avoids Gotham. It's too bad that Danny grew up in a family where it was acceptable for a ghost to not be intelligent or to have common sense so as not to disprove his parents' hypotheses.
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P.S. "Tim's parents" are always busy because Danny can't ask Amorpho for favors too often. Dude is terrified of the city.
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confessedlyfannish · 23 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!"
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phantom-0-writer · 7 months
Text
prompt 02: tim’s birthday present
Tim sat in his empty house at the empty dining table. The table was actually quite large; it had enough seats to sit at least 15 people. But there was just Tim there. 
His parents had promised and sworn up and down that they would come back in time for his birthday. He had everything planned out. He picked out the birthday cake, put on the candles, decorated, ordered his parents' favorite foods, his parents' favorite movie for movie night, popcorn the likes. But that morning, just when Tim was double checking to make sure everything was ready for the most perfect birthday ever, his parents had called to tell him that something really important had come up, and they wouldn’t be able to make it. Tim figured it was better than last year, at least they called this time. 
Tim stared down at the cake, the candles lit. He had heard online that people would make wishes on their birthday cake and blow it out. Tim thought that was a weird thing to do, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. 
What should he wish for? It would have to be something special that he doesn’t already have. Tim thought for a long moment, the candles bleeding into the frosting of the cake. 
A brother. 
Tim closed his eyes and put his hands together like he’s seen the other children to do in the cartoons. And Tim wished for a big brother. When he finally wished hard enough (whatever that meant) he opened his eyes and blew out what was left of the candles. 
Tim waited. What exactly was he supposed to do now? In the cartoons, everyone would celebrate and cheer and the birthday boy would open his presents. There wasn’t anyone to cheer for Tim, or any presents for him to open. 
Suddenly the house shook, and the loud sound of a crash sound came from the backyard. Quickly, Tim did the sensible thing and go check out what the noise was. That's what the characters always did in horror movies. 
In Tim’s backyard, there was what looked like a weird space ship that had crashed into his backyard. There wasn’t any fire or anything, but the spaceship looked pretty wrecked. Getting closer, Tim could vaguely make out that someone was inside the spaceship. Looking around, he saw what looked like maybe the handle. Tim couldn’t really tell. 
When Tim put his hand on it and tried to open it, something poked out mechanically and pricked his finger. He flinched back instinctively, caressing his finger tip.
“Recognized: Danny Fenton. System Override.” A robotic lady spoke. Who is Danny Fenton? As if to answer him, the space ship opened its hatch, and inside was an unconscious black haired teenager. “System Malfunctioning. Please Assis-” The robotic voice spoke again, before getting cut off as if the power had died. 
Suddenly, Tim remembered his wish. A big brother. 
This was Danny Fenton, and he was supposed to be Tim’s big brother
----
When Danny woke up, he found himself in a very soft plush something. Something that definitely wasn’t the Spector Speeder. Alarmed, he sat up quickly to find that he didn’t recognize where he was at all. He also didn’t recognize the weird kid that was staging at him from two feet away. 
“Hi, I’m Tim. Timothy Drake.” The boy introduced himself almost business like. 
“Uh, hi Tim.” Danny responded awkwardly. “You got any idea where I am?” Danny sat up properly, moving the blanket (?) off of him and turned to face the weird and kinda creepy kid. 
“You’re in Drake Manor. Which is where I live.” He answered again. 
“Ok…ay” Danny nodded thoughtfully. “Any idea how I got here?” Truthfully, Danny hadn’t really been expecting an answer, but he still got one. 
“Because I made a birthday wish to have a big brother.” He answered in the same way he had answered the other question, very matter-of-factly. 
“Ok- Wait. What?” Danny asked, doing a double take at Tim. 
“You’re supposed to be my big brother, right?” Tim was starting to look a little hesitant, and as weirded out as Danny felt he couldn’t help but feel bad about the whole situation. 
“Where are your parents, Tim?” 
“There not home, because they had really important things to do for work.” 
Danny nodded. “Do you know when they’ll be back?” 
Tim shook his head. “They were supposed to come back today, because it’s my birthday. But they said they couldn’t make it.” 
Well, shit. Didn’t that sound awfully like Danny’s birthdays before he had given up on his parents showing up. At least he had Jazz. This kid looked like he was alone. 
Not liking the silence, Tim started fidgeting again. “So, are you gonna be my brother, then?” 
And what was Danny supposed to say, No? Besides, if he was really causing problems being in this random universe, then Clockwork would figure it out. 
Bonus: 
Danny sat at Tim’s dinner table, the kid looking at him radiating in excitement, each with a plate of stupid expensive pasta in front of them. “You said your name was Tim, right?” Danny started thoughtfully. Tim nodded, drinking up everything Danny said. “Well, first course of action as you, big brother. I need to give you a nickname.” 
Tim’s eyes sparkled at the prospect. “Like what?”
Danny tapped his chin exaggeratedly, “Hm… Tim, Tim.” Turing the name around while he absentmindedly twirled his fork between his fingers, Danny wondered what he should come up with. Suddenly, in a misplaced strength, Danny’s fork flew out of his hand. 
Before Danny could even say anything, “I’ll get you a new one!” Tim offered quickly. Getting up from his chair, his foot got tangled behind the leg of the chair and Tim fell quietly on the floor with an oof. 
Danny laughed at him. “You okay, Timbers?” He asked, getting up to check on the boy. 
“Yeah, I like Timbers.” Tim said, a bright smile on his face despite the blossoming bruise on his arm.
------------
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sgt-seabass · 1 year
Note
Joining in on the clockwork fan train, I have a Drabble prompt if you are interested. Nick often plays fast and loose with reader’s safety, and although he’s a control freak so he thinks of everything to prevent her getting harmed (like using air rifle etc) I wonder how he might react if he goes too far/something goes wrong and she does actually get badly hurt from one of his games. Maybe playtime gone wrong or he misjudged his strength. Would he feel guilt, or shrug it off?
𝒔𝒊𝒑 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒚
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pairing — mob boss!prime alpha!nick fowler x omega!reader w/c — 1.9k this is a dark fic. 18+ only. part of the Clockwork AU. listening to — ♫ sip u slowly warnings — general dark elements, smut (dubcon due to stokholm, p in v, cunnilingus), choking to the point of passing out and bruising, possessiveness, pet names (pup, puppy, omega), a/b/o dynamics, very light medical elements, reference to past minor character death a/n — i hope you like it! thank you so much for the support and interest in the Clockwork AU! written on my phone. thank you so much to @rookthorne for helping with beta and suggestions 🥺🥺💙 this was meant to be short whoops.
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Nick had been insatiable, fucking you for hours and eating you out each time in-between sessions.
After a work deal had gone awry and lives had been lost, he wanted nothing more than to bury his problems in your tight heat. With your essence on his tongue, he could be absolved of his irreverence.
Nick was angry. He didn’t take to fuck ups well.
When he’d heard about an omega retrieval gone wrong that ended with the death of a few targeted girls, he was irate.
Nick had to murder his men for their actions. They were there to capture them, not kill them - professionalism was expected, mandated, in his organisation. Nick didn’t need more red in his ledger, yet it seemed to have a way of seeping in, tainting the pages and bleeding everywhere.
His temper was no more than his inner child locked in an endless cycle of self-flagellation, so he fixated on you to distract himself. He’d created you and turned you into the omega he wanted. However, the problem with manipulating is that you deny yourself the love and support that partnership provides. Nick knew he was fooling himself by thinking you were unequivocally his, so he wanted to show you how good he could make you feel.
The urge boiled beneath his skin, an unbridled need to claim you; to fuck you into oblivion.
Barely keeping himself restrained, he’d carried you to the bedroom just after dinner, and the sun had long set. His need for you continued into the early morning.
By the time the clock hit three am, you were exhausted. That much was evident by the way your eyes struggled to stay open even as you orgasmed. The little sounds Nick pulled from you got whinier and more strained the more your body tried to get its rest.
But there was no rest for the wicked, and Nick was certainly feeling sinful.
“Give me another, puppy,” Nick growled to you, face between your legs before moaning at the taste of his seed and your wet mixing.
“I’m tired, alpha. I can’t.” You whimpered, sweat dotting your brow while your back arched against the silk bedsheets. “S’too much.”
“Uh-uh. You don’t get to decide that. I’ll tell you when it’s enough, omega.” Nick’s voice reverberated against your clit before he gently sucked it, causing your fingers to fist into the sheets from the unrelenting pleasure.
This was Nick’s favourite way to have you. Crumpled from the euphoria he caused you. You’d fought so hard against him, but at the end of the day, you ended up right where you belonged.
In his bed.
Nick started slow, drawing circles around your clit before replacing his tongue with his fingers. He flicked his finger while his mouth pressed kisses along your hip and down your thigh. Nick couldn’t help himself when it came to tasting all of you, so he bit into the supple flesh of your thigh as he kept working your sensitive clit.
Your wail only served to make Nick bite again, closer to your cunt this time. Fuck, your tears were gorgeous. “Does it hurt, omega?” When you nodded in response, Nick slapped your thigh. “Use your words.”
“Ye— Yes. Hurts, alpha.”
“Mm, but you look so beautiful with my marks.” Nick looked at the teeth marks adorning your skin, smirking to himself before turning his attention back to your clit. “Tell me what you want, puppy. Tell me what you need.”
Your thighs clenched, and Nick chuckled dryly as he ground himself against the bed, his erection painfully hard. He wanted to do nothing more than fuck you senseless, but it was worth waiting if it meant he got to see you shatter.
“I need…” You stopped yourself, and Nick could see the embarrassment in your expression. It was beautiful. “I need your mouth, please, alpha.”
“Such nice manners,” Nick praised before giving you exactly what you wanted.
He drank you in slowly, running his tongue over your folds and watching how you responded. You were so tense. As if each muscle was waiting for the anticipated precipice. And Nick would give it to you, but he wanted his fun first.
Deft fingers pulled your folds apart, and Nick groaned at the sight of you. Glistening and inviting. “Such a pretty pussy, pup. Prettiest cunt I’ve ever seen.”
Nick ran his flat tongue up your cunt, starting with long, languid licks that began to gradually get faster. Nick placed a hand on your stomach to stablise you as his broad strokes got shorter, turning into quick flicks across your clit.
He didn’t stop, not tiring even as the clock ticked away on the bedside table.
The tell-tale signs of your impending orgasm started to show as Nick alternated between licking and sucking, his hand running up and down your thigh as the other held you down. Your body tensed, and it goaded Nick to go faster, gripping your flesh tightly.
Nick hummed against your clit, and the dams burst. Like music to his ears, your mewls turned high-pitched as you came, your juices gushing down his chin. Nick had lost count of how many orgasms you’d had tonight, but each one was better than the last. He’d never get sick of this.
“My puppy does love playtime, don’t you, baby?” Nick watched as your glazed eyes looked at him, surprised at the new pet name. Baby. It’s endearing. Intimate. “You’re going to sit back and let your alpha do all the work now, right? Puppies are just too silly to do anything but lay down and get fucked.”
Seeing you so raw, so vulnerable, was bringing out the beast in Nick. The further down this rabbit hole he fell, the harder it was to keep his semblance of control. If you tried to make a run for it right now, he might actually kill you, too lost in the chase of his prey to realise what was happening. But you don’t run. Instead, you shuffled a little up the sheets, so your head rested on one of the satin pillows.
You knew you couldn’t escape, so you prepared yourself to be comfortable. Nick crawled up the bed, cock standing proud between his parted thighs, and he loomed over you. “Are you scared, puppy?”
Nick smiled when you gave him an odd look like you weren’t sure what response he wanted. “You should be.”
His words were the only warning you got before he mounted you, sheathing his dick in your dripping cunt with one swift motion of his hips. Nick let out a growl, pulling out the pillow from under you so he could grip the back of your neck. “Fuck. Fuck. You feel like fucking velvet, omega.”
The teasing nature Nick had earlier was long gone, replaced with a feral alpha desperate to breed. His thrusts were deep, rutting against your hips as his heavy breaths filled the room, mixed with your moans. It was a fucking symphony.
“This little cunt is mine, isn’t it? Tell me,” Nick snarled, pounding into your sore, used pussy without resolve.
“S’yours. All yours,” you sobbed into the cool air, tears streaking down your cheeks.
“That’s right. You’re fucking mine.” Nick moved his hand to rest on the front of your neck. He tiled his head back while his eyes fluttered closed.
It was a complete state of bliss. Nick didn’t look down as he let himself be free. No control, no thoughts. Just alpha.
You moaned with each plunge of his cock, but Nick didn’t notice the way your moans were weakening under the sound of smacking flesh.
Your hands clawed at Nick’s arm, but he didn’t even register it.
It wasn’t until you went quiet altogether that Nick opened his eyes.
Suddenly, cold washed over Nick when he looked down, his hand tight around your neck and your eyes closed. Not even a squeak came from your parted lips.
“Omega? Shit. Omega, open your eyes.” Nick tapped your cheek, but you were completely unconscious. “Puppy, wake up.”
He shook your shoulders, pulling his now soft cock out of you before he placed his finger under your nose. A sigh of relief left Nick when he felt the soft blow of your breath against his skin.
Nick’s jaw clenched, guilt awash over him. He was so lost in the moment he didn’t realise he’d begun squeezing, and he’d choked you out.
Your lack of response concerned Nick, so he sat on the bed, pulling you to his chest. He cradled you, and suddenly he was like his ten-year-old self again, holding the body of his dead sister on the living room floor. “Wake up. Please. I’ll… I’ll get you even more strawberries. You love them, right?”
You didn’t wake. Still soundly asleep and unaware of your distressed alpha.
In making you vulnerable, Nick had actually exposed himself. Desperate and alone, he was nothing without something of his own. Without you.
“Beck! Bring your med kit!” Nick’s voice boomed through the mansion, a prime alpha call.
Only moments later, Beck came barrelling through the door with his doctor’s bag. His eyes widened at the sight of you in Nick’s lap, mottled bruises already beginning to spread over your neck. “What happened?”
“I didn’t realise I was squeezing,” Nick’s voice came out monotone, devoid of emotion. His heart had begun to lock down. He wasn’t ready to lose anyone else.
Beck rushed over, gently taking you from Nick and resting you back against the bed. Your alpha moved away from the bed, arms crossed and expression cold as he watched.
“She’s alive,” Beck commented. You were obviously alive, but hearing Beck’s assurance eased Nick a little. The alpha always managed to calm him down.
There was a flurry of movement as Beck checked you over, Nick watching closely, not moving from his spot. As if he were a statue, frozen by pain.
“She’s going to be fine. I think she could use an IV with some fluids, and I can do a scan of her neck if you’re really worried,” Beck sighed, standing up. “But she’s okay. We could put her in the medical bay?”
“No. She stays here,” Nick snapped back quickly. Beck didn’t flinch, not phased by the icy mood of his boss. “Do the IV here.”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll go get the stuff from downstairs if you want to get her into bed for me. Her body is pretty run down, so I imagine she’ll wake up when she’s got some energy back.” Not waiting for a response, Beck packed his things. On the way out, he passed Nick, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Accidents happen. It’s okay.”
Without further comment, Beck left, leaving Nick staring at you. He could have snapped your neck and not even realised.
Nick ran a hand over his face, the memories of his sister still fresh in his mind; he couldn’t protect her or his mother, but he could keep you safe. You were the only thing that had ever made him feel human.
After the loss of his family, he’d turned into a hardened shell. But something about you and your homely scent cracked his defences. Around you, his heart was exposed. It meant he could love with a burning intensity, but also hurt just as much.
Body tensed, Nick maneuvered you carefully so the sheet and duvet shielded you from the cool night air. You were covered in your slick and Nick’s cum, but washing you was an issue he’d resolve after you’d rested.
Waiting for Beck to return, Nick pulled up an armchair to sit beside you. He’d never let you see this side of him, not for now anyway. He wasn’t ready. But with you unaware, Nick leant forward to press a kiss to your forehead.
“I’m sorry, omega.”
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ymechi · 6 months
Text
The hidden creator
I had a plot bunny idea
TW: usual cult stuff, hints of yandere
-gn reader (I tried making it gender-neutral if there is a comment that is off please tell me and I will fix it)
EDIT: 14/11/2023 (changed some wording and other stuff nothing major)
Creator Reader Pov:
-You were just a regular person who one day woke up in Teyvat out of all places
-You realized you still had all your game features and figured it was one of the perks of being isekaied like in other isekai stories
-The whole thing is weird and why you were here, you had no idea
-After the novelty wears off you take some time mourning the loss of your previous life and the people you knew
-After that you try to get a semblance of a normal life like getting a job and trying to be independent
-Despite having a game system you do not want to be an adventurer or learn how to fight it's not for you
-You were previously an average civilian and raised as one it would be hard to become a fighter now
-Instead you gravitated towards creating things, you found an apprentice position in a clockwork shop in Fontaine
-It is fun and you get to tinker with gears and clocks, learning how various machines work and how to create your own items
-overall you are content
-Except weird people occasionally come by the shop you work at including the Iudex of Fontaine which had both you and the shopkeeper sweating the first few times
-Yet the man who insisted you call him by his name Neuvilette is really polite and nice to talk to, soon you warmed up to him
-You could not help the feeling as if you knew him from before, as if you forgot something, you were unusually fond of him.
-Your other "clients" if you could call them that were more intimidating, you had no idea what they were doing in this shop and it scared you
-The Fatui Harbringers occasionally stopped by the shop to buy a trinket or two before leaving, it honestly scared you and the thaught of running away to another nation had crossed your mind once or twice yet you liked your job and your boss and you made some good friends here so it was hard to leave
-Overall you were doing okay
-Except it seems the people here almost in a cult-like manner worship a creator that was never in the game lore
-It is said they resided in Celestia and not many people actually got to see them, not that it mattered for a nobody like you
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Tsaritsa Pov:
-The Tsaritsa knew their so called creator was fake
-She knew she had to get rid of the fake creator as they and Celestia had caused irreparable damage
-Even if she had to stain her hands
-One day it happened something shifted in the earth, air, water- no the whole of Teyvat
-It happened so softly like a small snowflake landing on the ground
-She was hypnotized as if a siren was beckoning her she found you.
-You were their true creator
-You were wearing apprenticeship clothes tinkering with something in your hands and deeply concentrated
-She wondered if that is how you created the universe with careful and steady hands guiding and shaping it to your will.
-She wanted to take you away from this. . . small shop, yet she knew begrudgingly you were safe here, if anyone were to find out a sliver of your existence. . .
-You were safer hidden among mortals
-It left a bitter taste in her mouth
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Neuvilette Pov
-It just happened one day, out of the blue, he could feel it in the shift of the waters
-The way Furina shifted and turned her head unable to sit still confirmed he was not the only one feeling this
-Something happened and he had no idea what exactly happened
-There was this familiar presence this comforting feeling, ancient old instincts waking up
-He followed it without thought until he came upon an in inconspicuous clockwork shop
-He was confused but did not hesitate to step inside
-Then he saw you and everything clicked
-It was you his creator his universe his everything
-You were back
-It seems in this incarnation you were just a human
-That was fine he was oaky with that as long as you were here
-His heart ached seeing you
-He wanted to hug and ask you to never leave again to always stay by his side, for you to comfort him after what had happened and console him
-He should take you way somewhere safer somewhere better not here-
-But weren't you safer hiding among mortals, a part of his mind whispered, no one would suspect you being here even the fake (he cursed them) would not think of finding you here, if he brought you back with him it would create more attention on you
-Attention that would cause you trouble
-He left with defeat on his steps
-It was later he would met the Tsaritsa and a deal was struck
-All for your sake
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velvetcake96 · 2 years
Text
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We’ll Meet Again, Don’t Know Where Don’t Know When, But I Know We’ll Meet Again Some Sunny Day!
@edling-week (Late) Day:2 Goodbye, Hello, Music
I know It’s AU for the last day but my Clockwork AU seemed to fit this promt nicely!
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dcxdpdabbles · 8 months
Text
DC x DP: Passion for Fashion
Danny Fenton's life is weird.
Ever since the accident that turned him into a helfa life has been throwing him around like a quarter in a dryer. He got good at rolling with the punches- fugitively and not- but every once in a while, he gets a surprise.
One of those surprises is his future self turning evil after killing his human side and eating Vlad's ghost side. Then he went on a world wide rampage that devastated the human race for almost two decades. Thankfully, he defeated him and locked up Dan between timelines, where he will spend all of entirely inside a thermos.
That was until Clockwork lost all sanity.
"What do you mean you let him out?" Danny slams his hands on the only table Clockwork owns. The time ghost doesn't seem moved by his outburst, not that the Accident ever does, as Clockwork often than not, was impassive with everything that has ever happened, could happen, or will happen.
Seeing all outcomes did that to a person.
"Two years have passed since his initial creation. That was enough time for the timeline that he came from to cease, as he never shaped humanity's history. This means, Daniel, that I could no longer hold Dan for a crime that does not exist."
"But he leveled nations, committed genocide and war crimes against the Infinite Realms! How can you say he is innocent!?"
Clockwork sighs. "I am not saying he is innocent but he did them in a time that ceased. All those nations stand tall, the people he killed never died, and all the war crimes were undone. I am saying he has never committed them in the first place."
Dan smirks from where he is rocking in a chair. Danny doesn't like the being's significant bulky form, so ready and dangerous, being so close to him. His counterpart could easily snap his neck with those beefy arms. "It seems I am free to go Brat."
Clockwork levels an unimpressed stare on his future self. "No, you are not. You still have the potential to commit crimes. Which is why Daniel is here."
Danny punches his fist, sneering at Dan, "You want me to kick his ass again?"
Dan snorts. He quirks a brow at Danny as if saying he found the threat to be nothing more than an amusing yelp from a small dog. Danny bristles.
"No," Said Clockwork "I want you to be his model for the Gotham fashion show."
What?
Dan leans back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head. Danny is reminded of repeated offending students who get called into the principal's office but have lost all respect for the principal. They don't care. And neither does Dan.
"Apparently, I need to find a positive outlet for all my pent-up rage, and Clocky, here, thinks I could be a fashion designer." Dan snorts again.
Danny stares at Clockwork in betrayal. "You think he what?"
"I do not think. I know. I also know that neither of you will take this seriously, so I took the liberty of fusing a bomb into your cores. If you attempt to leave Gotham's city bounds, the bomb will go off, and you will cease."
Danny's and Dan's mouths drop open in a sickening mirror. They each reach into their chest only to slam their fingers against one of the clockwork's allurements pulsing against their cross. In a chill boning moment, they realize the Time Lord would kill them both without so much of a blink if it meant preserving the timeline.
Danny had often forgotten that Clockwork did not particularly care for him past his involvement with certain events.
"But- Modleing!? What does that have to do with anything?!"
For the first time in a long time, Clockwork smiled. "It is the catalyst of a turning point in Gotham."
"What the hell even is Gotham?" Dan demands slamming his own hands on the table. Danny is pushed out of the way to make the action possible which only irritates the younger more.
"Gotham is one of America's greatest crime infestive cities."
"Ugh, dude, that's not true.." Danny cuts in. "I've never heard of Gotham, and I've lived in America all my life."
"Not your timeline's America, Daniel."
"You're talking about an alternate universe. One that doesn't have a Daniel Fenton, doesn't it? " Dan questions crossing his arms. He rolls his eyes at Danny's confused gaze. "Honestly. And you call yourself the Ghost King. The Infinite Realms connect every living's things afterlife that, includes aliens and other universes. I never attacked any of them, but I did do some study on them."
"Dan is correct. This timeline has slowly been spiraling out of control due to Batman slowly losing whatever is left of his mind. His children are the only reason he's still considered Belovlent but he is going to lose them soon if he does not shape up. Your job is to make sure that does not happen."
"How do we do that?"
"By winning the Wayne Amature Fashion Show and ensuring Batman does not lose his humanity."
Dan snorts. "I can't help someone not lose their humanity. I don't have mine anymore."
"I believe you do. Otherwise, you wouldn't already have designs in mind for young Daniel."
Danny blinks as Dan carelessly shrugs his shoulder. He has designs already? Clockwork places two thick folders on the table. "Here are your backgrounds that will explain your apparence in that world. I expect you to memorize them and get used to them while in Gotham."
"Danny and Dan Fenton. Emancipated minor brothers from Santa Prisca who found their way to the USA with asylum when thier mother died getting them off the island. We're both meta-humans, with the ablitites to glow in the dark and make ice. " Danny read off squinting his eyes at the unfamilar words like "meta", "santa prisca" and most of all the ending part. "It says we're twins."
"Yes."
"Ummm he's like a thousand years old." Danny says pointing at Dan.
"I'm twenty-six"
"And still single. Ouch."
Clockwork raises his staff before Dan had a chance to answer. "I will of course be making adjustments."
Dan's body de-ages before Danny's eyes, dragging the man back into the body of a sixteen year old. Dan looks utterly bewildered for a only a few seconds before he opens his mouth a releases a string of spanish curse words.
Danny blinks. "I didn't know you spoke Spanish."
"I don't!" The teenage ghost sneers.
"You do now." Clockwork sighs putting down his staff. "As does Daniel. Santa Prisca is a Spanish's speaking country. It would not make sense if refugees from there did not speak the language. Now, good luck to you both, and remember, failing means I end your existence."
One blink to the next, Danny founds himself in the middle of a large city, with Dan- now in human form and looking identical to Danny- at his side with various suitcases surrounding them.
"I hate when he freezes time and moves me." Danny groans and Dan kicks the ground.
"How do we even know what a Batman is?"
"I guess we start here?" On the wall, is a flyer announcing the Wayne Armature Fashion show, with a cash prize of a fifty thousand dollars. A picture of a smiling man is printed on it with the words "Bruce Wayne as special judge." next to him.
"We have a house" Dan says flipping though his folder. "Crap knows how, but apparently it was left to us by a well meaning old man in his will. We should go there before we try to takle this whole Fashion show thing."
"Oh and you know so much about that."
"In case you forgot how to count boy, I was twenty-four when you sealed me away. Two years passed since then and I did not spend them in a thermos."
"What?"
"Clockwork let me out, but only in his haunt. I picked up a sewing machine after I failed to beat him in combat." Dan shrugs at the teenager's expression. "I know but I mellowed out a lot when my ordinal timeline ended. My madness went with it."
"How so?"
"I was mad with grief but you saved your family and friends, so that grief never came to be."
"That doesn't make any sense."
"Time Paradoxes never make sense."
Danny sighs "This isn't the first mission Clockwork's ever sent me on either. I've never gone to a different timeline but I went back in time a lot to stop other ghosts from getting too powerful. I know all about time Paradoxes."
"Crap are we cops? Time Cops?"
"Ugh I think we are."
"That's terrible. We have to find this Batman and get him to therapy cause I will not be a cop."
Danny follows after Dan, who is muttering to himself while reading a outdated map of the city. He wonders if the other realized he spoke in Spanish or if it had been a unconscious thought. He hopes this mission won't take too long, he wants to get away from his greatest mistake as soon as he can.
And he needs to work on his walk if he's going to strut down the run way soon.
Ugh.
Across the city, Bruce narrows his eyes at the Batcomputer screen as two identical sixteen year old's stare back at him. He hasn't found that tied them with criminal activity but meta's from Santa Prisca of all places has set off more then one bell in his head.
"Keep a eye on them" He tells his children who are all reading the same thing. "I don't trust them."
"Do you trust anyone B?" Dick jokes but his smile is strained as he reads the contest rules., "Did you really make up a whole fashion show just to lure Dan Fenton?"
"He's shown signs of fashion inclinations."
"Yeah but why are we the judges." Tim complains "I don't a thing about fashion."
Steph, Duke, Damian and Cass all nod. Bruce, unwilling to admit he just wanted to spend time with his kids, only grunts "It's for the mission."
"Sure B."
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ep-10 · 3 months
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zylev-blog · 2 months
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Apprentice of time Danny AU.
in Danny’s dimension, he was Phantom, savior of Earth, and also Danny Fenton. To the rest of the universes he was a nobody, a cryptid, a shadow.
As Danny got older, he began to learn what it would take to be King. This causes Clockwork to send him on missions through time and space, which eventually lead him to the DC verse.
Clockwork had told him of some things to say if he was ever confronted about his identity. Danny agreed, because why would he argue with the ancient of time? Clockwork knew best. But he also knew Clockwork was an asshole, and he figured this was one of those times.
He was floating above the surface of the planet. He didn’t want to touch ground on molten lava, so that’s why he had opted to float. He was going to try and reason with Darkseid, the way he always tried to. He was a being of peace, after all. But Darkseid was not to be reasoned with, so Danny did what he must for the timeline. Apokolyps was destroyed violently. The shockwaves of this planet’s destruction echoed through the universe.
Earth found all of their missing meta teens delivered back safely, and they didn’t have any other problems from Apokolyps ever again. Highfather invited Danny to a grand dinner fit for a god.
By the time whispers travel to Earth of the new god of space, the legends had already dubbed him as the son of Kronos. The protector of the innocent.
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